#real life is just sitting and stewing in your own despair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

backtobackbakubabe · 3 years

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Speak Easy Part 11

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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The longer you sat in the car the more uncomfortable you got. You knew you looked like a mess, and by the way Dabi was trying really hard not to look at you, it must be really bad.

“I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have… doesn’t make me okay with it.”

You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t think the action would hurt your head. “I’m fine. You’ve literally stabbed and drowned me before.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “How long are you going to throw that in my face? They were both in your best interest and I’m done apologizing for them.”

His anxiety and anger were written all over his features from his tense shoulders to his cold stare at the road in front of him. You reached over to run your fingers through his hair, knowing the simple action would help ease his nerves. However, your sore muscles and possibly bruised ribs throbbed in pain and made you hiss through your teeth and your hand ended up gripping his elbow instead.

“What was that about being fine?” His tone wasn’t as antagonistic as you had thought it would be. Instead it sounded a little distressed.

It finally clicked why he was so upset. He had told you before you left that he would keep you safe. In his head he failed. You knew he had a rough time coping with failure thanks to Endeavor’s less than ideal parenting. Dabi can pretend that his childhood doesn’t affect him anymore all he likes, but you saw through it.

“None of this was your fault. You know that, right?”

The car remained silent as he continued to stare ahead.

“I’m serious. I’m not just saying it to make you feel better. If anything, it’s my fault. I let go of your hand after you asked me more than once not to. I froze when he attacked me.” Now you were just working yourself up. “And holy shit was I rusty with my quirk. Like I may as well have not used it at all. He was able to shake out of my word binding like it was nothing.”

Back in your prime you would have been able to take a guy like that down with little to no effort. You looked down to your scraped hands and knees. Felt the pain in your ribs with every breath you took. And you knew there was a decent chance you had a concussion. “How did I manage to slip this far?”

Now it was his turn to reach out and put his hand on your thigh. It was almost humorous how quickly he could shift moods when he thought you needed him. “Just a small hiccup. It was your first real fight in years. That guy was a trained assassin, and you still managed to incapacitate him. Next time you won’t hesitate. We’ll work on it at home, if it makes you feel better.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

The rest of the car ride was quiet as you both let yourself stew in your own thoughts. Your thoughts were a dangerous place to be. Not only where you having a minor melt down about your recent fight, but you were still trying to cope with the fact you just watched Dabi murder someone.

As a hero that was something that was a massive taboo. You only did it if you absolutely had to and even then, you were still scrutinized. The man was paralyzed and couldn’t mood. You could have called one of the guys to come pick him up. Dabi insisted that if you let them put the man in prison, it would just be handing him over to the same people who were looking for you. Right now, no one knows that you’re with Dabi. That kind of information would be invaluable to both heroes and villains who were currently looking for you.

There was a sick feeling of despair that was settling in your stomach as you started to realize that Dabi might have been right. You didn’t want to accept it though. Your whole life you were trained to value human life, even if that life belonged to a bad person. But at this point you couldn’t figure out how much of your life as a hero was even real. How much you still agreed with. You were finding it was hard to even differentiate who was bad and who was good. It was enough to make your head spin.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head on the cold glass window as the spinning only seemed to increase.

“Hey… Hey don’t do that. Keep your eyes open and stay awake. You probably have a concussion.”

“If I keep my eyes open, I’m going to throw up. My head is spinning.” You put your head in your hands and rubbed your temples.

“Okay… so you definitely have a concussion. Hold on we’re almost home.” You didn’t open your eyes, but you could feel the car pick up speed. For a while the only sound in the car was the low hum of the engine as Dabi sped home. He knew it’d be easier to calm down once you were safe within it’s walls.

Before long the car slowed down as it approached the garage. You kept your eyes closed as you listened to Dabi’s quick steps around the car. He opened your door gently to keep you from falling out of the car. You heard his breath catch and you wondered if you really looked that bad.

“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” Out of instinct, you reached your arms up to him just like you did when he carried you everywhere. Without a moment’s hesitation he slotted his arms under your knees and behind your back and pulled you out of the car. It sent jolts of pain through your ribs, but you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound.

The trip from the garage to the bathroom was shorter than you would have liked. You were enjoying the feeling being caged in his strong arms, snuggling into his warm chest. He gently set you on the toilet, brushing some hair away from you face, careful to avoid any area that might be bruised or bleeding. “I’m going to turn the water on, but real quick, while the water heats up I’m going to go get the groceries out of the car.”

If your eyes were open, you would be narrowing them at him right now. “…You’re worried about the ice cream aren’t you?”

There was a moment of silence that just confirmed it. “Shut up…Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be sad if you couldn’t have ice cream after the shitty day you’ve had.”

You snorted, “I’d rather have a shot… but I have a feeling you won’t let me because of the whole mild head injury thing…. So…” You opened your eyes and waved towards the bathroom door. “Go get it before it melts. I can take it from here.”

He sprinted out of the bathroom yelling “Don’t fucking move until I get back!” as he left. He said not to move, but you could at least try to start undressing yourself. That shouldn’t be too hard.

You started with your shoes. Easy enough, just kicked them right off with no problem. Now it’s time for your dress. That was a whole different story. You tried several times, but you couldn’t seem to be able to pull past your chest without some part of you hurting.

You desperately wanted to get undressed and into the shower yourself. There was probably some part of you that was still feeling a little defeated and insecure after your fight. You had this weird need to prove you could do it by yourself even though realistically you couldn’t, and not only that you didn’t have too.

You knew Dabi would help, hell he would probably be pissed if you tried to do this without him. Just as much as you wanted to do this alone, he wanted to take care of you probably even more. He was also still feeling the sting of perceived failure. So, what were you going to do?

You surprised even yourself when you sighed and leaned back deciding to wait for Dabi. Logically you knew the only you were going to do this without hurting yourself further was to let him help. It was what was physically best for you. It also would help him get over his own pity party, so in a way it was what was best for him too.

“Oh wow… you actually listened.” Dabi was back and making his way towards you with a first aid kit that looked like it had seen some shit.

“Not on purpose. I tried to get my dress off… but it just hurt, so I gave up and decided I’d wait for you to do it for me.”

He placed the kit on the counter and squatted between your legs. “I’m about to say something that I know you’ll think is sarcastic, but I promise it’s not… Thank you for giving up.” He gently pulled the hem of your dress up until he could pull it over your front. If he was affected by the fact that you were sitting in front of him in only a pair of underwear, then he didn’t show it.

He quietly appraised your injuries with a serious face. “Other than your head and your ribs does anything stand out at overly painful? Can you rotate and bend all of your joints?”

One by one you checked your wrists, shoulders, ankles, knees, and lastly your neck. “I think they’re all fine. Sore in some spots, but nothing too bad.”

He nodded as he started to clean the dried blood off of your forehead. “You have a lot of scrapes, but those will be fine. I just want to get this nasty cut on your forehead cleaned up.” He bit his lip, “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m supposed to do for your ribs though… or what you’re supposed to do for concussions.”

You winced as he pressed a little too hard onto the gash in your forehead, “It’s fine… that’s what Google’s for right?”

He apparently didn’t think that was very funny. He just grunted as he continued his dabbing. When he considered himself done, he put a bandage over it. “I was kinda hoping you could show off your surgical staple skills. We could be twins.”

“That’s not funny.” His blue eyes fixed on you, you could see something cracking in them. “Okay maybe it’s a little funny… I might laugh about it tomorrow… but right now… not funny.”

He reached a hand into the shower to test the temperature. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up. We just need to try and keep your bandage dry, if that’s even possible.”

He was helping you stand up to get into the shower, but you stopped him right before you got in. “I’m sorry… I feel like ever since I got here all you’ve done nothing but take care of me.” You took a step into the shower. “I promise I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

He quickly stripped out of his clothes and got in behind you. “Stop with that shit. It’s like I said earlier today, just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.” His fingers started massaging into your sore muscles in your back, “I promise I don’t mind. I know you’re a big girl, I know you’re capable, but you’re also mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”

His fingers moved to base of you scalp and started rubbing firm circles, and you practically purred at the action. It felt so damn good. He leaned over your shoulder and pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you got a little beat up today, and I know you’re a little disappointed, but at the end of the day you’re the one who walked away. I’m still proud of you. You fought hard against someone who has been trained to kill top ranked heroes. Next time I’m sure you won’t even need me.” He kissed your shoulder and his hands ghosted around to your hips. His fingers so soft you almost couldn’t feel them. “I’m going to start training with you.” His fingers brushed up your sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of your breasts. “We’re going to turn you into someone they wouldn’t dare fuck with again.”

His hands heated up slightly as they very gently hovered over your ribs. The warmth felt great against your aching bones. You closed your eyes and leaned back against him and let him take his time rinsing all the blood and dirt from your body. Every once in a while, his hands would linger, rubbing small circles or massaging your sore muscles.

When he turned the water off it felt like it had been hours since you stepped in and your limbs felt like jelly.

That’s how you ended up wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, lying on Dabi’s chest with his arms around you. You don’t know when you drifted off but thankfully there were no bad memories waiting for you when you did. You slept deeply and soundly, making up for the restless sleep you had last night. When your little mid-day nap ended you woke up still feeling sore, but well rested.

You stretched the best you could, before blinking your eyes open. You had expected to see Dabi curled up next to you, but was surprised to find an empty bed.

He better not have snuck out again to track people down. You weren’t in any shape to take care of him if he came back hurt again.

Something felt weird as you sat up, there was a weird pressure on your neck, almost like you were wearing a heavy necklace. Your fingers flew up to find a collar and your eyes immediately welled with tears as the memory of have having the medical collar on in the lab pushed to the front of your brain. Your fingers dug into it trying to rip it off, but you couldn’t. In your panic your nails dug into the skin of your neck. There was no latch that you could find, and it was leading to a gnawing fear in the pit of your stomach. “DABI!!”

Your voice sounded hysterical and terrified even to you. But you couldn’t help it.

The door to his room slammed open a few seconds later as he ran inside. His eyes assessed the situation and settled on the source of your panic. His hands replaced yours pulling your nails away from your neck. “Hey shhh, calm down. You’re safe. Just breath.”

You tried to do what he said, but your breathing was getting tighter. “I-I need it off! I cant- I cant breath!” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. “Please! Dabi get it off of me!”

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “No… no you are stronger than this. It’s just a glorified necklace. It can’t hurt you. Look at me y/n!” Your eyes met his cool blue ones. “It’s just a pretty collar for my pretty girl. I told you earlier today if you let go of my hand again, I’d put you in a collar. You did, and it ended up in you almost getting kidnapped.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, soaking up some stray tears you weren’t aware you had shed. “I don’t make idle threats… and besides if you let me show you, I think you’ll actually like it.”

Your breathing slowly started to even out as your eyes started to look more focused. “Good girl. See there’s no danger here.”

When you felt yourself come back to reality you slapped his chest. “Asshole! You had to have known that wasn’t going to go well! You should have asked first!”

He grabbed your hand before you could slap him again. “I mentioned it earlier and you didn’t say anything. If anything, you looked turned on… so sue me.” He took your hand and led you over to the bathroom.

He placed you in front of him so you could see. It was a pretty shade of pink with a metal heart looped in the front. From the heart hung a tiny Sakura flower. It really was pretty.

“It’s not just a fashion statement okay, it’s functional. Consider it support gear. It has a chip in it that can only be tracked if you turn it on and only by people that have the code. Don’t worry it’s currently turned off.” He pointed to a little metal button on the side. “There’s another button over here that lets you record something and then play it back louder so it reaches more people. It also acts like a communication device. You can connect with me, Minimight, Squirt, and the angry Pomeranian. It’s voice activated.” He tapped the button and held it down until you heard a beeping noise. “Call backup plan.”

You heard a ringing before an angry Katsuki answered the phone. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Hey! Lose the tude it’s just me!”

Before he could answer you, Dabi cut him off. “It’s her new com device. Save it.” Then he clicked the button ending the call.

He looked smug. You’d have to figure out how to reprogram the names later. “It also can track your vitals, but before you give me the look I know you’re going to give me. It only sends updates to the people you have programmed into it, and only if it registers that you are in critical or life-threatening conditions.”

Your fingers came up and touched the flower that dangled from it. “Ok… but how do I take it off?”

Happy you were warming up to the idea of it, “Voice command. Just push the button and say ‘naked’ and the latch will open. You can also say ‘attack’ and some pretty little spikes come out, keeping anyone from putting their hands around your neck. Pretty cool right?”

You sighed, “I can admit it’s cool… but can you please admit you should have asked first? I had to wear a collar for years in the lab… it’s what kept me under their control.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off the way you looked in the mirror. Totally naked other than the collar. His eyes looked practically feral. “I regret that it scared you. But I warned you and you didn’t tell me it was a limit. That is due to a lack of communication on your side.” His hands slid around to your front pulling your back against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants. “God you look so fucking hot. Bruises and all.”

He began to grind against your ass, and you found yourself leaning over the sink and pushing back into him. You knew you were already wet, and you needed some friction to relieve the ache between your legs.

“Oh fuuuuck baby girl. You want it? You want me to bend you over this counter and take you?”

You whined and pushed back into him harder, “Please… but- but.” You groaned as his hand came up to tweak your nipple.

“What was that? Come on use your words.”

You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his hand. “Be gentle...”

His lips found your neck, “Of course baby. I’m not a monster.”

You felt him push his shorts down to his ankles and moments later you felt the head of his cock teasing your entrance. “You’re already so god damn wet.” He pushed into you slowly. Almost too slowly. It took everything in you not to shove yourself back onto him. You had asked him to be gentle, and that’s what he was trying to do.

You let out a moan of relief when he was fully inside you. His chest pressed tightly against your back his hands reaching out to yours and lacing your fingers together.

It was slow, it was slow and sweet. You thought at first it would drive you crazy, but you were eventually overwhelmed at the intimacy of it all. He wasn’t just fucking you. He wasn’t just chasing his own high. He was gentle, and loving, and every stroke felt like a promise. His lips were kissing every part of you he could reach. Your temple, your cheek, your neck, your shoulder.

“So perfect.” He groaned at the effort it took to keep his hips from picking up their pace. “Such a perfect girl for me. So fucking pretty and strong. Ahhhh” His hips stuttered just slightly. “Fuck baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You tried to control it, but it was almost impossible. Your quirk activated. Your feelings spilled over through your touch. His gasp got stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry I can’t control it right now. I just feel – ah- so fucking good.”

You were both sweaty messes at this point, practically glued together. “Shit don’t apologize. It’s crazy how much I love that. I love making you feel good, show me how good I make you feel.”

You hummed at the pleasure that was singing in your veins. You were so close and Dabi could feel it. Both through your quirk and the way your walls started to flutter around him. You were about to beg for him to let you come when a beeping sound came from your collar making him slow down nearly to a stop. “Fuck.. no no no. I was so close, please.”

Dabi chuckled. “Someone’s calling you, say hello.” Your eyes bulged open as he hit the button to answer the call.

“Uh.. hello?”

“Y/n? What the fuck was that earlier? Did staple dick get you a phone?” This was not good. You looked at Dabi’s devilish grin in the mirror as he slowly started thrusting into you again as he mouthed, ‘talk to him’

You bit a moan back absolutely mortified. “Hey Kats. Something like that.” Dabi’s hand wrapped your long hair around his hand and pulled to make you look at him through the mirror. His pace picking up. You could hear your breath begin to sound labored and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he pieced it together. “Now’s not the best time, can I call you later?”

“Y/n… are you okay? You sound like you’re out of breath?”

You coughed in an attempt to cover up one of your moans, “I’m fine, just tired. Dabi and I are… training.”

There was a beat of silence on his end as Dabi continued his hard, slow thrusts into you. “Training my ass. Call me when you guys are done fucking… The mic on whatever you’re using is really good. I’ve already heard more than I want too.”

You went to hit the button to end the call but Dabi grabbed your hand and put it back on the counter preventing it. “Ah- Sorry Kat-SUKI!” Dabi pinched your clit with his other hand causing you to moan in response. Your face turned a dark shade of red at the fact that Katsuki had just heard that.

“Dabi… I know you’re listening and you’re a fucking asshole.” You sighed in relief when you heard the sound signaling that he had hung up.

Dabi started laughing loudly as picked up his pace just slightly. “Teach him to want what’s mine.”

You felt tears start to leak from the corners of your eyes as your orgasm built to its breaking point. “DABI! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum. AH!”

You felt your orgasm rip though you and it was intense. Dabi cooed praises in your ear that you couldn’t quite hear as he continued to ride you though it. “Good giiiiiirl!”

“I’m close doll, where do you want it?”

Your eyes almost rolled back, “Inside. Cum inside me please.”

“My baby girl want’s my cum. Of course, she does. What my girl want’s she gets!” He slammed into you a few more times before you felt his hot ropes coating your insides. “Gonna bread my pretty girl one of these days. Gonna put a fucking baby in you.”

He collapsed but managed to keep his weight off of you. After a few moments of the both of you panting he sat up, pulled out of you and kissed the back of your neck. “God I love this collar.”

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Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years

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Please Fix the Story pt 3 - Zombie Apocalypse

The story continues. At least one more part in the zombie world before moving on to the next one.

Part 1 / Part 2 Linked here. (If I get to 5 pts or so I’ll make a master post)

Enjoy!

_____________________________

“Why’d they let YOU in?”

An angry shout stopped us in our tracks as we reached the center of the camp.

I paused, smiling. Ah, the nostalgic smell of unnecessary internal strife. NOW it feels like a proper post apocalyptic story. I raised a hand in greeting. “Hey there, kind and pleasant person, I’m Blaire!”

“Don’t pretend like we’re friends! You shouldn’t be here!” The angry young man stepped closer, allowing me to get a better look at his face. His copper colored hair framed sharp, angular features, his brown eyes practically burning with rage as he tried his best to stare a hole through me.

He seems familiar.

Searching my character’s memories, I was finally able to place him. Jason, the hero’s best friend, who had gone to high school with my character. Before I could celebrate placing his identity, however, I felt a surge of deep terror flood through me. My heart beat wildly in my chest, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I frowned, pushing back the feeling that weren’t my own, but those from my character.

It’s rare for emotions from the character to be this strong, even in the last world I was able to easily put away any feelings of the character I’ve taken over. Why is she so scared? I don’t see anything in her memories that would warrant her being frightened of Jason. And why is he so antagonistic towards me?

As I stood there, trying to comb through what information my character knew about him, he had continued to rant. “Eric, what were you thinking accepting people like her?!”

Eric sent Hannah away with a smile, before turning towards his friend with a tired expression. “They have extra supplies and skills, both of which we’re in desperate need of.”

“We don’t need HER!”

As they argued, Liam walked up to me, pulling an apple from his bag. “Want a snack?”

“Sure, these idiots might take a while, I’d hate to get hypoglycemic while they argue.” Before I could say anything further, he pulled out a knife and silently started cutting the peel off.

“What are you doing?”

“Peeling the apple for you.”

“Why?”

“…” He paused, looking honestly confused. “I’m not sure, but I feel like this would make you happy.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head in amazement. “I love apples, but I can’t stand the peel. How did you know?”

“Really?” He grinned, continuing to peel. “My support husband instincts must be kicking in.”

“You’re very… optimistic.”

“Thanks!”

I sighed. “Don’t get attached, Liam. It won’t end well.” I thought of the heart wrenching pain I had felt when pressing “No” in the last world. That was just after 4 weeks. If I have to stay here years…

“It’s okay. I already count myself fortunate being your lackey.” His smile was bright, but his attention to the apple never wavered. “As long as you live well. I think I could die happy.”

I shuddered. The habit was just too strong. A character casually mentioning dying in a story…such a red flag. “Try not to die. Happy or otherwise.”

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted, his silly expression making me feel less tense.

“Blaire! I’m talking to you!” Jason had finished arguing with Eric while Liam and I chatted and was obviously still furious.

I felt the same edge of fear from the character at the sight of him again, and pushed it back down with irritation.

“That must be so exhausting to be so angry all the time.” I muttered quietly as I watched him approach.

Liam nodded. “No kidding. I think I’ll need a nap just from watching him perform.”

Jason stopped just a few feet away, sneering. “I don’t know what lies you sold Eric earlier, but don’t’ forget, I know the real you! You’re a rich brat without any skills! You’re deadweight to any group, just a worthless bit….ARGH!” He flew backwards as a mostly-peeled apple struck him in the mouth, splitting his lip.

“Oops. Sorry did that hit you?” Liam watched him coldly, not sounding sorry at all. “My hands get slippery when I hear pure stupid.”

“Is that why people around you tend to get hit with flying projectiles often?

“It’s a curse…” He paused, then looked mortified. “THAT WAS MY LAST APPLE!”

“It’s okay.”

“WHY DIDN’T I USE A STONE?” He groaned into his hands. “That idiot wasn’t worth losing your snack! Now you’re going to go hungry!”

“I’m fine…” I tried to comfort him, but he had already pulled out a walkie-talkie and was growling instructions in some sort of code.

Jason, on the other hand, was now pointing in shock at Liam. “You! You’re William the destroyer!”

“…” I glanced over at the man who was still panicking over his lack of snack options to offer me.

“What’s the leader of the Blood Wolves doing here?” Jason was now looking nervous, clambering to his feet and keeping a good distance from us both

Liam ignored him, continuing to talk on his walkie talkie. Shaking my head, I stepped in between him. “He’s with me. Do you really want to argue now about whether or not we should be here?”

“But… but…”

“Jason!” Eric had returned, a grim look on his face. “I told you to leave them alone. We’ll go out hunting for supplies tomorrow, they can prove their worth then.”

Jason’s expression showed his clear unwillingness, but he slowly nodded. “Sure.” Glancing towards me, he sneered. “Then I guess tomorrow we’ll see just how useless you are.”

“Did I step on your dog or something? Seriously, try to reign in the hostility there, buddy.” With that, I turned and walked towards the empty tent Eric had pointed out earlier.

Despite my casual tone and outer appearance, my hands were clenched at my sides, the fingernails digging into my palms to keep my hands from shaking. My back was soaked with sweat, an uncontrollable reaction from the character I had become.

What is going on? It had been a long timesince I had been unable to fully control my character’s emotions like this. I swallowed uncomfortably. The sensation was unpleasant, a sense of incongruity between body and soul that I couldn’t quite overcome. It reminded me too much of the first mission I had undergone, the worst time of my life that I could still remember.

Waking up without memories, with no idea of who I was or why I was there, thrust into a romantic drama where my mission was to fulfill the role of a foolish, calculating villainous side character. Overwhelmed by intense love for the male lead and mind-numbing hatred for his heroine, I lost myself in despair. Later, I would learn to maintain my sense of identity. Even if I didn’t know who I was, I at least knew who I wasn’t.

And I wasn’t this character. A spoiled, angry young woman who thought the world revolved around her.

So why can’t I remember clearly? Not just Jason, even the events surrounding my character’s kidnapping and death were vague.

Something’s wrong with this world.

Sitting down with a sigh, I pulled out my phone.

“Let’s see how helpful this new ‘character description’ function is.” I typed in Jason’s name. After a moment to process, the phone’s screen filled with text.

Jason, the hero’s best friend and this world’s hopeless secondary male lead. In the story, he is shown to be in love with Hannah, but hides his feelings for fear of hurting his friends. He often supports her from behind, helping the hero rescue her during her frequent misadventures and kidnappings. Despite his devoted acts, Hannah remains blissfully unaware of his feelings, and treats him as a friend.

Nothing to explain why my character is scared of him. I grinned maliciously as I re-read the part about his unrequited love. “No wonder he’s so high strung. If he were nicer I might even feel sorry for him.”

Unable to control my curiosity, I typed in a second name.

“William.”

Character unknown.

“Hmm. Let’s try ‘Liam.’”

Character unknown.

“Blood Wolves.”

The most notorious and highly skilled gang in this story’s world, they often sell their services as mercenaries, and are considered a major power in the post-apocalyptic society.

I stared at the screen, even more confused. Such an important group, but the leader isn’t mentioned? Who is Liam?

But no matter how much I searched, there were no answers.

_____________________________

Shortly later, Liam called me out. The smell of freshly cooked food hastened my steps, and I sat at a table across from Hannah, ignoring her wide-eyed look of fear at my approach.

“The others are checking the perimeter. Here, I made you dinner!” Liam placed a bowl in front of both of us with a proud grin. It was filled with a stew, with vegetables and chicken. Hannah stared at the food suspiciously, although I didn’t see anything wrong with the food. Carefully, I lifted a spoonful up to my mouth, my eyes widening with shock.

“It’s delicious!” I took another few bites before pausing. “Where did you get the ingredients?”

Liam sat down next to me, peeling an apple with an affectionate grin. “My friends happened to have gathered some extra supplies and brought them over.”

“… You sent the Blood Wolves on a snack run?”

“What were they supposed to do? Let you go hungry?” He raised an eyebrow. “They wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I don’t know how you manage to sound so supportive and yet so… ominous at the same time.”

“It’s one of my many talents, I’m so glad you noticed!”

Hannah watched our exchange back and forth, before looking down at the food once more. She seemed very hungry, but she still hadn’t made any moves towards eating.

“You should try it, it tastes really good!” As I coaxed the girl sitting across from me, I saw Liam beaming with pride.

“…” She stared silently at us both for a long few moments before nodding and taking a bite, her hands shaking and almost spilling the stew from her spoon. As she swallowed the food however, her eyes filled with tears.

Why do all the heroine’s I meet cry so easily? Maybe the problem is with me? Do I just not cry enough?

“It tastes so good!” She ate quickly, blinking to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

Oh… so… happy tears? That’s refreshing. I patted her on the shoulder gently. “Not had a lot of hot meals lately, huh?”

Hannah nodded at my sympathetic words. “Yeah, Eric and James are too busy with security and supply runs. And I…” Her words trailed off.

Why hello there, mission opportunity!I rejoiced inwardly but kept a gentle look on my face. “You what?”

“I’m weak… I can’t fight. I can’t even cook.” She looked up at me her eyes still wet with unshed tears. “I wish I could be scary like you…”

… Scary?

Liam laughed at my dumbfounded expression, quickly silencing himself as I turned to glare at him. Looking back over at Hannah, I tried to smile comfortingly, the expression stiffening as a look of terror flashed across her face.

“You want to be a well-rounded useful person? I can help you.” Not like I have a choice.

“Really?” Hannah clasped her hands together in front of her. She still looked frightened, but excitement was clearly pushing back her fear. “I really want to be helpful!”

“Really. Just come watch me tomorrow during the outing. I’ll show you what I can do. From there, we’ll come up with a plan.”

She now was smiling brightly, giving off the impression of a small, adorable animal that should be protected. “I promise I’ll work hard, Boss!”

She trusts me so quickly… no wonder she kept getting kidnapped.

“Wait... Did you just call me Boss…?”

“One day, I pray I can be just as terrifying as you!” Hannah cheered excitedly.

“…”

I feel like her motivation has gone in a weird direction.

As I struggled on how to answer her, Liam nodded solemnly. “It’s good to have goals, but you shouldn’t aim too high.” He handed me the freshly peeled apple, and continued. “No one’s as terrifying as your Boss. But with hard work and effort, one day, you can reach ‘lackey status’ like me!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” The two high-fived as I watched on silently, feeling tired.

“… I’m going to bed.”

_____________________________

The next morning, we all headed out, running into a group of zombies, almost immediately. We halted a good distance away to discuss a plan.

“Will it be okay?” Hannah’s face looked extremely nervous as she looked at the zombies in the distance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you!” Jason smiled at Hannah, his eyes full of tender emotion. “I promise, as long as I have breath in my body, no zombie will get near you.”

I still felt a small thread of fear running through me as I looked at him, but fortunately, it was much easier to control now. I rolled my eyes at his words. Didn’t the character summary say hehides his feelings? How is this subtle at all?

Eric stared at his friend silently for a moment, and then patted Hannah’s head with a sigh. “Make sure to stay away from the fight.” Loading up a handgun, he glanced over at me. “Are you coming?”

“Ha, bet you’re gonna run and hide, huh?” Jason glared at me, his face looking extremely punchable, forcing me to hold back.

I sighed, admiring my self –restraint. “I’ll take the ten on the right.”

“There’s only fifteen!”

“Yeah, so we’ll split it by skill.” I turned back and grinned. “Ten for me, four for Eric and one for you.”

Pulling out my sword, I headed over, ignoring his stuttered complaints.

GRRRR.

The closest of the zombies was reaching out towards my head, several fingers missing from its hands, its half rotten jaw open, ready to bite.

I lopped it head off, knocking the body away from me.

IT SMELLS SO BAD!!! I had only been able to wash in cold water from a basin. I still desperately missed hot showers.

“Go Boss!”

“Yeah! Kill the zombies! You’re the best!”

Shouts from behind me caught my attention. After killing several more zombies I glanced over, giving out a loud sigh at the sight.

Liam and Hannah cheered off to the side, jumping up and down with excitement.

“Zombies don’t stand a chance against her!”

“Yeah! They’re toast!”

… I’m just going to ignore them for now.

In the corner of my eye I saw Jason struggling to defeat his first zombie, waving a metal bat but missing several passes. He backed up, putting some distance between him and his foe, and turned to stare longingly at Hannah for a few moments, before looking over to glare at me as he realized who she was cheering for. I smiled and winked, watching with interest as his face turned even redder with rage.

Feeling an undeniable urge to taunt, I called out to him as I continued to decapitate zombies.

“Don’t lose focus, little Jason! Or do you need me to help you with your one zombie too?”

“SHUT UP!”

“Try not to bully him, please.” Eric called out as he calmly dodged attacks, occasional shots ringing out. Each was a perfect headshot, as expected of the hero of an action novel. “Jason is sensitive to criticism.”

I nodded, kicking a zombie head into the air and batting it away with my sword, watching it sail away with interest. “Sorry, I’ll try harder to support his emotional well being.”

“Thanks!”

Having finished off our respective zombies, Eric and I high fived before heading back towards the rest of the group.

“Guys… I’m still fighting here!” Jason’s helpless cries caused me to pause.

I glanced at Eric “Will he be okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just milking it so Hannah will pay more attention to him.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Eric shrugged. “Not really, but he doesn’t step over the line and extra hands are necessary, so I just ignore it.”

Is this a… reasonable male lead? Could it be possible?

“Okay, then.” I raised a hand, not turning around. “Good luck Jason, we believe in you!”

Eric grinned and called out behind him. “See you back in camp, buddy!”

“Boss!” Hannah ran up with a grin. “That was amazing!”

Liam stepped closer, handing me a thermos with hot tea. “I told you she was awesome! She saved my life, you know.”

I ignored him, turning my attention to Hannah. Time to make some progress on this mission. “Did what you see today inspire you?”

“Yeah!”

“Do you want to be helpful?”

“Yeah!”

Getting excited, I pumped a fist into the air. “You want to be strong and fight along side me?!”

“…” Hannah stared at me in shock. “What? No. Fight zombies? It’s scary… and kind of gross.”

I looked at her silently. “I… thought you were inspired?”

“Yeah! But not like that.” She nodded firmly. “I realized I was too eager when I wanted to be as terrifying as you…”

“HEY!”

“So I’ve decided.” She grinned. “I’m going to be a professional lackey, just like Liam!”

“…”

Eric and I sighed in unison.

Liam smiled, patting Hannah on the shoulder. “Now don’t look down on us weak and vulnerable support spouses!”

“You’re not even weak…and we’re not married...”

“We may depend on our stronger counterparts to protect our lives, but we can keep everything running smoothly so you don’t have to worry about anything else.” He looked at me expectantly. “How is your tea?”

Giving up on arguing, I sipped it, and paused, shocked. “It’s… amazing. How did you even make hot tea out here?”

“It’s a trade secret.” Hannah and Liam gave each other a thumbs up, as Hannah handed Liam a thermos, which he drank from silently.

We headed back to camp.

“I feel like we’re forgetting something.” I muttered as I sipped my tea.

“GUYS? WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!! I’m STILL FIGHTING!” Jason’s angry shriek pierced the air, but no one turned around.

“I know what it is!” Liam grinned, cleaning one of my hands with a warm towel before handing me a freshly peeled apple. “Here, snack!”

“HANNAH? ERIC? ANYONE?”

I nodded, taking a bite. “That must have been it.”

_____________________________

A few days passed.

I tried again to convince Hannah to train to fight, thinking that combat skills would be the fastest way to change her status as kidnappable dead weight. After much convincing, she agreed to start training with me.

Unfortunately, the results were not what I had hoped for.

“OWW!” Hannah laid on the ground, staring up at me sadly. “I’m dying.”

“All I did was have you hold my sword. We haven’t even started fighting yet.”

“It hurts.”

“How did you even hurt yourself?” I stared at the small cut on her leg in consternation. “You only had the sword for fifteen seconds?”

Needless to say, the sword was confiscated. Strengthening exercises were meant with similar outcomes.

“How’s it going?” Liam brought me a bowl of hot soup, as I stared in disbelief at the figure attempting to do a pushup in front of me.

I pulled out my phone, glancing at the mission screen. The first completion bar for Hannah’s mission had been stuck at 10% since we started. “Not good. This is still her first push up.”

“Well, everyone takes a different amount of time…”

“We’ve been out here four hours.”

“Oh… how’s the soup?”

I sighed, taking time to try it. “It’s amazing. I’m still convinced you might be magic to be able to cook like this in the apocalypse.”

“This is just the beginning of my skills!”

I drank the soup quietly, staring at Liam while thinking.

“What is it?” He grinned. “You think I’m handsome and finally want to upgrade me from lackey to support spouse?”

“Who are you?”

My question was whispered, but he still heard it, a look of helplessness spreading across his face. This wasn’t the first time I had asked him this.

“I’ve told you everything, Blaire. I swear I’m not hiding anything from you.”

“You’ve told me everything you’ve remembered.” I corrected him quietly, turning away. Focusing my attention back on Hannah, I couldn’t help but feel discouraged. “This isn’t going to work.”

“You said you’re trying to make her a well-rounded, useful person, right?” Liam finally spoke up, his expression thoughtful. “You might be pushing her in the wrong direction. There are many different ways to help out, fighting is just one of them.”

“Yeah… but that’s what I’m good at.” I rubbed my head. “If I have to teach her other skills, I might not be able to.”

I had memories from multiple story worlds, but most of them required me to act as a brain dead villain, not staying long. Only a few provided practical skills such as the assassin guild story. A sense of frustration filled me.

“I can teach her cooking, supply management, and basic book-keeping.” Liam watched me, seemingly worried. “And you can teach her your special skill.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Negotiation.” He grinned. “It’s amazing to watch you reduce that idiot Jason to an apoplectic fit every time you argue.”

I thought it over, a small return smile forming on my face. “I guess I have developed some good interpersonal skills. I once helped my brother overcome an obsession with behavior modification training.”

“You have a brother?” He asked, his eyes widening.

“In a different life.” I felt a pang of loneliness for the time I had spent in the previous world. I wondered if Adam was doing well. Looking back at Liam, I reached over and patted him on the head.

“I’m glad you’re here.” That I got to see you again. Even if you look different. Even if you don’t remember me.

Liam froze with shock at my touch for a few moments, before his face lit up with delight. “I’m glad I’m here too!”

I looked back down at Hannah, who still hadn’t completed her first push up. “Let’s go with your plan.”

Scratching the plan to make the heroine a one woman army, it was time to make her into an overpowered support character.

#writing #pt 3 #PFTS #rebirth #multiple worlds #zombies #action

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jaws330 · 4 years

Text

Fatalis

Four men sitting apart from each other in the hull of a ship. Wood creaks as the ship pushes through another swell. None of the men have spoken much to each other since preparing for the trip 2 mornings ago. Marlow hadn’t moved in hours. The groups Palico, Thellow, had brought fish from the upper decks down and encouraged everyone to eat but no one seemed interested in eating. Somehow the journey was worse than many hunts the men had been on.

Jackson and Ike had been hunting wyverns and dragons all over the continent for the last 10 years. Marlow was new. That isn’t to say he was without skill. Jackson and Ike had seen the kid rip a diablos tail clean off with about 5 good slice shots that Ike had bet strongly he wouldn’t be able to make. Marlow had a keen eye, but he didn’t have the same will power the others did. Jackson was worried he wouldn’t be up to par for this hunt.

He didn’t have the greatest tact when talking to others so after a while of contemplation he moved over to Ike and sat down next to him on the floor. The floor creaking more as Jackson’s weight came upon it. The damp wood smell didn’t help lift the mood either. Not that any of them seemed to notice. The simple act of moving towards the pray they had been asked to hunt was harder than any of them expected. Jackson leaned his head over to Ike and whispered, "could you check on Marlow? I don’t think he’s doing well". Ike looked back at Jackson. His eyes were red and the skin under them had sagged. he must have been sobbing without Jacksons notice. Ike gulped and took a deep breath. he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words and just exhaled in despair. The two looked to Marlow who had lifted his head at the new activity. Marlow stared back at his two seniors and within a few moments he broke down and cried out loud. Ike rubbed his eyes and started to compose himself. standing up he walked to Marlow and placed his arm around his shoulders. Comforting him as best he could.

Hans hadn’t said anything or even noticed the energy in the room change. He had been meditating for the last day. The Wyverians had it easy. they could focus their minds and remain steeled even in the worst situations. The rest of the men were only human and could not help but dread the impossible task they had been given. The monster they had been sent to kill was growing more and more confident in its prowess. Each day it seemed like its area of influence had grown. More towns burnt to the ground. More bodies incinerated while running for their life’s. And more hunters burnt, killed, or mutilated beyond recognition. The impression of glory from the hunt had faded from most hunters’ minds. All that was left was the depression of knowing that those who face this creature have forfeit their lives.

Jackson was nervous but had expected a fight like this to come at some point in his career. Ike to, but with less acceptance than Jackson. Marlow had only been an official hunter for 2 years. He showed lots of potential but still had allot to live for. Despite showing strong will in the face of an impossible task, Jackson still had something burning in the back of his mind. He had a song stuck in his head for the last few days since news of the hunt came in. He was surprised by the persistence of his own brain to keep the song running at every waking moment. It was not even a good song. It was only ever sung by kids playing games and Jackson couldn’t remember the last time he had even herd it sung out loud. But in stressful situations the mind can fixate on things. Even things you might not want it to.

_______________________________________________________________

A few hours later the boat came up to port. "finally," said Ike. He was the first and by far the most eager to get off the boat. Actually getting on with things was probably the best move for everyone. Waiting just let the mind stew and overall wouldn’t help the hunt at all. Hans jumped to shore first and tired down the boat. The others prepared their gear and passed it over one by one. The metal boxes of explosives, ammo, and blades were an awkward shape and heavy for most. Ike jumped on shore as well to help Hans with carrying it over while Jackson and Marlow passed the boxes across. They made extra care not to slip on the wet stone of the port. It had been sleeting rain here for some time and most of the stone and wood was covered in algae or moss. Losing a weapon box here would be not just embarrassing but tragic. Even loosing one weapon would put a huge burden on the rest of the hunt and create even more risks none of the men wanted to take.

Once the supplies were on shore, they set about looking for a place to stay the night. The clouds around Schrade were always thick and dark ever since the beast moved in. The port town down the mountain where they had just landed was a hollow shell of what it had used to be. The towns name had been burned away with its people. Now all that was left was a few streets of wooden shacks. Either black from ash and fire or bleached white from the sea and time. The streets were a coble path of wet granite. Grass and small plants pushing past the stone to reach what little sunlight they could. The group ventured into town and already knew the location of the one building that would give some refuge for the night.

At the end of the main street was a rather well-built stone and oak building used by the towns fire brigade. Suitably it was the only building that was not totally destroyed by fire. The hunter’s guild had already scouted out the area to make the journey a little easier and after the two nights of boating the old abandoned building seemed like a luxury hotel. The metal door swung open easily and inside were a few old sleeping mats, a pile of firewood, and a pile of scrap papers. The group paused after seeing the rather basic and dismal interior. Marlow had been looking forward to a real bed. Hans entered first and moved to the right-hand side of the building. He dropped his bag to the floor, swung around and clapped his hands together. "all right boys, who’s getting the fire started? Thellow crawled in between the hunter’s legs and ran for a pile of old drapes. Rain was not a Palicos friend and scrapes of cloth seemed like a nice reprieve. Marlow, Ike, and Jackson let out probably the first smile in a few days. They needed someone like Hans to take the reins for a bit.

After about an hour Marlow got the fire burning. Thellow had set up a camping grill and was preparing some fish for the group. Hans was thumbing through the scraps of paper while Ike was writing on one of them. "Would you like to write one to, Jackson?" Hans called out from across the fire. Jackson was going through the metal boxes they had brought. Checking everything was where it was meant to be. Some hunters hated how neurotic he got when preparing. However, his policy of triple checking before a hunt meant that no one hunting with Jackson had ever worried about running out of medicine or drugs during the expedition. He had checked the weapons and med packs 12 times since packing. Hans called out again " Jackson, do you want to write something?" finally out of his packing trance Jackson perked his head up and quickly replied "yes, yes, of course I’ll write something. Let me just finish and I’ll come over". Hans rolled his eyes while Ike snickered. They were both a bit sick of this behavior.

Ike stood up and said "I think this will do. If anything happens then at least people will know how cool I was". Hans added Ikes paper to the stack. For a hunt of this caliber it was tradition for hunters to leave a note at base camp. Each hunter would write a bit about themselves and why they were going after monster they were. The Notes would pile up at base camp until someone slayed the monster. Only the winning person or team could take the papers home with them. A symbolic way of carrying the efforts of other hunters with them. Even if hunters did not lose their lives it was still a way of showing respect to others in the field. After another 3 minutes Jackson walked over and took the pen from Ike. He didn’t want to write anything to sentimental or emotional, but considering the monster they were fighting, he tried his best. Thellow was just about done with the first part of dinner. Grilled fish with lemon and mashed potato. It was basic but filling. Marlow and Ike both took the first serving. Hans would probably eat a small amount after everyone was done. He wasn’t the one hunting. Hans was a Recorder and handler for the hunt. It was his job to get the hunters safely to the monster and gather what info he could during the fight.

Jackson put his pen down, satisfied with the dribble about the honor of such a hunt. the song rattling in his head didn’t help. He wrote and scratched out a few parts and the whole thing looked a bit fake. He moved to get the next serving of dinner while Hans started reading Jacksons note. While Jackson filled his mouth with potato mash, Hans snapped at him "is this really what you want to leave? you’re not doing any of these other notes a service by mixing your crap in with them" he gestured to the pile of about 50 or so papers piled on a supply crate. Ike and Marlow both looked at Jackson assuming he had written something dumb about it all been bullshit that they even need to do this. Jackson finished his bite and swallowed "I did really try but I couldn’t find it ya know? It’s kinda hard to think about good things for a hunt that we are been forced into" Ike and Marlow looked back to Hans expecting a well formed argument but surprisingly He nodded in agreement "I know its not the best situation but every day more and more towns are destroyed. The guild can’t get hunters up here on short notice like this" Marlow cut in "if we don’t kill it now then the next closest town is Minegarde. Hans is right, we should knock on its front door rather than let it come knock on ours." They were both right.

the port town of Minegarde was usually rather safe and had a high quantity of hunters ready to take on whatever challenged them. But stories of an elder dragon, Darhen Mohran had drawn most of the town’s skill away to the east. Ike let out a laugh and said "bet you don’t think the Mohran hunt is overrated now Jackson" Jackson laughed and sheepishly said back "yeah I kinda wish I had gone with the rest. Probably would have been a livelier trip" Marlow let out a small smile and Hans chuckled.

Jackson looked back to Hans "would you like to write it for me then? you seem to be better with words than me" Hans shook his head "no this will be fine. I’ll make sure anyone who comes here will know of the great Jackson who thought he had better things to do than hunt an elder dragon”. It was the first time the 4 men had laughed together in days. The joy a simple meal and good conversation can bring to people’s hearts is astounding.

The dinner bolstered the spirit of the party far more than expected, and when armor and skill are stripped away, spirit is all that’s left. An hour later the group had settled in for the night. They all tried to get a good sleep before tomorrow’s hunt. Jackson still struggled to sleep, the song running in his head like a ticking clock. He started thinking about how maybe the song was written by the monster itself, to drive hunters mad before even fighting it. eventually he dozed off.

_______________________________________________________________

Morning came but day did not. The sky was still dark and only a few rays of sun could pierce the black clouds that loomed over Schrade. They were unnatural. They weren’t from a volcano or storm, but they lingered around the mountain where castle Schrade once stood. The castle had been destroyed hundreds of years ago. The town was a settlement that tried to take advantage of the castles well-built infrastructure. They planned to turn castle Schrade into a hunting hub for the mountain ranges above Minegarde. It would have made a great port town between the western coast and northern town of Pokke. It would have if it wasn’t for the last living resident of castle Schrade.

The group spent the early morning getting ready. Hans helped the men get their heavy armor on while Thellow sorted the packs to make sure everyone had the correct equipment at the ready. Jackson had his armor on first, a nice well-made set from a Brachidios. He had a reputation at the guild for his humorous encounter with it, so he figured it was a good armor to wear for a hunt like this. The Brachadios obsidian hide was naturally fire resistant and considering his roll at the front line, it seemed like it fit both thematically and practically. He cleaned his gun lance one last time while Ike and Marlow were getting ready. Ike was a jack of all trades and enjoyed hunting with whatever he found most suitable for each hunt. For this he chose the matte red Rathalos armor and a great sword. he figured that to kill a big monster he would need a big sword. Marlow would provide cover fire and support from behind with his bow gun. He didn’t usually bring more than a few kinds of ammunition. He liked to keep it simple. As long as he could shoot the monster down then it would be fine. For this hunt he made sure to bring an intense variety of ammunition. Poison, electrical, a few sticky bomb shots. Each of the hunters had prepared an appropriate kit for a fight of this caliber.

Finally, the crew was ready to depart. Hans would be climbing the neighboring mountain to observe and record the encounter. From there he would be able to tell if crew was successful and if anyone or anything survived the fight. Hans grabbed Jackson’s hand and looked straight into his eyes "don’t let this beast be your end Jackson. I will see all of you when you return. legends of the guild" the three waved him goodbye as he started his own journey. The group didn’t waste any time and set out climbing the mountain where castle Schrade sat atop.

The sides of the mountain were a trial in of themselves. They had narrow walkways with sheer drops on one side. For a gun lance user like Jackson this was a bit of a joke. He had Ike and Marlow go before him for the first part of the climb and even tied a rope around his waist just in case the weight of the cannon mounted on his back became too much. Eventually the path came to an end at a plateau. The area was larger than expected at this height. The group could have easily fought the beast here if it were not for the rusted graveyard of old weapons.

Infront of them was about 20 or so old worn out Dragonators. A metal spear a few meters in length designed to drill straight into the hide of even the toughest monster. They were a devastating defense the guild had been employing since its early years and they were a staple of elder dragon defense operations. This pile must have been hundreds of years old. It was hard to tell if the previous occupants of castle Schrade had used this as a close by dump or if they were been hauled to the castle and simply forgotten. Regardless the team climbed over with care. Making sure not to slip and fall onto one of the viscous spikes.

Then the real climb began. A sheer cliff with only a few outcrops for about 100 meters. Jackson and Ike tied their equipment to a rope and would hoist it up after they had made it to the top. They weren’t the best mountain climbers, but they made do. At about halfway up Jackson pulled his head up into a cave that could easily fit the party. He called out to the crew "we should take a rest here" after entering the cave the group lined up and together pulled the weapons and Thellow up the cliff, into the small cave. The Palico made sure the knots stayed firm and the weapons didn’t rock to much while ascending. Ike made snide remark while huffing and pulling on the rope "jeez Thellow how much fish did you eat last night". The Palico meowed loudly from outside the cave as the group pulled the equipment inside.

They each fell to the ground and passed around a water bottle. While Marlow and Ike had a drink, Jackson investigated the back of the cave. Finally, been able to spend more time examining it. It wasn’t very big but at the back was a pile of ash and rusted metal. He walked over to inspect it. Reaching out to wipe the ash away, the whole thing crumbled and exploded into a black cloud. He wiped the black soot from his visor and had the chance to see what remained. It was an empty suit of old armor. It only took a second for Jackson to realize what the ash filling the armor had used to be. He lost focus for a moment. The song was louder than ever. He could even hear and make out the voices of the children singing it now. His heart was pounding, and he felt like it was banging on the metal armor around his chest. "What was that?" Ike asked from behind. It snapped Jackson from his trance, and he swiveled around, quickly replying with "nothing, just some old scrap". Jackson had some water and the group continued up. Another 40 or so meters and Jackson finally put his hand onto the stone base of what once was castle Schrade.

_______________________________________________________________

They just finished pulling up the last of the weapons. Quickly both Ike and Jackson grabbed their tools. Been un-armed for that long had made them both a little jumpy. Marlow had already started surveying the area. He needed good vantage points and places to move to while gunning. Infront was a large courtyard using stone bricks. On the upper side was a castle wall connected to a stone watch tower. spears and swords lay around it, as if the men they belonged to simply evaporated. It was giving all of them chills.

Behind that was still more of the castle. The entire building was massive and expanded over 2 mountains and across the range in between. This was only the entrance way. It was by far the best place to fight something big. The rest of the castle was to jagged with corridors that would restrict movement to much. The team knew that the monster would almost certainly take advantage of that and blow them to pieces before they even knew it was attacking. Out in the open was the best they could hope for.

Marlow had already started moving to the side wall to get some height. It was a great place to have a gunner and gave a brilliant view of the area. There were a few pieces of old ammunition around. Not much but some ballista and cannon balls might help if given the opportunity. The castle wall even still had one intact Dragonator in it, still unfired. Jackson had already set to work getting a plan ready using what little they had on the castle.

It was only morning but still extremely dark. Not much light could get through the clouds even this high up. It still felt like night was around them. Ike moved over to one of the cannons and started checking the fuses while loading a ball in. Jackson started walking to the eastern side to check if the last cannon had a working fuse. He stopped. frozen in place. The creature appeared out of blackness. As if the clouds that swirled around this mountain were the monster itself. A beam of light shone across it revealing the full size of the dragon.

It was allot bigger than anyone expected. Standing on his back legs it stood easily over the entire watch tower, over 40 meters tall. Its tail was an enormous black chrome whip that stretched the whole length of the beast and more. Its legs were short, but its claws were long. Covered in crusted blood from those who had come before. The spines along its back looked like bladed gravestones. Its scales were a hideous black and blue, as if its entire skin was one giant bruise. The wings on its back stretched out in the air, welcoming the hunters to its roost. Its neck was long and gave it incredible height. At the top was a head full of more teeth than its mouth could hold. Two sets of two horns each side of its head that twisted away from its skull. And its eyes. Its awful eyes. They had black slits like a snake but furious red Iris that looked like a fire storm inside its head.

It hadn’t even made a sound. Jackson wasn’t even sure it was real yet. He didn’t know if Ike or Marlow were even still here. The world paused for a second. The dragons tongue slithered out of its mouth and licked its lips. It stared down at its new guests. Jackson had fought allot of monsters and after fighting enough he could tell why a monster fought by the way it looked. Some were hungry. Others scared. But this was something new. Never had Jackson seen a monster smile back and its combatant. This unholy creature of night didn’t care for food or to defend its home, it just wanted to kill. It was genocidal to the core and wanted nothing more than hunters to die. The dragon was going to enjoy this.

Jackson yelled out to whoever might still be behind him. "Time to show it what were made of!". He flicked the main barrel of his gun lance down and took out his shield. Turning the safety off with a click, he rotated a few shells through the main gun. The dragon let out a bellowing cry that changed from a roar to a shriek. This close, it felt as if his ears were going to bleed just from standing near it. His heart slowed down, and a smile crept into the corner of his mouth. Both the song and his fear had left his mind. Without his fear he felt confident, nothing holding him back from his fate. The song’s lyrics made sense now.

The Legend of the Black Dragon

When the world is full of wyverns, the legend is revived

meat is eaten, bone is crunched

and blood is sucked up dry

he burns the earth and melts through iron

he boils the rivers and mows down trees

he awakens the winds and lights the inferno

he is called Fatalis, the wyvern of destiny

he is called Fatalis, the wyvern of destruction

call for help, run for your lives

and don’t forget to pray to the skies

he is called Fatalis, the wyvern of destiny

he is called Fatalis, the wyvern of destruction

Fatalis, Fatalis

Heaven and Earth are yours

Fatalis, Fatalis

Heaven and earth are yours

________________________________________________________________

Quick note. i wrote this over a few days after having some dreams about monster hunter. Im not a writer or much of a creative. i work with animals mostly so monster hunter has a good place in my heart. This is very much a first go at writing and im hoping people enjoy it.

#monster hunter #short story #monster hunter world #iceborne

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vegetacide · 5 years

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Whump●tober - Isolation

Veg-notables: ::crawls out from under a rock..clears throat as if nothing happened::

Little late getting this one out due to...life...food...irritating biological need to sleep.. All that fun stuff.

@gumnut-logic - KOALA!!!

Thunderheads, you guys are a riot. I love reading your reactions to the crazy sh!t I’m putting these guys through. I can almost feel the laser beams pointing at my forehead.. Tee he he.. Can defo feel the assault’mallows.. ::bounces one of @gumnut-logic head::

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: stuff happens.. O.o;

Characters: Scott, Gordon/Penny, Colonel Casey

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post can be found HERE

7. Isolation

Enjoy…

oOo

Gordon scowled at the transparent 3-D rendering of his Godmother and resisted the compulsion to swear. Foul language wouldn’t get him anywhere with the formidable woman except disapproval from all those sitting within ear shot and a disconnected call.

“Look,” Gordon beseeched. “We need Scott back here. Things aren’t looking good.”

“I understand the urgency,” The commanding voice of the Colonel softened. “But this is out of my hands. He nearly beat a man to death and we can’t just ignore that.”

“Colonel,” Gordon voice raised as he pushed up from his chair, winced at a twinge in his back. Fucking plastic torture device. A look from the attending at the nurses station had him gritting his teeth with frustration “That so called man, has landed my brother in the ICU with a tube shoved down his throat to keep him alive. At least Scott left that piece of shit still breathing. Which is more than I can say for Virgil. One of ours is rapping on death’s door. You’ll have to excuse us if we don’d give a royal flying fuck what the GDF wants right now.”

The colonel visage soured as anger sparked in her gaze. “No organization is an island, Gordon.”

Gordon eye twitched, well technically iR’s home base was an island…if the day hadn’t been so ‘arse over teakettle’ as Penny had occasion to say, he would comment on that little tidbit. Right now though, it wouldn't get them anywhere

“There are rules in place that have to be adhered to.” She went on. ”Laws, international ones put in place by the World Union that are not kindly suggestions no matter who the individual is or what the cause. He crossed, unauthorized into Canadian airspace without their foreknowledge or direct invitation and attacked someone on their soil. A dual citizen at that. Yes, it was with provocation but it doesn’t excuse his actions or the handful of laws that he decided didn’t apply to him.”

“Really, with everything we have done? The lives we’ve saved? This is the response we’re gonna to get?” His voice took on a pleading edge and he looked away. “Aunty Val, Virgil is dying.”

The authoritative posture dropped away from his Aunt with the utterance of those three words.. The sternness and anger evaporating to be replaced with the woman they had spent so much time with as children. “Gordy,” Her voice underlaid with a fount of emotions. “I am doing everything I can. This is coming down from the top brass and the odds are stacked.”

Gordon’s expression must have revealed something the seasoned GDF colonel didn’t like because she sighed and gave a brief nod. “I’ll call in a few markers. Shake some tree and see what falls out.

“Thank you,” And his gratitude was real. His eyes held hers a moment before skittering away. A hand reaching up to dash away at his face before turning back.

“I can’t promise anything. If you have any options on your side I suggest you try them.” Her brow rose pointedly and it took Gordon a moment to understand what she meant.

As realization dawned, he tipped his head in a nod. “I understand. Thank you.”

8-8-8

Scott's pensive stare drilled holes in cold grey, unadorned walls of the interrogation room. He'd lost track of how long ago he'd been accompanied into this friendly little corner of GDF territory and shifted his weight on the hard, metal chair. Enough time for his legs to go numb from disuse.

The bright overhead panel lighting was unforgiving as it drove a spike through his brain when he rolled his head on his protesting neck. The tension unrelenting with the stark, searing luminescence frying his retinas.

‘Note to self,’ he thought wearily. ‘Lights suck.’

He wanted to yell and scream at the GDF to let him out but he knew it was pointless. He was well aware of how this worked. Making a person 'sweat it out' was an old tactic. One he went through counter intelligence training for back in his military days. A brief in-counter but one that was necessary prior to a rather sketchy mission that had a very small success rate.

Let the suspect sit and stew so you could use their mental exhaustion against them. Throw them off balance. Then when they reached the point of critical mass, grill them hard.

His stare shifted to the two way glass. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing himself crack. He was too proud for that. And his energies were best used elsewhere on other things. Like getting back to his family...to Virgil.

The image of the prone figure that flashed through his mind pulled Scott up short and he schooled his features. If he let himself go down that rabbit hole again he was done for.

It was his own actions that put him here and he would have to live with it. It didn’t stop him from yearning to be elsewhere. Being cut off and not knowing how his family was fairing was slowly killing him but he’d made the decision, against the colonel’s direct order not to intervene in their ongoing investigation.

He hadn’t had a choice though. As Virgil’s status got worse.. as he’d had to watch his family suffer along side...as he’d seen the look of despair pass over his sister, heard the sudden catch in her voice...his decision had been made.

His family wouldn’t lose anyone else. Attend another funeral, bury another Tracy. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Time had been short and a plan had been hastily thrown together. One that avoided putting anyone else in harm's way bar himself.

Now, thanks to him, the GDF had an illegal bio-weapon manufacturer under lock and key. The makings of a firm case against a criminal organization they hadn’t even known existed and a pocket ace up their sleeve to help them locate everyone involved… once he regained consciousness.

And Scott had the intel he had hoped would help his brother. Along with some he wished he didn’t.

Closing his eyes against the unforgiving light, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Irked as the cuffs that were secured to the metal table, which in turn was bolted to the floor, pulled at his wrist and forced him lean forward to accomplish the task.

Doubt clouded his mind, made him second guess his every move. Question how things could have been differently and if they had been, would it have made a difference? Would Virgil be safe? Or would it have just happened to one of his other siblings.

He didn’t know.

What he did know was that a greedy individual had panicked when things had gotten too hot. An unsanctioned, hidden bio-engineering lab had been rigged and to cover his ass when the top of the whole thing was about to be blown wide open, this scum had calmly flicked a switch.

No care given to human life. To his brother’s life.

A gas filled lab had been remotely unlocked to the smoldering remains just inches outside the door and his brother’s life was now dangling over a precipice with no way back.

Clenched fist came down hard on the metal table just as the interrogation room door opened.

8-8-8

Gordon braced his hands on his knees and arched his back in the small hope that the crazy knot of muscles would loosen up. He knew the likelihood of that happening was next to non existent without a muscle relaxant, heating pads and his bed but it was worth a try.

The hand that started rubbing slow circles from the base of his spine up to his shoulders made elicited a grunt of appreciation.

“Thanks.”

“Darling, you need to get some sleep.” Penny’s voice was filled with worry and he looked over his shoulder at her.

She was perfect. In every aspect of the word. From her finely boned, aristocratic face, to her intricately twisted champagne blonde halo of hair. To the slender curves that held so much strength, right down to her Louis Vuitton clad feet. Every inch of her was perfect and Gordon was goner from the moment he laid eyes on her.

He didn’t deserve her and would never be able to even touch her regalness and intelligence but for some completely ridiculous reason she loved him.

And right now, he would forever be in her debt.

“I’ll get some shut eye once Scott gets here until then it’s not going to happen.”

Penelope knew a set mind when she met one and she nodded her understanding. “In any event, let me get you something. You are a twisted knot of muscles and I can imagine it is dreadfully comfortable.”

Gordon’s lip tweaked up a bit in a soft smile and he shook his head. “I’m okay, Penny. I need to wait to hear back from my contact at W.A.S.P. They owe me one but I’m not sure it’s going to be enough. If I take something now I’m going to be a useless pile of mush on the floor.”

“Well, that would certainly be something to see.”

“I’m sure it would. The hospital staff would be able to mop me up into a bucket.”

Penny lightly nudged his shoulder with her own and her hand continued its circuitous route over his seizing back.

Gordon dragged in a breath as her ministrations melted some of the tightness, his head lolling forward in the quiet din of their private waiting room. He was flagging in a bad way and he knew he needed to get back up to his feet if he wanted to stay this side of dream land. Besides the last thing his back needed was for him to fall asleep in one of these God forsaken chairs.

Giving his head a shake to dislodge the cobwebs he caught the time on the old school analog wall clock.. He wanted to see his Virg but Kayo was in with him. The idea of interrupting that intimacy was not something that he found very appealing. He would give her five more minutes than he would offer her a break.

Calculating if he had enough time to grab a coffee from the little shop the next floor down he patted his pocked down for spare credits.

He was about to turn to Penny to see if she wanted anything when a sudden disturbance in the hallway had his head coming up sharply. Frowning, he forced his back to unbend and pushed to his feet.

Stepping out into the corridor, he was met with pandemonium as hospital staff raced passed. The alarm blaring somewhere down by the nurses station made his heart skip a beat but it was his sagging sister being escorted from a very busy and familiar room that had his lungs refusing to work.

“Oh god...no…”

oOo

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

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vore-scientist · 5 years

Text

Late Night Request

(SFW GT M/f platonic safe/soft vore fluff No warnings) A (mini) Tale of the Mystic Woods

Princess Sophia and Yonah the Wizard are my OCs, they are both adults, and part of my Mystic Woods series.

Spiritual companion to this story --- A pinprick of light floated above Sophia’s right hand as she watched the giant wizard take slow, silent breaths. A stark contrast to her own nervous state.

With her left hand she fiddled with a vial containing a glass paste. Her body felt hot but the air felt icy on her skin. She was shaking. Her mind and heart were racing as she tried to focus on the slumbering giant.

Yonah’s bushy black hair was untied and fanned out behind him and over his shoulders. It looked super fluffy and she nearly jumped into it to entangle herself. But the adorable mess didn’t make him look any less large and powerful. Even in his sleep he was intimidating, not that Sophia was intimidated by Yonah, not anymore. He could certainly spook her when he played up his “evil” persona, but she didn’t fear him. With a deep sigh she looked at the vial of paste, then she reached out to his cheek and shoved hard. “Hey!” she whispered. “Nnnnmnrrr” the giant moaned in his sleep and a lazy hand came out from under the blanket to gently swat at the offending hands of the human and scratch the area she’d touched. “Come on! Wake up!” she said, and pulled at his eyelids. Yonah came to consciousness slowly and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. Tried because someone was holding onto them rather forcefully. “Sophia?” He sat up on his elbow, scooping a hand under the princess. She sat down and was at eye level. There was a light spell up but it dimmed as she slapped a hand to her head and said a new spell. “FUCK!” Brilliant violet light filled the room and he wasn’t fast enough to shield his eyes from the explosion of purple dust that flew from the princess. Sitting up properly he dropped Sophia into his lap as tears streamed down his face. Painfully, he coughed as the dust dissipated. “Uwwowhh” he rubbed at his stinging eyes “That was uncalled for!” Wait. That was the activation of her curse. Quickly he cast his own light spell, a dim one, and through tears looked down at the glass princess. The light shimmered off her. Her face serious. “Eat me.”

Her voice warbled like a wind chime. “No, I don’t want to!” With a loud RRWRWWRW his stomach betrayed him. But what his stomach wanted and what he wanted didn’t exactly match up. After such a rude awaking he was disinclined to do anything for her. “Liar! Eat me!” she took handfuls of his nightgown and started to climb up his chest. Something was not right. He pulled the princess from his clothes and sat up against the backboard of his bed, pulling his knees to his chest. He held the princess in cupped hands. She was trembling! Was she ok? He placed her on his knees but he maintained contact, stroking her side. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said, low and calm. Sophia pouted and folded her arms. “Nothing! I just want you to eat me? You always want to eat me so what’s the problem?” Yonah snorted but her heavy glass hair didn’t react, nor did her solid glass eyes blink. That was always creepy. “The problem is your attitude. Why do you want me to eat you?” As if she couldn’t keep up the facade Sophia’s anger faded and despondency grew around her. She looked away. “I just… Feel too real and exposed... I don’t know how to explain it.” She leaned into his hand. Oh dear. Existential crisis. He understood all too well. Life was suddenly and acutely intense and real. Your responsibilities and purpose were too much and you just wanted to pause the ride, not be a part of it, if only for a moment. “Reality is overwhelming aint it. Especially at night?” he said, rubbing a finger on her cheek which made a squeaking noise. Sophia sniffed and nodded. “I don’t want to exist right now.” /Too bad/ thought Yonah, but what he said was “You know you still exist in my stomach right? I can feel you quite acutely. I’ll know you still exist.” Sophia smiled. /Good/ Yonah thought. “You don’t count.” Dramatically he drew breath and put a hand to his chest, “I’m wounded by your words! I count in this world just as much as you!” Now Sophia laughed, not without a hint of sadness or despair, but it wasn’t fake amusement. Recovering Sophia stood up, still a bit wobbly. “Listen, if you really don’t want to eat me-” she slid down his leg and to the edge of the bed. “Not so fast!” he picked her up again, sitting her back on his knees and he leaned close, his nose nearly touching her feet. “Do you really think it will help?” “Why are you trying to change my mind?” Yonah withdrew his head “I don’t--” he leaned forward again narrowing his eyes and smiling “I’m an idiot?” Sophia kicked at his nose “You sure as shit are! An idiot who hasn’t eaten me yet!” “Not for long!” he raised his head a bit and opened his mouth, “Your sanctuary awaits” he said and held it open, tongue over his teeth. Getting to her knees she leaned against the bridge of his nose. “Finally,” she kissed between his eyes, “and thanks”. Then she ducked under his nose and crawled in. Leaning back Yonah gripped the princess between his teeth, supporting her legs with a hand. She was reaching her hands to the back of his throat, tickling it it, until he lifted his chin up and she slid down in synch with a swallow. One. Two. Three more and she was no longer in his mouth. A fourth and he could breathe again, the pressure she put on his airways falling away into his chest. A fifth, sixth, seventh. He felt her she curl up into his stomach, sigh deeply, and shudder once more before going restfully, comfortably, still. Before laying back down Yonah flipped the hourglass on the nightstand. There was no way he was going to wake up before her curse wore off, but the charm on the timekeeper would wake him up in time to get her out or reset the curse. He lay on his back and focused on Sophia. She didn’t often ask to be eaten, and he wished that when she did it was under more pleasant circumstances. More often than not she asked when down in the dumps. But who was he to say no? On it’s own it wasn’t the best coping mechanism but he figured as long as he talked to her and didn’t just let her stew in her emotions then there was no harm in it. Plus he got to eat her! And feel full and useful! So full. So amazingly full. There was really nothing like having an entire human in his belly. They fit so perfectly. “Excuse me!” Sophia jerked as he rubbed at his full midsection, “I’m trying to not exist!” Right. He had forgotten. He lay his hand over her instead, letting the weight of his palm press into her figure. Just an assurance from an outside sense that she was there. And they both fell asleep.

[FIN]

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist(.)tumblr(.)com(/)tagged(/)+mystic+woods+story but remove the () or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #gt vore #extreme cuddling

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sneakywitch-thief · 5 years

Text

Let The Rest of the World Go By - WIP

Saw @hey-writers / @heywriters post about posting a WIP, and since I haven't posted any of my writing in a while, I thought I'd share the first chapter of my Nick Valentine noir fic I've been working on since the game came out. It's a few years in the making and was written long before my other FO4 fanfic, It Had To Be You.

I'm trying to write the entirety of this one before I post it, so think of this as a preview! Enjoy!

Chapter 1: A New Case

It was a quiet night in Diamond City.

In the first time in, well, forever -- the people in Diamond City didn’t have to sleep with one eye open anymore. The earth-shattering explosion of the Institute had shaken the city to its core. In addition to leveling a good portion of Boston, the quake did a good job of addling the brains of her people as well. The subsequent celebrations had undoubtedly been louder than the explosion itself, and after days of wild and raucous rejoicing, the Green Jewel of the Commonwealth finally laid down her head to rest. It was a new feeling, to live without fear, and the people of Diamond City relished in it.

All slept soundly -- that is, except for Nick Valentine.

He sat silent and alone in his office, slowing drawing the smoke from a stale cigarette more ash than tobacco. It had become something of a ritual for the detective, to sit in the tranquil solitude of night and think. Perhaps to stew over a case, perhaps to simply indulge the bad habits of a man long dead. After so many nights of nothing but the same, even he didn’t know anymore. The quiet, interrupted only by Ellie’s quiet snoring in the next room, usually gave his mind free rein to wander.

But tonight was different. The quiet was... different.

Nick exhaled deeply, letting the fleeting warmth of the smoke envelop him before vanishing into nothing. A fleeting pleasure, gone as quickly as it had come. Nick couldn’t help but wonder if the destruction of the Institute had been the same. A rapturous victory one moment, a Pandora’s Box the next. The detective gazed longingly at what little remained of his last cigarette. Nothing would feel better than even the tiniest bit of nicotine, some small calm to ease his nerves and circuits, but as a synth he could feel no more than a memory. All that he had gotten from that precious stick of cancer was a pile of ash and a bad taste in his mouth.

He should be celebrating like everyone else was. The Institute was gone forever, after all. But here he was, doing what he always did. Sitting alone with only dreary thoughts and cigarette smoke to keep him company. But he knew that no matter how many cigarettes he blew through this night, the stifling silence of the sleeping city still filled him with dread. Something was wrong.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t tell what it was.

Whether it was through exasperation or despair he wasn’t sure, but his body felt heavy and stiff, as if the silence had filled him with its enormity. He began to slump, to collapse under the weight of... something. He laid his head in his hands and let out another sigh. What was it, exactly, that was wrong?

Then, a knock.

Nick looked to the door, confused. It was... what, three in the morning? No one would come to him at this hour. A prankster, perhaps, or maybe a lost drunk. But, then again, it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Might as well answer. He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it under his heel as he strode to the door -- only to have his late night guest let himself in as soon as it was opened.

The remarkably familiar man looked around frantically, going as far as to even lower his signature sunglasses to see in the dim light of the agency. His eyes narrowed, scanning the room meticulously for... whatever it was Railroad agents looked for.

“Nick... are we alone?”

Nick rolled his eyes at his typical melodramatic act. “Nice to see you too, Deacon.”

“Nick. Are we alone.”

Ah, something was off. Nick quietly locked the door behind him. “Yeah. That snoring in the next room’s Ellie -- she ain’t waking anytime soon. Drank a bit too much today and knocked herself out cold. This ugly mug’s the only one you’ll be seeing tonight, I’m afraid.”

Deacon smiled a bit at that. “Good. Only one I want to see tonight anyway.”

“Skip the wine and dine and cut straight to the chase? I always liked that about you, Deacon.”

“Ha! You know it, you old dog. ... but, all joking aside, I’ve got a case for you.” A pause. “You might want to sit down for this.”

The inexplicable heaviness got a bit worse at that. Nick quickly obliged, returning to the seat behind his desk. If Deacon had come all the way to Diamond City in the dead of night, undisguised and vulnerable, it couldn’t be anything good. He absently reached for another cigarette, only to find the pack empty. All that was left of forty caps worth of cigs was a heap of butts upended in what had become more ash than tray. The cravings of a dead man gnawed at him, the need for a quick, calming smoke ever growing. A metal finger tapped the desk impatiently. Something was wrong, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“... so. A case? Must be important. What is it?”

Deacon looked up from the overflowing ashtray slowly, his brow furrowed. “Yeah... important is a word for it. Well... you know what happened a week or so ago, right? Then again, hard not to, I guess -- what with a good chunk of the city blown to bits. Anyway. The Institute’s gone, Nick. Gone for good. Our biggest enemy is now a pile of irradiated dust.” He laughed weakly, straining a smile. “Awesome, right?”

“Yeah, but you don’t seem too happy about it.”

“No, don’t get me wrong, I definitely am. It’s just that--” He pulled his lips into a thin line and took a moment to hide himself behind those sunglasses of his. “Well, I’ll cut to the chase, since you like that about me so much. Has the Professor told you anything? Come to you at all?”

Ah, Professor. Nick had never understood why Deacon continued to use her Railroad codename to refer to her. After all, she and Deacon were as thick as thieves and nigh inseparable. Their infamy as deadly do-gooders of the wasteland was perhaps outmatched only by their legendary, unshakeable friendship. He had heard the outrageous stories about them, the most believable of them being blasting their way through downtown Boston to lead two young men to safety. The least, tearing down Trinity to rescue a two-bit actor from an army of Super Mutants. The Commonwealth, as big as it was, was a fishbowl. Rumors spread faster than radroaches, and tales of valiant heroics soon were quickly spun into a scandalous romance between the two, each more wild and passionate than the last.

From what he had heard, neither had denied the claims.

Nick coughed abruptly, mentally kicking himself back on topic. “No.” He adjusted himself in his seat, impatiently attempting to shake that damn discomfort. “Why would she? She hasn’t been here since that mess with Kellogg a while back.”

“Have... you seen her at all?”

Damn, did Nick ever need a cigarette. He silently cursed himself for smoking the whole pack, and he cursed Deacon for, albeit unwittingly, rubbing salt into an old wound. Ah, was that ever a wound. He leaned back in his chair and found his gaze wandering to the empty desk in his office.

Ellie had been so excited at the thought of Nick getting a partner, especially with her being the woman in shining power armor who saved him from the clutches of Skinny Malone. Not only had she tidied up the place, but she had bought a full detective’s getup for Nick’s new partner. The trenchcoat and fedora still sat atop that desk, collecting a thick layer of dust as they awaited an owner that would never come. Neither Nick nor Ellie had had the heart to move them, perhaps in some small hope that she might return.

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Well... she’s gone, Nick.”

“What?”

“Gone. She up and vanished a few days ago. We haven’t been able to find her.”

That... that would explain things. That inexplicable feeling. The drinking, the cigarettes, the dread.

Pandora’s Box.

Nick nodded slowly, dumbly, his thoughts racing as his artificial mind attempted to find words, any words, to that.

“Look. Shit went down at the Institute, Nick. Real, grade-A, top-of-the-line bullshit. The Professor... she went through hell and back to take it down. To be perfectly honest, I don’t blame her for cutting all her shit loose and running. She deserves a vacation more than anyone, really.”

“But you went through all the trouble to come here... something’s wrong.”

“Yeah. You got that right.” Deacon was quiet then, vigilant for anyone listening in. He spoke softly, cautiously. “Look, Nick, buddy. I’d tell you more... but, it just ain’t safe. For me, for her, or for you.”

“Yet you want me to find her.”

“... well, yeah.”

“Look, Deacon. As much as I hate to say it, it sounds like your Professor just needs some time to herself. You said so yourself, she’s had a lot of weight on her shoulders. And,” Nick chuckled under his breath, “you’ve got some pretty good sleuthing skills of your own, Deacon. Not to mention a hell of a lot more connections. What makes you think I can find her when even her better half can’t?”

Immediately the sunglasses were back on, but shades couldn't mask the pain in Deacon's voice. “Nick, me and everyone else in the family -- we’re probably the last people she wants to see right now. Besides, we have too many enemies turning over too many rocks looking for what’s left of us right now. As much as I hate to say it, we’re not exactly equipped right now to drop everything and go look for her. I want to more than anything, believe me I do, but I can’t without jeopardizing everything. But she really needs someone there for her before she... well, before she does something bad. Real bad.”

“... you really think it’ll come to that?”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?”

Nick leaned back in his chair and took a moment to think. Time wouldn’t be on his side in this one, and he was working with... just about next to nothing. But he couldn’t just say no, this was about her. The woman who had saved his life. A woman stripped of everything and left at the mercy of the Commonwealth, only to turn right back around and kick its ass. She was just about the toughest woman he had ever met, but she was still human. She could still break, and according to Deacon, she had. Bad.

“I’ve gotta warn you, my friend,” said Nick carefully, deliberately, “This is going to be far from easy. I’m probably going to need all the help I can get. At the very least, give me something to work with. Do you have any leads whatsoever? Where she might’ve gone? What she took with her? Anything?”

“I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you. No, really. I probably would.”

“Well, that’s helpful.”

Deacon let out an exasperated sigh. “Look. I’m sticking our collective necks far enough as it is just by coming here. We’ve got everyone and their mother looking for us right now -- God only knows who’s after the Professor’s head.” He leaned forward, peering over the lens of his sunglasses to reveal exhausted, bloodshot eyes. “Look, she’s in a rough spot right now. Real rough. If she doesn’t do herself in, someone else is going to. I came to you because the walls have fucking ears and you’re one of the few people who I think I can trust with this. Not to mention you’re probably the only person in the whole damn Commonwealth who can figure out where she is in the first place.”

“I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me, Deacon.” Had the situation not been so dire, his words might not have sounded so forced, so hollow. Hearing those words come out of his mouth, Nick half wondered if, perhaps, Deacon thought too highly of him. Hell, Nick wasn’t sure if he was even sure of himself.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe I’m just desperate, maybe I’m just asking my friend a favor. Albeit the favor of a lifetime, but... please. If not for me, do it for her.” Deacon stood then, adjusting back to his old, unreadable self behind those dark sunglasses of his. He deftly undid the lock on the door and was gone just as quickly as he had come.

Well.

Nick now sat alone, once again trapped in the horrible, stifling quiet of early morning. At least he had something to think about now. He had been right to worry, as this was one hell of a something. This would probably be his most difficult case yet, and this time, he was doing it alone. Alone, always alone. His eyes wandered once more to the spare fedora and trench atop the empty desk. Her’s.

His partner’s.

He abruptly slapped his hands on his desk and stood. He had to move, think.

As he paced furiously back and forth across his office, burgeoning thoughts and theories raced through his metal head like a swarm of angry stingwings. Now. Where could she be? Was she at Sanctuary? No, she wouldn’t want to be reminded of her family. Was she...? No. No, not that one either. Nick scowled as he poured over each and every possibility, trying to find some semblance of a starting point for the case. Then, suddenly, an idea. Maybe she--

“Nick... what are you doing?”

Nick nearly jumped out of his boots at the sound of Ellie’s voice. He hadn’t realized he had, again, been thinking out loud. Quite loudly, at that. She stood in the doorway in her usual pink tatters, her hair still in rollers. She was thoroughly annoyed, and judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the wet rag pressed to her brow, still thoroughly hung over. Under normal circumstances, she was as understanding as a saint. But now, she might as well be a deathclaw. At Nick’s continued silence, she raised a brow impatiently.

“I, ah.” Nick cleared his throat rather conspicuously as he attempted to find the right words to say. “Just, ah... new case. It’s a favor for a friend.”

“At four in the morning? Ah... nevermind. You never sleep anyway.” Ellie shook her head and let out a huge yawn. “So, detective. What’s the case?”

“Missing person.”

Ellie visibly winced. “Man, even with the Institute gone we’re still going to have our hands full, aren’t we? I was hoping for at least a few days vacation.”

Nick let out a chuckle. Poor thing had been partying harder than anyone, thinking that with no Institute there might be a bit of a lull in the missing persons cases. Even tried some of that Bobrov bleach over at the Dugout Inn. The regret of that decision was plain on her face, and judging from the dark bags beneath her eyes, still had quite a bit to sleep off.

“You can rest easy, Ellie. I’ll be on my own for this one. So--” He holstered his faithful pipe pistol and a screwdriver, preparing what little he would need for the long journey ahead. “-- I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

“Wait, what? On your own? And you’re taking your gun?” The look she gave him pulled at his ghost of a heart. He bit his lip and reminded himself he did not have one to give, to hurt, or to break. His face was hardened as she stepped forward, eyes wide with fear. “You’re leaving now?”

“Yup. It ain’t going to be easy, but hey,” he flashed her a winning, reassuring smile, “I’ve worked with less. Think you can hold down the fort here, doll?”

Instead of letting out that sigh of relief Nick had anticipated, Ellie’s frown deeped. She stepped out of the doorway and approached him, still hugging her patchwork blanket around her like a frightened child. She opened her blanket cocoon and before Nick could protest wrapped it around the both of them in a tight embrace. She buried her face in his chest and simply stood there, holding him. A baffled Nick was slow to regain his bearing, but once he did he smiled somberly and held her back. Whether it was from the moonshine, the early morning chill or from her newfound fear he did not know, but poor Ellie shook like a leaf in a radstorm. When she finally spoke her voice was quiet, pleading.

“Don’t go.”

He supposed that was to be expected. An urgent case given the middle of the night couldn’t look good, especially not to the girl who saw him as the closest thing to family she had. While Ellie could certainly take care of herself, he knew all too well the loneliness and worry that would plague her in his absence. His heart pulled again, or rather, one of his many old pieces acting up. Faulty, malfunctioning. Mechanical.

“... I’m afraid it ain’t a question of taking the case or not, Ellie -- someone’s life is on the line in this one.”

Ellie immediately pulled away and gave him those sad, pleading eyes of hers. “I don’t give a damn whether or not you take this case, Nick. Just... don’t go out on your own again. Last time you were gone for weeks. Skinny Malone’s crew was about to turn you into scrap! Do you know how scared I was? If Rosetta hadn’t been there-- wait. Rosetta. She’s your partner.”

“... That she is.”

“We could find her, bring her back so she can help you! I’m sure if I ask the right people, they can find out where she is. Please, just wait until she comes back. Wait until it’s safe. I... I can’t lose you again, Nick.” After a moment, she cracked a strained smile. “I mean, there’s not a lot of other work out there for a detective’s secretary. I’d rather not have an agency without a detective. So... wait? Please?”

“That’d probably be a bit too much of a wait, even for me.”

She let out a weak laugh and cocked an inquisitive brow. “That impatient to get on the case, huh?”

“Well, Ellie, you see... she is the case. A mutual friend of ours just let me know she’s missing.”

Ellie blinked once. Twice. Three times.

“Yeah, exactly. Thing is, I don’t think she wants to be found, and my source wasn’t too forthcoming with information. Confidential, he said. So it’s probably for the best that I’m on my own, keep it under wraps and whatnot.”

“W-wait. So you have no leads, no information... you only know that she’s missing. The woman who blew up the Institute, you say her life is danger. And you’re going to scour the Commonwealth for her... with nothing but an old pipe pistol and a screwdriver?”

“... that about sums it up, yeah.” Even to Nick, the notion was ridiculous. If he couldn’t even save himself from Skinny Malone, how on earth could he save Rosetta? But it wasn’t like he could just turn it down, no. That would mean letting the Commonwealth lose its one last beacon of hope in a hell of a long time. At the very least, he had to try. He gave Ellie one last smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”

“You better.” Ellie stepped forward and gave Nick one last, long hug, and much to the detective’s surprise, a quick peck on the cheek. “Go get her, Nick.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #nick valentine #deacon #ff #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #my writing #wip #my wip #let the rest of the world go by #long #long post

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dietaku · 5 years

Text

Chapter 5: Video Games are for Sharing Happy Memories

“Wait, what was I supposed to go find?” I demanded,” And what in the ever-loving SNAFU just happened, anyways?”

“I'm not sure why you're asking me that. I wasn't even there,” Princess Catalina countered, as I slumped with despair,” Still, your instincts were better than you imagined, as I can explain, in a way what happened.”

“Oh?” Errin asked, crossing her arms.

“Yes. Even though I wasn't there, I still acted as the fulcrum for your spirit journey.Your dear boy, Jun here, is the key to all this. As a Rancher, a class dedicated to harvesting the natural bounty of the world, he is not a strong combatant. Instead, Jun possesses a useful trait, Friend to All Nature, which sets his opponents' aggression to zero unless he actively attacks a combatant. Jun also possesses a knack for alchemy, allowing him to craft bomb attack items.While you all were battling Nezha and the Prisoner, he attached several such bombs to the pair and defeated them all while they were solely focused on you. Why would they focus on him? He didn't attack them....up until his bombs detonated and defeated them. While you were engrossed in your battle, succumbing to despair, Jun worked with calm and collected manner, producing success.”

“I...see,” I said, looking down at Jun as he grinned at me expectantly, as I patted him on the head,” That still doesn't explain what I supposed to look for.”

“That I cannot say. Even with my talents and gifts, I am not omniscient as I am,” Catalina admitted,” Although, you must've discovered something?”

“Well, I did find my character's mother,” I mumbled.

“Your mother,” Catalina explained.

“What? No! My mom is nice, but she's nothing like that woman! Besides, my mom isn't in this game,” I protested, as Catalina chuckled, shaking her head,” Fine, then! I'll prove to you all! I'll find her and prove my point!”

I stomped off into the streets of Grafzou, recalling the directions I traveled in my dream, as I found the run-down house I left what seemed like an eternity before. Chattering noises rang out as I paused with a flood of emotions washing over me, while I stewed in confusion and anger.

“No, this isn't my home. This is just a place in the game,” I growled, as the chattering stopped and a Floof woman slowly walked out. Still beautiful, with her willowy form, blonde mane and tail just as I recalled her, including her ruined left arm. I spied the faintest traces of worry upon her face, even as she lit up when she spied me.

“Deegal?” she asked, as my eyes welled with tears

“Yeah, Mom, it's me,” It's nice to see you.” I mumbled, as she embraced me tightly.

“It's so good to see you! It's been what, ten years since you wandered off? I'm glad you had the good sense to take after your father. Now, what are you doing nowadays?” she asked. She and I chatted for several hours, as I settled comfortably into the conversation. As our talk went on, more and more details of Deegal's life became known to me, and the two of us laughed and joked between each other even as the shadows drew over us from the fading sun and the streetlights flared to life outside.

“Mama?” called behind me, as I turned to see Jun hesitantly entering the house.

“Deegal, who is—Oh, I see,” my mother smiled as she motioned Jun to sit beside us,” I never pegged you for the motherly type. Who's the father?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. I can't very well tell her the real way we bonded.

She shook her head, “ If I had a nickel for each time I heard that. Still,” she grinned, as she disappeared into the nearby kitchen, returning with a basket of fried tofu and several bottles of sake,” My little Deegal came home, and brought me a grandson. We ought to celebrate!”

Soon enough, we were surrounded by a crowd of other Floof women, and an impromptu party arose. Jun was the star of the gathering as the others all fawned over him and he happily basked in the attention.

“Aaaaw, he's such a little cutie! You better be careful, Deegal. Otherwise, he's going to get snatched up, just like my Jiang was,” a brunette Floof my mind identified as Yinli, called.

“Is that the excuse he gave you? He's down on the south end these days fooling around with a Zorren girl,” another called, who my mind filled in as Meilin.

“That silt-pounding Qwibon-fondler! I'll be back!” Yinli growled, stomping off, as Jun waved.

“You know, though, that reminds me,” Meilin mentioned,” Yinli's husband isn't the only one on the south end these days. I heard that Pai O is in town again.”

The entire party fell silent for a moment, as I looked around in confusion.

“Who?”

“One of Hu Shian's chosen handmaidens. She knows the secrets that can make us of the Floof Clan stronger,” my mother explained,” Deegal, why don't you remember that? I know I told you about them.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. A lot's happened lately,” I muttered, as he others tittered at my foolishness. The party lasted well into the night, before I settled down, exhausted, happy and confused.

“All these memories, none of them mine, and yet, I'm ecstatic. What the hell is even going on with me?” I wondered, as Jun snored beside me. Abandoning my pensive mood, I settled down, and drifted off the sleep. The next day, Jun and I said our farewells, finding Errin not far outside, as she and I exchanged worried looks.

“You too, then?” she asked, as I nodded.

“My mind is filling with memories not my own, like I'm stepping into Deegal's life, even if she was just a character I made,” I mumbled, as Errin nodded.

“Last night, I found my character's father, and discovered I had a knack for brewing. I've barely ever cooked, but apparently I can craft beer rather competently,” she replied.

I shook my head,” What's all this mean?”

“I don't know. This does imply that perhaps....No, that's not possible,” Errin muttered, “That would imply that this world, this game, isn't actually a game....”

I said nothing, as we both nodded, and strode back to the castle. There, amid the crowds, stood Princess Catalina, as she smirked as she spied our approach.

“Did you find your answers?” she asked.

“No, but I have to ask you. All this,” I waved around me,” This isn't a game, is it?”

Catalina smiled,” Do you think it is?”

“I can't say anymore. After I came back from my dream quest, I've been wracked with memories not my own, like I'm stepping into someone else's life,” I muttered, as Catalina's smile widened.

She patted me on the shoulder,” Don't feel bad. Everyone has experiences they can't place. That's the nature of being alive.”

Errin piped up,” It's more than that. I've never cooked anything more complex than a grilled cheese sandwich in my life, and yet a few hours ago, I met my father, and now I discovered that I'm a brewer? When did all this happen? I'm an academic and psychologist!”

“If you desire answers, then seek out the Three Great Societies, then. They have the answers you seek,” Catalina smiled.

“Three Great Societies? Where are they?” I asked.

“They are present in several locations across the world, but the best place for you to find them is the city of Treisgen,” Catalina replied,” Be wary, though, you need to travel across the Veeya Strwam.”

“Veeya Stream?”

“A series of plates running along a circular path about Mt. Kunlun. If you follow the flow of the Stream, then you ought to get to Treisgen in less than a day,” Catalina explained. I nodded, as Errin piped up.

“And will this take us back to Caaztfahl?” she queried. Immediately, I understood; it would be much easier if we could reunite with Zechs, Jake and the others.

Catalina smirked,” You want to return to your home, I take it? Worry not, Treisgen is on the same side of Mt. Kunlun as Caaztfahl, It will be simple to get back from there.”

“Right. Fine. We'll be back. Till then, you better stay where we can find you,” I replied.

“Did you just threaten me, the princess of he kingdom of Grafzou?” Catalina snorted.

I shook my head,” No threat, just a promise.”

Walking off, Errin nudged me,” That wasn't much of a reassurance., Dieter.”

“I know, but I want to be in charge for a change,” I muttered, stewing in my thoughts as I ran into a tall figure. Well, ran into was the wrong phrase, more like she appeared out of nowhere and I tripped into her trying to get out of the way.

“Watch it, you! You're a daughter of Hu Shian and you're as graceful as a drunken Taurigante. Take more effort into yourself!” she growled, as I looked over the woman I ran into. A tall Floof woman who seemed eerily familiar. With her auburn hair, bright eyes and unusually luxurious tail, she almost reminded me of....

“Pai Zuri?” I asked, as she snorted.

“Of course a cow like you would know my little sister. I suppose you've sought me out after she worked you over? Giving you the little kid treatment? Well, rest assured, if you want something, I'm not going to baby-talk you or give you any post-coital snuggles. You're in the deep silt now, Baby Bird,” she replied, as realization swept over me.

“You're Pai O, right?”

“What a perceptive little cow you are, Baby Bird,” Pai O leered, looming over me. Her being six inches taller than me didn't help,” So, you want my tutelage, then?”

“I-I-I never said, anything abo--”

“Cease your mewling, follow me,” she growled, beckoning for me to follow her. I looked at Errin and Jun pleadingly, before I sighed, following behind her. She arrived at an empty warehouse, one of the many sketchy buildings in the outer sections of Grafzou I completely ignored on my way in. Turning to face me, she looked over me with an dispassionate stare.

“You want greater power? Are you sure? This will be incredibly painful,” she asked.

I looked at her blankly, I never asked for anything, “I don't know--”

“You're right, you don't,” she retorted, circling around me before roughly grabbing my tail as she raised it, massaging its base. A white sun of agony dawned in my mind and my entire body shuddered with pain. I whimpered, and promptly passed out. Waking up as the agonizing heat roiled over me, I staggered to my feet, as I noticed a curious weight on my backside. Looking backwards, I realized I was now the proud owner of four more tails.

“You still alive?” Pai O called as I stared at her.

“What did you even do?”

“I opened one of your chakras, awakening some of the divine blood in your body. Now you possess part of the strength of our ancestor. You see, my dear baby bird, this is the power of Alluring Tail Whirlwind. Just as our divine ancestor could wield their tails as you wield your hands, so too will you be blessed now,” O explained, as I looked her over quizzically.

“You only have one tail. Why aren't you so endowed?” I demanded, as she cackled.

“I don't want to talk about endowments with a cow like you, but I'll let you discover that for yourself,” she called, just in time for my Spirit dropped into the red. My backside burned painfully, and I squeaked as the weight on my butt lightened. Blinking through the tears, I found my tail was now all alone once more.

“Alluring Tail Whirlwind consumes huge amounts of Spirit to maintain. We lack the full divinity of our ancestor, after all. So, it's not a skill you ought to use all the time. Still, in a pinch, it can be a life-saver,” Pai O explained. I nodded, as I heard a gasp. I slowly turned around, spying Jun wide-eyed at my predicament.

“Mom! What'd you do to her?” he demanded, assuming a stance I recognized as my own, as he lunged with a barrage of sweeping punches, which Pai O avoided with ease. Grabbing his fist, Pai O's other hand whipped out, clutching his face as she pecked him on the forehead. Jun staggered back, his face a flustered crimson.

“I like your spunk, Kid. Still, you're ten years too early to confront me with a challenge like that. Still, keep training, and maybe one day, you will,” she winked at him, as I staggered to interpose myself between Jun and this erstwhile teacher.

“Okay, that's enough of that, Pai O,” I challenged,” Now you've given this skill, so beat it.”

She rose, looming over with a sneer,” If that is your wish. Know this, though. I am called by my people who cry out for salvation. You and your karma are sad indeed. I'm sure you and I will meet again, Baby Bird.”

With this cryptic parting, she walked out of the warehouse, as I helped Jun to his feet.

“T-thank you,” he muttered, as I arched a brow.

“You can speak English now?”

“I could speak English before, but I need to concentrate to do so. My head gets fuzzy when I try to speak normally, and what comes out of my mouth isn't what I mean. Well, it's what I mean, but it comes out in a different language. This has happened ever since that Zechs man approached me.”

“I see,” I muttered. Staggering out of the warehouse, with Jun helping me along, Errin eyed us with a half-smile.

“I assume you gained something new? The other woman just walked off with a nasty frown on her face,” Errin replied, as I shrugged.

“We'll see,” I said, as Errin cocked her head.

“Oh? I want to see what she taught you,” she called.

I shook my head,” Maybe later. Jun, where do we need to go to get to the Veeya Stream?”

He pointed off to the west as I spied a gigantic shadow looming in the clouds near the horizon,” We head that way. There'll be a town over there where we can join the Veeya Stream. We'll also need to get you two Qwibons.”

“Wait, he can speak English? What have you done to him?” Errin uncrossed her arms in shock.

“Mom didn't do anything to me. I-I just.....felt it would be easier this way,” Jun winced, hefting me as I patted him on the head.

“It's okay. I can walk myself. Now, why you lead the way?” I asked, as he nodded happily.

Following him, past the fields of scattered palm trees covering swaying grasslands, as he crossed ever closer to the gigantic shadow at the horizon ahead of us.

“What is that, anyways, Jun?”

“That shadow ahead of us? That's Mount Kunlun, the stairway to the gods,” he answered, as I slowly looked up. The mountain's peak disappeared into the cloudy gloom of the sky above and even that disappeared into the sky above.

“I see. You're being metaphorical, though, right? There's no way there's a mountain can reach up to Heaven, can there?” Errin asked, as Jun shook his head.

“You get to the top, you can meet the gods. To do so is dangerous, though. All sorts of scary monsters and divine beasts dwell on its slopes. Even strong people like Mom and Miss Errin would die up there. Please don't try it,” he asked softly, as I nodded absentmindedly.

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course,” I muttered,

Jun then paused, waving ahead of him,” We're here.”

“Huh?”

Before us sprawled a small town bustling with activity. Traders hawked their wares, people happily talking, and even several fights breaking out. The most striking feature, though, was that an animal accompanied every single person I spied in the crowds.

“What's with all this?” I asked, looking around, as Jun grinned.

“This is one of the four cardinal towns of the Veeya Stream, Ponesant. I also suppose I should show you all this,” Jun explained, whistling loudly, as a large beast lumbered up to him excitedly. I leaped out of the way, as this beast clambered besides Jun, on its hind feet clearly excited to be called. Looking it over, I lacked words to explain this bizarre animal. Like a maniac's vision of a kangaroo expressed with his only description of the animal through some twisted telephone game, it loomed over me with wide eyes, a narrow muzzle like an opossum, tall ears like a rabbit, a sleek body covered in brilliant blue fur, and a tufted tail like a flamboyant skunk. It looked me over excitedly, grabbing my shoulders with smaller front paws as it nuzzled my face with a pink nose, before sitting obediently beside Jun as he snapped.

“What is that thing?”

“That's a Qwibon, isn't it?” Errin asked.

Jun nodded,” That's right. How did you know?”

“Jake told me about therm. He used one to travel to the plains of Abenon with Potato and myself. He told me there was a quest to get your own,” Errin answered,”I assume this is what you're taking us to do?”

He nodded,” That was my plan. You need some way to travel across the Veeya Stream, and you can only do so if you possess a riding animal. The easiest one to get is a Qwibon, although there are dozens more.”

“Oh?” I grinned deviously,”Jun, are there any platinum gem riding animals?”

Jun nodded,” There are, but you really ought to get your Qwibon first, Mom.”

I ignored him, trotting over to the marketplace,” I'd like to purchase the most expensive riding animal!”

The clerk nearest to me, a towering Phomet man, cleared his throat, “Of course, ma'am. Do you have your license?”

“My what?”

His caprine face lowered to my level, looking me in the eyes coolly, “Your riding license, ma'am. You can't ride a Qwibon or any other riding animal without acquiring your license. Don't worry. Approach the clerk on the opposite end with the green flag. You can earn your license there,” he called, as I glowered, before nodding.

“So, this is the way of things, huh? Bureaucracy?” I wondered as I trotted over to the directed desk, where a bored Phomet woman doodled on a writing pad, at odds with her counterpart due to her humanoid face.

“Are those two even the same species? Honestly, she reminds me of Potato more than him,” I thought. As I looked her over, she realized I stood beside her, stowing her drawings swiftly in her desk.

“Welcome! I assume you're here to acquire your riding license?” she beamed,

“Y-yes,” I frowned,” as I looked back from the first clerk back to her, “Will this take long?”

“Oh, no! All I need to do is read your credentials,” she said, staring at me for a moment, abefore scribbling hurriedly on a paper and handing it to me,” Take this to the clerk across the room you were just at.

“Ah, good, you have the paper,” the first clerk called, as he took the paper.

“So, I can get a riding animal now?” I asked excitedly.

He shook his head,” Not yet. You need to take this paper back to the clerk across the way.”

“Very well,” I sighed. Such busywork was the norm in many RPGs, so it stood to reason such chores would arise. However, when the female clerk handed me yet another paper, my patience wore thin.

“What am I even doing? Why can't I just do all this paperwork all at once?” I demanded, as she snickered.

“Because the paperwork can only be done at each respective desk,” she answered,” How else would you do it?”

I bit my tongue as I fumed inwardly at this impudence. Continuing along on this farce, I passed along each desk again and again, each time, passing along papers, signing papers, crossing Ts and dotting Is. After an hour of this farce, the male Phomet nodded, as he looked over me with an appraising look.

“It seems everything is in order,” he nodded,” Here is your license.”

He pushed forward a small card towards me on the table, which I grabbed greedily,” Niow, if you wish to continue, you can enter that door to get your Qwibon--”

I snorted,” Thanks, but no thanks. I'm off to get a far better ride.”

“But, you need to--” the clerk sputtered, as I trotted off, back into the hustle of the city outside. Spying a sign denoting the platinum gem mount shop, I looked over the options, as a single beast caught my eye.

“It's not as expensive as I wanted, only 2,500 gems. Still, this guy is far stronger than the typical Qwibons I'm seeing,” I mused, as I purchased it. Immediately, a figure towered over. A muscular mountain of a man towered over me. A giant with listening green skin, legs ending in hooves like dinner plates, and a large horse head stared down at me. What surprised me most, was the second, human face situated on the middle of its chest.

“I am Divine Beast Centaur, the least of the speed gods. Are you my master?” it boomed in a soothing voice, as I nodded, a silly grin spreading across my face.

“That's right. I need to go as fast as possible. Can you do this for me?”

Centaur snorted,” I am the fastest being on the surface. There is nothing I cannot overrun.”

“Awwright! Let's go!” I beamed, as he hefted me onto his shoulders, walking off into the main plaza in wide strides. I waved as I spied Jun and Errin, now with her own Qwibon; a stout mare with muted orange fur.

“What even is that?” Errin gawked, as Jun clapped with excitement.

“That's a premium beast! You have to use gems to get that one! Wow!” he gasped, as I nodded.

“Enough gawking, let's go!” I yelled triumphantly, as the others agreed. Loping along the city's streets, we passed along the main avenues into a large flattened stone valley rumbling with some unseen force.. The floor of this gorge was unnaturally flat, and I soon understood why. As Centaur stepped onto it surface, we shot forward, as I gathered why the others spoke of the Veeya Stream as they did.

The entire valley moved forward on its own.

We now charged ahead on a natural escalator of sorts, as I whooped with exhilaration Scattered groups of other adventurers surrounded us, as they raced along with us, and a silly grin spread across my face as I basked in the glory of the speed, the sun, and the wind rushing through my hair. My elation was short-lived, however, as a new whining drone, different in pitch from the rumbling drone of the Veeya Stream itself, as a wave of riders on granny bicycles surged ahead. Narrowly avoiding this oncoming wave of humans, I angrily shouted,” Watch it, you goons!”

“Shove it, you spotty bint! We're the Marmalade Gang and we own the Veeya Stream!” one roared back at me, as I fumed.

“Who do those bozos think they are?” I grumbled, as Jun's voice rose up from background whine.

“There's three others coming up behind us!” he cried, as I spun around. Behind s roared a gigantic vehicle, the size of a small house, soaring along on the road on a giant tricycle setup. Looking it over in shock, I spied two heralds rushing along beside this massive trike, one a garish dark-skinned human man dressed in bright greens and surfing along on a hovering board, while the other, a gray-skinned snub nosed giant, presumably a Zorren human, loped along on a majestic Qwibon buck armored to the gills with bright silver plate.

“HOOO BOY! LOOKIT THIS! Some fool in our way. Whaddya say, Chutney? We gonna double-team this twat?” the surfer called, as Chutney, the rider on the Qwibon, snorted.

“She's not even worth the trouble, Currant. Have at her,” he growled, as the rider on the giant trike, a lean man wearing a plethora of black leather, merely smirked.

“Go ahead, Currant, uphold the honor of the Marmalade Gang,” he boomed.

“Awwright, you heard Boss Marmalade! Know we're the Marmalade Gang, girlies! The Veeya Stream is our playground, and anyone, ANYONE who crosses us knows to vamoose! We'll run even our own grandmas down!” Currant cackled

“Sod off, you skater freaks!” I yelled, as Errin stared at me incredulously.

Marmalade, seated pompously on his giant trike, laughed uproariously, as he waved lazily at his subordinates.

“Do as you will,” he called.

“YEAH! Time to AMP THIS SUMBITCH UP!” Currant roared with delight, producing a small LP record, and spinning it onto a turntable trapped to his thigh. The valley rang with the new din of atonal music as a whir of electronic beeps, boops, and synthesized instruments assaulted my ears. The extra little knife twist to this ambush was that, deep down, I really liked electronic music. It was like being attacked by an old friend. As I cupped my hands over my ears, I desperately scanned the valley for any potential vector of attack, but none came.

“Flippin' disc jockey,” I wheezed, lunging forward into the air with an open hand as the lethal wave of Brutal Shrike Dance raced downstream at him, as he jumped over it without issue.

“Izzat it?” he leered, resuming his scratch session as a crash erupted behind the trio and bicycles and riders crashed about like a bizarre rain.

“Currant, Chutney, there are attackers behind us!” they cried, before smashing the walls of the valley as Chutney jerked about, spying a trio of riders on a pair of brilliant purple Qwibons.

“Is that...No, how could they be behind us? That can't be Zechs, Jake and Potato,” I mouthed, but sure it enough it was.

“HEY! WE FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH YOU! WE'VE BEEN ON THE VEEYA STREAM FOR TWO DAYS!” Zechs shouted, waving.

“Yeah—Waitasecond, that's Divine Beast Centaur, Dieter.... How'd you get that?” Jake asked quizzically.

“Oh, I, y'know, bought him,” I replied nonchalantly.

“But he's a premium be—Oooooooh, you bloody bimbo! I'll wring those gems from you yet!” Jake roared, as Zechs laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

“Now, now, there's no reason to get ma--” he managed, before unceremoniously unseated by Chutney with a sweep of his lance. Zechs tumbled wordlessly off the Qwibon, and was soon out of sight, assuredly dead.

“ZECHS!” Potato cried, and in that moment, I'm not unsure what possessed me to do so, but I jumped off Centaur's back, soaring through the air and landing on the trike with a flourish.

“Okay, you suppository-guzzling sewage-mongers, I'll be smashing you all now, so you better get ready!” I hissed, as Marmalade laughed, rising to his feet, as he extended a hand to me.

“Now that I get a good look at you, you're not a half-bad looker. The name's Marmalade. This entire land is mine. You got yerself quite a fierce spirit! You'll be a fine addition to my gang. What do you say, Babe?” he smirked, as I stepped back. Something within my chest burned with unusual warmth and I felt my breaths shorten as my knees shook like jelly. What sort of magic was he using against me?

“Oh dear,” Errin sighed, shaking her head,”I never expected to have THIS be an attack I'd see in this game.”

“What do you mean?” Jun inquired.

“Well, Jun,” Errin chose her words carefully,” Most girls get used to such attacks by exposure or by being warned beforehand to such things; their friends telling them or warnings from their mothers. However, Deegal never was told, I suppose.”

“Told about what?”

Errin kneaded her brow,” That man. He's a bad boy in a leather jacket riding a motorcycle. He's the worst opponent for....someone like Deegal.”

“Oh!” Jun looked over,” How can you tell he's bad? Is that a Beckoner ability?”

“Oh, Jun, never change,” Errin smiled, as Jun gave her a grin, still not quite understanding.

As Errin and Jun bantered, I stepped back, unsure of how to respond, which only further emboldened Marmalade, as he slowly stepped towards me.

“Baby, I've been waiting for a girl like you to come round

To make my engine roar, let my spirit sound

I'll even let you outrun your cares, shore to shore

So, open up your heart, I'll treat you nice, and

after wards, we'll get some steak and rice,” he finished, flashing me a roguish grin, as I looked away, whatever plans I formed, flustered right out of my hormone-addled mind.

“I-I-I,” I sputtered, as one of Errin's angels tapped my shoulder, before shot out of the sky by Marmalade as he hefted a gigantic autopistol.

“Don't interfere,” he growled, as a wail eclipsed even Currant's din.

“This world is filled with easy lies to blind you

Life is a brilliant pastime, all flash and no substance

The truth is, the firecracker flash they parade, is you

Your life isn't mere kindling, but a roaring flame

Light your own beacon to follow. Your. Dreams,” the breaking voice roared, as even Currant and Chutney paused their assaults upon Jake and Potato, a newcomer roaring beside them. His coat fluttering like an embattled victory flag, Zechs gaudily shouted the opening refrain to the theme song of Slidelands, as he drove a shining silver motorbike beside Jake's Qwibon.

“The Zechs Warrior KENZAN!” He yelled triumphantly.

“WHAT?” Jake called.

“The Zechs Warrior arrives,” Zechs grumbled.

“That's what I thought.”

“Round two, “ Zechs called triumphantly, narrowing his gaze towards Chutney,, cut short as Marmalade leveled his pistol at the newcomer, firing wildly. I stared as Zechs wove around the wild shots more adroitly than I imagined possible.

“You feel anything for THAT rider?” Errin called, half-sarcastically, as I shook my head.

“No. Because I know it's an idiot. I'm over it. I'm over ALL of this,” I yelled, turning my attention to Marmalade,” Let's do this, ya doofus!”

He merely laughed,” Oh, my sweet, sweet angel, you cannot harm one such as I. Even with your fists raised, all you can do is shower me with the kiss of your skin.”

I growled, pummeling him with punches and kicks, as his mocking cackle grew.

“I told you, my dear,” he sneered, his skin shimmering with a metallic sheen,” I am a Proton Cruiser, No damage can reach me as my body is armored with flesh, steel and my iron will. You may hammer me with blows of Flesh, but you cannot pierce my armor.”

I stole a glance back at Jake and Zechs as they clashed with Currant and Chutney, as Errin cried with fury as she summoned numerous angels to aid our allies. It seemed, though, no such aid would arrive on my end.

“Are you afraid? Afraid of me and my lieutenants? You needn't be worried. I'll be gentle to you,” he smirked. I shuddered with fright, How could I even handle such a foe?

“You don't frighten me. I'll show you, I'll show you yet,” I growled, as I lunged forward with a Screaming Jetter Kick, landing the blow cleanly to his gut. He gasped, stepping back in pain, before rising with a cackle. His body shimmered with metallic light as a sheath of form-fitting armor covered his body.

“I told you. Your attacks won't do anything to me. Now, just give up. I won't hurt you,”he crooned, as I stepped back, but found myself at the edge of the trike's chassis. Swallowing, I furrowed my brow, and focused my power into my tail as I recalled the feeling Pai O lent to me with her terse lesson. I grasped my hands in a bizarre mudra unconsciously, Immediately, my backside burned with power and I blinked through a dawn of pain as my tail divided into numerous additional appendages.

“Ohoooo, what a lovely display. What are you going to do with all that extra backside?”

“Kick yours to the curb, you creeper! Alluring Tail Whirlwind!” I hissed, barraging Marmalade with a maelstrom of assaults utilizing both arms, legs and tails. This beatdown continued for several seconds of cathartic, mindless violence, but as soon as it came, I felt my body lose its vigor and I collapsed back, hurtling off the trike. As I fell towards the earth, I sighed.

“Well, I'm probably going to die again. At least I won't get molested,” I sighed, as my body jerked in midair. Looking up, I saw Jake reaching out, grabbing my tail.

“Gotcha!” he cried, tossing me onto the back of his Qwibon.

“I can't find any way to defeat this guy! His body is sheathed in some sort of unbreakable armor!” I called, as Potato stared at him for a moment.

“Ah, that would do it, he's a Cruiser. Cruisers gain massive benefits to armor and defense, even able to just cut damage taken. Thus, I think it's clear what we need to do.”

“Utilize armor-ignoring absolute attacks?” Jake asked, as Potato nodded half-heartedly.

“Well, yes, but before that, we ought to deal with those two,” Potato pointed to Currant and Chutney.

“Oh, yes, deal with us, pip-pip!” Currant mocked, spinning a new LP into his player as a new droning burst of music erupted. Spurred on, Chutney charged us, as Jake narrowly avoided the other Qwibon's charge. The pair engaged in a tense back and forth as Jake and Chutney traded blows. Hopping off Jake's mount and joining Potato, I glanced about the battlefield as Potato played a song on a small harmonica, and my vigor returned.

“Second Wind Scat,” they called,” Now about this Cruiser. Do you have Vacuum Fist or Kestrel Blow?”

I shook my head,” No, I don't. I don't have anything of the sort. All those skills have lower than average base damage!”

“That's the entire point, Deegal! You deal almost direct damage to your target's HP! That's how you defeat highly armored opponents. You can't overcome armor merely with large damage! You're no Drifter!”

“I'm no what?”

“Drifter,” Potato repeated,” It's a DPS gun-wielding class.”

“Oh! I thought youmean something more like cowboys shooting alien dinosaurs. I....Hold on,” I muttered, bringing up my skill menu, scouring over the list available techniques as I tried my best to ameliorate this serious shortcoming.

Potato snorted,” Are you actually looking this up right now? In the middle of the battle?”

“What do you want me to do? We're in the middle of a battle, and I can't do anything!” I cried, violently shaking Potato as they squeaked indignantly.

“S-STOP IT! I DON'T LIKE BEING TOUCHED!” they pleaded, as my eyes flared and I began poking their cheeks cruelly.

“Then what do you want from me, you nag?” I sneered, as our Qwibon whinnied, leaping out of the way of Chutney's continued assaults, tossing us both off her back. We shrieked as we clung together desperately shielding ourselves against the danger of the oncoming ground. Without thinking, I flared my strength throughout my form and we rose back into the air, rolling unceremoniously back onto Marmalade's trike.

“Oh, so, look, Destiny returns us together, and look! Even a Phomet lass joins us,” Marmalade grinned, as I shoved Potato off of me.

“Yeah, so what?” I growled, standing up, as Potato shrunk behind me.

“You can't harm me, and your little friends are powerless against my boys. Just give up and let yourselves become more riders on my endless wave.”

I looked back at Potato as she nodded,” Marmalade. If you asked me normally, I might've said yes. You're not a bad guy, I'd like to think. However, you just don't know how to take a hint, so let me be as clear as I can be,” I growled, rushing forward, lashing out with my hand as Marmalade leveled his monstrous hand-cannon at me. I was quicker, and my palm slammed into his side, blasting his body with concussive force. Hurled back by my blow, I grabbed Potato with my free hand as I alighted back onto Centaur's waiting back. For his part, Marmalade collapsed to his feet, more surprised than hurt, although I grinned at my handiwork. His shimmering mystic protection crumbled under my blow, and Potato shook me excitedly.

“His magic plate is broken! We can win this!” she cried, as Chutney and Currant, both alerted to their boss' status, jumped beside him.

“Like that'll happen! That'd require you to get close enough t'do so!” Currant mocked, as Chutney grinned, chanting, as a series of large lances materialized around him. Zechs sighed, turning to Jake.

“Jake Man, I got a question for you,” he boomed in his affectation.

“What's up?”

“Do you trust me?”

Jake paused, before raising his fist to Zechs,” Sure, man. I can't see why not, now.”

“Great. Then let's do this! Our combination attack! Breaker Boost!” Zechs roared, as his body suffused with a brilliant glow.

“Wait, what even is that?” I asked, turning to Potato as her eyes sprarkled with awe.

“T-that's the Breaker Boost. That's supposed to be the core ability of the Breaker, a team move that gives you and one other ally a massive stat boost and a powerful attack technique. The trouble is, the attack requires a full minute to charge, and with the reliance on close proximity to your target, then the effects you wish can be easily discerned. Granted, Breaker is versatile enough without it to be viable, anyways, but--” Potato began as I cut her off.

“Enough, Potato. Can this beat those three?”

Potato shrugged,” Maybe? I've never actually seen it in action.”

Predicting Jake and Zechs' intentions, Currant and Chutney began preparing for the inevitable reprisal, as Marmalade chanted, his body shimmered with his rebuilt armor.

“Oi, Boss-man, how long till you can rebuild your Steel Aegis?” Currant called, as Marmalade grunted with effort.

“It'll be another minute,” he growled, as Chutney turned to the others hesitantly.

“I-I'm not sure we have that long,” he called, as Zechs and Jake seethed with immense energies.

“BRILLIANT!” Zechs roared, BOOST BREAK!”

Jake and Zechs surged forward, twin comets of destruction as they launched forward, hammering the trio with a single blow each, hurling their quarry into the air.

“I-IMPOSSIBLE! A BREAKER BOOST?! WE LET THEM GET OFF A BREAKER BOO-” Marmalade howled, as his body ballooned with destructive force, and the trio exploded spectacularly above us.

“Well, we just killed a man,” Potato mused, looking on in awe, as I shrugged.

“They were adventurers. They just went to the resurrection temple,” I replied, as Potato nodded, returning her attention back to the explosion as it surged ahead.

“Should we--” I asked as we both flew back,hurl;ed back by the explosion as we tumbled off the Veeya Stream. I looked up, finding myself int front of an archway labeled ,”Welcome to Treisgen.”

“Oh, good,” I sighed.

We arrived, at last.

#Adventure #fantasy #fiction #mmorpg #Photon Breaker Zechs

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alicescripts · 6 years

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Part 3, Chapter 6: “This Isn’t It”

Alice: I don’t know what to say. I think this is it.

Keisha: Is this it? This might be it.

Alice: The story that we had been working on with Tamara Levitts at the LA Times, the one that laid out everything about Bay and Creek and Thistle – that story’s out now. Exhaustively researched. Connections and history even I hadn’t known about, and I worked for Bay and Creek for years.

Keisha: (- mosquitoes) took what was inside of us and injected it into the whole country. There’s no way down from here. Is this it? [sighs] This might be it.

Alice: I don’t know what to say. I think this is it.

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink. Performed by Jasika Nicole and Erica Livingston. Produced by Disparition. Part 3, chapter 6: “This Isn’t It”.

Alice: Keisha screamed and pounded the ceiling of the cab. She sounded the truck horn, which was less like a holler of happiness and more like an enormous calf (lowing) for its mother. A mournful sound that prophesized what would happen to us next. But in that moment, we were carried by the raw feeling of it.

She didn’t know what to do with her hands, which was a little scary because she was the one driving. The truck (wagged) with her celebratory movements. “Careful!” I said. But I felt myself jumping in own skin, too. Who had time for careful when this much happiness was there for us to grab.

Keisha: We’re done. That’s what I was thinking. What the air in my mouth tasted like. What every sound that came from my mouth said. Even when I was too excited to form them into words. We are done! We get to go home. And before us, a life. Not that our problems would be fixed overnight. Even in my giddy moments, I didn’t believe in magic, not the sorcerer kind. But I did believe in magic as it exists. Sleight of hand, a triumph of human ingenuity and determination. Someone staring into a mirror, eyes bleary, in their third hour of practicing the same simple (palming) of a coin. I believed in the magic of hard work and sacrifice, and hadn’t we worked hard? And hadn’t we sacrificed?

Alice: I thought to turn on the radio and hear the result of what we had done. Someone sang to us in Spanish over a fluttering guitar, a song about a forest that was actually about a marriage. I spun the dial. Finally a news station. The markets were up, or maybe they were down, I couldn’t see how it could possibly matter. “Why aren’t they talking about this?” Keisha asked, and I didn’t have an answer for her. I kept searching. Ah, another news station. The latest on a contentious mayoral race in Philadelphia.

What was happening? The world had been broken open, but life was going on as though it hadn’t.

Keisha: I pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a diner. I needed to see that this was having an effect on people. It had to. It had to.

We went inside and a smiling woman told us to sit anywhere. The TVs were on. Two movie stars were getting married, and there was live coverage of the ceremony. On another channel, the president was flying to Phoenix to talk jobs numbers.

Nothing about Bay and Creek, or about Thistle. Nothing about the government’s complicity and murder after murder. “Hey,” I said to a man at the counter. He looked up at me with the expression of anyone when they were annoyed by a stranger. “Yeah?” he said. “What do you think of this stuff that came out?” I asked. “The government funding a secret program? Serial killers living on military bases?” His eyebrows fluttered, concerned. He put up his hands placatingly. “I-I don’t go much into politics,” he said. I didn’t know what to say to that.

Alice: I had less hope than Keisha going in, because my career in this area had guarded me against hope, but even I couldn’t believe what was happening here. “Hey!” I shouted. “Do none of you read the news? Didn’t you see your government is conspiring against you?” We were asked quite energetically to leave the diner. I might have grabbed a guy’s shirt and shaking him, I don’t recall. For the next hour, I resembled a character from a cheap science fiction movie, running up to folks on the street and asking them to acknowledge the horror in the news, and none of them would. They set their eyes straight. They kept moving. “What is wrong with all of you?” screamed. “What is wrong with all of you?”

But it appeared from the outside that they were fine. The question that the world had was, hey what’s wrong with you?

Keisha: I sat in the truck. I reached within myself and found only despair. I had thought it was a matter of knowledge. That if all of them only knew. But that wasn’t it at all. What I realized in that moment, in that truck, is that all of them already had known.

OK, maybe not the specifics, not the names, but the shape of it. Oh, they had known the shape of it for a long time. It is possible to know something and then choose to not know it. And all of us, all of us together had known and then chosen not to know. So giving them the information had only confirmed their chosen ignorance.

That set us wondering. What was left? That had been our plan. There hadn’t been a backup. I didn’t see a way forward. So we just moved forward. Moved for months. Months of driving back and forth across the country, without a clear idea of what even we were doing anymore, why we were even still out here.

What was left for us? For anyone who hoped for the good out of this country?

A month after, out in the desert near Slab City, where something monstrous sleeps under the sand and the cargo trains howl through the long empty, and the golf courses dot out over the wasteland. And the Los Angeles department of water and power, that greedy giant, builds its power plants and its miles and miles of lines, carrying the lights to Hollywood, the air conditioning to Malibu.

We go for a hike in the Native American land near Palm Springs. A man sits by the trail a few miles up into the hills.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” he says as we pass. “It really is,” says Alice. “They can’t take that away from us, can they? Ha ha ha,” he said.

I think about whose land we’re on and how that story went. But I nod because – what else could I do?

Alice: Two months later. Easter, North Carolina. Not quite the seaside but not the urbane research triangle either. Here there are farms and boarded up main streets, but signs still of life. A giant bird painted on the side of an old brick building. The animal’s proportions and posture awkward, but its scale magnificent. A faux retro motel with pastel paints in its windows, a monument to color against the farm dirt planes.

We stop and eat our lunch on the side of the road watching a farmer use a tremendous machine to plow acres and acres of field on his own. He has headphones on. I wonder which true crime podcast he’s listening to.

We started to talk about after. Not after our victory, but after our surrender. What if we gave up? What if we just found some quiet place to live out our lives, away from a war we could never win? It could be the two of us again, and we could live knowing but choosing not to know about the brutality left behind. There could be peace in giving up.

Keisha: Three months later, we pass through Louisville, where I don’t drink bourbon and don’t see Horse (one), but do eat some good Ethiopian food at a place downtown with white plastic tables. It comes served in a styrofoam takeout box, the injera folded over and under the stews. Here in the far far north of the south – really only the south in name, since it sits on the border with Indiana, which we can agree is one of the least southern states. Louisville is closer to Detroit than it is to Atlanta.

The cook comes out for a smoke break, nods politely at us as we eat the food he just made. “It’s delicious,” I say to him. He smiles. “Family recipes. Three generations.” He nods at his northern city and its southern clothes. “A couple decades ago, none of them would eat it. And now they want to make sure it’s authentic enough.” He shrugs.

Alice: Four months later in Chicago. Chicago looks like a seaside town, which is a real trick for the Midwest.

But that lake. I had grown up thinking “lake” and envisioning the puddles I swam in at camp, but this is an expanse. Even from the top of the Magnificent Mile skyscrapers, you still can’t see the other side. It holds frost within it, so even in that sweaty summer air, approaching it is like touching ice. You can feel the cold lift off of it from 20 feet away.

A woman comes directly from the jogging path on the shore and flings herself into the freezing water. “Ah!” she shouts at us. “Oh shit,” I say back. “It feels amazing,” she says. “Really?” I say. “Or terrible,” she says. But the kind of terrible that’s amazing.” She slaps the water and screams again.

Keisha: We drive. And as we drive, I realize. We’re not alone. All of these people, all of these people in all of these places, they are waiting to be good. They are waiting for the world to be good. What they need is a way forward.

It’s not that they’re choosing not to know. It’s that they don’t know what to do with what they know. I had thought it was a matter of knowledge, but it’s a matter of organization. It’s a matter of Praxis.

I thought about a woman slapping her palms upon Lake Michigan, and a man cooking food from Ethiopia in a rust belt city of Bourbon. I thought about the people that come to the desert in California because they have nothing, and the people who come to the desert because they have everything. And the people who come to the desert, because out past the highways, you can cause all sorts of trouble. I thought about people who grow food in North Carolina, digging their hands into the dirt, and you sit down to eat with the smell of soil lingering on their palms.

We are a country defined more by distance than by culture. But that distance is defined by the people in it. We give context to our miles. We are the fine parts that make up the heavy machine that heaves global events forward.

I thought about hands. I thought about thousands and millions of hands, reaching for the spatula on our eight at the grill top of a diner, and reaching into a toilet at hour twelve at the gas station, and reaching up to put the can of beans on the shelf at the supermarket, and reaching down to help their child cross the street.

I thought about millions of hands and what they could do if they all reached the same direction and grasped. And that’s when I knew. It was as clear to me as a memory, as unshakeable as my own breath. We were going to organize, starting with us and moving from there.

This was a country made up of a distance of people, and they could not be changed through headlines. They had to be organized, one by one by one.

And maybe some part of me had spent the last year waiting for Praxis to save us. But not anymore. We would have to become Praxis ourselves.

That was it. That was it then.

Today’s quote: The Rubicon we know was a very insignificant stream to look at. Its significance lay entirely in certain invisible conditions.” From Middlemarch by George Eliot. Thanks for listening.

#alice isn't dead #alice isn't dead transcripts #part 3 #part 3 chapter 6 #this isn't it

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jellybean-daydreams · 7 years

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Womb to world

Explanatory Paragraph My mum is a great mother to my older sister and I. She had three other siblings and wanted her children to also have many siblings. When my sister was born she developed a mental disability that caused her to stay at the mental age of five. My mum blamed herself for not giving birth to my older sister better and causing my sister’s sufferings. She also pities me for not having a ‘real’ older sister or someone that I am able to look up to and be friends with. Ever since having me she has tried many times to fulfil her dream of having many children and so that I wouldn’t be ‘alone’. In order to write this piece I interviewed her a few times and translated what she had said since she’s not a confident English speaker. I’ve also consulted various pregnancy websites in order to properly document the progression of a foetus. The piece is dedicated to my mum and my lost siblings. First trimester: Weeks one to twelve At six weeks the embryo develops a brain and spinal cord. A heart begins to grow. Arm and leg buds are visible. Its eyes and nose are forming. It is about five or six millimetres. It looks like a tadpole. Dusty dirt roads twist and turn, tracing the veins of the Cambodian countryside. The roads are yellow sand sprinkled with small stones, pebbles and trash. Follow a particular road and it will lead you to a small town with rows and rows of dilapidated straw houses. Keep going and you’ll find a well. Take a few steps back and you’ll notice a cosy little home. It’s a hut really, with wooden flooring, bamboo thatched walls and a cheap roof. Inside you’ll find two shy newlyweds. Together they run a small illegal lottery. The year is 1990, she is twenty-three and pregnant. It is her first pregnancy, she is so excited, ecstatic even. She doesn’t mind the morning sickness whenever anything sweet or aromatic wafts her way. And takes care with her every movement. They’ve run away from the city to live happily ever after in the countryside, away from judgemental eyes. It is a classic romance story where the boy is from a middle-class family and girl is country-side poor doing her best to swat off poverty. He falls for her deep brown eyes and cascade of black hair. She likes his boyish grin and his shy attempts at chivalry and romance. His mother disproves of the girl. ‘You can do better than her. Look at her skin, it’s a disgusting tan. She has no money, what can she do? She is nothing, let her go and you will love again’ she says. She is six weeks into her pregnancy. In six brief weeks, she was ready to love her baby, a minuscule dot. A dot that was erased and suddenly gone. Her husband doesn’t show much emotion. He looks like he doesn’t care, but he wasn’t ever an expressive man. During the pregnancy the reality of a future son or daughter hadn’t settled on him. She is horror-stricken. The feeling of loss will envelope her and for months she will be in a deep void of sadness and despair. Release. There is a brief window, an opening where she is able to escape her pain. She has started to busy herself with work, trying to forget about her past sadness. She starts to clean the house rigorously. The taste of food returns to her as she cooks with a new found strength. She does whatever she can to stop thinking about it. Her mind on every and any other task and eventually she is better. But she doesn’t forget. A miscarriage is when a foetus is spontaneously or is unexpectedly expelled from the womb before it has developed enough to survive on its own. They are more common during the first few weeks of pregnancy. Almost one in five women, who are knowingly pregnant will have a miscarriage before their pregnancy reaches twenty weeks, after twenty weeks it is termed a stillbirth. Week twelve At twelve weeks the foetus will start to move by stretching, kicking and twisting. Its bone marrow starts to produce its own white blood cells. Its pituitary gland makes its own hormones. The foetus’s placenta is filtering oxygen and nutrients to assist in its growth. It is around five to six centimetres and can suck its thumb. Across the equator past a sea and a few countries, there is the island country of Australia. Keep heading downwards south easterly and there’s Melbourne. In one of its suburbs in Springvale is a cemetery. Tread lightly to find a gravestone that marks the death of an unborn foetus. This foetus would have been her sister-in-law’s future daughter. Unlike her own loss, this foetus at twelve weeks would have had hands and feet. It would have had shape. It would have been a person. A ritual prayer and small ceremony was made to honour the foetus. It is performed in the hopes that in the next reincarnation it would be reborn again and come to a full term. It is performed in the hopes that it will not leave half-way. So that it will not leave the mother. So it will stay. It is believed that it will take many reincarnations for a mother and her lost child to be reborn as mother and child again. In a lifetime a person will have to perform many good tasks for good karma. How many life-times exactly is unknown but there is a strong belief that mother and child will eventually be together. In Cambodian culture miscarriages are not talked of. They are tragedies that are respectfully left silent, for if they are talked about then neither the mother nor child can move on. Vegetables and etiquette There is an old wives tale in Cambodia, that says that if you crave sweet things when you are pregnant than you will have a girl. An angel would have descended from heaven and taken form as your future daughter, the angels in heaven only eat sweet things. In their small village out in the country, word travels fast. Grandmothers, mothers and aunties all share their words of wisdom to the new couple. They tell the couple, ‘don’t chop your vegetables the wrong way’. If you’re cutting a cucumber you should chop it from the top to the bottom that way when you give birth it will be easier. They say a pregnant woman should always sit in a respectful manner, keeping her legs together at all times. She shouldn’t open or close things half-way, that if she were to open or close a door she should do it all the way. She should not sit in doorways or at the bottoms of stairs, or she would be blocking the exit for her baby and have a difficult birth. The couple listen to the advice and follow it to the dot. She is especially obedient having already miscarried. Along with her husband she goes to the village fortune teller to see whether her child will be a girl or boy. The fortune teller is a revered elder of the village. He is renowned for his ability to communicate with the spirits and see beyond. He says that she will have a son. Third Trimester: Weeks twenty-nine to forty At forty weeks the baby is perfectly folded up and is ready to come out. The baby will weigh around 1.4 kilograms. The baby will move the most during this time. Its lungs will develop further, the bronchioles and alveoli increasing. The uterus is very cramped. In the dirty desolate countryside doctors are an uncommon sight. Even rarer if you are poor. She worries about her baby still, she’s heard stories of how other women have pregnancies where their babies face the wrong way sometime in the fifth or sixth month. She’s heard that sometimes babies are born feet first, where the mother and baby both die. In the absence of a doctor there are midwives, ឆ្មប: ‘yey mawp‘, directly translated as ‘old lady who assists in birth’. She’s heard that there are unskilled midwives, who push up and down on the mother’s belly too much killing the baby. She hopes with all her heart that her midwife is skilled, that she will not lose another. Her midwife’s first instruction is that she should pick a fallen gourd bud and stew it to drink before the birth. The midwife says, ‘the drink will help the baby come just as easily as the bud fell to the ground’. The next instruction is that she should pick flowers from the Bodhi tree. It is said that Buddha’s mother had given birth to Buddha underneath the Bodhi tree. Queen Maya was travelling to Devadaha her childhood home way to give birth to her son. Along the way her procession passed Lumbini Grove, which was filled with blossoming trees. Entranced the Queen asked her courtiers to stop, so that she may leave her palanquin and enter the grove. As she reached up to touch the blossoms, her son was born. That is why women believe that if they eat the Bodhi’s flower they too will have easy births. On the 13th of January of 1993, she endured the long and difficult birth of her first daughter. The long birth caused a swelling on top of her baby’s head, a sack of water that would not deflate and disappear for many weeks. Her baby would sleep for most of the time and was rarely hungry. She would later find out that there was something wrong with her baby. Second Trimester: Weeks Thirteen to Twenty-eight At twenty-eight weeks, the baby’s muscles will develop more. It will spend more time holding to its umbilical cord and sucking its thumb. It will also hiccup or practise its grasping reflex. The baby has fingernails and is about the size of a small doll. Sometime in April three years later she is on a plane with her family of three. Her hair has been cut short to just below her ears and she is secretly pregnant. It feels like a boy. The baby kicks so strongly that sometimes it wakes her up in her sleep. Her morning sickness isn’t as bad either. It is the first time she will be on a plane and she is afraid, but she will be bound for Australia where life will be better. The plane lands and she is safe. The first few years of her Australian life will be lived with her brother and sister-in-law. She has hidden her pregnancy well, disguised herself in loose clothing to hide her form. It is not until she is changing that her sister-in-law notices ‘Sister you aren’t pregnant are you?’ Just a little over five months into her pregnancy and her in-laws are astounded. It is as though the baby had snuck onto the plane in the womb, her brother-in-law jokes. There are fortnightly visits to the doctor, regular tests and check-ups to track the health of mother and baby. In an ultrasound it will be the first time that she will see her baby. The outline of the baby is so beautiful and adorable to her all of her fears that she will lose the baby have vanished. She will have a daughter. Third miscarriage Miscarriages happen when a foetus hasn’t developed properly. They are more common in older women since the chance of a chromosomal abnormality increases with age. She is thirty-seven and a proud mother of two daughters. Her eldest is thirteen but has the mental capacity of a five-year-old, a delayed cognitive mental disability she suspects occurred due to the difficult birth. Her youngest is ten and perfectly healthy. She pities her youngest since she feels she’s failed by not giving her a ‘real’ older sibling. She wants her children to enjoy the company of each other, like herself and her three siblings or her husband and his thirteen. ‘Baby guess what?’ she exclaims to her youngest. ‘What?’ ‘I’m pregnant!’ ‘How do you know?’ ‘I had a dream. I was standing outside and staring up at the sky. And then an angel came down and gave me the moon. The moon became my baby. I woke up and I knew I was pregnant.’ ‘An angel gave you the moon and that’s how you get babies?’ her daughter curiously asks. ‘Yes.’ At the ultrasound, she is excited to see the face of her next baby. But there is something wrong. Her baby doesn’t have a neck or much of anything else. It is just an egg. A few weeks later she will lose her foetus. In Cambodian culture after each birth or miscarriage each woman must undergo a week-long traditional spa treatment to restore her body. She should boil a massive pot of specific herbs and spices, then sit with her torso or most of her body above it cloaked in a towel to soak in the steam. In the pot she should there are a number of ingredients. Boiled leaves, roots, branches of a Kaffir Lime. A green lime or fruit that is bumpy or wrinkled, typically found in south East Asia with a distinctive double leaf. មើមព្រង់ល: ‘merm pro-lie’ a prong tuber similar to ginger but with a yellow inside. Lemon grass, salt and alum salts. Once or twice a day the woman should undergo the steam treatment for the duration of an entire week. After the steam, she will not shower but wear thick clothes and sit in a warm room to rub a mixture of white wine and the crushed tuber from earlier onto her skin. The entire process is to restore the woman’s body to its youth so that her skin becomes tighter and stays youthful for longer. Alongside the process the woman should not have sex for three months or sickness will befall her. Fourth miscarriage: the last and final A recurrent miscarriage is when a woman experiences three or more miscarriages in a row. It occurs in one in every one hundred women trying to conceive. Each miscarriage increases the chance of another miscarriage. It is 2009 and she’s about six or seven weeks pregnant. She’s taken great care with this pregnancy, just like every other pregnancy. This time, she hopes she’ll be fine although she might be slightly complacent. It feels like it might be a boy, but if she were to have another girl she wouldn’t mind either. The elders would say that having three daughters is like having ‘three roses’. That night she dreams, she dreams about her unborn baby. She’s nursing the naked baby and he’s beautiful, with a light pale skin tone and long pale limbs. He’s the most beautiful child she would have. Suddenly he stops nursing, gets up from her lap and walks away. He walks away with his back towards her, not once turning back. She calls for him but he doesn’t seem to hear. “Come back my child! Come back, come back!” He just keeps walking, away. She wakes up and she’s scared. A few days after her dream she is lying on her bed watching TV, her nightly ritual before bed time. There is a pain in her lower abdomen. Something similar to an intense stomach ache. A visit to the toilet and all looks fine. When she returns to bed the pain hasn’t disappeared. It hurts, much worse than before, excruciating even. It is a struggle to reach the toilet again, as she claws at the walls grasping at nothing. There is blood. She isn’t worried though. It is common that mothers who have had children before have a little bit of blood in her later births. It is a small amount of blood or ‘spotting’, similar to the remnants of the last period. She sits on the toilet in pain and agony, tears stream down her face. There is something wrong. The pain intensifies and spreads. Then there is no more. Something has fallen and with it, faith and her hope in the child have fallen as well. It is a long wait at Dandenong hospital before she even gets to see her doctor. She has been there overnight with an IV drip and no food. There are few doctors in the hospital since they have all been reassigned to help with the great bushfire that started just a few days before her accident. She is weak from her ordeal. When her family comes to visit she puts on a brave face although the pain and weakness are still etched in her face. Her movements are slow and lethargic, there is a frailty to her. Her doctor makes a brief appearance and is gone before her family can ask any questions. But he is followed by a nurse who stays for much longer. Her youngest daughter is eager to ask the nurse why there was a miscarriage. The nurse doesn’t have the answers. She isn’t the doctor. So instead she has a generic reply. ‘Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes it looks good and then all of a sudden it goes bad.’ The days that were Her husband listens to the radio in the dining room while her daughters either watch TV or searching the fridge for snacks. She is close to fifty and nearing her final years of fertility. Her period is a few weeks late. ‘My period is late, I wonder if I might be pregnant!’ she exclaims to her husband. He scoffs. ‘I could still have a baby, you never know.’ she says ever hopeful. Her period would come and she would reminisce about her babies. The ones that stayed and the ones that went.

#mothersday

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iamnotaprepper · 7 years

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Emergency food supplies!

This is a topic people ask me about all the time, and I really don’t know much about it and our own supplies are… a work in progress. I’m going to outline the main categories of food supplies as I see them, and I welcome any comments or ideas.

Remember, these supplies are going to be for hunkering down. You should have food (or allegedly edible food substitute) in your 3-day go-kit. If the situation is that you can stay in your house (or camping on your property) I’d recommend not using that food right away, in case the situation changes and you need to evacuate. I like to think of my go-kit as a totally separate set of supplies that I could use if I need to, but hopefully will only tap into for a real grab-and-go situation.

In the hundreds of conversations I’ve had on emergency preparedness, there seem to be two main schools of thoughts for those who are prepared.

1) I want to be as comfortable as possible after an earthquake and therefore will plan my supplies accordingly. [These people have their favorite foods in their emergency supplies.]

2) I’ll be so grateful to be alive, I won’t care if I’m uncomfortable as long as I have something, anything to eat. [These people have some combination of astronaut food and their least favorite canned vegetables from the back of the pantry.]

Neither of these viewpoints is right or wrong. I certainly know which house I’d like to be in after a disaster, but I’m also very aware that the other is way easier to plan for. Personally, I’m starting with 2 and trying to work my way to 1- with all categories of emergency planning- but it’s a long process. That’s okay. Having something prepared is always better than nothing.

How much food should you have? This is a really loaded question with a lot of answers. I’d go back to the water post for the full explanation. Make sure you have a minimum of 3 days for each member of the family. More is better. In our house, we’re shooting for somewhere between two weeks and one month, with enough water for a similar amount of time.

In my mind, there are three types of planning for emergency food supplies.

1) Food you already have in your home

2) Prepackaged emergency foods

3) Regular foods you’re able to prepare, and have stored with your other supplies

Each has their +/-, and each has different requirements in terms of replacement schedule, fuel, and water. Come with me, and allow me to display my ignorance about cooking food…

Food you already have in your home

Pros: foods you actually like to eat (that’s why you have them in your house); doesn’t require any additional supplies; everybody loves a block party bbq.

Cons: May not actually exist; regular cooking methods probably won’t be available; may take some creativity to cook up what you’ve got.

DO NOT CONSIDER THIS TO BE SUFFICIENT FOR YOUR EMERGENCY SUPPLIES. It’s likely to be your most delicious option after an earthquake- if you can get to it. If your house has collapsed, or if it takes you days to get back to your home, you’re unlikely to be able to raid the fridge or the freezer. We’ve got a chest freezer full of meat and homemade goodies like pasta sauce and jams and syrups. That freezer is in our basement, so accessing that food is a serious best-case scenario. I hope we’ll have it but I’m not counting on it when it comes to making sure we’ve got enough food to survive a few weeks.

Even if the power’s out, your fridge and freezer will keep food cold for some time. The USDA says the fridge should be cold for 4 hours and a full freezer for 48 hours, if the doors are kept closed. If you get back inside your house and the fridge is on its side with the door open, proceed with caution. Keep the doors of the fridge and freezer closed as much as possible, and use your foods strategically:

1) Eat through the fridge first, prioritizing things that will spoil fastest

2) The freezer should be the second priority since things there will take longer to spoil than the fridge

3) Canned goods and other non-perishables can be moved into the rest of your emergency supplies

4) If you have more than you can eat before it spoils, it’s community building time. Go check on your neighbors and share that quart of milk.

How long is food good for if it’s not refrigerated? Obviously there’s no one answer to that. Trust me, throw out the chèvre, but the cheddar will be good for ages. I’m not a food expert, so I’m going to recommend this helpful chart from the government (you could print it out and stick it inside your fridge, since we do have power outages from time to time). Even without monitoring with a thermometer, it should provide some good guidelines. As always, if in doubt, throw it out. If it’s fuzzy and it doesn’t bark or meow, throw it out. You get the idea.

Remember that even if you can get into your house (either to gather supplies or to stay), we’re going to be a long time without electricity, gas, and running water. That means you’re probably not going to cook things on your stovetop, oven, or microwave. You’re going to need alternative methods of cooking your food.

The BBQ/grill is a good option that lots of people already have on hand. We’ve got a charcoal grill and we try to keep an extra bag of fuel for it. If you’re a gas grilling family (seriously what’s the point you could just cook it inside for the same flavor but whatever), you should think about keeping extra tanks around so you could use it as your primary cooking tool. If you’re super fancy and have your gas grill hooked up to your gas line, make sure you know how to disconnect it and have full tanks on hand- the gas lines are going to be turned off in favor of not blowing up the neighborhood.

One of the great things about emergency planning in Portland is how many people already have camping gear. Your camp stove and pans probably won’t be optimal to cook the rack of lamb sitting in your freezer, but lots of things in your house can be made edible by heating up or with boiling water. You’ll also need this ability for the rest of the food discussed in this post (except the MREs). The amount of fuel you’re going to need will depend on the kind of stove you have. Err on the side of caution.

Some people have a fire pit in their backyard and lots of wood. That’s rad, but outside of hotdogs and marshmallows I know nothing about cooking over fire so you decide how useful that is for you.

If you’ve got a freezer full of HotPockets, I have no idea how you’re going to cook those. Most pre-made food is safe to eat without cooking (but disgusting). Also, if all you have in your freezer is HotPockets and you’re not in college, it might be time to reevaluate some of your life choices.

Prepackaged Emergency Foods

Pros: Very easy to know how much you need; don’t require much other than hot water to prepare; most good for 20 – 25 years

Cons: Can be the most expensive option; foods are often high in salt/sugar/preservatives; I’m not sure I’m interested in 30 servings of “Vegetarian chicken-flavored vegetable stew” but it sure beats starving to death.

Pre-packaged emergency foods are going to be far and away the easiest way to make sure you’ve got enough food post-disaster. Most are good for 20-25 years and don’t require in the way of preparation. Here are the most common ones I’ve come across.

The Bucket. Several people have told me they’ve bought the “Costco Bucket”, which seems to be along the lines of this or this (definitely watch the video- a jazzy little number that made me feel pretty cheerful about impending doom and optimistic about the power of garnish to give rehydrated food 3 Michelin stars). Lots of websites and companies sell them, so don’t despair if you’re without a Costco Card. The “bucket” is generally a one-month supply of food for one person. I’ve never taste-tested any of the brands (and they are legion) but I imagine they’re all pretty similar. They all require water, some are eat-from-the-pouch and some require cooking utensils, so make sure you know what you’ll need.

MRE. Meal, Ready-to-Eat (MRE) is a popular option, since you have a lot more selection and can do more mix-and-match for your own personal preference than with the bucket. Lots of MREs come with heating elements, so they don’t require a camp stove and additional water. They are extremely calorie dense (probably a pro after a disaster. It’s not going to be the time to worry about your diet). No water is required (except for drinking, most are pretty salty) and they’re designed to be eaten straight from the package. They’re pricier than other options, but also have more selection for those with dietary restrictions. Contrary to Ted Cruz’s best efforts, gluten-free MREs do exist.

Freeze-Dried Food. These are pretty common for camping so most people are at least passingly familiar with them. All require water. There are a lot of options for flavors, dietary restrictions, cook-in-pouch, etc. Like the MREs, it can get pricey to think about a few weeks of these for each member of the family. I don’t have an opinion on this, but lots of websites say that the freeze-dried food tastes much better than MREs (I think part of this might just be about being able to get something similar to your favorite foods in freeze-dried form, or how good anything tastes after backpacking all day).

Stockpiling Normal Food

Pros: Cost effective; pack your favorite foods in their actual form (rather than reconstituted); easier to get quality nutrition

Cons: Shorter shelf life; harder to plan for; takes up more space

For me, this option is more difficult for planning purposes. I can calculate 1 gallon of water per person per day, but what 14 days worth of food for two people looks like is beyond me. How many cans of tuna is that? Also, I don’t know how to cook anything even when I’m in my own well stocked kitchen. If Justin dies in the earthquake, anyone who is willing to cook for me can come over and eat his share (sorry Justin).

On the plus side, you don’t have to do any special shopping trips or visit any weird survivalist websites for this kind of prep. Most people I know who have good food supplies of this sort just buy an extra can or two of whatever each time they’re at the grocery store. It doesn’t take long to get a good stockpile, especially if you’ve got some prepackaged emergency foods you’re going to be supplementing with this real food. Some people think of it in terms of meals (we’ll eat X and Y together and we’ve got comparable amounts of each) and some people are just going to get creative with the mix of stuff they’ve got (peanut butter and dried apricots could be the next big thing, who knows).

Obviously lots of your favorite foods are not going to be suitable for your supplies- it’s limited to non-perishables. I prefer frozen vegetables to canned (and hopefully I’ll be eating them from the freezer for a few days, see above) but canned is better than scurvy. Unfortunately, even “non-perishables” have shelf lives that are shorter than I thought before I started researching this article. Here are some good websites with food suggestions:

This is a good chart for how long different types of food will last, from the CDC

As always, Ready.gov has decent, if basic, information

Nothing from the magazine RealSimple is ever actually simple, but this is a good list

I don’t intend to get too hung up on expiration dates for the food, but we will try to go through our kit twice a year (that sounds doable, right?). Here’s what a chunk of my Google calendar looks like for October:

[Look at all that free time! Let’s make plans to hang out.]

I’m also trying to remember to write on items when they were purchased to simplify the process when we do sort the kit. This system is a serious work-in-progress. Am I worried about forgetting to sort through the kit and eating those black beans in 2 years? Not really. Most food of this sort will be edible, if not palatable, long past its expiration date. An obvious exception is any container that’s swollen and looks abnormal (cans or bags of food), since that’s a clear sign of Bad News. The USDA has a pretty good practical guide on this. In general, having food is a necessity; sorting through it on a regular basis is more of an aspiration than a reality for me. Like everyone else, I’m just doing my best here.

Should you home-can your own vegetables and such? That’s awesome but not for me. Remember that glass breaks in earthquakes and pack your supplies accordingly.

Don’t forget the can opener. You’ve got one or two in your house, but just make sure there’s one that lives with your emergency supplies. It’ll make life simpler, and if you’re the only one on your block who remembered, you’ll be a goddamn hero.

Where are you going to store your supplies? Exactly what I said in the post about water:

1) Don’t store your supplies in the basement.

2) Don’t store your supplies in a room that’s over the basement.

3) Outside lockable storage (like a shed) is the best option. That’s not possible for a lot of people (myself included).

4) If you’ve a room (or garage) that’s not over the basement and not under a second story, that could be your best option. Even if your house collapses you’re likely to be able to dig out your supplies.

What are you going to store your food in? If you’ve got anything other than cans, try for something waterproof that will keep out rats and other foragers. We bought a chest from Storables (also a PNW company if you’re looking to buy local). Having it all in one container will also be helpful if we’re in an evacuation situation where we can take supplies (basically, if we’re able to use our car).

One last thought: There is no better facilitator for building community than food. Talk to your neighbors. See what they have. See what they like. Maybe you’ve got a food bucket but they’ve got that fire pit. If the power’s out for days, we’re not going to be able to eat all those burgers before they go bad. There may never be a better time for a block party potluck than after a disaster! It could be fun! It’ll be more fun if you know your neighbors before the disaster so go introduce yourself.

And, finally, here’s a handy table I made to summarize the information from this website:

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allonsysilvertongue · 7 years

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Silver Pen: His Brother’s Keeper

During a particularly long stretch of writer’s block, Haymitch Abernathy discovered a world of his own making. (AU)

Chapter 2: His Brother's Keeper

He thought, illogical as it was that if he just remained in his study for a while, the world outside would right itself. His characters existing in the same world and breathing in the same air as him was not right.

Or at least, he could stay here until all traces of alcohol had left his body and only when he was stone cold sober would he leave this room. Katniss and Peeta could just be his drunken delusions.

But his gaze strayed to the bread that in his rush had been mindlessly discarded on a stool near the door. That exchanged had been real. He had talked to Peeta and the boy had given him the bread.

Haymitch slapped himself to ensure that he was awake. He wouldn't put it passed him to dream the whole scenario out. His dreams were often vivid, as was his imagination.

That could be it – a product of his overactive imagination.

The knocking on the door told him otherwise. Instead of going down, Haymitch pushed open the window and peered down. Peeta glanced up and shaded his eyes from the sun's glare.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You left in such a hurry."

"Have you met anyone other than me?"

The question gave Peeta paused but he did not comment on the oddity of it.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "I've met a few people. Been to the restaurant that's owned by Sae. I met her granddaughter, too. Um, I also met Ripper... Bought some alcohol from her for my paint."

Haymitch released a shaky breath.

He had known Sae and Ripper all his life and they were definitely not a product of his imagination. Not when Sae had looked after him and Lief when his mother needed a babysitter. This also meant that they could see the boy, leading him to come to the horrifying conclusion that Peeta and Katniss were definitely not a trick of his mind.

So what are they?

He curled his fingers, his nails digging against the surface edge of the window panel.

"I was actually going to invite you over for dinner, Mr. Abernathy," Peeta continued. "Sae told me who you are when I told her where I'm staying. I think we will be seeing a lot of each other now."

For fuck's sake, he rubbed his temple, he wants to play neighbour.

"I'll let you know," Haymitch muttered and pulled his window shut.

The two days following that, he spent it sequestered in his study reading materials he had written previously. There were individual notes on their characters, some scribbled on yellow post-its describing their attitudes and physical descriptions. It was haphazard and messy but he was often that way when an inspiration struck. He missed it; the buzz of having something new, the many different ideas fighting to be heard and the hurried scrawl on any writing materials before he lost all of his exciting thoughts.

It struck him as his finger trailed the words describing Peeta’s past that if his characters truly were alive, then he already knew their history. He already knew of Katniss’ tragedy with her sister and losing a mother who couldn’t look at her without being reminded of the family’s shared lost.

He wrote Peeta as being the youngest boy in his family who was often overlooked and pushed aside by his older siblings, and punished constantly by an overbearing mother. By virtue of that, he was often kind and gentle to others simply because he did not want to do unto others what he faced at home. He knew of Peeta’s family who eventually perished in a fire which to this date, he still blamed himself over.

The second page contained several paragraphs which he had struck savagely with a black pen – the beginning of a story that he disliked. Below it, in bulleted format was a skeleton of a plot he meant to write but lost the drive to do so.

In his story, Peeta and Katniss had not even met but he knew that they would eventually under unfortunate circumstances. He had not figured out what those circumstances would be but with certainty, he could promise that at the end of the story, as cliché as it sounded, they would be each other’s road to recovery.

Theirs was a story of two star crossed lovers in a volatile world.

They’re here. Ask them, a voice suggested.

That drove him to accept their dinner invitation eventually and the fact that the girl did drop by a few days after her fiancé to give him some cheese tarts. They had exchanged very little small talk but her presence made him curious.

He needed to know more than anything else if they were exactly as he had written them to be.

“So… why here?” Haymitch asked as he accepted the bowl of butter corn from Peeta. “Nothin’ much to see ‘round here.”

“That’s why we chose this place. We were looking for someplace quiet. We need it.”

At that, Katniss shot her fiancé a look of warning.

Distrustful, he noted.

He had written her as such. A girl hardened by her circumstances since the loss of her father, generally distrustful of people except for the few she deemed worthy and stubborn to a fault.

“Odd for two young people such as yourself,” Haymitch commented. “Any of your family livin’ in the next town…. Somewhere close?”

He was fishing for information to confirm their backstory.

“I – I don’t have a family,” Peeta answered.

Peeta looked Katniss’ way but she resolutely kept her mouth shut, not volunteering further information about her life to the old next door neighbour.

“My family used to own a bakery, not far from here actually. That’s no more now,” the boy went on.

The bakery had gone up in flames and devoured his family with it. Peeta had burnt the bread that very afternoon had been banished to the pig sty to feed the pigs and clean the area as punishment. It also saved him from a certain death.

Haymitch listened without interrupting, amazed by the fact that Peeta’s story was exactly as it had been written even if to sit here and hear it for himself made him feel immensely sorry for the boy and the girl. He was not blind to the fact that there were primroses growing in their garden and he knew that those were tribute to her sister. After all, he had been the one to name Katniss’ sister after the flower.

“I’ve been thinking of setting up my own bakery here,” Peeta said and looked at him eagerly for his opinion. “What do you think?”

The fork hovered just inches away from Haymitch’s mouth. That question threw him off.

They are writing their own future. He had not written this part of Peeta – the desire and ambition to continue his family’s business.

“You’d be doing the town a service with your bakery,” Haymitch said. “Your stuffs are good.”

“They’re more than just good,” Katniss scowled, as if she personally took offend that Haymitch’s opinion of Peeta’s baking abilities were not up to her standards.

“I had practice since young,” Peeta replied humbly, “just as Katniss was taught to hunt since she was young. She gave you the squirrel she shot, didn’t she? Clean shot between the eyes.”

His gaze flitted from Katniss to Peeta, watching this exchange with amusement.

“Katniss, I was thinking,” Peeta said, “that maybe we can invite Finnick and his family for dinner next time. Haymitch can meet them, too.”

The fork clattered noisily against the plate, startling Peeta. Haymitch grabbed his glass and washed down the stew that was stuck to his throat.

“What did you say?” Haymitch demanded. He probably looked and sounded crazy.

“Uh,” Peeta glanced at Katniss.

“He said he wanted to invite Finnick and his family – Annie and his son. They moved to this town a week or two before we did. Good people,” Katniss answered. “Don’t think you’ve ever met them ‘cause they’ve never met you.”

Finnick Odair and Annie Cresta.

This was impossible. First Katniss and Peeta, and now….

He felt something sharp twisting in his chest; the familiar feeling of guilt and despair.

He had written Finnick during one of his loneliest night when he had missed his brother too much. He didn’t know how to deal with that pang of loneliness so he had tried to picture Lief growing up as a teenager and then as an adult. He had tried to picture his brother alive and Finnick Odair was born.

It was his way of keeping Lief’s spirits alive through that character.

Haymitch had written Annie Cresta as a friend and companion to Finnick Odair. He imagined that his brother would have loved to have a lady friend.

Now, to hear that both Finnick and Annie were in this town and with a son to boot felt a like a knife twisting in his gut.

He had never written them as having a son but from what he had learnt about Peeta, he shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

His characters were alive and writing their own future. It made him wonder if he could still change the course of their lives with his words.

But that, he thought, was not as pressing as wanting to meet Finnick and his family.

Thank you so much for you reviews and your interest in this story! I really appreciate it.

I know you're all by now very curious about Effie, so I will leave you to speculate about her just a little bit more while I introduced the Odairs in this chap. Let me know what you think!

(also, i will likely be publishing two chaps/week but if I'm a little busy, then the usual once a week routine!)

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #odesta #everlark #au

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

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The Keeper of the Grove (Part 45)

They all went to the Trader's Guild first thing in the morning, taking jerky, cookies, and several pounds worth of stewed meat to go. Because of a penalty for “misuse, misinformation, and misconduct” from when Qrow had delivered Weiss' message to Winter, he and her waited in the lobby with the Eluna plushie, while the others—including Zwei—went off to go renegotiate their salaries, be they in Shinies, or in ingredients for baking cookies.

Though not nearly as busy as when Weiss had last been there for the Job Gauntlet, she could still hear that same musical clinking of Shinies being shaken by the counting machines ringing in the air.

“Does this place ever close up shop?” Weiss asked as they sat on a bench. “Even just for a few hours or on holidays?”

“Nope,” Qrow replied, “Guild pretty much handles all financial matters in the Valley bigger than buying booze in bulk off your local grocer, or writing a check to your cousin to pull them through for the next month, after they spent all their Shinies on buying booze in bulk off their local grocer.

“Just think of having all of your human banks, corporations, and insurance companies under one government-run location, and have a few satellite branches for convenience here and there.”

“And how do you protect against corruption? All this money and valuables under one roof is a gigantic temptation for embezzlers.”

“Very, very, very strict regulations, security, and supervision, and much more serious punishments than getting roasted over the Info-Grid, before getting away with it anyway when the red tape and the corruption doesn't let anyone actually do anything,” Qrow replied. “Authoritarianism has its perks.

“Well, that, and the shiftier clerks tend to have governors installed.”

“Governors?”

Qrow pulled up a patch of feathers that covered the back of his neck. He showed off what looked like a tiny stump growing on his skin, where his spine would be. “Guarantee for good behaviour,” he said as he hid it once more. “Mine's a deluxe that also doubles as my chronicle.”

Weiss looked at him in a mix of curiosity and horror.

“We've got ethics here in Fae society, don't worry,” Qrow said. “It's just that they can get VERY flexible when someone like me fucks up, big time.”

“What happened?”

Qrow closed his eyes, trembling as flashes of memories ran through his mind:

A cottage in an isolated island village, one of those “back-to-nature” farming communities that were escaping the city states' governments.

His sister Raven, murder and madness in her eyes, fresh blood dripping from her sword.

Summer, calmly handing him a crying bundle of blankets with two tiny nubs sticking out from it.

“Take care of Ruby for me.”

He looked away, discretely wiped the tears welling in his eyes. “It's… it's a long story, and one that I'm not allowed to tell you anyway, princess...” he muttered as he turned back.

Weiss frowned. “I… I see. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Qrow shrugged. “You didn't know, Weiss.” He stared off into the distance. “None of us did.”

“… I'm going to go review some homework Penny gave me now, if you don't mind,” Weiss muttered as she pulled out her comm-crystal.

“Knock yourself out,” Qrow said, leaning back in his seat.

The others came back while Weiss was in the middle of the beginnings of the Eldan Council, formed from the larger of the independent tribes of Fae that roamed Avalon several millenia ago. Penny and Blake got raises from their original salaries because of their training and education of Weiss in addition to being her parole watchers, Zwei managed to get a sizable advance on his from being “very persuasive,” and for the first time in a thousand years, Ruby changed the Keeper's salary from ingredients for baking chocolate chip cookies.

“Now I'm getting paid in that, and seeds and supplies for the farm so you can eventually grow them yourself!” Ruby announced happily.

Weiss shot out of her seat. “SERIOUSLY?! Ruby, Penny, we are marching back in that office and getting you a better deal!” she said, taking Ruby's hand and dragging her off with her.

“But it is better!” Ruby said as she came with. “Penny said so.”

Weiss stopped, and turned around to Penny.

“I made the calculations: with the sheer amount of calories Ruby needs to consume thanks to all her activity, eventually taking over production of some if not all of the ingredients will have us ending up with far more Shinies than if we took her payment in cash, and bought food with the equivalent amount of caloric content.”

“It's why Keepers have been paid in cookies for all this time, and the amounts were only ever adjusted for inflation,” Qrow added. “Turns out, Gabija and her beau figured out the cheapest, most efficient, and completely complaint-free way to feed these gals without bankrupting themselves, or forcing the Council to spend WAY more than they really need to.”

Weiss stared. “… Are you shitting me right now?!”

Qrow shrugged. “Hey, most of those Keepers went on to live long, happy lives, and have perfectly healthy kids on almost-exclusively cookie-based diets, right?”

“It's supported by their vitae vine data,” Penny said. “Among the many unique physiological quirks of Keepers are their ability to thrive on a diet composed almost entirely of milk, sugar, and chocolate. They're quite the treasure trove of bizarre, baffling phenomena that stump makers to this day.”

Weiss slowly turned to Blake.

She shrugged. <Valley. Don't think too hard: head-hurt.>

Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded slowly. “Let's go pawn my sister's Eluna plushie...” she muttered.

They had to wait a while at the Loans and Securities section for Nivian-speaking clerks to assist them, as Weiss was considered the borrower and the others were co-signers. Eventually, their number was called, and all of them walked up to the counter.

“Oh hey!” Nora said as she and Ren sat behind the security glass. “What a coincidence! I was wondering what kind of borrower would need someone who knew how to speak Nivian, and then I thought, 'Huh, what if it's Weiss?' and it turns out I was right!

“Isn't that neat?”

Weiss nodded slowly. “Uh… I suppose? Was the Guild short on employees today?”

Ren shook his head. “We're part-time workers here and in lots of other places,” he explained. “Me and Nora used to work all sorts of odd jobs back then, and we never truly lost the habit. So, how may we help you?”

Weiss put the Eluna on the counter. “I'd like to pawn my sister's Eluna plushie.”

Ren's eyes widened, Nora whistled. “Oh, Eluna...” she whispered, “is that an actual, limited edition Eluna plushie? I thought you could only see ones this nice in museums and collections that have their own security staff and fancy systems just for them!”

“No offense, but we'll have to verify that it's authentic first; we're still getting counterfeit Elunas every once in a while...” Ren said as he strapped on some gloves, and pulled out one of the Guild's own magical containers. “Unlock it, please?”

One by one, they pressed their hands, talon, or paw on the bubble, until it disappeared in a flash of magic.

Ren swiftly, carefully grabbed it out of the air and placed it in the Guild's container, a new bubble surrounding it. “Thank you, we'll be right back,” he said as he took it deeper inside.

Nora grabbed her hammer from under the counter and followed him.

Some time later, they returned with an entire cadre of watchers, complete with a guard wolf.

Ren set the Eluna back on the counter. “Good news: it's definitely real, and can be used as collateral for a loan.”

Weiss nodded. “How much is it worth?”

“741,000,000 Shinies,” Ren replied calmly.

Both of Zwei's jaws dropped.

“Holy fucking shit...” Ruby muttered.

Penny blinked. “I am sorry, I had not reserved enough processing power beforehand to comprehend such a large sum.”

<That… that is a LOT of money!> Blake said.

“All this time…” Qrow whispered, “all this time… we were sitting on a fucking Etherite mine…!”

Weiss finally recovered. “Is that in the condition it's in right now?”

“Yes,” Ren replied.

“It's been 12 years since production ended!” Nora added. “That's enough time for all the kids who saw their classmates showing off their Elunas to start earning serious money and want to buy their own, so they can show them up on Storybook and go, 'Look who's got an Ellie NOW, bitch?!'”

“A restoration job and the removal of the tears, snot, and despair smell is nothing compared to what people will pay for an Eluna in good enough condition,” Ren finished.

“How much is that in Urochs…?” Weiss mumbled.

Ren punched in the numbers on his terminal. “49,400,000 Urochs,” he calmly read off the screen.

“And how rich does that make me here in Fae society?” Weiss asked.

“Well,” Nora said, “we could bother you with all sorts of boring statistics about average wages, the cost of living a decent life here, and how much the richest Fae tend to have, or I could just say this:

“Money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, motherfucker!”

“Please don't ask for all of that in cash,” Ren said calmly. “The Bastion does not have enough physical Shinies to pay you, and the logistics of producing that many new gems, shipping it from the other Council settlements, and transporting it to Keeper's Hollow will be EXTREMELY difficult, time-consuming, and complicated.”

Weiss held up a finger. “We'll be right back.”

“Huddle up everyone!” Ruby cried. “Emergency meeting!”

They all moved to one area, with Zwei looming over them and protecting them from eavesdroppers.

“Weiss, you're not TOO attached to that plushie, are you?” Qrow asked.

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby snapped.

“He does have a point in that selling the Eluna plushie outright will allow us to live very comfortably,” Penny added. “With proper investment, reasonably responsible spending, and no major disasters of any sort, your descendants for the next 1,000 years will most assuredly be living extremely comfortable lives.”

“See?” Qrow said. “Penny's with me!”

“I'm not, actually,” Penny replied, “I'm merely explaining that from a purely financial standpoint, selling the Eluna plushie outright is the better decision. From a more holistic perspective, the loss of such a valued sentimental item, and the definite emotional and psychological repercussions to Weiss makes it a terrible decision.”

“We're getting that Eluna back, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby growled.

They paused for Penny to summarize and translate it for Blake.

Qrow whined. “We could use the money, can't we?”

“Yes, there is no question about that,” Penny replied, “but taking out just a small portion of the total value will allow us more than enough capital to invest into Weiss, her farm, and general improvements to Keeper's Hollow, and give us time to pay off the loan within two or three years and reclaim the plushie.

“We can even safely squeeze in a sizable amount for luxury spending, such as tickets to Eve of the Ether for four of us!”

“But no kicking back with kickass beer and market-bought meat for the rest of our lives…?” Qrow asked.

Penny shook her head. “No, all my calculations assume we continue to earn our current wages or more, and my projections on the return of investment for Weiss' farming and training, erring on the side of caution.”

<Let's vote!> Ruby said. <Sell Eluna, raise your hand!>

Qrow raised his talon.

Everyone else raised their hands or their paws.

Qrow sighed. “Alright… alright… you girls win. But can we buy a still with it first, so Weiss here can start making booze…?”

“Yes, we can, so long as you promise to keep up your end of our payments!” Weiss replied.

“I will, I will...” Qrow replied.

Penny redid their plans, and after signing contracts and earmarking money for investments for the long-run, they had four tickets to the Eve of the Ether festival in Candela, four new fake IDs in the works, and some extra money for making costumes and converting into Urochs for the night of the event.

<Are you sure you don't want to come with us to Candela, Uncle Qrow?> Ruby asked as Blake and Weiss had their pictures taken.

Qrow sighed and shook his head. <Nah, you just take Penny, and enjoy yourselves; I'm pretty sure if I meet up with you-know-who again, it'll be anything but a heartwarming reunion.>

Ruby frowned. <She stopped hating you a long time ago—what does that say about him?>

<It's not him I'm worried about, Rubes...> Qrow muttered. He smiled. <Besides, I'll probably just end up getting totally wasted with all the 'witches' brews' going around, and ruin things for everybody.>

Ruby didn't smile back.

<Next!> the photographer called out.

<Go on, they're waiting,> Qrow waved her off.

Ruby sighed, and did.

Penny was ecstatic to hear that she was getting the fourth ticket instead, and had one of the biggest, brightest smiles Qrow had ever seen when she had her picture taken. After they got their fake documentation and Info-Grid histories, memorized all the small details and answers that'd throw off suspicious Peacekeepers, they left the Guild, the girls taking about their costume plans, and Weiss advising them on which places to hit up, and in what order to get the most out of their night.

He knew he should have been happy for them, but he just couldn't shake this feeling in his gut that something very bad was going to happen soon—and as his chronicle would attest, it was never wrong...

Note: 741,000,000 Shinies = 14,820,000 US Dollars

#rwby #white rose #the keeper of the grove #fanfic

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