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imagine-organization-xiii · 5 years

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Imagine Vexen was doing a experiment that backed fire and turns every single member except him into children.

@nopantssaturday is such a babe, guys, you don’t even understand

oOoOo

Oh No. This was not Good. Vexen watched as his latest creation shut down during its most crucial test stages. The scientist quickly ran to the machine and pried open the doors as a dense pink vapor inside of it’s chambers flowed out. As the doors begrudgingly opened, the academic waved his arms, trying to clear as much of the fog as possible to find his test subject inside. Thankfully the scientist was wearing his sealed suit or he would have been choking on the gas himself.

This machine was one Vexen was working on for himself; one to slow and eventually stop the aging process, but not because he was worried of aging himself. Oh no, The scientist merely was just trying to find a new way to defy the forces of nature with science, something he effectively loved doing.

But as the smoke cleared from the lab, the subject, a white rabbit he had found, did not look any younger. “Shit.” The scientist huffed to himself. He was sure that his calculations were correct. He knew they were sound, and yet here he was with the same adult rabbit he had started with. Ugh. The scientist slowly lifted the rabbit from the floor of the machine and held it in his arms as he carried it out of the chamber and to its small cage on the other side of the lab. But as he placed the rabbit in it’s holding, a loud unfamiliar voice echoed throughout the castle.

“VEXEEEEEN!!!!!” The voice was high pitched and whining, like a woman or child. But it wasn’t Larxene. Curious, the scientist quickly removed his suit headed up the stairs to the main room of the castle. But never expected to see what lay ahead.

There, sitting in the gray area, were 13 little toddlers. And not just any toddlers, no. They were all of the members of Organization XIII. The only reason he could tell it was them, was that they were all were still attempting to wear their cloaks that are now MUCH too large for them. Some of the children sat on the floor, some were crying. But there, sitting on the highest chair was a tiny Xemnas, arms folded and looking very angry. At him.

This was supposed to be terrible, but Vexen couldn’t help but smile that this was his doing. His experiment had worked. Well, somewhat. But how was this possible? But a simple gaze upwards provided the answer. The vents! When the vapor exited the chamber of the machine, it probably traveled upward and into the vents to the rest of the castle. That must have been it. Though this was a miracle, it was clear that no one was happy about this but Vexen. The tiny superior looked up at him with his little arms crossed.

“Fix this. Now.”

So, after scooping up all of the toddlers and bringing them to his lab, Vexen got to work examining the effects of the pink anti-aging vapor. Of course, this task would be nothing for someone as intelligent as Vexen, but doing so while also babysitting 13 toddlers proved…. Difficult. Some of the children like Ienz– - Zexion were well behaved and sat with books. While others were.. More difficult.

“Number VIII! Stop running around the lab this instant!!” The little troublemaker continued to scurry around the lab, stopping only once to turn his head and stick his tongue out at his captor. The scientist quickly caught up, and lifted the rowdy little redhead into his arms before placing the boy in a small caged in area of the lab that the Academic was able to have the dusks put together as a suitable place to corral the children. Those dusks sure are capable when it comes to stealing from people, it seemed, for within a couple hours, they were able to put together a fairly suitable area to distract the children. Well. Most of them.

“Noooo!!! I don’t wanna go in there!!!” The redhead loudly whined before being placed inside of the cage.

“Well, that’s too bad, Number VIII. Because you need to say in there.” The scientist said, matter of factly. Fighting with this child was not much different from fighting with the real Axel it seems.

“Well why does Xemnas get to sit out there!?” The toddler whined, even louder than before, pointing his little finger at the chair near Vexen’s lab desk where the tiny superior sat stoically, crossing his arms in a pensive stare.

“He gets to sit there because he is the superior and gets to do what he wants.” The scientist stood and turned to walk back to his desk. The little flame’s face started to scrunch in disgruntlement before tears formed in his eyes and he let out a pained wail.

“AwwaaaHhhh!!!!” The boy cried. “That’s not fair!!!!” But as the boy let out his whining scream, the high pitched cry of two babies carried in from the other room.

“Oh great, you woke the infants….” Vexen sighed as he walked into the other room to soothe the crying babies.

Without the major distractions, Vexen was able to figure out two facts about the effects of the pink vapor. The first was that the anti-aging process seemed to be relative to the original ages of the person that inhaled the gas. For instance, Roxas and Xion, the youngest members of the organization, after inhaling the gasses have reverted to mere infants. Whereas Xigbar, Xaldin, and Lexaeus, as well as the superior, have reverted to a child that seemed to be about 4 or 5 years old. And all of the others in between seem to have become toddlers between the ages of 2 and 3 years old. This was fairly easy to understand by how the child acted and the cognitive functions the children possessed.

The second thing that Vexen was able to discern was that even though each subject was able to remember what had happened to them and what was happened, they still displayed the behaviors, mannerisms, and priorities that a child would. This was able to be figured out by how Demyx has been able to watch the same Lucky Emblem Sing-A-Long-Song’s VHS on repeat for the last 2 hours with the same captivation and interest as the first time he watched it. It was also easy to tell by the way that Larxene smiled and laughed, at all. The fact that the girl was smiling was enough to say something about her had changed.

The only child that didn’t seem to display this kind of behavior was that of Xemnas. It was as if the superior had the mind of someone well beyond their years and that only his body was his age. This phenomena was strange, yes, but further examination of the superiors mind would have to wait. For this man of science had to figure out how to fix the problem at hand first. As soon as he placed the now sleeping infants back down in the crib, Vexen left the darkened room and started to head back to the main part of the lab to continue his work. But before he could reach his lab desk, a tiny hand reached out and tugged on the bottom of his pants. One look down to his ankle revealed that it was Lexaeus tugging on his pants.

“Yes, Number V, what do you need?” Vexen asked. The small boy didn’t talk much, of course he never really spoke in general. But the boy looked up at Vexen with big pleading eyes and placed his hand down over his front and pushing his knees together urgently. Vexen was momentarily confused by the dance but then understood. “Oh… OH!” The scientist then quickly took the child and walked him hurriedly to the nearest restroom before he had to ask the dusks to clean his floors. Again.

Ugh this was going to be a long day.

–

After a few hours, Vexen had started to get the hang of handling 13 children. At least enough that he could get his work done. The young superior sat in his chair and handled himself in all ways as if he was an adult. Xigbar was precocious but would quickly grow bored with the mischief he was causing and would turn to playing with whatever garbage he could find. Xaldin and Lexaeus were very quiet and both seemed to have no problem playing with the toys that the dusks had found at a moments notice. Lexaeus seemingly had a small rabbit plush he seemed focused on. Zexion had a small stack of picture books that seemed to be able to keep him entertained. Axel was a bit of a trouble maker, but it seemed that the redhead was able to keep himself distracted from causing mischief if he had Saix nearby. Something about the blue haired child seemed to keep Axel from going buck wild.

Demyx has been watching the same VHS for the last 4 hours and even though the music was annoying, Vexen knew it kept him quiet, so he persevered. Was just kind of playing with the game board that the dusks had found, something called ‘Apologies!’. The pieces were missing, but that didn’t stop Luxord from repeatedly popping the bubble at the center of the game board and watching the dice inside bounce around. Marluxia and Larxene liked playing together most of the time and were able to be distracted by the dolls and dressing them up. And the last two are infants so while they required the most feeding, they were able to be kept fairly contained and didn’t get into trouble, sitting in chairs near the desk when they were awake, watching the scientist with wide eyes.

After about a good amount of time testing and working at his desk without much interruption, the chilly Academic made it with a breakthrough, coming up with a bright blue liquid in a vile that could easily be turned into a vapor and once inhaled. Should negate the effects of his previous experiment. Thankfully this nightmare would be over.

But as soon as that thought came to his mind, vexen looked up to the small boy with the periwinkle hair over her face looking down intently into his picture book and the scientist curl of a smile grew on his lips. He had almost forgotten how Ienzo used to love his books. It made him almost wish that the experiment didn’t have to end. But then another scream echoed through the lab.

“VEXEN!! XIGBAR IS PULLING MY HAIR!!”

“No! IM NOT! SHE STARTED IT”

“NO I DIDN’T!!”

“YES YOU DID!!”

Okay. Never mind. Forget that. It needs to end now.

Vexen quickly loaded the children with their original clothing draped on lazily into a vacuum sealed room of the lab (one that he probably used at the beginning of all this to have prevented this enter faux pas.) and pumped the room full of the blue vapor. The fog was as thick as its predecessor and soon the entire room went opaque with the gas. At first there was silence, but then the fog dissipated and it was clear that the reversal was a success. Soon the members all filed out of the room.

“Ugh.. What happened?” Axel murmured as he stepped out, placing a hand up to his head.

“I don’t know…” Demyx replied. “But I’m really in the mood for some chicken nuggets…”

“Don’t you eat that every day, tyke?” Xigbar snickered.

“Hey!” The younger boy whined as most of the members left the lab in a group. The superior gave Vexen a silent nod before leaving the lab as well. And soon the only ones left in the lab were Vexen… and Zexion.

“So..” The younger member paused. “Was that whole afternoon real?”

Vexen gave a dry chuckle in response. “Ah.. Yes.. Not my proudest failure. But yes it did happen.”

“Oh man… “ Zexion sighed. “How did you deal with 13 children, Vexen..?”

“Oh.. With great difficulty.” Vexen laughed again, tired from the day he just had. “But you know what? It was not as catastrophic as it could have been. And.. It kind of reminded me of when you were small in Radiant Garden. Of course, back then it was just you, and not all of the others as well. But sometimes it’s nice to remember the better times. You were always a well behaved child, Ienzo– I- I- Mean..” The scientist fumbled on the name a moment before the young man stopped him.

“No. No. Ienzo is fine..” Then a pause hung in the air a moment before the schemer spoke again. “You know.. I never thanked you, Vexen. For raising me in that castle with Master Ansem and the other apprentices. I mean, my parents died and I could have been sent to suffer the fate of so many other orphaned children in Radiant Garden, but instead you all cared for me and raised me. And if today wasn’t proof, raising children is no easy task.”

For a moment, the Chilly Academic didn’t know how to reply. His throat almost went dry. He had never expected something like this from the boy, honestly they barely spoke anymore outside of work, let alone spoke of the past. But.. somewhere deep inside of him, Vexen could swear that he felt an inkling of… happiness?

“I– You’re welcome, Ienzo.” The scientist smiled. And as the boy slowly left the lab, a thought came to Vexen’s mind.

Maybe this experiment ending in failure was not the worst thing.

#imagine #organization xiii #organization xiii imagines #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts imagine #vexen #kh vexen

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crossbowking · 6 years

Text

The Road Ahead : Chapter 13

Chapter Index HERE

Summary : (Set in the beginning of season 1) Anna Brooks lost everything after the world ended — the last remaining part of herself being her older brother, who she lost contact with after communications dropped. While en route towards Atlanta to find him, Anna’s truck breaks down, leaving her at the mercy of the cruel new world. Now, Anna must face her fears head on as she struggles to deal with devastating loss, constant danger, and finding her way in a land that now belongs to the dead. But sometimes, a glimmer of hope can be found disguised as a short-tempered, hard-headed redneck who may just save her life in more ways than one.

Pairings : Daryl x Original Female Character

Warnings : Slow-Burn, Language/Violence/typical Walking Dead themes

Author’s Note : OKAY, Y’ALL. THIS CHAPPIE’S A LONG ONE SO STRAP IN. We learn a lot in this one and are making way for some awesome stuff coming soon...

xx crossbowking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously…

Glenn and Anna shared an apprehensive look before scooting out from behind the table, Jacqui hurrying to join them from the back room. Anna crouched down, staring through the windshield at the massive building in front of them — the Center for Disease Control.

It was colossal and mighty and most importantly…still standing.

Maybe there was hope here after all.

But for some reason, Anna couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that told her things were only going to get worse from here on out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now…

The Center for Disease Control.

There had been a brief, heartbreaking moment where everyone feared the CDC had been abandoned — it’s main entrance sealed up tight with an impenetrable steel door, unbreakable windows, and not a single soul in sight besides the dead that roamed the grounds. But much to everyone’s surprise, after a desperate plea from Rick begging for whoever was controlling the cameras to show mercy, the steel door slid open and enveloped the group in a beacon of light.

And there they met Dr. Edwin Jenner.

He was apparently the last man standing. All of the doctors, all of the military, all of the scientists — gone. He was all that was left. And that was a tough fucking pill to swallow.

After seeing the state of the group, a group filled with children especially, Jenner had decided to go against his better judgment and allow the distressed group inside — the only rule being that everyone was to get a blood test done to ensure no one had been unknowingly infected.

Which led Anna to this moment, watching Jenner pierce the soft flesh of her skin with a needle, her blood slipping from her veins and filling up a small tube to be taken away for analysis.

She was tired — no, she was exhausted. She’d been running on empty for days now, physically and emotionally drained from everything she’d gone through. All Anna wanted to do was curl up somewhere and process what her next move would be since the CDC was apparently chopping up to be a dead end. And if this supposed ‘safe haven’ wasn’t what it was promised to be, could the same be said about Fort Benning?

“What’s this?” Jenner suddenly asked, his fingers wrapping around her bandaged hand.

Anna sat up straighter, turning her hand over for inspection. “Oh, uh, that’s nothing. I just cut my palm on a rock the other day,” she shrugged, watching as Jenner began to unwrap the wound.

“I cleaned it up already,” Lori spoke from where she sat, Rick propped up behind her, squeezing her shoulder gently, his expression deep in thought.

“Better safe than sorry, wouldn’t you agree?” Jenner directed his attention towards Anna, waiting until she gave him a short nod before continuing to unwrap the bandage. The cut didn’t look infected — just an angry red slash mark with dried blood caked onto the frayed ends of her skin. Anna watched as Jenner grabbed a cotton swab, dipping it in some sort of liquid before turning back to her. “Saline solution,” he murmured before she had a chance to ask what it was.

He began prodding at the wound, collecting a sample of the dried tissue for further examination, eliciting a quiet hiss from Anna as he pressed the swab a little too deep.

“All set,” he voiced once he was satisfied, slipping the cotton swab into a separate vile before reaching to grab a small first aid kit. He swiftly wrapped Anna’s hand in a clean bandage, removed the needle from her arm and motioned for Andrea to come forward for her turn.

Anna pulled down her sleeve, rubbing her sore arm as she stood, the floor tilting beneath her for a moment before she regained her balance. Black spots danced in her vision as she eased herself down onto another chair near the rest of the group, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

She had so many questions — what happened here? Where was everyone? What was this outbreak? Was there a cure? What did Jenner know? She had a weird feeling that the man was keeping some important information from them, but she was too tired and too overwhelmed to find the energy to ask. There would come a time for that — and the time sure as hell wasn’t now.

Anna nearly wept with relief when Jenner offered the group all the food they could stomach, ushering them into the CDC’s cafeteria for dinner. There was a nearly tangible electric buzz coursing through the group as they spread out amongst one of the long tables, waiting eagerly for the first decent meal they’d eat in weeks.

Anna took a seat at the far end of the table, putting a little distance between herself and most of the group. But the isolation didn’t last long when Glenn spotted her, furrowed his brow, got up from his seat at the opposite end and made his way towards her instead. “Do you think he’ll have Twinkies? Man, I hope he has Twinkies,” he grinned as he approached, rubbing his hands together, plopping down in the seat next to her.

Anna felt a small smile creep across her face — she liked Glenn. He seemed like a truly decent guy with an incredible warmth to him. He made her feel welcome — like she’d always been a part of the group and not some random newcomer. A soft laugh bubbled out of her. “Twinkies? Really?” she teased.

Glenn nodded his head quickly, scooting his chair closer to the table. “Are you kidding? Twinkies are the best. I practically lived off them in college,” he beamed, drumming his fingers along the table top as he eagerly scanned the cafeteria for Jenner’s reappearance.

Anna just shook her head as another laugh slipped through her lips. Glenn shot her a kind smile before he turned the other way to say something to T-Dog, giving Anna a moment to assess the current situation without distraction.

The group was splayed out around the table — most busy chatting with one another, everyone looking more relaxed than Anna had ever seen them. All except for Andrea, who sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, eyes glazed over as she stared off into space. She was thinking about her sister — Anna wasn’t a mind reader, but she also wasn’t stupid. The poor woman had just lost her sister — there was no possible way she could be thinking of anything else.

A sudden pain tugged at her heart and Anna forced her eyes away, unable to watch the grief crashing through Andrea’s eyes any longer. She found her gaze suddenly traveling towards Shane, who also wasn’t participating in conversation — he sat upright in his chair, elbows on the table, chin resting atop his clasped hands, eyes trained on Rick and his family. There was something about his stare, something about the sharpness in his eyes, the coldness, that sent a chill through Anna before she pulled her gaze away.

And then, Anna found herself studying the archer.

She hadn’t spoken to him since the RV broke down — hell, she hadn’t even looked at him. The last thing she needed was more drama and that was all this guy seemed to bring to the table. She wasn’t one to play games and she, quite frankly, didn’t give a shit whether he liked her or not. There was enough turmoil in the world without his projected issues added on top. She hadn’t meant to get involved with the group, she hadn’t meant to run into Merle that day on the road, but it happened. There was no going back. And Daryl could huff and puff, he could be cold and aloof, he could do whatever the hell he wanted — it wasn’t Anna’s problem.

But…as Anna stared at him, watching his usual scowled expression relax for the first time since she’d met him, the infectious positive energy clearly affecting him as well, she couldn’t help but feel a pinprick of hurt.

Why did he hate her so much? She didn’t understand. She hadn’t done anything to him — at least, she didn’t think so. What could’ve possibly happened to warrant all the hostility from him?

Anna’s thoughts were halted when the cafeteria doors swung open and Jenner appeared, hefting a large crate into the room. The group perked up, eyeing the crate hungrily as he approached, placing it down onto the table with a huff.

“Tomorrow is never guaranteed,” Jenner suddenly announced, his gaze sweeping across the faces of his new guests before he reached into the crate and pulled out two bottles of wine. “So tonight we feast.”

A collective murmur spread across the group as they nodded their heads, some clapping, others cheering in agreement. Anna felt a smile spread across her face as she glanced over at Glenn who proceeded to tip his worn baseball hat in Jenner’s direction.

And then they feasted.

Spaghetti and meatballs, rice, baked beans, string beans, canned corn, canned pears, peanut butter, olives, cheese, crackers, and all the bottled water and wine they could stomach. It was as if the entire world around them wasn’t what it was — there were no walkers, no decimated cities, no bleak future. It was just a group of people, enjoying a nice meal and delicious wine, partaking in pleasant conversation — it was a glimpse of how life was before.

Jenner urged everyone to eat their fill, given the fact that most of the food wouldn’t last much longer and would end up going to waste.

No one needed to be told twice.

Anna scarfed down the meal in front of her, reveling in the lukewarm spaghetti, the nearly expired cheese, the canned meatballs. It was the best damn meal she’d had in her entire life and by the practically giddy expressions around her, it was safe to say she wasn’t the only one thinking that. She ate until her stomach rounded, finally filling up her loose jeans, the seemingly permanent rumble in her tummy ceasing.

“Sure you don’t want a drink?” Glenn offered later on, holding out the now almost empty bottle of wine towards her, his words slurred and cheeks flushed from the alcohol he’d been consuming throughout the night.

Anna had declined earlier, choosing instead to stick with water, unsure when it’d be so readily available again. “I’m sure,” she reiterated her answer, sighing contently, leaning back in her chair as she scanned the rest of the table, the room buzzing with laughter, flowing with booze.

“— not you, Glenn,” Daryl’s gruff voice suddenly interjected, drawing Anna’s attention.

“What?” Glenn sounded, caught off guard as a lazy smile tugged at his lips.

“Keep drinkin’, lil’ man. I wanna see how red your face can get,” the archer jeered, pouring himself another heaping glass of wine. Anna had never seen Daryl so relaxed, so playful, so… normal. It was a weird moment to observe, especially from a sober point of view, but she found a bewildered smile slipping across her features.

Daryl must’ve felt eyes on him because his gaze swiveled over towards Anna, the grin on his face faltering as he took in her bemused expression. A moment passed between them before a sudden clinking had them turning their attention towards Rick, the room instantly quieting.

“It seems ta’ me we haven’t thanked our host properly,” he announced, pulling himself to his feet as he raised his glass.

“He is more than jus’ our host,” T-Dog added with an incredulous chuckle, following suit as he toasted Jenner who sat silently at a separate table.

A collective murmur of cheers and thanks sounded throughout the room as everyone began to show their gratitude and appreciation for the man who had saved them all. Anna tipped her bottle of water towards the man, studying his pensive features, wondering what he was thinking about that had him so solemn all of the sudden.

But before she could ponder any further, another voice rang throughout the room. “So, Anna,” Dale suddenly declared, her head snapping towards him. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

Anna felt the room instantly shift around her, all eyes trained her way, waiting for her response. She slowly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing over at Glenn for support, but he merely shrugged and took a long swig of wine straight from the bottle. “Uh,” she mumbled, feeling her cheeks redden at the sudden attention. “Not much to tell, really,” she brushed off, scanning the faces of those around her uneasily.

“Oh, come on,” Dale laughed good-naturedly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table, seeming genuinely intrigued. “There’s gotta be something worth sharing, right?” he looked around the table for agreement, some members of the group nodding in response, before Dale turned back to study her from under his bushy brows. “Why don’t you tell us where you’re from?” he offered, his kind eyes showing nothing but encouragement.

Anna clasped her hands tightly in her lap, digging her thumbnail into the bandage wrapped around her injured palm. “I’m, uh, I’m originally from up North,” she offered quietly, shrugging a shoulder.

“Was wonderin’ why I couldn’t hear an accent,” Rick quipped, smiling supportively in her direction. “So what brought ya down South?” he asked curiously, taking a sip of wine from his glass, staring at Anna from over the rim.

Anna felt her stomach flip and worried for a moment that her meal would reappear on the table in front of her. “My family had to relocate about ten years ago — moved down to Virginia. It was more affordable,” she explained, wringing her hands together in her lap as she addressed the sheriff, wondering if this was how he acted during interrogations.

“Did you go to college? Study anything in school?” Dale pressed, clearly intrigued.

Anna scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “I actually didn’t go to college. Couldn’t afford it.”

“Dale, enough with the twenty questions,” Andrea suddenly snapped, speaking for the first time since they sat down. She looked thoroughly annoyed, rolling her eyes at the old man as she gulped down the rest of her wine.

“What?” Dale laughed, holding his hands out innocently. “Just making friendly conversation, that’s all.”

“It’s fine,” Anna interjected quickly, not wanting to start any drama between the two. If Dale wanted answers, well then damn it, she’d give him some. “I just worked after high school mostly — waitressing, bartending, whatever I could do to make a little cash. My brother worked at an auto shop, so between the two of us, the bills got paid,” she shrugged, answering what was bound to be Dale’s next question.

He nodded thoughtfully, resting his chin atop his clasped hands. “And what did your parents do?”

Anna clenched her jaw, pushing away the inkling of frustration she was beginning to feel, Dale’s inquisition bringing up all of the negative feelings she’d been trying to ignore, all of the pain and grief she’d worked so hard to push away. “My dad was an electrician. Lost his job a couple years back. My mom didn’t work. Spent most of her life in a hospital. We picked Virginia because there were doctor’s down here who could take care of her.”

The room stilled. Anna glanced around, the intensity of everyone’s gaze burning a hole into her flesh, so she trained her eyes down on her clasped hands instead. After a long moment of silence, Dale spoke once more. “Cancer?” he murmured.

Anna’s head jerked up, her gaze boring into his. “How —”

“My wife,” he cut her off before she could ask any further, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “My wife passed not too long ago from it. You’ve got that look in your eyes — I’ve got it, too. Devastating illness, I’ll say. Nothing you can do but sit and wait, watching the person you love just…just disappear,” he whispered that final word, looking as though he was reliving some kind of painful memory. Anna felt her eyes suddenly water and forced her gaze downward once more. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he finished earnestly, waiting until Anna looked back up to give her a compassionate nod.

“She survived the cancer,” Anna finally muttered, clenching her jaw. “It was the bite that got her.”

The room quieted further, so much so that a pin could drop and Anna would hear it. Her face felt hot under the group’s stare and she hated the pity she could sense in their gazes. She knew Dale meant well, that he was just trying to get to know her, but Anna wasn’t trying to relay her pathetic life story to a group of strangers. She cleared her throat quickly as everyone began breaking off into separate, quiet conversations, a tangible awkwardness that wasn’t there before masking the room.

“Glenn?” Anna murmured once the group’s attention left her, turning to face her newfound friend. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

Glenn didn’t say anything in return. He simply shot her a sympathetic look and poured her a heaping glass of wine. Anna grabbed the glass with her trembling fingers, exhaling shakily as she chugged the contents in one, long swig. When she pulled the glass away from her lips, her eyes caught sight of Daryl sitting across the table — he was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed against his chest, pensive eyes boring into hers.

The archer was the only person still staring at her, the rest of the group having broken off into side conversations. Anna slowly wiped the moisture from her lips with the back of her hand, leveling his stare, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about in that moment. Her thoughts were interrupted when Glenn nudged her, offering her another glass of wine which she gratefully accepted, pulling her gaze from Daryl’s.

“So when ya gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?” Shane suddenly inquired, his voice drowning out the rest as everyone quieted uncomfortably. “All the, uh, the other doctors that were supposed ta’ be figurin’ out what happened. Where are they?” he asked, glancing around the table as he grabbed his glass, ignoring the pointed stares he was receiving from the rest of the group.

“We’re celebratin’, Shane,” Rick immediately interjected, shooting his friend a look. “Don't need ta’ do this now.”

“Whoa, wait a second,” Shane held up his hand incredulously. “This is why we’re here, right? This was your move,” he continued, directing his words towards Rick. “Supposed ta’, ya know, find all the answers an’ instead we, uh, —“ he broke off, a disbelieving laugh slipping through his lips. “— we found him,” Shane jerked his thumb in Jenner’s direction, his expression turning serious. “We found one man. Why?” he demanded, turning his attention onto Jenner, waiting for him to answer.

A heavy silence settled over the room and Anna took another long drink, relishing in the burning sensation it brought in the pit of her stomach, the effects of the alcohol already warming her body. Maybe if she drank enough, this horribly, uncomfortable tension would disappear — so she took another hearty swig as Jenner suddenly spoke.

“Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just…left,” he began slowly. “Went off to be with their families. And when things got worse — when the military cordon got overrun — the rest bolted,” he murmured, eyes distant as he stared down at the table.

“Every last one?” Shane fired back, his expression smug like he didn’t believe a word Jenner was saying.

“No,” Jenner’s head snapped up, his fiery gaze boring into Shane’s. “Many couldn’t face walking out the door. They…opted out,” he managed, shooting Shane an aggravated look. “There was a rash of suicides,” he explained softly, the group around the table shifting awkwardly, some choosing to drink, others lowering their gazes. “That was a bad time,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“You didn’t leave,” Andrea suddenly pointed out, genuinely interested. “Why?”

“I just kept working — hoping to do some good,” he finally replied, his tormented eyes locking with Andrea’s.

Another long moment of silence settled over the cafeteria, everyone trapped in their own thoughts, mulling over Jenner’s confession.

From the corner of her eye, Anna saw Glenn stand up and push away from the table. “Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man,” he mumbled in Shane’s direction, clearly annoyed with the reminder of the depressing reality they lived in.

The brief moment of peace had been nice while it lasted.

Everyone seemed ready to head their separate ways for the night, the lighthearted-dinner-turned-heavy having exhausted what little energy they had left. Jenner had brought the group down a long hallway lined with bedrooms, allowing everyone to pick a space to sleep in that night. The mood amongst the group perked up at the mention of something they never thought they’d experience again — a hot shower.

Anna made herself at home in a small, closet-sized bedroom at the end of the hall. There wasn’t much inside — just a rickety cot, a pillow and blanket, and a trunk at the end of the bed — but it was more than enough for her. She was most excited about the tiny bathroom attached to the room — she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d showered properly, her natural stench and those around her something she’d become accustomed to over the past few weeks.

But as she stood below the shower head, letting the scalding water wash over her bruised, tired body, cleansing her flesh of all the dirt and grime it had accumulated over the past few weeks, she felt rush of emotion clog her throat. It may have been the wine coursing through her veins, those two hearty glasses having taken advantage of her demolished tolerance, but for some reason, tears sprung to her eyes.

The CDC was a dead end. There was no one left. There was no cure. There was nothing. Anna wondered if Fort Benning would’ve held the same fate for her.

She sniffled softly, scrubbing her skin raw in the attempt to clean the filth from her body. She shampooed and conditioned her hair twice, a small, disbelieving laugh slipping through her lips as she finally washed the grease from her strands. Once she was done with the washing, she merely stood beneath the shower head, eyes closed, relishing in the moment, unsure when this small miracle would happen again.

The water began to chill and Anna quickly turned the faucet off, her lips frowning as a shiver wracked through her. “Nice while it lasted,” she murmured aloud, her words slightly slurred as she stumbled out of the shower. “Lightweight,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes as she grabbed a spare towel and wrapped it around her body.

She wasn’t a big drinker growing up — she spent most of her time working after she turned twenty-one, so she never went through that ‘party faze’ most people her age endured. She and Ben would have a beer after especially tough days at home, but other than that, her experience with alcohol was limited. She had to admit though — it felt pretty damn nice. Everything felt heavy and warm and foggy, like the world had muted around her — the brevity of calm was alluring.

In the midst of serenity, a sudden memory seeped through Anna’s mind.

Anna pushed open the creaking screen door that led outside, spotting Ben sitting on the crumbling front steps. “Hey,” she greeted softly, closing the door shut behind her.

Ben glanced at her from over his shoulder, giving her a short nod and patting the empty space next to him. “How was work?” he murmured as Anna took a seat.

Anna sighed heavily, resting her elbows on her knees. “It was fine. Pretty slow, so made shit tips,” she grumbled, staring at the deteriorating house across the street. It looked incredibly similar to her own — broken shutters, crumbling siding, the interior even worse. But it was cheap. It was affordable. And even though she and Ben were forced to share a tiny, closet-sized bedroom, they had a roof over their heads. That was all they could ask for.

“It’ll pick up,” Ben nodded, his ever-present positivity something Anna envied — although as she peeked a glance at him, she couldn't help but feel that something was off, that something was bothering him.

She nudged his side gently. “What’s up with you?”

Ben exhaled, rubbing a hand over his haggard face, his fingers still stained with grease from his shift at the auto shop earlier that day. He reached for something near his feet, picking up a half-empty beer bottle and taking a long swig before offering it over to Anna. She took a sip, swishing the lukewarm liquid around in her mouth, her stomach unsettled by Ben’s lack of response.

She nudged him again. “Come on, talk to me,” she murmured, locking her fingers around the bottle.

Ben dug the heel of his boot onto the concrete steps, absently brushing his fingertips over the growing stubble on his chin. “Anna, I’m moving out,” he finally mustered.

Anna studied his features for a long moment before turning her eyes downward, studying the beer bottle’s label. She wasn’t surprised. She knew eventually this was going to happen and she’d been preparing for it. “When?” she mumbled.

Ben sighed again. “Couple of days.”

Anna scoffed softly. Now, that she wasn’t expecting. “Where?”

Her brother fidgeted for a moment beside her and she knew by that short pause, she wouldn’t like his answer. “Atlanta.”

Anna’s head snapped up, her fiery gaze boring into his guilty one. “Atlanta?” she shot back incredulously. “You’re moving out of state?”

“It’s not that far,” he defended, rolling his eyes.

“It’s like fourteen hours away, Ben,” she protested, trying to mask how hurt she felt.

Ben shook his head slightly, training his eyes on the house across the street. “It’s nine hours and thirteen minutes, actually.”

Anna scoffed once more, feeling a swell of tears cloud her vision, but she quickly pushed them away. “Well, it might as well be on the other side of the country.”

“Anna, I’m twenty-eight years old. How many twenty-eight-year-olds do you know still live at home?” Ben snapped, huffing in annoyance.

“Our situation is different and you know that,” she shot back pointedly.

“Bullshit!” Ben cussed, standing abruptly, beginning to pace the small portion of sidewalk in front of the steps. “Mom and Dad need to start taking care of themselves — it shouldn’t be on us. We’re their kids, for Christ’s sake! Not the other way around!”

Anna’s brow furrowed, this rare outburst from her brother something she wasn’t used to seeing. “Ben —”

“I mean, at some point we’ve gotta start living for ourselves, right?” he continued, bulldozing over her attempt to calm him. “Right?” he pressed, waiting for Anna’s reply.

She took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Right,” she finally murmured, squeezing her eyes shut. Her brother was right. He was always right.

When she opened her eyes, Ben was standing in front of her, his expression troubled as he moved to sit beside her once more. “I want you to come with me.”

“I can’t,” Anna retorted before she could even mull over his offer.

Ben shot her an exasperated look. “Well, you can’t stay here.”

“I have to,” Anna shrugged helplessly. “We can’t both leave, Ben.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you alone in this shit-hole neighborhood, in a house that’s about three seconds from caving in on itself,” he fired back, gritting his teeth together in frustration. “You’re twenty-two now and — Jesus, Anna, these are supposed to be the best years of your life. And all you do is work and take care of Mom,” he sighed, his tone soft, expression tense. “What the fuck kinda life is that?”

“Ben, I’m okay,” Anna murmured, nodding her head, trying her best to appear convincing. “Look, it’s not like I’ll be here forever. It’s temporary. And when Dad finds a job, or when Mom’s feeling better, maybe — maybe then I can go.”

A long moment of silence passed where neither of them spoke. “Okay,” Ben suddenly voice, nodding his head. “Okay, we’ll wait until then.”

A look of confusion flashed across Anna’s face. “What’d you —”

“I’m not leaving you. It’s not happening. I’m not gonna go off and leave you to deal with all this shit by yourself,” he stated, steadfast in his change of heart. “Fuck that.”

“Ben, no. I promise I’m fine. You need to do this and —”

“Not without you, Annie. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Anna felt a pang of guilt shoot through her. “C’mon, Ben. I’m not a little kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“Anna —”

“No, listen to me for a second,” Anna interjected firmly, waiting until Ben nodded for her to continue. “Ben, you’ve taken care of me my entire life. Ever since I was four years old and afraid to sleep by myself during thunderstorms,” a quiet laugh bubbled out of Anna as Ben’s eyes softened. “You’ve done more for me than anyone else ever has. So please…please just do this one thing for yourself.”

Ben shook his head slowly, expression torn. “But —”

“No,” Anna snapped, cutting him off. “No, I don’t wanna hear it. I will be just fine. I promise,” she pronounced each word clearly, hoping she’d get through to her brother. “It’s temporary, remember?”

Ben sighed after a lingering moment, long and heavy, shaking his head slightly. “You’ve gotta stop putting everyone else’s needs before your own.”

Anna quirked a smile, ignoring the lump forming in her throat. “I blame you, big brother. You’re the one that raised me, after all,” she teased, but somehow, her words came out heavier than intended.

Ben just shook his head once more, shoulder slumped in defeat. “You’re really not gonna come with me?” he murmured, glancing at Anna from the corner of his eye.

Anna gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment before quirking her brow. “No guy wants their little sister crashing at their bachelor pad — total buzzkill,” she smirked.

Ben nudged her with his elbow. “I don’t mind. You can be my wing woman — help me pick up chicks,” he waggled his eyebrows at her and Anna felt a laugh push its way out from deep in her gut.

“Maybe when I come to visit,” she grinned, taking a swig from the beer bottle before passing it back to her brother.

Ben brought the bottle to his lips, finishing its contents, before slinging an arm around Anna’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “Whenever you’re ready to leave, you’ve got a place with me. You know that, right?”

A soft smile spread across Anna’s features despite the growing pain in her heart. Still, she sighed, resting her head on Ben’s shoulder. “Right.”

Anna snapped back to reality as another chill coursed through her.

That had been five years ago — five years ago that she and Ben had sat on those steps and had that conversation. She’d had every intention of picking up and moving to Atlanta, but for some reason, it’d never happened. Her dad had never found a job with steady income, her mom’s health had only deteriorated, and she herself had never found the courage to make that final step.

Anna had visited Ben a handful of times once he’d moved — she’d drive to the city and stay the weekend, he’d show her around and introduce her to his new friends, and they’d talk about what her life would look like once she made the move herself. But over the years, time and distance ran its natural course and Anna found herself seeing less and less of her big brother…

Anna quickly pushed away the painful memory and toweled off before she wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, getting a good look at herself clean for the first time in God knows how long. Although she was much bonier now, her face worn and tired, she was beginning to see a semblance of who she used to be — maybe there was hope in this place after all.

She grabbed a clean comb from one of the sink drawers and went to work untangling the mess of knots her hair had become. It took her a solid twenty minutes to undo the damage done, but in the end, her hair was clean, combed and looking healthy.

Anna found some spare clothes in the trunk at the foot of the bed and slipped into them — she tried to ignore the nagging thoughts of who these clothes used to belong to. They were a bit loose on her, the sweatpants hanging off her hips and the t-shirt baggy, but they were clean. This was turning out to be one of the best nights of her life.

After getting all settled, feeling fresh and like herself again, Anna felt the sudden urge to explore. When would this opportunity ever come again? The CDC was a fortress. There were no hidden dangers lurking, no untended to threats waiting to strike. And it wasn’t like she was going to sleep much — her mind was a constant ticking time bomb, her dreams plagued with nightmares. She wanted to explore.

Anna crept out of her room, the hallway quiet, the rest of the group having either turned in for the night or off doing something else. She meandered down hall after hall, peeking into the rooms with open doors — she checked out the recreational room where she ran into Carol and the kids, she found the library, the walls covered with hundreds of dusty books — before she decided to try upstairs.

She found the elevator Jenner had brought them to when they’d first arrived and made her way up to the main floor. The lobby was eerily quiet, vast and vacant, concealed in darkness as she walked out of the elevator. But as soon as she entered the space, the main lights automatically turned on, sensing her presence.

She spotted the main doors that her group had arrived at earlier that night, the steel door returned firmly in place. Tilting her head up, she breathed in awe at that cascading glass windows that lined the broad ceiling. But just as she turned to make her way back towards the elevator, she spotted someone slouched on the staircase near the front window.

“Glenn?” Anna murmured softly, recognizing his trademark baseball cap first.

His head snapped in her direction, a lazy smile slipping across his features. “Anna!” he grinned, holding his arms out, one hand clasped firmly around the neck of a wine bottle.

Anna snorted a laugh. “What the hell are you doing up here? Sitting in the dark, might I add?” she pointed out as she approached the stairs.

“Oh, the, uh…” Glenn fumbled for the right words, scratching the side of his head. “The lights! Yeah, the — the lights turned off an’ I, uh, didn’t really kinda know how to sorta turn them on,” he shrugged, words slurred and incoherent. “Oh...well, m’ drunk,” he hiccuped, resting his elbows on the stair behind him.

Anna rolled her eyes, sighing as she took a seat beside Glenn on the stairway. “They’re motion sensors, I think,” she murmured, glancing out the window that gave sight to the outdoors. In the distance, she could spot the RV, but in front of that was a graveyard full of the dead. She shivered when she realized that she could’ve very well been one of them had Jenner not allowed them inside.

“Here,” Glenn mumbled, passing her the bottle of wine, which she happily accepted, taking a long swig.

“So, are you originally from around here?” Anna inquired, taking one more sip before passing it back to Glenn.

He shook his head. “Michigan. Moved — uh, moved to Atlanta after college. Got a job —” he hiccuped, “— deliverin’ pizzas. It was awesome. Was livin’ the dream,” he sang the last couple of words, using the wine bottle as a microphone before swaying from where he sat, his skin losing its color all of the sudden.

“Oh, boy, you really are drunk,” Anna laughed, grabbing his shoulder to stop his swaying.

Glenn groaned, dropping his head down to his chest and rubbing his eyes. “S’ Daryl’s fault,” he grumbled incoherently. “He — he wanted this and — and now,” hiccup, “now he got it.”

Anna felt the corner’s of her mouth quirk up as she patted Glenn’s back understandingly. She sighed softly, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hand. Thoughts of the archer suddenly invaded her mind and although she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to bother with Daryl anymore, something was nagging at her. It could’ve been the booze, ‘liquid courage' as Ben used to say, but Anna found herself speaking before she could stop herself. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm?” Glenn hummed, forcing his gaze towards her.

Anna paused, tucking a strand of her still-wet hair behind her ear, carefully formulating her next words. “What’s the deal with Daryl?” she spoke slowly, cautiously, part of her chastising herself for breaking her ‘no more Dixon drama’ rule.

But she couldn't help herself — it was now or never. She was intoxicated and Glenn probably wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning anyway.

So it was time to get some fucking answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : Oh man, I can’t wait until y’all see what I’ve got in store for you in the next chapter...

Lots happened in this chapter!

Thanks to Dale’s interrogation, we got to learn a bit about Anna.

Shoutout to @jodiereedus22 for inspiring that little flashback moment! Ugh, I just love Anna and Ben’s relationship - even though he left, but can you blame the man?!

Also, loving the budding friendship between Anna and Glenn/drunk Glenn.

And next chapter...we’re finally getting some answers involving the mystery that is Daryl Dixon! Stay tuned!

QUESTION OF THE WEEK: Why do you think Daryl’s got such an especially large chip on his shoulder when it comes to Anna? From her understanding, it’s unwarranted...but there may be more that’s happened than she realizes. Any ideas?

Feedback is INCREDIBLY important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Let’s discuss and be friends!

If you want to be notified when I post again, let me know and I’ll add you to my tag list!

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restrainedubiquity · 5 years

Text

Cry Me A River That Leads To Peace (Or, How Marcus Learns to Float)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17414744/chapters/41413082

Float - to rest or move on or near the surface of a liquid without sinking; to drift

Float - to be executed for a crime; to be forced into an airlock and cast out into the nothingness of space

Marcus doesn’t require much sleep. Whether that’s just the natural rhythm or his body or something that he’s developed over years of being robbed of peaceful rest, he’s not sure. Does it matter? He functions and that's enough. Except lately, since they've been on the ground, since they've been hunted, tortured, since Mount Weather, even the meager sleep his body requires is eluding him.

It’s her fault

Not in any sense that he blames her for, no, not that, never that. It’s just that she haunts him. Her screams have always haunted him. Most of them brought on by his own action. He welcomed them then, leaned into the echoes of her pain and forced himself to wade through them night after night. It was horrible; It wasn't even close the the punishment he deserved.

When he’d arrested Jake she’d screamed in hatred, spitting vile curses at him, threatened him, beat her fists into his chest until the other guards had pulled her away. He bore the bruises for weeks, the scars are still there though only he sees them.

Float

When he’d arrested Clarke she’d screamed in desperation. Primal anguish that had her on her knees before him, begging, sobbing for her daughter to be spared. He’d left her on the floor, forehead curled into her knees, her cries echoing through the corridors.

Float.

She hadn’t screamed when he’d arrested her. The look she gave him, the cold indifference laced with weariness; with relief? Breaking the law to keep you from becoming Chancellor was the easiest choice I’ve ever made. Those words, the contempt in her eyes haunted him more than her cries ever had. There was no penance to be found in forcing himself to re-live her pain until it burned through him as it had her. She didn’t know that he already hated himself more than she ever could.

Float.

He’d been seconds away from killing Abby; his conscious; his tether to his humanity even if he kept it locked away. Despite following the law to the letter, doing his duty no matter what the cost, Marcus new that the small part of him that deserved to survive , as she had said, would have been cast out into the void of space with her.

Jaha had pardoned her. His desperate prayers to whatever deity still thought him worthy of favor had not gone unanswered.

Still, Abby hadn’t cried, hadn’t spared him a glance as she charged out of the airlock. He was grateful for her urgency. He barely made it to his quarters before his own screams forced their way out. Never had he allowed himself the release of his own tears, but the moment the door sealed the iron shell of his soul shattered in sweet relief.

He still doesn’t know why he thought he could check on her later that evening, why his presence would be anything that she would welcome. That was the point. He knew she wouldn’t, knew that she would lash out, berate him, throw his lack of humanity in his face. She would tear him down and it would be easier. He knew how to live with the hatred of the people, reassured himself that as long as there was something to fight for, humanity would survive. He resigned to bear as much of their pain and burden as he could.

When he got to medical, however, the strong, obstinate, and righteous Dr Griffin that should have put him in his place was sobbing uncontrollably in the arms of Eric Jackson. The young doctor spared him one glance before turning his body so that there was no chance Abby would see him there. It was a subtle gesture, but it was enough to have Marcus backing away. Those cries she wept for herself weren't meant for his ears.

Float .

She cried out in pain when he had her lashed. Stared him down after each jolt of electricity ripped through her body. Even when her legs wouldn’t hold her, when she hung limply from her bound wrists, she forced her head up to meet his eyes. Only then would he order the next lash, and the next, and the next until she was close to losing consciousness and there wasn’t a member of Camp Jaha that wasn’t in tears.

He thinks she understood that though, he knows she did. She’s told him as much in what she has and hasn’t said. I did hear you, you know , he had told her. I always hear you , he wanted to say, but suspects she knew that too.

Float .

Mount Weather had been different. He had stood by helplessly as those monsters had drilled into her bones. She’d made sounds no human should ever make. Once he’d finally been able to release her, she’d fought for every breath. Couldn’t so much as sit up without his arm braced behind her, cried out again when they had moved her to the stretcher. Mercifully one of the kids--he still doesn’t know who--pumped her full of morphine from Mount Weather’s generously stocked medical center and she’d slept most of the 8 hour trek home. When she had woken he stayed by her side, let her grip his hand like a vice as her breath hitched at every bump along the journey.

There was nothing he could do to rid those sounds from his mind, nothing to be healed or gained by facing that pain and trying to take it as his own. It was senseless.

Float.

So he doesn’t sleep, tries to avoid the silent moments that invite the memories in. His wrists are still bruised from where he’d pulled against the cuffs holding him to the wall and he rubs at them absently as he walks the perimeter of the camp. There’s a peaceful quality to their ramshackle camp when it’s bathed in moonlight. The destruction isn’t quite so apparent, the loss not quite as oppressive. Normally, he would turn back in after his second pass, take the long meandering route back to his quarters and ready himself for the next day to start, but tonight he keeps walking. Tonight he needs open space and star-filled sky so his demons can spread out instead of closing in around him.

He heads to the lake to the east of camp. It’s not far, but it’s somewhere he rarely visits despite assurances from several of his people that he should take time to appreciate the beauty this planet has to offer amongst all the pain it’s put him through.

He’s almost at the water’s edge before he sees the towel and pile of clothes neatly folded on the shore: patched up gray pants, a black t-shirt and an unmistakable blue jacket. Abby. There’s a gentle sound rippling in the water. He’s on alert in an instant, eyes frantically scanning the water until they catch movement not too far from shore. She’s lying on her back, hair fanned out around her halo-like in the moonlight. He wants to run to her, drops his light to do just that when he hears the ripples again. She’s running her arms through the water, letting the motion propel her back and forth.

She’s floating.

He watches her for what feels like hours, completely mesmerized by her graceful movements in the water untils he rolls into it, disappearing under the dark surface only to emerge a few feet from the shore. He moves quickly, switching off his light and slipping into the shadows just as she heads for her discarded clothes. He can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips as he catches sight of the knife strapped to her thigh. (So much for admonishing her for coming out here unprotected.) He should go, definitely should not be lurking in the shadows as she dresses, but he’d hate to be the one that ruined the peace she seems to have found here. She’s relaxed in a way he’s not sure he’s ever seen. Things had been relatively quiet since their return from the mountain, but the experience had changed them all. People looked at her differently, but not in the way that that had her snapping and refusing help even from Jackson. They didn’t see the weakness she thought she wore like a brand; like him, they saw the strength of a leader that had been through hell and came out the other end.

He watches her until she’s safely back inside camp, weaves silently through the trees close enough that he can reach her quickly if need be. She walks stiffly, the limp that she pushes through during the day comes heavier in the privacy of the night. He waits outside until the sun is almost up, until he’s sure she’s had time to make it back to her room, or more likely, to medical to start her day.

The next night he heads to the lake first. Then the next night and the next and the next. She’s there each time and each time he watches her from the trees as she strips down, wades into the water, and lets herself relax into its hold. He doesn’t stare. Staring at a woman who doesn’t know she’s being watched is somthing Marcus Kane would never do. He always looks away when undresses and again when she comes out of the water. Out of respect; out of the need to not see the scars on her body brought out by the moonlight.

He hears the splash that means she’s dove under the water and he waits until she comes up to avert his eyes. Except she’s not coming up. He takes a deep breath, forcing down the rising panic, but it’s no use. He’s counting the seconds and several more have passed than it normally takes her to swim the distance to the shore. His body reacts and before he can process what’s happening he’s running towards the shore, shedding his jacket, tossing his light and gun aside. His boot splashes hard in the water before he hears her laugh. “You should take your boots off. They’ll take forever to dry out,” she sitting on a rock a few feet to his left, knees tucked under her chin. Like he had, she’s hidden herself in the shadows.

“That’s not funny, Abby. I thought you had drowned!” he steps out of the water and makes his way toward her.

“You’ve been spying on me,” she says defiantly, but she’s still smiling at him, he can see the glint in her eyes as he gets closer.

“I…” he starts, but she’s right, in a way. He was watching her from shadows; spying. “I didn’t mean..I just wanted to make sure…”

“I know. Relax, Marcus. If I thought you were actually lurking you’d have heard about it before now.”

“Why am I hearing about it now?” he asks, leaning at the very edge of the rock and very purposefully looking out at the water.

“Because you should join me,” she says matter-of-factly. “You should have joined me that first night.” She shoves his shoulder with her bare foot until he looks back at her. “I don’t completely let my guard down, Marcus. I notice a flashlight in the middle of the night. Give me a little credit.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded on your privacy. I didn’t follow you,” he needs her to know that, “I just happened to wander here one night and you--” He trails off, eyes returning to the water.

“I what?” she urges, scooting forward until she’s sitting at his side, close but not touching.

“You looked so peaceful,” he finally looks in her eyes. “It helped, seeing you like that. It...It helps.” He’s not ready to tell her that her screams haunt his dreams, that the torture of watching her be tortured was worse than any physical pain he’s ever endured, that he knows he wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t made it through.

She sighs deeply, seeming to hear everything he couldn’t say. “I never thought floating could feel so wonderful,” she muses, watching him as he watches the moonlight reflect on the water. “We should call it something else, really. We destroyed that word on the Ark. It became a curse, a violent, evil thing that you couldn’t come back from. But it’s not. Not here.” He can only nod. We don’t have to do this here, echoes in his mind. We can be better here. “Take your boots off, Marcus,” she uses his shoulder to push herself to her feet, then jumps off the rock and back into the water, splashing him mercilessly in the process.

“Marcus!” She splashes him again when she pops out of the water to find that he hasn’t moved. She’s probably the only person on the planet that could get away with that and the wicked grin on her face tells him she knows it. “It’s not deep. I won’t let you drown,” she assures him, standing to show him that the water is barely up to her shoulders and holding her hand out to him.

There never was any point in denying her once she had her mind set on something. Marcus bends and unlaces his boots, places them on the rock with his socks, then his shirt. He leaves his pants on as he slowly makes his way to her. The water is cool, but not unpleasantly so. He can already feel his body relaxing when he comes to stand next to her. “Lay back,” she instructs, but he’s at a loss and she can see it in the uncertainty that flashes in his eyes. “If you’re relaxed, the water will hold you up,” she explains without ridicule. There were no swim lessons on the Ark. Water was a new experience for them all.

He trusts her. He may not trust the water, or his ability not to sink within in, but he trusts her. So he leans back. He moves too quickly, doesn’t get his legs out before his head goes under and instantly panics as his body sinks to the lake bed. Abby pulls at his shoulders, guiding up to the surface where he coughs out water and sucks in air. “You make that look a lot easier than it is,” he laughs through his embarrassment.

“Watch,” she tells him simply, taking his hand so she won’t stray from his side and lying back in the water. She shrugs her shoulders when he looks down at her in wonder. “Your turn,” she stands beside him and places her hand between his shoulder blades. “I’ve got you.”

“Abby, you can hardly,” he starts but raises is hands in surrender when she gives him her don’t-you-dare-tell-me-what-I-can’t-do look. He leans back into her hand, slowly raising one leg, then the other once the back of his head is in the water. Her hand is still on his back, her other on the back of his thigh holding him in place while he adjust to the sensation of weightlessness.

“I’m going to let go. Just relax,” she tells him, her voice dulled by the water around his ears, but her face tells him everything he needs to hear. She releases him and Marcus floats in the water staring up at the stars. It’s the most at peace he’s ever felt. He relaxes even further, lets every muscle go, feels the water lapping at him, the warm breeze against his skin, her hand that finds his just below the water’s surface. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, stretched out next to him. Her fingers lace with his, keeping him close as they watch the stars give way to the rising sun.

#kabby fanfiction #kabby ff #abby griffin #marcus kane #kabby

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harrypotterandthefandomaccount · 6 years

Text

Never Caught A Feeling This Hard

request: Can you write a Snape x hufflepuff student scenario when idk(female) reader hates him and she just tries to ignore his attitude but when he once again takes points from her house, she just snaps at him. And she leaves the classroom and tries to ignore him as long as possible. Please make it really angsty and sad cause I love having my heart broken. But a fluffy ending x3 if you're comfortable I'd appreciate a heated kiss but if you're not then a confession from both parties is ok☆

Summary: while your almost an expert at potions, your friend Y/F/N isnt that bright with the subject. When Professor Snape yells at your friend and takes points away from their house, you being a Y/H, stand up to Snape and tell him off. Flabberghasted at your outburst, he only follows you with his eyes as you storm out of the classroom. While Y/F/N thanks you, they say Snape requested to see you. Embarrassed at your show in front of the class, you refuse to see him and change your seat to the back with Y/F/N. When Yule Ball comes around, your last one ever at Hogwarts, Snape decides its the right time to approach you. Feelings are revealed with angst but happy ending.

note: yuhh another posty lyric, this was a request so dont hesitate to send some in! im sorry this is a bit late, i got a summer sickness/cold and ive slept the entire day away. anyways, enjoy!

warnings: ill come back to this when im done, like one curse word and teacher x student relationship

6-28-18

Grabbing your potions textbook, you and Y/F/N made ways to Professor Snape’s classroom. Throughout your years, even before coming to Hogwarts, potions had become your best subject and some even told you that you were better than Hermione. She had even been amazed at your brewing skills.

You friend Y/F/N, on the other hand, wasn’t as gifted with potions as you were. However, her charming skills superb. But with Snape being such a hard-ass teacher, it was tough to get help or even a ‘good job’ from the man.

Heading into the classroom, you and Y/F/N sat up front as always. You had always liked sitting front and center, wanting to show you teachers you were there to learn. You assumed it was because you were a Y/H.

Snape swiftly walked into the classroom, shutting the windows behind him. Today was like any other day, except he mentioned the day before that your class would be learning a tougher potion; Veritaserum.

Walking up to the front of the class, everyone got quiet. Snape nodded, ”if you listen carefully to today’s lesson. . .I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

At that, you let out a snort of laughter. Snape met your eyes and a small smile formed, gone as quick as it appeared. The professor then turned his attention to the class, telling them what to grab and to open their textbook pages to 394.

Glancing to Y/F/N, you smiled, “I’ll get your book ready and you can get both of us ingredients, yeah?” They nodded, writing down the ingredients and rushing off to get them.

Coming back, you grabbed your own ingredients from your friends shared part of the table. “Thanks for getting them Y/F/N,” you said, making them nod to you.

Reading the book, you set your cauldron to the required heat and crushed some ingredients together. After waiting a few minutes, you put in the materials and stirred, waiting for the potion to turn green. You noticed Snape walk past your table and tap against a vile of liquid, then tapping your arm. Letting out an “ahh,” you put the vile in.

Next was kind of a blur. A tiny explosion next to you had occurred and the sound hurt your ear. Y/F/N laid on the floor, rubbing their head. “Hey,” you said, rushing to their side, “you ok?” They nodded, “yeah. . .I don’t know why that happened?”

You pulled them up to their chair again, “doesn’t matter as long as you-”

Snape had slammed his hands on the desk, “what the hell were you thinking?”

You friend retreated back, “I-I’m sorry sir, I h-honestly don’t k-know what I did wrong.”

The professor scoffed, “of course you didn’t, you ignorant child. 10 points from Ravenclaw.”

You scowled, “sir! They made an honest mistake, we all do! Any other student here would have made the same mistake, so leave them alone. You never have any consideration for any os us; we are learning this class, not experts. Some excel more than others, but we all are experiencing this for the first time. So please sir, lay off.”

With that, you grabbed your bag and shuffled out of the room, leaving a wake of wide eyes behind you. Snape followed your figure with his eyes, unable to believe that you, his favorite student, had just caused a scene by picking a fight with him. He grumbled when you left, “get back to work.”

After your outburst at your favorite professor, you decided to head back to the Y/H commonroom. You failed to notice that class had ended and Y/F/N walked into the room. “Hey,” they started, “I’m not supposed to be in here but thanks for sticking up to Snape. I appreciate it. . .but he told me to tell you that he wants to see you.”

You nodded, “right, well. .no probelm, Y/F/N. He was being so out of line. Though I’m not sure if I want to face him. Thanks for telling me, though.” They nodded their head and walked out, going to their next class. You assumed you should get to class, too.

The next day, you had potions first which made you happy but also very gloomy. You were getting the worst class over and done with, but first of the day? Pass. Heading into class, you grab Y/F/N’s hand and drag them to the way back before Professor Snape walks inside. Pushing your hair to the side, you hide your face and rest a hand on the side of your head when Snape walks by you.

You and him did not look at one another the entire class, only focusing on your new potion to make; Amortentia the love potion. You and Y/F/N already knew it was an easy class, having made the potion aside from class before.

You both did everything right and Snape added 5 points to each of your houses for having been done first. You didn’t give the professor a second glance, just nodding at his words of encouragement. Y/F/N gave you a small smile, but continued to write down notes for a reminder of what different potions consist.

Finally, it was the night of the Yule Ball, your last one ever. Cedric Diggory asked you to be his date and of course you said yes. Grabbing Y/F/N and some other Y/H pals, you wandered through Diagon Alley and past Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, waving to Fred and George from outside. They waved for you to come inside and you sighed but smiled.

The twins went up to both sides of your face, each giving you a kiss on the cheek, “hello gorgeous!” You laughed, “hello, hello. Now what do you hooligans want?”

Fred handed you a bottle of Amortentia as him and George talked, “a bottle of love,” George then whispered, “for Professor Snape.”

You jumped back and let out a fake laugh, “ha! As if. . .seriously though, what do you want?”

The twins looked to one another then back at you, “no joke, little lady. We’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Just then, Ron came up to the brothers and you on the stairs, “how much for this?”

Fred and George looked at the item, “5 gallons.”

Ron chuckled, “how much for me?”

With that, the two taller boys nodded again, “5 gallons.”

You let out a laugh as Ron looked offended, “Y/N! But, I’m your brother.”

Fred and George shrugged, “10 gallons.” The twins then walked off, leaving Ron confused and you staring at the love potion in the bottle.

Getting your dress, you decided on a long red sleeveless dress which had light ruffles at the bottom and small parkles over it. There was a bow that went across the middle and you fell in love.

It seemed different putting it on, having the potion given by your favorite twins in your bag. You pulled it out and sniffed it, noticing it smelled like Professor Snape; bitterness and old shoes with a spiff of charcoal. Appealing, really.

Walking into the ball with Cedric, he hooked his arm with yours. You smiled at each other and he kissed the top of your head like a good friend would. Throughout the night, you both stayed together until you went off to go to the bathroom. However, before you could reach the bathroom, a hand pulled you behind a large column.

You gasped and your eyes met anothers; Severus Snape’s. You furrowed your brows, “professor? What?”

Snape pulled at your waist and rested a hand at the side of your head, “you. . .pest! You’ve infested my head with images and thoughts of you, just you, and I cannot stop.”

Your eyes squinted at Snape’s words, “what the hell! Wha - what do you mean. . .Severus?”

The professor’s eyes wandered along your face, stopping at your lips, “I. .I love you. And you’re my student. Stay after the party, I want to see you again.” With that, he walked away and left you by the column. You headed back to your table with Cedric and spent the night with him until he decided to head to bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. . .thank you for being my date,” Cedric said, making you smile.

You gave a bright smile as you kissed his cheek, “thank you for asking me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Every person had left by now, Professor McGonagall saying her goodnights to you. Smiling, you saw Snape appear out of the shadows, “may I have this dance?”

You nodded, “of course.” Snape offered his hand and you accepted it, standing up and resting a hand on his shoulder and his on your waist. Your other hands joined together, dancing together.

After dancing to the sound of nothing, you both stood by the window, looking out among the land of Hogwarts. You smiled at Severus, “it’s a perfect night. . .for us.”

Snape gripped your waist, kissing your cheek lovingly, “it is, indeed. I wish we could have this. . .forever.”

You looked up at him, glancing at his lips, “we can. When I graduate, it won’t matter.”

He rubbed his thumb along your waist that was covered by the dress, “you could have someone your age, who you desire.”

Putting a hand to his cheek, you shifted his face towards yours, “you are all I desire, Severus. Only you.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, “if that is what you desire, so be it.”

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alvisboswell · 3 years

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reyarey · 7 years

Text

Animal

https://www.wattpad.com/457474683-random-one-shots-animal (Wattpad version)

Inspired by: Animal - Chase Holfelder

Requested by: @carmenthefoxy13

WARNING: CONTAINS SERIOUS ABUSE WITHIN RELATIONSHIPS.

Story below the cut.

I wasn’t sure about my feelings anymore. Not a single one of them.

I was scared of him, but yet I couldn’t get enough of his eyes; Of seeing him casually walk around, like I didn’t exist. He knew I was watching, and every time he turned to look in my direction, I averted my eyes, pretending to not notice him. I’d spoken to him once before, and we had exchanged phone numbers, but never after that.

That was about a week ago.

Now we just so happened to be in the same place at the same time, and I couldn’t stop staring. The way he walked with his jeans hanging loosely around his legs like they were too big, but the waistline remained un-belted; The way his shirt looked way too small on his muscular torso, arms tensing and relaxing with each movement. His beautiful green and blue heterochromic eyes, covered slightly by his longer blonde hair that hung in front of them. He seemed to always have a 5 o’clock shadow.

He turned my direction again, and caught me staring, and we made eye-contact.

Neither of us moved a muscle. I stared at him, he stared back. I saw his finger twitch out of the corner of my eye, like he wanted to walk over and say hello. But he didn’t move. I blinked, he blinked back. I blinked twice, he repeated it. I folded my long black hair behind my ear, he ran his fingers through his glowing yellow hair.

Finally, I pulled my vision away and stared at the ground, folding my fingers behind my back. I squeezed my eyes shut and scolded myself for staring for so long. I was such an idiot. He’d never talk to me now.

“Hey.” spoke a somewhat deep voice with an awkward tone.

My head sprang up and locked itself in its normal position. I saw his green and blue eyes right in front of me. He was my height, 5’7’’, if not a millimeter or so taller. I stumbled for words, letting out a soft “Um…”

“So… Been a minute…” he said.

I gulped. My head was spinning, searching the database for words to say without fucking up my chances with the dude.

I chuckled nervously. “Yeah. I would’ve texted you, but I was super busy.”

We both stood there together, not saying a word, only increasing the level of awkward in the situation. Neither of us wanted to admit it.

He took a sharp breath. “Well!” He clapped his hands together. “This has been nice! But I should really get going. I’ll, uh, text you later.”

I nodded quickly, watching him walk away and around a corner. Once he was gone, I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead and rubbed my eyes.

“Oh god that could have gone so much better…”

------------

That had been years ago? Huh. Time really did fly. There I was, moved in with the man I knew as Brandon, his arm placed over my shoulders as we sat in silence. I turned to look at him, and saw that his face was expressionless, empty of all emotion.

He removed his arm and stood up. I watched him go into the kitchen, grab alcohol and two shot glasses, then come back to the living room where he placed the items down on the coffee table in front of me.

I was scared, actually. He brought out a new shot glass that I hadn’t seen before, filled it with the whiskey he brought out, and handed it to me.

It looked half like a shot glass and half like a petri dish. Leaves and pink flowers were embedded into the glass at the base and the shorter walls it had curved in except for one place where it curved out, making it part water pitcher as well. Had he custom ordered it or something? Because this was way to abnormal and creative for a normal company to create. Nonetheless, I poured the whiskey into my mouth and swallowed.

He kept refilling it in silence, taking the shots with me. He remained completely still, but with every passing moment, I swayed more and more. My vision blurred, my throat burned, my brain was in the process of shattering into a million pieces.

Then I woke up, arms and legs spread out like I was a starfish moving slowly across the sea floor. I tried to get up, move my arms and my legs, anything. But with each attempt to merely move my head from side to side my whole body ached. My breaths were raspy and difficult to obtain, and I could barely even make out the ceiling.

“Oh. You’re awake.”

The door to what I had concluded was our bedroom closed, leaving me and Brandon in the room. Alone.

I managed to maneuver my vision to where I could see him, and he looked bored. As always. But the closer I looked, the more I read into his eyes, I could see amusement. He was entertained. By my goddamn pain.

It didn’t surprise me, though. He was like this. He had always been like this. I try to please him, I do everything for him. But he’s never satisfied. Ever.

He helped me sit up, and I saw him smirk for a moment when I arched my back at the burning pain shooting throughout my body. I yelped, then coughed. Despite the extreme pain, I moved my hand to my neck and felt it. My neck was larger than it usually was, swollen.

He had choked me.

I was unconscious the whole time. Of course I was. Brandon liked the aftereffects of the pain, not the immediate reaction. Call it a kink if you will, but in truth, it’s far from it. He’s not turned on by my pain, he just enjoys seeing me in pain. And it’s only me. With every other person I’ve seen him hurt, he looked more disappointed. His enjoyment comes from making me feel pain, and me alone.

I wanted to run, but at the same time I didn’t. I relished the days that he was like the man I first met. Shy, recluse, nervous, but oh so open to humor and when he’s passionate about something, he would go off on it. He was very into politics, and I believed that one day he could’ve been president.

I felt like the good days had a price. In order to keep the man I love, I needed to endure the man I feared, but didn’t hate. How could I have hated him? He had the same face as the man I first met. The funny man who could make me laugh no matter the mood I was in. He’d smile, and I couldn’t help but smile in return. The sweet man who would pull me closer, kiss my forehead, tell me that my anxieties would pass. Calm me down whenever I began to panic over nothing, fearing for my life for no reason whatsoever.

But this time he had gone too far.

The moment he climbed into the bed with me, the moment I watched the rising and falling of his breathing slow, I made sure not to wake him as I left the house, despite the pain rushing through every inch of my body.

I drove for the police. I couldn’t take it anymore. Two personalities, one man. The only one who had known about it was me, and he made me swear not to tell anyone, and to just let it happen. But choking me while I was out? That was new, and dangerous, and I didn’t want to be with him. Not anymore.

The police didn’t believe me at first, thinking I was trying to frame him. Then I pulled down the collar of the turtleneck that I had thrown on, and their mood changed completely. My swollen neck was beginning to turn colors of the rainbow: red, purple, yellow, a sickly green color that, whenever I even thought about it, made me want to throw up; And the moment I went into the bathroom, that’s exactly what I did.

There were times where he had hurt me when I was conscious, where he either ran out of the drugs to put me under, or he was simply too lazy to get them.

Those memories flooded back to me in that exact moment.

Knife in hand, he held me down and sliced my arms countless times, but not deep enough to scar. Just enough for me to feel the cold blade sink into my skin and to feel my warm blood drip down onto the floor and create small, barely-noticeable bloodstains. I remembered him pulling at my hair, ripping clumps of it out sometimes, and other times plucking them from my head one by one. I remembered him pulling my shirt over my head, throwing it to the floor behind him, and raking his nails from the center of my collarbone down to my abdomen.

I remembered him kicking me as I curled up into a ball, trying and failing to protect myself. I could remember the pain, the cracking of the bones, my hot tears spilling out of my eyes until I had no tears left to cry. So I would just sit there, waiting for each blow, taking each kick to my back, every punch to my head that threw me to the ground.

The vile liquid dripped from my mouth and I grabbed the toilet paper beside me to wipe it away. I threw it into the toilet and flushed, staring at what had come out of my empty stomach spin down the drain. I took a shaky breath, and stood up from where I was kneeling on the ground.

How long had it been since I’d felt happiness? Real, true happiness that I didn’t use as an excuse to stay with a man that was ruining my life? Years. That was it. It had been literal years. The last real happiness I remembered feeling was the day before I met Brandon.

I smiled as I leaned against the wall of the bathroom. I had gone out with my friends. We went to an amusement park, took pictures, recorded videos for my friend’s channel, it was probably the best day of my life.

And I hadn’t seen them since that day, ceasing to even text them entirely a few weeks after. Had Brandon totally taken control of my life?

Yes. Yes he had. And now, I was determined to take it back, and I didn’t care what it took or what happened to Brandon at that point. I just wanted my life back.

And I finally got this posted. Had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you guys had fun reading it. :D

#My Stories #writing #Animal #one-shot #abuse #relationship abuse #trigger warning #sensitive #control

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deadmantalking117 · 7 years

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MY HILARIOUS CROHNS DISEASE STORY !

Kat and I had been dating about 6 months. Like I told you before.. I was 140 lbs... in pretty good shape.. working 2 jobs so we could get married.. start our lives together. 30 days later.. I weigh 110.. I'm crushingly exhausted. Maybe I'm taking on too much? Except... I'm eating a lot... sleeping the full 8. But... I'm going to the bathroom all the time... peeing every hour.. pooping 3 or 4 times a day ( I know.. T.M.I. dude.. but its relevant). So into the system I go... First doctor says.. lots of blood tests.. might be leukemia or diabetes... nope and nope. Go see this guy... I don't do innards. Next guy says.. redo all those blood tests! You must have leukemia or maybe diabetes. By the way.. good thing you have insurance.. but additionally.. we gotta get ours too.. so cough up a couple grand bitch ! I know you paid your deductibles for these exact same tests just last week.. but we needs to be paid too! You see.. in this system we have.. I don't get paid for taking care of you... I get paid for running tests.. that proves I'm taking care of you... so now I can get paid! And it doesn't matter if I do anything at all for you.. as long as I run the tests. And oh yeah... the tests were negative again... sorry about your new copays. But Dr. 2 is an Internist. They're more special than regular doctors. They do innards. So now he says... more better tests! And do I have a doozy for you ! We got this combo test.. it's awesome! First you get to starve yourself for 24 hours, then right before bed drink A GALLON of this salt water concoction that will make you poop liquid fire for the rest if the week! And the best part? It's vile... But wait... there's more! The next day you come on down to our terrifying surgical center and hang out for 8 hours or so. But this time.. you get to be naked in a tiny hospital gown so we take a nuclear bombs worth of xrays.. all aimed right at you guts. About one or two an hour ... cuz oh yeah! You have to drink a GALLON of this thick chalky liquid.. it's called Barium... and it's radio active so it really lights up your guts from the inside, while we shoot high doses of radiation at you from the outside. Its so cool. Well maybe not for you. After that long boring disgusting day.. I got the Barium shits.. this is the literal action of shitting a brick ( T.M.I. again.. but relevant). The gallon of radioactive liquid chalk that you have to drink... on a timer.. turns really solid in your colon! So.. yeah But maybe.. possibly we might be seeing something.. we should investigate fully! Ummm.. didn't we just do that? Cuz I totally remember paying ANOTHER deductible.. and shitting a brick! Plus.. low on blood after those 2 rounds of tests.. so what else? Well it's a little like the last test.. except this time.. WE PUT A HOSE UP YOUR ASS AND PUMP THE BARIUM UP FROM THE OUT DOOR ! Only a couple gallons... and the best part is.. you'll be conscious when we do this ! But first.. you get to starve yourself again... drink another GALLON of the vile salt water super clean out juice!. Then stay up the entire night before the test spraying napalm into your formally clean toilet. (And oh yeah.. soon as you recover from this. You're really going to wanna reclean that!) And don't forget to bring your giant copay.. check is fine! So a month after my upper GI.. I was initiated into a nightmare known as.. The Lower GI.. Back to the terrifying surgery center I go. Naked and in the gown I go. These places are always freezing.. it helps keeps out infections. But yeah.. chillin' . I'm 24.. back then I still had some pride... a little sense of dignity.. and though.. those are long gone now.. I remember! I miss them.. So cold and naked.. covered by my little thin gown.. my guts are still churning from the colon cleaner..and still leaking a bit! They show me "the table" . Its a huge adjustable thing.. with big xray cameras over it.. and a fucking five gallon drum of Barium hanging over one side... conveniently accessed through the 10 feet of garden hose that they were now going to insert into the same hole that only minutes before was a flurry of outbound activity! Consider that scenario in your life.. for the past 12 hours.. a river of waste has exploded out that hole.. now these people want to reverse that process ! That's just... wrong. On to the table I go.. the guy greases up the end 2 or 3 feet of it.. I'm thinking... you gotta be kidding me! I thought.. can't you just put the first maybe 2 or 3 inches in? Are you drilling for oil? Is this stuff going to blast out of my mouth? Thats not for real, right? Oh yeah dude ! This is totally happening ! And in they go. My first inclination was to scream.. I was tough.. young... had that dignity thing I told you about. So I did the manly thing.. kind wept silently! Prayed a lot.. swore a whole lot. But wait... there's more! We need you to move around while we pump a couple gallons or so right on up.. so yeah.. I'm not going to lie dude.. it's gonna hurt.. a lot. But don't worry.. theres a little balloon thingy right inside your anus that we fill up so these gallons of Barium that we're forcing in to you wont just come right back out again.. cuz thats messy. Now lay on your left side.. take the picture. Now more Barium.. roll over on your right side. Now more Barium. Have you ever heard of the yoga position called downward facing dog? You'll love it! With the hose still firmly inserted.. get on your knees.. put your butt in the air.. head on the table! Sure.. why not? So now.. I'm doing serious talk to God praying! No exaggeration.. I was praying! "Please dear God.. make this stop.. I can't take this!. Oh my God.. this is the worst thing ever.. what could possibly be WORSE than this !?!? " And I heard God laugh.. he said.. "Wait... there's more!" Xray guy says... by the way.. we're a teaching facility too.. while we're doing this.. would you mind if we bring in a couple students to observe the procedure? I'm 23.. naked on my hands and knees with a garden hose rammed up me while gallons of radioactive waste get pumped in. Sweat is pouring off me. I'm shaking like a junkie. Crying a little.. in a manly dignified way. FINE ! Just get done with it ! In walk 5 .. 18 year old girls! Each one cuter than the next.. all trying not to laugh.. but not succeeding. And who can blame them? Thats some funny stuff.. you know.. when it's not happening to you. I learned a fine lesson from God or the universe or whatever higher power you might believe in... but I learned it well. You only think things are too much to deal with.. but it can always be worse.. and funnier. I'm the dead man who's still talking Be well my friends

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amatara · 7 years

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Those Few Truths (Twin Peaks, Dale/Albert/Harry)

Just one more before Sunday! Post-canon, not a fluffy one this time; honestly I’m not sure what I intended it to become, but somehow it turned into this weird mix of body horror and whump and h/c and, right there at the end, a ray of hope, so… here’s to hope, then. See you all on the other side~

For a second, he’s afraid he’s lost hold of Cooper’s hand. There’s the sensation of falling and a roar of tearing branches, punctuating the moment they rip through the veil, or the curtain, or whatever the hell he’s supposed to call the boundary between the place they just left and the real world. Or this world, at least, because there’s no doubt in Albert’s mind the other one was real, too. Then he slams into the ground near the center of the clearing, all the air squeezed out of him, but rolling instinctively until they’re free, safe, past that cursed circle of sycamores, dragging Cooper along with him. Another two feet or so and they’re out, because he can feel grass under his hands, and Cooper’s still there, a dead weight in his arms, but stirring faintly when Albert collapses half on top of him.

He can’t breathe. From somewhere, there’s the clamor of excited voices, but he can’t call out to them or cry for help. They’ve escaped, but every fiber of his being feels wrong and he can’t wrap his head around why, except that his lungs are straining to take in air and his breathing is panicked, hurting his throat. His gut feels wrong too, like he swallowed something he shouldn’t have and now his body is frantic to get it out. Clenching his jaw shut, he tries desperately to fight it.

Beside him, Cooper makes a strangled noise and rolls over onto his hands and knees. Albert moves with him, shifting his grip but not letting go, and the sound of running footsteps reaches him a second before Cooper moans, then retches violently, bringing up a jet-black stream of… bile? Gasoline? Smoke? It’s not quite liquid and not quite gaseous, but it’s pouring from Cooper’s mouth like something out of a nightmare, thick and vile and cloying, only to dissipate before it hits the ground. Albert’s still clinging to him for dear life - for all the good it’ll do, but he got Cooper out of that hellscape, so damned if he’s gonna let go of him now - when a pair of hands grab his shoulders, trying to separate him from Coop.

“No,” he protests, “no, no, leave him -” and then he twists and flails until, through some miracle, the hands back off and he’s free to reach for Coop again.

“I’m okay,” Coop mutters, from somewhere near the ground. He’s trying to push himself up on his elbows, looking like death warmed over, but at least the seizure, or fit, or whatever it was, has stopped. “I think it’s over,” he says, voice hoarse, like he didn’t use it for a long time. “I think it’s gone. Albert…?”

“Here.” The immediate crisis over, Albert feels his own panic start to rise again. His stomach is churning, queasiness building past the point of no return, and he knows with the kind of inevitability born from watching too many bad horror movies that no amount of compulsive swallowing is going to save him this time. Blood is rushing in his ears; at some level, he’s aware he’s hyperventilating, probably has been from the moment they came crashing through, but all the effort in the world isn’t enough to help slow his breathing, not even when Cooper slides a shaky arm around him. “You’re safe?” Albert pants. “You sure? They’re not coming after you?” And then, weakly, “Coop, I - I need…”

“Don’t fight it.” Cooper presses in close, and for a moment Albert couldn’t say which of them is keeping the other from falling - or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, because he’s shaking so badly he couldn’t lift a feather right now. “It’ll be over soon, Albert, I promise, but you have to let it happen.” A pair of arms loops around his chest. “I’m here. I’m here now. I’m here thanks to you. Hold on.”

Albert moans, remembering the same sound coming from Cooper, low and desperate and keening - and then everything he’s been struggling to hold back catches up with him at once and he’s choking, falling, something inside him clawing to break free. He spits whatever it is out into the grass, once, and then again, big heaving spasms until his muscles scream with it and his head’s spinning, tears mingling with earth and and dirt on his face.

Then it passes, and he opens his eyes, and whatever hellish thing he was bracing himself to see is no longer even there.

“What…” Albert coughs, thickly. “What the hell just happened?”

“The Black Lodge.” Cooper isn’t sounding too steady, but he folds into Albert’s arms like paper and lets him put his chin on the top of his head. “I’ve seen it happen before. Or rather…” Coop pauses, holding Albert tighter. “BOB saw it. You absorb more of its essence the longer you spend there, or the harder the spirits fight you.” He shivers, his fingers on the side of Albert’s throat. “You fought very hard, Albert. Thank you.”

Not hard enough, Albert wants to say, and then has to scramble to find his balance, because Cooper has just gone limp in his arms.

He mutters a curse, a fraction of a second before he hears another voice do the same; a familiar one, accompanied by a ditto face swimming into his field of vision. The owner of those hands from a few minutes ago? “Truman,” he mutters, his relief overwhelming. Harry. “Help…”

“You’re OK. I got you.” Albert doesn’t know if the words are meant for Cooper or for him, but the soft drawl that they’re delivered in is already halfway reassuring. The other half follows when Harry lifts Cooper from his arms and, with infinite tenderness, lays him out on the grass. From this angle, Coop’s looking almost peaceful, and Albert allows himself a fierce, wild moment of hope that maybe they’re going to be all right.

“You made it.” Truman’s talent for stating the obvious is as strong as ever, but just this once, Albert isn’t about to fling it back in his face. It still hasn’t quite hit him that he pulled this off without anyone dying - or worse, given the stakes this time.

“Yeah,” he breathes, reveling in the truth of that answer, oversimplified as it is. They made it. Everything else can wait, at least for now. “How long?”

“Since you went in there? Nine hours.” Truman finishes checking Cooper over, softly strokes a wisp of hair from his face. “I was starting to think we lost you, too.” He turns back towards Albert, his chin dipping down. “And I take back every word I ever said about you possibly not being the best man for the job.”

Raising a hand towards his forehead, Albert finds that it’s shaking. “Just because I don’t believe in spirits doesn’t mean I’m not up to fighting them.” And there, finally, goes his last shred of resilience as he feels the ground give way beneath him, just slowly enough for Truman to dart in and catch him before he hits the mud face-first.

Harry’s hands are gentle as they turn him over, allowing him to clutch at Cooper’s arm even as the back of his head meets the damp, soggy grass.

“It’s OK,” Harry says again, thumb pressing into Albert’s collarbone. He sounds like a man who means what he’s saying, even though there’s no telling how long that faith will survive. “You can rest now. You’ve earned it. I’ll take it from here.”

It’s a testament to Albert’s love for the man that he doesn’t spit back all the reasons why, in the grand scheme of things, none of those statements are true - or maybe he just doesn’t have the strength. Either way, in those last couple of seconds before everything goes dark, with the warmth of two souls crowded around him, he knows. No one deserves goodness more than Dale Cooper; and if there’s any good left in this world, he trusts Harry to find it, and himself to defend it… And maybe, just maybe, those few truths will carry them through.

#twin peaks #dale cooper #albert rosenfield #harry truman #ot3 #my fic #stuff i made #long post #this isn't nearly as polished as i'd hoped but...#chances are i won't have any more writing time tomorrow so #there you go

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justhereforthewritingideas-blog · 5 years

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The Blood Pact War.

So I've read a story prompt a hundreds time with different versions of it all about. Basically write a story about two ex best friends who go to war, but instead of trying to kill each other they do things using their knowledge of each other to piss off, aggravate, and annoy one another. This is only the first.part of that idea. Anyway hope you enjoy and please don't mind the spelling or punctuation or pov mistakes it's literally just a quick idea I typed out.

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It was bright and hot day as the two girls stayed cool in the basement of Skarlers parents. It had potential but it was never finished. Instead it has random stuff scattered all around, from boxes never unpacked to items that no longer was used. They two thirteen years old girls sat in the middle of the room with just enough for them and thier items needed.

"Friends forever right?" florence asked worry etched upon her features. What they were doing was for people older, she was sure of it but she loved the idea of being connected to her best friend for eternityto much to let it pass her by.

"Of course flo" her light excited voice exclaims. Her smile reaching to her eyes as Florence's heart races."ok I've read the instructions here and considering we both are from a line of supernatural beings, this should last our whole lives. " Skarlet states as she looks over everything gathered in front of her, her eyebrows perched in concentration as she speaks. It is true they live together due to the alliance between werewolves and the dragonfolk, or better known as elementals.

Florence grabs the paper reading it once more.

This is for two beings who want to interlock their souls for eternity. This is not to be taken lightly. No matter the circumstances this pact can not be broken except for in death by one or both parties. Instructions follow:

Take the two pieces of parchment paper and write the pact exactly the same each written by one of the people. Be sure to be literal and exact in what is written.

2. The leader of this ritual is then to Light the dark blue non scented candles in a clockwise motion starting directly behind the other person. As this is being done the one not moving then has to chant the following pact once for each candle lit.

3. The leader begins to say the same thing for three more times after the last candle is lit. They then must prick their skin, the fingertip is fine but chest to finger from each person is best.if the fingertip just prick each persons finger and make the blood mix.

"Ok flo ready" skarlet speaks drawing Florence out of her reading. It sounds complicated but doable and seeing the determination on skarlets face melts away any doubts left in Florence's mind.

They begin and quickly they feel the atmosphere change not in a dark way but in a deffonitly heavy way. Florence begins chanting I call into the magics and the God's to hear our blood binding our conditions for this contract is as followed;we will never physically mentally or magically harm one another, nor ask or order another to do so for us.we will always return borrowed items and no one minus our families become above one another. We will tell each other everything when asked unless it is to protect the other person. We will never tell each other's secrets to another person. We will never Snoop into each other's private things. We will never date the others ex or family. And this is the end to this pact, as I say these words make this contract never ending while we both shall live God's of ours please make it so. " She chants as skarlet joins in the energy zooming with electricity. Both girls have sweat running down their foreheads in concentration as their eyebrows furrow and they speak with absolute certainty.

Skarlet grabs the sowing needle, burning it with the lighter she took from her mother, before grabbing her friends finger stabbing it til a red drop showed through, she then did the same to the center or Florence's palm, and finally doing it over her own heart. Without hesitation florence and skarlet together place the hand over the bleeding part of the chest making sure both the finger and the palm was able to mix with skarlets blood. They instantly feel dizzy and breathless as they feel closer then ever before inseparable almost. This only gets them more excited as Florence takes the needle and repeats what skarlet just did. This time, however the feelings felt between the two got.overwhelming. their vision began to fog over as their heads felt as if it was swimming, and while staring into one another's eyes as panic set in, they both collapse to the ground still holding each other's hand.

Some time later they wake up undistrubed and in almost the same position they fell unconcious, skarlet scared looks at the paper at the words she was not able to before.

"Do not read til the above has finished"

Once connected you will have passed out, if this did not happen then this was not a willing contract on one or both sides. Do not attempt again.

If you just woke up and are reading this congrats you have connected your souls, now to make it.permanent you must close the gate and force,that allowed such to happen. You are to blow out the candles starting with the first one you lit last time and go in the same order as before. Once the smoke has disapated you must slice the palm of your other hand and sign the parchment with your blood. This iswhat will set it in stone, and finally burn the parchment as you thank the God's for listening to your pleas. Once done, go sleep and rest, you will need it.

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It is sickening really, how once that vile person was her best friend; and now, she is fighting for the other side. It is a disgrace and it kills her to see that she must fight against her once best friend.though it doesnt mean flroence doesn't understand it skarlet is high council of the dragonborns after all. "Skarlet I will take you down, but I don't break my promises either. "She states to no one imparticular as she let's her brain stampedes her with these thoughts. Staring at the night sky calms her even on the worst of nights. she doesn't know how she's going to take her ex best friend down without breaking the pact and . Even if she wanted to go against that promise she couldn't as it would mean their deaths. The werewolves and the dragon borns both need more space as their grounds are getting crowded and so when both tried to occupy the same space war broke out. This land is sacred land as it is the very place both werewolves and dragons came to be.

Groaning Florence gets up ready to protect her pack. As she returns to the pack house a member she knows as Donovan appears. "Alpha you got a package.today, it's from the enemy general and head mage skarlet. Should.i toss it? The timid brown hair and speckled boy asks.florence shakes her head no curious to see what this box contained. She thanks the boy and grabs the box practically running to her office nervous yet excited to see what it could contain. She quickly damages the box ripping it open like a child on Christmas. Florence knowing she is being stupid and this could be dangerous but she doubts it considering the pact they made all those years ago. When she finally is able.to look inside she sees just a simple sd card and a cheap tablet as well as a weird squarish metal box type of thing.

She puts it together turning it on to see only a video. Playing it is a video of skarlet in her house, grabbing all the spoons minus one, grabbing her tv remote and having her tv record all the episodes of channel 68 news before running off with the two seemingly.unimportant items. Dammit that was driving her crazy for weeks. The video cuts to black for a long minute before turning back on as skarlet is sitting in the chair.

" Hope you like the gift my old friend. By the way I would move if I were you." It is then a timer shows itself.on the tablet counting down from ten. She grabs it propping open her window and tossing it out of the house as best she can. Then mindlinks everyone to get 30 feet away from the device. Once the timer hit zero green liquid ooze sprung out of the contraption along with her now soaked remote and spoons sighing and aggravated she jumped out the window with ease as her eyes feasted upon the remaining gunk come flying out before kneeling on the ground and grabbing her destroyed items. However upon touching the stuff, there was a sticky context like glue." God dammit." Florence thinks to her self careful not to get any in her blonde locks that fell below her shoulders. Trying her best to keep her weak stomach under control as it flips and flops insidenof her.

"Nothing to see here folks just a prank" she tells the remaining members keeping her voice calm and collected. They quickly walk away as Florence decides the next move.

"Ok skarlet if it's a game of mental chess you want a game of chess is what you'll get. It's my move." Flo state out into the open air knowing she is listening somewhere somehow nearby not even caring to.look at her, the previous disgust from the prank already all but forgotten. her brows crinkle in thought as florence decides how to get back at her for this. Though no harm was done it definitely was an act of war in the way only best friends could show.

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micaramel · 5 years

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Artist: Vaclav Girsa

Venue: SVIT, Prague

Exhibition Title: Magmatic Laf

Date: January 12 – March 1, 2019

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release, and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of SVIT, Prague. Photos by Tomas Soucek for SVIT.

Press Release:

“There were, in such voyages, incalculable local dangers; as well as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth,whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Jme amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic. UlJmate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.”

H. P. Lovecraft, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath

Sociologists call our era liquid and unstable. However, there are enFFes that have had their say in the processes of fluidity and reshuffling already for millions of years. We are standing amidst a volcanic whirl and the paintings send out repeated messages to us with mixed expressions – urgent, comical, embarrassing, slimy, spontaneous, smart, empty, dense, pleasing, rude, elegant, black, white, colourful. All the diverse forms that scientists’ reports have to take to express the urgency of climate change. The images appear comical and colourful but there is a solemnity that does not allow for exhilaration – as if Lovecraft meets Lovelock.

This solemnity may stem from the way the paintings are installed in a composition that both denies and underlines their uniqueness. Aside from whirling, the installation seems to race against time which is, however, caught in a circular motion and, according to climatologists’ catastrophic warnings, there is not enough of it for the extensive changes civilization must undertake. The theory of the self-regulating system, Gaia, can hardly help the human species either, as even its author, James Lovelock, believes that around 2040 or 2050 the Earth will warm up to the point where fields in Europe turn into deserts and people start migrating in search of water, food and cool air. However, because he sees Earth as a one superorganism, Lovelock predicts that by the end of the century the fever will stop, settling at 8 °C above the present temperature. A similar situation occurred 55 million years ago in the Eocene when living organisms moved to the cooler poles and the Earth experienced a massive volcanic eruption.

A super-volcanic eruption could also solve (or rather, put off) our current problem because it would disperse sulphur particles through the atmosphere and reflect solar radiation. It is as if Girsa has assumed some of Lovelock’s views of the Earth as organism. His volcanic cones have arms, legs, tentacles, hooves, claws and even human expressions and problems. In the context of Lovelock’s theory, the omnipresent diversity of Girsa’s images (graphic, expressive, pictographic, mediumistic, geometric, descriptive) refers to the diversity of organisms, a guarantee of Gaia’s overall health. Girsa’s interest in volcanoes is not momentary – he was already drawing them as a child. He also collected precious stones and magmaFc rocks and stored them under his bed along with walnuts because he had read somewhere that this combination is good for one’s health. He visited several volcanoes in New Zealand, as well as Etna, Vesuvius and Nisyros where he conducted specialized arFsFc research in the Stefanos crater; the drawings he created there gave rise to some of his paintings. Girsa’s work is always biographical in some way and fed by personal experience, and this exhibition is no exception: some of the paintings capture his music band, Střešovická kramle, as well as the artist himself.

The Kokon Haka dance, performed at the opening, is meant to show that the paintings, despite being attached to the wall, do not always guarantee a zone of safe contemplation. Girsa claims that he feels very good and happy inside craters and that he is waiting for one of the super- volcanoes to break into its dance. He searches daily for any news about their activity.

Automatic writer

Link: Vaclav Girsa at SVIT

Contemporary Art Daily is produced by Contemporary Art Group, a not-for-profit organization. We rely on our audience to help fund the publication of exhibitions that show up in this RSS feed. Please consider supporting us by making a donation today.

from Contemporary Art Daily http://bit.ly/2TctvTF

#micaramel

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newsnigeria · 6 years

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Check out New Post published on Ọmọ Oòduà

New Post has been published on http://ooduarere.com/news-from-nigeria/world-news/hezbollah-at-war/

Hezbollah at War (3): Missiles on Haifa (July 16, 2006) / Saudi Arabia Unmasked

An Algerian publicly unmasks Sheikh Al-Sudais, Imam of Mecca

Translation: unz.com/sayedhasan

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Following a conference in Geneva on June 27, 2018 devoted to “Security, its importance, and the means for its realization and its preservation”, the Imam of Mecca, Sheikh al-Sudais, who had affirmed that Trump and Ben Salmane “were leading the world and mankind to a haven of peace and security”, was long questioned by a one-legged Algerian, who eloquently denounced the criminal Saudi policy, aligned with that of Washington & Tel Aviv.

Despite the servile efforts of the promoters to silence him, and especially to prevent anyone from filming the scene, it made the buzz on social networks and Arab media not controlled by the Saud, including Al-Jazeera. Sudais pitifully retreated without making a single reply, except the affirmation, without the least embarrassment, that there was no embargo against Qatar (sic).

While only a few years ago, Muslims, both in the East and in the West, were widely hypnotized by the great Sheikhs of Saudi Arabia, of whom, thanks to the petrodollars, almost every Muslim household had recitations of the Quran, their aura is greatly degraded today, as evidenced by the sparse audience of this conference, and the reactions of solidarity that have manifested themselves on both video and social networks. Henceforth, the Wahhabi Saud are no longer assimilated to Islam, of which they only constitute a heretical and barbaric cult perfectly embodied by ISIS, but to what they have always been, namely an artificial entity created of all pieces and maintained by imperialism (formerly British, now American), a Western Trojan horse in the East, just like Israel.

The forthcoming announcement of the so-called “Deal of the Century”, supposed to definitively liquidate the Palestinian cause, by the triumvirate Trump-Netanyahu-Ben Salman (an archetypal Team of Losers, if ever there was one), will certainly sign the death sentence of the Saud dynasty, already moribund because of its defeat in Yemen and the monumental failure of the American project in Syria. Apart from Washington, Tel-Aviv (and their satellites, agents and mercenaries) and Islamophobes of all stripes, the world can only welcome such a development.

Sayed Hasan

Hezbollah at War (3): Missiles on Haifa (July 16, 2006)

Speech by Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, Secretary General of Hezbollah, on July 16, 2006, the fourth day of the war against Israel, in which Haifa was hit for the first time.

Translation: unz.com/sayedhasan

“We concentrated our missile / rocket strikes exclusively on military positions, without striking any Israeli settlements or urban centers in the north of occupied Palestine. But the enemy’s army, unable to face Hezbollah fighters, started from day one to target cities, villages, civilians and civilian facilities, as well as Lebanon’s infrastructure. […] So we had no choice but to keep the promise we made ourselves, and we hit the city of Haifa. [..] Our weapons are not weapons of vengeance, but weapons of deterrence, weapons whose purpose is to bring back some reason and common sense to the madmen in the Olmert government, so that they put an end to their arrogance, hubris, and I can even say their very peculiar imbecility and stupidity.” Hassan Nasrallah, July 16, 2006. Unsurprisingly, in the first days of the war, Israel poured out its destructive fury on Lebanon and the Lebanese population, purposely striking the infrastructure (bridges, power plants, airport…) in order to paralyze the country, as well as the urban centers to inflict a collective punishment on the Lebanese people –especially the Shiite-majority areas of the southern suburbs of Beirut, to exact the highest price from the Hezbollah base–, sparing neither homes nor convoys of civilians fleeing the areas bombed and in particular the south, nor the ambulances, the refuges, nor the food industry, subjecting the country to a real blockade. Robert Fisk had reported the war crime of Marwaheen, a particularly vile and spiteful act of vengeance, mentioned by Hassan Nasrallah in this speech:

“[Lebanon] is being vandalized and smashed up by a country which says it believes in purity of arms. And these civilian deaths, I don’t believe that they’re by chance. I don’t believe it was a mistake when they hit that army barracks of logistic soldiers, who are trying to repair [a bridge and restore electricity in] their own country, which they have every right to do.

And Marwaheen is a particular — this is a village in Southern Lebanon, where Mossad, the Israelis, ordered the villagers out. I should add that this is a village closest to the scene of the killing and capture of the Israeli soldiers on Wednesday. They were ordered to leave the village. They did so in a convoy of cars, 20 of them. They went to the United Nations, who ordered them away — Ghanaian Battalion, shamefully — and set off to Tyre. And an F-16 came down and burned them all alive with bombs. Outrageous massacre.”

In a few days, there were more than 300 dead, almost exclusively civilians, thousands of wounded and nearly one million displaced. The Lebanese army, scandalously neutral in this conflict –we would learn much later that Prime Minister Fouad Siniora, who called on Hezbollah to return the soldiers to Israel, making the Resistance de facto responsible for the war, had given instructions for the army to hinder Hezbollah activity–, was not even spared in its civil engineering actions. Anxious to maintain as much as possible the national cohesion and not to play the game of the enemy, Hassan Nasrallah would not evoke these facts until 2008, nor the collusion of the Gulf monarchies, and Saudi Arabia in particular, with the Israeli aggression.

But while Israel emerged as the criminal army it has always been, Hezbollah, for its part, demonstrated its ethics, targeting Israeli civilians only after several days of restraint. having no other choice to protect its own population (the final civilian / military ratio of Hezbollah victims will be the reverse of Israel’s, 1/10 versus 10/1), as well as its great military expertise: while the Lebanese guerrillas achieved success after success (Israel corvette destroyed, military bases of the north localized and hit…), Israel revealed to all the incapacity of its infantry, whose attempts of incursion were immediately stopped, and even of its services intelligence, essential auxiliaries of the air force. On the first day, Olmert had pompously announced the destruction of almost all of Hezbollah’s ballistic capacity, but he received a stinging denial from the ever-increasing rocket and missile strikes that hit Israel daily, until the last day of the confrontation, up to Haifa and, as the next stage will show, well beyond Haifa. This discourse, where victory and reconstruction are evoked as soon-to-be and certain perspectives, clearly shows that Hezbollah always was in a position of strength in this conflict.

Sayed Hasan

Transcript:

In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

“– Say: Nothing (bad) can happen to us except what God has decreed for us. He is our Protector: and on God let the believers put their trust. – Say: Can you expect for us (any fate) other than one of two glorious things (victory or martyrdom)? But (as for us), we can expect for you either that God will send His punishment from Himself or by our hands. So wait (expectant); we too will wait with you (the outcome of our battle).” (Quran, IX, 50-51)

God the Almighty and Most High has spoken the truth.

Peace be upon you and God’s mercy and blessings.

In this speech, I wish to speak to you again on this day, Sunday [July 16], shortly before 1pm, to discuss with you some points relating to the battlefield and the political (situation), that I must evoke in this particularly sensitive and important situation we are living today.

First, regarding the events on the ground. From the beginning, we tried to act with calm, precision and without precipitation. We announced clear positions and clear warnings. The first day, we focused our missile/rocket strikes exclusively on military positions, without targeting any Israeli settlement or urban center in northern occupied Palestine. But the army of the enemy, unable to face the mujahedeen (Hezbollah fighters), started from day one to target cities, villages, civilians and civilian facilities as well as (Lebanon’s) infrastructure.

Despite this, we have waited and continued our struggle (targeting only enemy) soldiers and military forces, and military positions in the north of occupied Palestine. And very important strikes took place successfully, especially one that targeted several Command centers of Brigades in the north (of Israel), whether the Command of the northern zone, the Command of the naval forces or the Command of air operations in Meron, and the impact and damage caused by these unprecedented strikes were considerable. But in spite of that, we saw that the Zionists concentrated their strikes on civilians and civilian facilities.

(The enemy) tried to advance in the area of ‘Ayt al-Sha`b, but the mujahedeen (fighters) faced him and destroyed an Israeli tank that is among the strongest that exists to this day in Israel. A second tank approached and was also destroyed, and a third came forward and was damaged. And this event was an opportunity to humiliate the Israeli infantry at the Mount Amel border.

The main cities of Lebanon were hit by Israel, as well as villages, and they killed civilians in their homes. In several villages, civilian homes were destroyed, and the husband, the wife and children (whole families) got killed. Here, there are 10 martyrs; there, 8 martyrs; there again, 7 martyrs, etc. (Their crimes went as far as) the terrible and atrocious martyrdom of refugees of the city (South Lebanon) of Marwaheen, mostly women and children (fleeing the combat zone at Israel’s request), and destructive strikes against a number of towns, and especially against the southern suburb of Beirut.

It seems that the enemy has misinterpreted our restraint of the early days. In truth, we have been patient against this aggression and retaliated by hitting only military (targets), to confirm that our battle is with them, even if we consider that all (the Israelis) are accomplices (of the attack). But as long as we were not forced to hit civilian targets, we had no reason to do so. We waited (patiently) and achieved a great success when we hit the Israeli military corvette (who operated) off the coast of Beirut, as a clear sign that we punish those who strike our cities and infrastructure, and assault our people.

But the Zionists continued (their widespread strikes) regardless of our warnings, and their false reading of (our restraint) lead them to continue their wide aggression against southern Lebanon, the Bekaa, especially against the cities of Baalbek-Hermel, up to the north, and always target more civilian facilities and infrastructure. We didn’t have a choice today but to keep the promise we had made ourselves, and we hit the city of Haifa. We know the importance of this city and its particular sensitivity. And if we had launched our missiles on chemical and petrochemical plants, a major disaster would have hit the inhabitants of this city. But we have deliberately avoided these plants, which are within the range of our missiles, due to our care not to push things to the unknown, and to ensure that our weapons are not weapons of vengeance, but weapons of deterrence, weapons (aiming to) bring back some sanity and common sense to the madmen in the Olmert government, to put an end to their arrogance, their hubris, and I can even say the idiocy and stupidity by which they truly stand out.

But the fact that we have avoided (hitting chemical installations, cities or settlements) does not mean that this is an irrevocable decision: at any time, we consider that we are responsible to defend our country, our people and our families, and therefore all means in our power to ensure that defense will be implemented. As long as the enemy will lead its aggression without limits or red line, we also (have every right to) organize our Resistance without limits or red line.

O noble Lebanese people to whom I address this speech, I also want to confirm some points after the presentation of the situation on the ground. We still have, thank God, our full power and our full strength. It is we who have the initiative of the time and place (of confrontation), and the enemy cannot force us to resort to any means of defense, nor can he impose the time at which we use them.

We continue to carry out our Resistance in a precise and organized way, something the enemy did not expect: Israel assumed that in the first days, his violent strikes would lead to a dismemberment of the (Hezbollah) Command and of our (military) base, but no such thing happened, and I will get back to this issue later. And one of our major strong points is that the enemy does not know our power and our capabilities. And when they announce their position or make their calculations, they base them on erroneous data and false information. For example… And this is why the enemy also resorts to lies.

For example, the first day, all the targets hit in the villages of southern Lebanon are civilian homes, civilian houses in which there were no launching pads nor storage of missiles/rockets, nor anything resembling what the Israelis alleged to have targeted. Then the Israelis announced that the largest portion of the ballistic (missiles/rockets) power of Hezbollah was destroyed on the first day. I tell the Israeli Army that these information are false and unfounded. The people you killed are civilians, women and children. And the houses you destroyed are civilian homes, empty of any missile or rocket you mention. (Hezbollah’s) arsenal that you dread so much and consider very thoughtfully in all your calculations is still intact, and what we have launched so far is only a small part of this arsenal. We always have the ability to launch a large number of rockets/missiles.

Today, the Zionists based all their plans and calculations on the assumption that the number of rockets or missiles in the hands of Hezbollah able to strike Haifa, Acre, Tiberias or beyond Haifa does not exceed a few dozen. If your battle is based on this postulate, then I bring you good news of your defeat (to come), by the grace of God. It only makes us more optimistic and enthusiastic, stronger and more confident in our ability to defeat you.

And I say to the Zionist people that your government and your army deceive you. During the operation “Grapes of Wrath” (1996), they organized their entire battle on the (erroneous) assumption that all what Hezbollah actually had in terms of Katyusha rockets did not exceed 500. Then they were surprised to find out that this information was false. On this point, I can confirm that the enemy is completely unaware of (the full extent of) our ability. He ignores what we have at all levels. And this is our most important strength, and we have always prided ourselves of it within the Islamic Resistance in Lebanon (Hezbollah). We take pride in the fact that we are not infiltrated by the Israeli intelligence services. We are proud to have built our strength, in every respect, with the required concealment and secrecy as we were preparing carefully for the day Israel would try to avenge the defeat Lebanon inflicted on it (in 2000).

For the next stage, we will keep behaving as we do now, since it is they who have opted for this open war, and we will be careful to avoid targeting civilians as much as possible, except when we are compelled to it. In the previous step, even when we were forced to target civilians, we focused our strikes on main cities and large settlements, though we had the ability to hit every settlement, every village and every city, at least those in the north of occupied Palestine, but we chose to keep things in the limit required to pressure the government of this enemy. But as I have said, even in this context, when the Zionists act on the principle that there are no rules, no red line and no limit to their aggression, then we also have the right to behave the same way in return.

Today, Israelis speak of a violent bombardment (from them), as if what happened in the early days was a light bombardment. Many towns and villages of Lebanon have suffered these (massive) strikes, including the southern suburb of Beirut last night, which suffered a methodical destruction of certain neighborhoods. The world will see the reality of it all, and although during the first stage, we wanted some scenes (particularly atrocious) not to be broadcast, the world is beginning to see the extent of the destruction inflicted by the enemy to the buildings (and of the massacres). But can it alter our determination, our will or our decision? Never, under any circumstances.

We will continue to fight, and we have very, very large abilities, and we are only at the beginning. And the Zionists will infallibly see, I repeat it again and again, that what I say and promise is the absolute truth (and will certainly happen).

Today, we also hear in Zionist circles (military / media) about the idea of launching a ground incursion towards certain places. They already tried to advance on the Raheb position located west of Ayt al-Sha`b, and tried again last night (in vain). We heard today that they would use weapons prohibited by the international community. Anyway, we are present in the south, our mujahedeen (fighters) are just as ready (to fight) as one can conceive, they have a passion for combat and an enthusiastic desire to inflict a (stinging) defeat on the enemy. This is not a desperate people seeking martyrdom, but an optimistic people certain of his victory, who wants to offer Arabs a new example (of victorious Resistance). And therefore, as we have surprised them at sea (with the destruction of their corvette), as we surprised them (when we hit) Haifa, and as we will surprise them (when we strike) beyond Haifa, I also promise them a surprise with their ground offensive. And we look forward to it with great hope, because it will give us the opportunity to directly hit the enemy tanks and soldiers, who are currently hiding in fortified retreats and planes; and obviously, as their Air Force is the most powerful in the region, they may be out of our reach because they strike us from very high locations in the sky. Any ground incursion will be very good news for the Resistance because it will get us closer to victory and allow us to humiliate the Israeli enemy, as we humiliated him in recent days. This prospect does not worry us.

I have a word to say to the (Lebanese) people, this generous people, enduring, honorable, pure, from which we heard these days in the media expressions of patience, support, assistance and love (for the Resistance ). You are truly a great people, and these are not (vain) bragging words, exaggeration or embellishment (of reality). You are a historical people, on which rests the hope to get Lebanon and even all this (Arab-Muslim) Community, the whole Community, out of the state of submission and humiliation in which it is today, and to reinvigorate it with hope. I assure you once again that with your support, your embrace, your love, your patience and endurance, we will be victorious.

The houses and buildings that are destroyed will surely be rebuilt, with our cooperation and that of the institutions of the Lebanese State, but in this respect, I declare to you: do not worry at all about all that is destroyed by the Israeli war machine (because we will rebuild everything). We only wish recovery to the wounded, and long life to all the Lebanese in health and well-being; and as to what is bombed and destroyed, with the help of God Almighty and Exalted, with the help of the Lebanese State and also with the help of Hezbollah, which is an interested and concerned party, we are determined to be serious and effective in rebuilding all that was destroyed; and I tell you, without going into details now, that we have friends (Iran) seriously engaged in this issue, who have a great ability to help us with clean, pure and honorable money, without any political conditions. Do not worry about the reconstruction of our country. The importance today is to resist, and to emerge victorious from this battle.

I also have a word to say on some points currently raised by the media of the enemy, and I will conclude with a word that I will address the peoples of the Arab and Muslim worlds.

The enemy today resorts to lies and strong psychological warfare, which is quite natural, especially with an enemy like this. For example, they first tried to say that no Zionist warship was destroyed at sea, then they eventually recognized it. And I can confirm, and we also have elements that confirm this: a corvette was hit by two missiles. That’s the first point. And as for the fact that they have tried to make people believe that the missiles of the Resistance struck a commercial vessel or something like that, the days have shown that this was part of the Israeli lies. In the event that a commercial vessel would indeed have been targeted or hit, certainly, it would be the action of Israeli warships.

Another point in this regard, the fact that they talk of Iranian soldiers, and that it would be Iranians who have launched or helped to launch the two (ground-sea) missiles (that struck the corvette). Israeli reconnaissance aircraft were present above the area where the missiles were launched and watched every move. How could this confined area contain Iranian soldiers? Anyway, I categorically deny the presence of any Iranian soldier, either during this operation or any other. Those who have the comprehensive expertise and themselves use these (military) capabilities present in Hezbollah’s hands are Lebanese, children of Lebanese and belong to Lebanese families since hundreds of years. The Israelis speak of Iranians and Iranian soldiers, and could speak tomorrow of North Koreans, Japanese, Russians or Chinese in order to lessen (our abilities) and insult us, as they always have done with us, the Lebanese and Arab peoples, considering that we are at a lower level, and that we are not sufficiently developed, capable or do not have the necessary expertise for a confrontation of this nature. This is part of the lies that the Zionists resort to in this war. I really wanted to clarify that. And therefore, by the grace of God, in the next stage, through the arms of the mujahideen (fighters) and honorable Lebanese Resistance, we will continue our struggle and defeat our enemy.

Finally, I wish to address the Arab and Muslim peoples. Of course, I am speaking to them to clarify things and make them face up to their responsibilities. I am not going to implore, call for help or request anything.

Since the first moments of Operation “Truthful Promise” and the confrontations that ensued, we resolved and we are bound by common consent, me and my brothers, to ask nothing to any man in this confrontation. And many people have contacted us and offered assistance, but we said we do not need anything, and we never took the initiative to ask for anything, whether at the material, political, media, popular, military levels, etc. Of course, we pray, we ask, we invoke and we intercede only to God, the Almighty and Exalted, because we believe in Him, in His abilities, in His omnipotence, that He embraces all things, and He is true to His promise of victory addressed to (true) believers. And “God suffices us and He is the best of Protectors.” (Quran, III, 173).

And today, when I address the Arab and Islamic peoples, it is certainly not to tell them to come to our rescue, to save us, absolutely not. We’re perfectly fine, thank God, and we are in a position of strength, and at the beginning of a confrontation on which we pin great hopes. But I wish only to make them face up to their responsibilities.

Yesterday you saw, especially the Arab peoples, the results of the Council of Arab Ministers, and what the Arab League can do. They talk themselves of the failure of what they refer to as the “Peace process”, and it has also become clear that they are unable, as governments, leaders and regimes, to do anything at all. Anyway, we never counted on them.

You, Arab and Muslim peoples, have the duty to take a stance, for the sake of your (life in the) Hereafter, in case you do believe in Heaven, and for the sake of your mortal life, your fate, your dignity, your honor, your future and the future of your children and grandchildren.

Here is the situation today: if, in this confrontation, God forbid, Israel managed to defeat the Resistance in Palestine and the Resistance in Lebanon, then all the Arab world, both governments and peoples, would be drowned forever in humiliation, without any way of salvation. The arrogance of the Zionists against Arab governments and peoples would only grow, as well as that of their US masters, who stand behind them, American and Israeli interference in the affairs of our peoples and governments would grow, and therefore, the looting of our resources would continue and worsen, as the trampling down on our civilization and culture. This region would be dislocated and dismembered, and pushed into internal sedition, etc.

Today, the Arab community and the Muslim community have an historic opportunity to unite, to get out of the division, sectarian strife and civil wars in which the United States are pushing our region and our peoples. The peoples of the Arab and Muslim worlds are now facing a historic opportunity to achieve a major historic victory against the Zionist enemy. It is not the question of who will impose his conditions on who. Today, an exceptional opportunity of this nature is before us, and I do not exaggerate.

In Lebanon, in 2000, we have offered, with limited capacity, modest efforts and a very limited number of fighters, equipment and weapons, a true example of Resistance that can defeat the army of occupation. Today, we offer an example (of Resistance), alongside the Lebanese people and all of Lebanon, even if we (Hezbollah) are the spearhead of the war, with the villages, towns and neighborhoods where our popular base is strongest, these being most heavily subjected to death and destruction. Even if no Lebanese is spared, it is mainly on our popular basis that the strikes are focused.

We also try to offer another example (different from the traditional Arab submission) in terms of endurance, power, patience, strength, courage and ability to inflict a defeat on the enemy. And in fact, this battle is not an equal battle in terms of material means (weapons and technology, where Israel clearly has the upper hand), but with regards to the soul, the spirit, the will, reason, wisdom, planning, perseverance and confidence in God the Almighty and Exalted, it is unequal but in our favor.

Where are you, O Arab and Muslim peoples? What are you doing ? How will you behave? That concerns you. As for us, when we started the Resistance in 1982, we were not looking beyond the borders (of Lebanon for any help), no. We were not expecting anything from anyone, except from God, and we relied (solely) on our people and our mujahedeen (fighters). Today we do the same.

But what I wanted to say in this sensitive time, and after several military exploits in recent days, after several surprises befallen and coming by the grace of God, I tell you this: No, today, Hezbollah is not leading Hezbollah’s battle nor Lebanon’s battle. Today, we are leading the battle of the whole (Arab and Muslim) Community. Whether we like it or not, whether the Lebanese like it or not, today, Lebanon and the Resistance in Lebanon are leading the battle of the Community.

Where is the (Arab and Muslim) Community in this battle? This is a question that I address you out of concern for your mortal life and for your life in the Hereafter.

O my brothers and sisters, and above all, O our enduring Lebanese people, O our enduring people in occupied Palestine, O honorable Resistants, put your trust in God, and ask Him for His help because He is the Best of Helpers and Assistants to achieve Victory.

Peace be upon you and God’s mercy and blessings.

#Hezbollah #Israel

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