#My brain rot could and should have been studied by scientists

[spoiledskullz]

archie knuckles lore <3 microwaved knux, charmy's friend dying of lsd, his jesus arc and green knuckles my beloved

I used to think archie Knuckles lire was so cool and interesting and I look back on it now and am so .... repulsed LMAO

I still think enerjak is cool but both time Knuckles was enerjak he was written by Ian Flynn so of course it's not going going to be a shit show like the rest of knuckles' lore was 🤧🤧🤧🤧

[iridescentxstars]

experiment z — kim jongin

➳ published: 02.11.21 ➳ zombie apocalypse!au || genre: angst || thriller || rated: m ➳ pairing: kim jongin x fem!reader ➳ summary: losing people in this day and age is normal, people die every day here but how do you deal with it when the dead don't stay dead? ➳ word count: 7.6k ➳ warnings: blood, human experimentation, violence, mentions and use of weapons, character death, hint at government corruption ➳ author's note: this is so late, i am so sorry but this was the hardest thing i have probably ever written! let's just say this isn't my forte. happy halloween though! this is a part of the undead collab created by the lovely @biaswreckingfics, please go support the writers here! please support me on patreon or give feeback if you liked it, thank you!

Year 3020, the year the plague caused the world to come to a halt. Nobody knew where it came from, the illness that caused such horrible symptoms, there were rumours and the governments never gave insight into the origins. People died, the death toll rising higher and higher until action was taken and people stayed home, keeping away from anyone who looked sick until it became them staying away from anyone in general.

Cities fell, economies crashed, there was no end in sight and after five years, there is no cure that has helped save the failing population. They always said the Earth would reclaim itself, once concrete jungles fallen and destroyed with new life slowly overtaking the once bustling metropolises, animals roamed freely while the small population of 10,000 were caged within walls built to keep them alive.

But it wasn’t the animals that they were trying to stay safe from.

They call it the ‘Zetavirus’, the deadliest virus to sweep across the globe in over a thousand years. The symptoms were uncontrollable hunger which caused people to become cannibalistic, lesions and weeping sore to cover the body and irrational anger. Scientists realised it attacked the brain, practically turning people into zombies but as it mutated, so did the symptoms. Death would have been kind, the excruciating pain that people suffered while their brain slowly rotted away should have been enough but those that died – never stayed dead.

This was nothing like those movies where as societies fall, new ones are built on the ruins, or where everyone is spread out and scavenging for survival. No, this wasn’t like the movies but it definitely felt like an extinction. As long as they stayed within the walls, stayed safe inside the large walls of the city then everyone lived peacefully.

Humanity lived like this for years, slowly growing and expanding, the years slowly passing and everything seemed to get better. There hadn’t been an infection in three years, slowly leading to four, they were the hunters again instead of being the hunted, and civilisation became something that was built on unity and prosperity – until people started going missing.

You were seven when the first incident happened, that one of the hunters had not returned but the unit had no idea what had happened because there were no undead around or animals that were stealthy enough to snatch someone without them knowing – he had just disappeared without a trace.

That’s when the rumours began.

There was an abandoned building outside of the border, a good distance away from the walls but close enough for travel to be quick, the government had turned it into a research facility for a vaccination because while the world was still working against mankind, they knew that the population was slowly growing. To accommodate for that growth, to prevent the risk of the virus spreading again, they needed to begin to carry on with their studies and start to figure out how to save humanity.

Everyone was told that it was safe. That they would save the world, but nobody could ever imagine what actually went on in that building.

“Jongin, wake up,” the alarms blare, the warning signs that there has been a breach at the wall. “Get up!” You pull at his arm, causing your dead-to-the-world boyfriend to fall out of bed and scrambled to his feet.

“What?” His brain takes a while to process the announcement being said over the PA. “Shit!” His eyes widen and he rushes to the cupboard with his shirt hurriedly being pulled over his head.

Over the last twenty years, things have changed and the world has changed with it. More people have gone missing over the years, only to be found wandering around and slowly losing their minds. The zombies have now been categorised into different ‘species’ because some of them are gruesome and beyond recognition, their bodies slowly rotting away like decaying corpses while others look almost human, barely indistinguishable from anyone else until they try and take a bite out of whoever is close to them.

Then, there are the Alphas. They have been given this name because they stand out the most from their dumb counterparts; intelligent and perfectly able to fit in with society if it wasn’t for the detection system that has been installed at the wall.

Nobody can figure out where these new species were coming from, like the zombies were slowly adapting to their changing food source, trying to stay on top and the government hasn’t been making the best progress with their research – or so they say.

Jongin and you are a part of the Zombie Infestation Team – ZIT, for short. Yes, it is an amusing name but there is nothing amusing about watching a zombie tear your sister limb from limb as you try to save her or watching them drag her screaming body into the forest that surrounds the walls. Jongin had joined for his own reasons, reasons nobody talks about because the nightmares still haunt him to this day – he still wakes up in a sweat and you had to convince him not to sleep with a pistol under his pillow, scared he might accidentally shoot you. Your job is to handle any zombies that enter the city, cover hunters when they head out of the walls as well as take any captured zombies to the Research Centre for testing.

You hate that place, truly hate it but it’s your job and you are good at it.

The sound of footsteps running down the hall causes you to shoot a look over at Jongin, the male finishing getting ready as someone bangs on the door and shouts out something that is muffled by the metal. “We need to go.” You grab your weapon and place it in its holster while Jongin slings his over the shoulder and follows behind you.

Two years you’ve been together, five working together, and it still takes your breath away at how he looks when focused. Jaw tense, brows furrowed but he looks determined and ready wearing his tactical gear with his hair brushed off his forehead. It amazes you how cruel this life can be, when someone who would have been working as a model, maybe a movie star, in another life, is walking down a hallway with the rest of his unit, ready to risk his life.

It also amazes you at how his usual sweet and loving self is all yours.

The zombie struggles, causing your feet to slip and slide on the wet ground; you and two of your unit had caught the zombie while the rest of them checked the area to make sure that nobody had been bitten or scratched, and that no more zombies had made it through. You know who it is, who you have the leash around as it struggles and pulls, causing you to send an electric shock through the metallic lead; Joy was your best friend, she had gone missing a week ago when on a perimeter check, so to see her in such a state – a monster – you feel sick to your stomach as you see where her shirt is ripped, bone showing from the deep bite taken out of her arm.

“Orders are to keep the specimen alive. Bag ‘em and tag ‘em.” Your team leader, Junmyeon, shouts as the rest of the unit arrive from securing the area and checking on the traumatised civilians.

Jongin lifts his weapon, firing two tranquilisers into the zombie’s back and you hold fast, waiting until the paralytic concoction takes effect and your former friend falls to the ground, groaning as its tongue clicks. “What is that?” You ask, removing your leash as the clicking slowly quietens, the zombie now completely paralyzed. “Suho, what was that clicking noise?” You look over at your team leader and he shrugs, indicating that he’s never seen it before either.

“I’ll ask when we get the Z to the Centre.” Jongin and Chanyeol lift the zombie up, transferring it to the cage in the pack of the truck as you all pack up to head out. “Y/N,” you turn when your voice is called, looking at Junmyeon with a confused look on your face. “Go home.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “No way.”

“She was your friend; we all know how close you two were.” His voice is soft, the command still in his tone. “It’s okay, we can handle it from here.”

You look over at Jongin and he gives you a small smile, indicating that he was the one who had mentioned something to Junmyeon. “Suho, with all due respect, I knew the moment that Joy was reported missing that she was never coming home unless she looked like-”

He cuts you off by placing his hand on your shoulder, “go home, that’s an order.” You sigh, nodding once as you head over to Jongin. You hate it, hate being benched simply because someone you knew ended up zombie chow; everyone has lost someone, this is a part of the life you live, but Joy wasn’t just your best friend but the closest thing you had to a sister after you lost your own years ago.

“Be safe,” you grumble at him and Jongin pouts, breaking his strong façade for a moment as he looks at you.

Placing a finger under your chin, he tries to catch your eyes. “I’ll be home soon, okay?” You nod, still avoiding his gaze and he pulls you in for a brief hug.

You watch the truck drive off, Jongin sitting on the back with the cage, he lifts a hand to wave goodbye and you lift your half-heartedly before turning and heading back to the dormitory that your unit call home.

Jongin watches your retreating back until you’re no longer in sight, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair and Junmyeon looks at him. “It’s better for her to stay home and rest than something happening because of delayed shock.” He nods, knowing that while you say that you are perfectly fine with the fact that your best friend as a zombie, there’s a difference between saying it when she’s tranquilised and dropping her off at the facility. “It is strange though,” Jongin’s head lifts up to look at the leader, a pensive look on the older male’s face. “How did a Z get so deep into the city?” Jongin has been thinking that as well, normally they stay near the wall, lunging and going after those around them but not this time.

It’s almost like she was looking for something, going somewhere…

“Maybe the scientists will have a better idea at what’s happening because like Y/N said, Joy was making a strange clicking noise and they weren’t doing that before.” Both males look at the zombie incapacitated in the cage, “there has been rumours that they have been evolving…”

Junmyeon shakes his head, “if they were, we would have been told about it. We are the line of defence for the city, they wouldn’t learn such a thing and not tell us. We can’t defend the people if we are kept in the dark.” Jongin slowly nods, agreeing because it’s true but that doesn’t take away the strange feeling in his stomach.

Too many things have been happening lately, there have been several boogies entering the city over the last month when previous cases were maybe once or twice a month. There have been sightings of Alphas out in the open when they would very rarely spot them anywhere near the city. Now that Jongin thinks about it, there has been some difficulty getting in touch with the Research Centre, but as he goes to bring up his worries, the truck slows down.

“How’s the cargo?” Baekhyun calls from the window of the driver’s side.

“Still out,” Jongin calls back and the other man pops his head back in the window, pressing the button on the radio to indicate they have arrived and the gate slowly creaks open. “Isn’t it… quiet?” He asks, keeping his voice down as if speaking normally would disturb the eerily quiet atmosphere that has fallen upon the usually buzzing centre.

Junmyeon must have noticed this too as his lips pull into a hard line and he takes the safety off his weapon. “Eyes sharp until we get out of here. Maybe there’s nothing to worry about but I don’t like looks of that.” He motions with his head at the abandoned forklift on the other side of the large concrete yard, the forks up and still carrying a heavy crate but nobody is around it or the open warehouse door. “Usually, the place is teeming with workers so either everyone happens to be on break or-”

“Or, something’s wrong.” Jongin finishes the sentence as he knocks on the window at Sehun, the youngest also noticing something is wrong by the fact that his weapon is out of its holster.

You lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and watch the fan spin around and around as memories with Joy run through your mind. You remember the day you met, how your friendship began over something as simple as watching the girl shove mochi into her mouth to see how much she could fit and still chew. You remember all the tears you shared, comforting each other through every loss, break up and also every celebration. Every memory in the last ten years, she was there and now…

The tears begin to flow as you lay there, reaching for Jongin’s pillow and pulling it close to you. Now she’s gone, now she’s at the Research Centre as an experiment for the government who have made very little progress on the vaccine to save the world. Now you are alone again, well, not completely because you still have Jongin and the team but Joy was someone you could confide in about things you couldn’t with them, with him. The tears flow until your tear ducts dry up, until your body is shaking with broken sobs and your chest is painful from the broken, beating heart that beats within your heaving chest.

It doesn’t take you long until you cry yourself to sleep, curled up and hugging Jongin’s pillow. His lingering scent barely helps to keep you calm but it’s a thousand times better than how you would manage without it. A restless sleep awaits you, dreams plaguing your mind and tormenting you with your worst nightmares and reminders of the time you live in – a time where one small incident can result in such a tragic loss. You toss and turn in your sleep, whimpering out names of those you have lost as they pass through your dream like smoke that always slips between your fingers and you can’t hold onto it.

“No,” you whimper, eye furrowing as you try to grab Jongin’s hand but your fingers slip at the last minute, “no!” You wake up in a cold sweat, slowly becoming aware of the blaring alarm sounding through the room as the nightmare fades from your mind. As the haze disappears, your trained habit to leap out of bed and get dressed to report for duty kicks in. Efficient, fast and without hesitation, that’s what you were trained to be – no matter what may happen to those you love, you still have a duty to the city and its citizens.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, rushing into the command centre to find the Beta team gearing up, “is there a breach?”

Yixing shakes his head as his fingers move like lightning across the keyboard, the computer trying to clear up the audio that is crackling on screen. “We can’t get in touch with the Research Centre for a while now, their systems kept us out and we weren’t able to get in until now.” As the audio plays again, you make out Junmyeon’s voice, the audio still staticky but you can faintly make out words.

“…Centre…dead…Alphas have taken…activate…lies…”

Everyone in the room pauses as the computer retries to take away the intense static. Yixing looks at you, Minseok and Jongdae placing their guns in their holster and before he can even say a word, you are heading over to your locker to grab your tactical gear. “That’s my team in there.” You say to his unspoken words, “you know I can’t leave them like that if I can help.”

“Y/N, we don’t know what he’s saying, we don’t know what is going on. I cannot access the video feed yet so I think it’s best if you wait-”

“No,” you place your gun in its holster and turn to face him, “I’ll take one of the command radios, you can contact me through there but you aren’t stopping me from going and helping my team.” Looking over at the other two, you nod and they start to move, following you as you find the rest of the Beta team preparing the vehicle – on order from Minseok.

They had known it was a trap when they had entered the large, empty, white room; they had known because it was too quiet but what were they meant to do? When the first zombie ran at them, several more rushed from all angles, they didn’t know where they were coming from – it seemed to be never ending until the click of an empty magazine gives the surviving zombies the upper hand. Coming in faster than they can reload, Jongin dives out of the way from the undead lunging at him, barely getting away while it latches onto Sehun but he doesn’t have time to think about rescuing his friend when two grab him, several more grabbing his team mates but the searing pain from a zombie bite never comes.

The collective sound of clicking rings around the spacious room and fear runs down his spine, chilling him to the bone when realisation hits him – they really have evolved. They had always suspected it, the same way that predators adapt and evolve with their food source, they always wondered if the zombies were evolving too but nobody had really confirmed it. It should have been noted, if the Research Centre was doing what they had been telling everyone for years that they were doing – wouldn’t they have picked it up? That question remains unanswered and unimportant as they struggle to fight back against the strong hold of their captors, being separated once they enter the never-ending what hallway that leads deeper into the facility.

“Guys!” Jongin shouts, looking over his shoulder to see Sehun being dragged into a room across the hall from him, “if you get fr-” The sentence is abruptly cut off by the door sliding shut, locking itself which indicates that someone must be behind the controls. The zombies aren’t smart enough, surely, they aren’t smart enough to be able to work the control panel… unless… Jongin begins to struggle some more, grunting as he tries to plant his feet and pull his arms free but his captors hold tight, his shoulders almost popping out of their sockets as they give him a harsh yank and causes him to lose his footing. He would have ended up with his face hitting the hard floor if it wasn’t for them.

Lucky him – or not when the zombies decide to knock Jongin out with a swift, hard knock to the back of the head.

Junmyeon watches everything in horror after managing to find their way into the security room. They had decided to split up once entering the facility, Junmyeon, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo searching for the control room while Jongin, Sehun and Chanyeol went looking for survivors. They had heard cries earlier, calls for help that had come from the direction that the other group went in and while they all knew to remain suspicious – nobody could have ever suspected that the zombies were smart enough to do such things and lure them into a trap like that. They found the two security guards dead and took extra measure to make sure before trying to unlock or access whatever they could in the system but it all proved to be more difficult than expected when they couldn’t access anything apart from the cameras.

That’s when they saw it. That’s when Junmyeon watched half his team get dragged away for God-knows-what reason.

“What are they doing?” Baekhyun asks while Kyungsoo tries and hotwires some of the system for them to be able to send a message out. The computer reboots, a soft pleased grunt coming from underneath the desk as Junmyeon looks away from the camera screen and to the monitor instead. “They are tying them to operating tables… do you think-”

Junmyeon shakes his head, “if they were going to eat them, they would have done so right then and there rather than capturing them.” He begins to hack into the system, jaw clenching in thought while Baekhyun gives a running commentary on what is happening.

They don’t know what’s going on. Looking at the cameras that are still functioning, there is absolutely no clue as to what these zombies have planned or even how they have managed to become so sophisticated. Have they been this way the entire time and this has caused the growing population to become laxed in how they approach zombies? Have they been playing the long game this entire time? Junmyeon shakes his head, clearing such thoughts from his mind because if he thinks about them then he will begin to doubt everything the government has told him.

They wouldn’t lie to the people, right?

They wouldn’t keep such information from them in order to keep them in the dark and unsuspecting to the dark truth?

No, no, he couldn’t believe it, he mustn’t but as he breaks through the security on the computer, everything… everything he knew ends up having a giant question mark over top of it all. “Research entry #2054,” a deep voice begins to play as he clicks on the most recent video file that was uploaded two weeks ago. “The experiment was a success; we have managed to reverse the virus with only one unfortunate side effect.” Everyone in the room freezes and looks at the monitor, the video shows a zombie strapped down to a vertical gurney, gnashing its teeth at the scientist that moves near it. “We have figured out that only a fresh zombie, about a week at the most, is able to be brought back to the land of the living – as long as there is no life-threatening damage to their body.” A syringe is placed into the IV that is connected into the zombie’s arm and the scientist steps back, the video beginning to move faster to show the process. “It has been rather difficult to make sure that the subjects meet the conditions needed for the cure but with the blood of the Alpha in our possession, we have been able to safely create zombies and now cure them as well.” The physical changes in the zombie begin to show as it stops fighting and slowly starts look frightened and unaware of their surroundings. “However, it is not yet something we can use due to a low success rate,” once the person starts to come back to their senses, the camera speed slows down and zooms in but moments after they start looking around at where they are – blood begins to drip from their nose. “Out of ten tests so far, only three have survived. This poor fellow lasted a full twenty seconds before his brain started to melt and he died a painful and agonising death.” They watch in horror as the camera records the man’s final moments, his screams inaudible due to the voice file being placed over top but the pain is clear as day.

As the video ends, they all look at each other, horror clear on their face as their eyes shift from each other to the camera screens. “Wh- Suho, what are they doing to Kai?” Baekhyun asks, moving towards the screen that shows them what is happening in the room where Jongin is being held. The image is grainy, the camera more than likely damaged from whatever has been going on but they can clearly make out someone walking in from off-screen and a passed out Jongin having his neck turned to the side.

“D.O, do you think you can get a signal out to the command centre?” Junmyeon asks, looking at the man who is watching his helpless friend.

It takes him a moment to respond but Kyungsoo nods, slowly before dragging his eyes off the screen and looking over at the radio. If the reason for the take-over isn’t clear, one thing is – they definitely didn’t want anyone to be able to contact for help. “You’ll need to know exactly what you want to say because from the looks of this, you’ll be lucky to get out ten seconds worth of audio before it dies on us.”

Junmyeon nods in affirmation, preparing a short but efficient message in his head before Kyungsoo gets to work and Baekhyun keeps an eye on the screen. The figure is dressed in a white lab coat, wearing surgical gloves and their face is covered with a mask which gives no indicator to the man watching who they are. He watches while the sounds of Kyungsoo tinkering with the radio are the loudest in the room; a syringe is clearly stuck into the greyscale version of Jongin, the camera fritzing a little before showing the hand pulling away and head lifting to look at the zombies who are seemingly standing guard. “Ah… guys… we have a problem.” It is a problem indeed, a massive one. The figure turns around, walking to the edge of the screen but stops in direct view of the camera and looks up, showing his face.

“What’s the matter, Baek?” Junmyeon asks as he adjusts the knobs of the radio to make sure when power surges through that they are already connected to the command centre’s station.

“You know how we just saw the crazy mad scientist turning a zombie into a human?”

“Yeah?”

The zombie in question wags his finger as if telling them off for watching him work. “Well, I think he’s batting for the other team now.” The zombie covers his face again and heads out of sight, showing up in Sehun’s room moments later. “And he knows we’re here.”

Right on cue, the radio lights up and Junmyeon says his well-rehearsed message. “Zombies have overtaken the Research Centre. Everyone is dead. Alphas have taken Kai, Hun and Yeol. Activate Protocol Eradication. What we know are lies.” The light turns off and he places down the speaker with a heavy sigh. “Let’s hope that they managed to get it.”

Baekhyun looks as the zombie scientist walks out of Sehun’s room and shortly enters Chanyeol’s. “What are we going to do?”

“We find the cure.” Both of them look at Junmyeon, clearly thinking the same thing. That’s not something he really wants to do either but what other choice do they have? “We don’t leave our men behind, besides, if there is a cure – they must have created a vaccine.” He sounds too hopeful for a man who has no idea how the fuck they are going to survive this – if they survive this.

The moment the gates close behind you, you know something is amiss, that there should be alarms blaring or even zombies roaming around but there is nothing. No one. The only indication that your team is here is their truck and your leg begins to bounce nervously as you wonder where they are and if they are still alive. “Beta to Command, do you copy?” Jongdae speaks into the radio, hearing nothing but static from the other end, “Beta to Command, we’ve entered the Research Centre, do you copy?” Again, nothing. “Shit, I think they’ve jammed the signal.”

“It would explain why Suho’s message came through the way that it did. It’s lucky that we managed to get what we could from it.” Minseok says as he parks their truck next to the other one. “Everyone, we are on an extraction mission – kill any hostiles on sight and get our boys out of here.” The men surrounding you answer obediently, piling out of the truck and taking their positions. Two men go and find high ground while the other one stays close by to you, Minseok and Jongdae. “Y/N, there is a chance that-”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, already knowing what he is going to say and you are well aware. You have spent the entire drive here preparing yourself for the possibility that they are all gone but you know your team – they are the best of the best – they would have survived anything… or died fighting.

The lights are out as you move through the large, empty warehouse, the flashlights attached to your weapons providing minimal light in front of you. Everything is quiet, eerily quiet as each footstep is carefully placed before the other like a thief in the night to try and keep you from making too much noise and alert any unwelcomed fiend to your presence. Pressing your back against a large shipping container, you stealthily look around the corner and notice a light flickering in the distance – a destination.

No one makes a sound as you make your way towards the hallway.

Everything is as quiet as a mouse.

You can’t risk losing the upper hand.

Suddenly, everyone is on high alert as running footsteps sound from the direction of the hallway, quickly followed by someone trying to turn the corner too fast and stumbling over, scrambling to his feet. “Lower your weapons.” You say loud enough for them to hear you because you would know that barely illuminated figure anywhere. “Jongin?” You call out to him, his head snapping in your direction as he begins to run towards you, waving for you to move. “J-Jongin?”

“Run, quick,” he calls out, slowing down only to grab your wrist and pulling you back the way you came. “What are you doing? Go!” Before they can question him, Sehun comes running out after him, the low groaning and heavy footsteps a tell-tale sign that your team mate has fallen in the worst of ways.

Shots echo around, the sound bouncing off the walls and causing Jongin to stop and pull you into his chest. While the sound itself didn’t bother you at all, this has been your job for long enough to handle to loud noise – it’s the fact of who those shots were fired at that caused you to hide your face into Jongin’s chest as he hugged you tight. First Joy and now Sehun, how many other people are you going to lose?

When will it stop?

“Are you okay?” Jongin’s hands gently cradle your face, lifting you to look up at him in the dim lighting before his forehead rests against the hardness of your helmet, the gesture still warming your aching heart. “What are you doing here?” He asks, looking over your shoulder to the team making their way towards you, Jongdae walking backwards to make sure there are no more surprises coming out of the dark.

You place your hands over his, noticing a warm dampness to his left hand and being careful not to cause him any pain. “There was an alert sent through, a distress call from Suho which was terrible and hard to make out so we executed a rescue mission to bring the team and any survivors home.”

You can barely make out his face but from the expression you see, you can tell he isn’t impressed. “Are you stupid?” He snaps, causing you to recoil a little before he apologises and pulls you back in for a hug. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture but… there are no survivors. I barely managed to escape Hun, I have no idea where the others are and Yeol…” Jongin sighs, hanging his head, “we were ambushed while we were searching for survivors and we didn’t realise Hun had been bit until it was too late. He caught me by surprise, throwing me against the wall and dazing me before lunging at Chanyeol.”

You pull him close, letting his head rest against your shoulder as you comfort him, “I’m sorry.” That is all you are able to say before Minseok taps your shoulder and indicates that it’s best to move outside into the light instead of standing still like sitting ducks. You knew this, you really should have thought about that but something about having Jongin safe in your arms made the soldier in you disappear while the worried girlfriend took over and caused you to have a lapse in judgement. “We’ll find the others,” you promise, knowing that it may be an empty one.

Jongin hums, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze as you walk towards the large bay door. “How are you holding up? I thought you would have stayed in after this morning.” There’s your Jongin, the man who always puts you above himself.

You’re about to answer him when Minseok says something that causes a shiver to run down your spine. “Don’t you think for a facility that was overrun by zombies that we are lacking in zombies?” It’s true, it’s something that you’ve noticed since you arrived, besides Jongin and Sehun, there have been no other signs that anyone is around and if there are zombies lurking somewhere – they would have come out during the commotion. Everyone remains on high alert, Jongin sticking close to you while Jongdae and the other soldier following behind you. You can’t let your guard down even if it seems like there is no sign of danger – if there’s no sign of danger in a place that should be riddled with zombies then that is, in itself, a clear indicator that something is amiss. “Kai?” Minseok asks as you reach the truck, the snipers providing a sense of safety you didn’t have before. “Where did you say you were ambushed?”

You go and grab the first aid kit while Jongin sits down inside the truck, “deeper inside the facility.” He indicates with his chin back towards the warehouse you had left, “there were some chambers where it looked like they experimented on the zombies. There was one feeding which we managed to take out but the shot attracted more to our location and soon we knew it, we were cornered.” He winces as you clean the cut on his cheek, a deep bruise showing under the dried blood.

“How did you manage to escape if Sehun was bit?” The tone of Minseok’s question causes Jongin to tense up and you turn your head to snap at him.

“What’s up with the interrogation, Xiumin? He’s here, isn’t he? He hasn’t been bitten or scratched so why the fuck are you grilling him?” Jongin gently grabs your wrist to pull your attention to him and when you look at him, seeing the softest smile on his beautiful pink lips, you calm down almost instantly but there’s still a lingering sting of annoyance at the man’s line of questioning.

Wincing slightly when you press anti-septic against the cut on his forehead, Jongin answers, “there was an alert of some kind, almost like someone was paging them and within seconds, they had stopped and left. I’m sure they know how to communicate with each other because they left us alone and hurried away, leaving us confused and injured. We checked some of the rooms to see if we could find anything else but as we decided to look for the others – Sehun changed and grabbed Chanyeol before rushing me.”

Minseok is about to say something when his name being called pulls his attention away. You glare at the retreating man, who walks around the back of the truck and greets an exhausted looking Junmyeon, before Jongin stops your fussing over his wounds and holds you close. You are shocked at first, it’s not often that Jongin will be affectionate in the field but after the day you both have had then it seems like he needs this almost as much as you do. “I was so scared I was going to lose you,” you whisper, his hug getting tighter as he lets out a soft laugh.

“You did.”

“Did you not get my message?” Junmyeon asks his friend as they share a quick embrace, patting each other on the back before separating.

Shaking his head, Minseok sighs, “whatever you were trying to say, the audio was so bad that the computer barely managed to make out a few words.” He points at the small kit that’s attached to his belt.

“Oh,” Junmyeon sounds as he looks down and unclips the kit, opening it to show. “We found where they were storing the vaccine and cure but most of it was destroyed – this was all that was left.” Minseok looks confused, rightfully so because the last any of them had known, there was no such thing as a vaccine, let alone a cure. “I’ll explain on the way back, we have to get out of here. Pronto.” He rushes past Minseok, who ends up grabbing his arm and keeping him from going further, causing everyone to look at them. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you know what happened to the rest of the team?”

Junmyeon furrows his brow but Baekhyun answers before, “we already know what happened to them. They were captured.”

Before anyone can even say another word, a deep chuckle comes from behind the vehicle and their attention is grabbed by Jongin walking out with you in front of him. His pistol is pressed to your temple and his hand is securely around your throat, one squeeze away from breaking your wind pipe. “Guess the cat is out of the bag, huh?” Struggling, you try and get out of his hold but Jongin’s too strong, unnaturally strong, and the more you struggle, the tighter his hold on your throat gets. “Ah, ah, don’t ruin the fun now, sweetheart, we’ve only just begun.”

Everyone draws their weapons, pointing them at Jongin which also means they are pointing them at you. “Let her go.” Junmyeon commands which only makes Jongin laugh, raising an eyebrow in question. “Let her go or else we shoot.”

“Oh, please do, if you shoot then we both go down. What a romantic but tragic end~ Romeo and Juliet. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” He chuckles lowly in your ear which causes you to push and try to pull away but his smile soon fades and he playfully drags his teeth against the skin of your neck. “Careful now, all your struggling is making me hungry.” He warns, effectively causing you to stop moving.

Fear rushes through you, causing you to bite down so harshly on your tongue to keep yourself from screaming and giving him another reason to shut you up. This isn’t Jongin, this isn’t your Jongin but damn, he played the role well enough to convince you – or maybe he only had to play it enough to pass suspicion considering you had just lost someone you saw as a sister and then watch Sehun die before you. Yes, there it is. The realisation that he was playing on your loss. The fact that the cuts and bruises were all on the same side of his body – self-inflicted. There was more blood on him than there would have been if those wounds really did bleed. That’s why his story seemed to have so many holes in it that you should have seen through it clearly but you didn’t, you were so happy to have Jongin in your arms that you didn’t notice that there were so many things that didn’t add up now that you think about it.

“You may as well drop those guns, I’m not here to kill any of you – you’d be dead if that was the case.” Jongin says, sounding completely at ease with the situation. That does make sense considering he’s not really Jongin.

He’s dead. This is his reanimated corpse without a soul, basically.

Minseok scoffs, finger resting lightly on the trigger, “and why on Earth would we do that?”

“Because I’m coming back with you.” Everyone pauses, looking at him in surprise which causes a twisted grin to spread across his lips, “telling you the whole plan would ruin the fun but I can tell you that it’s too late. Everyone has already moved on and taken what they need with them because you see, killing and turning our food source isn’t really sustainable in the long run. No, it’s time to play the long game.” You wince with disgust when Jongin’s tongue runs along the curve of your neck and before you can think too much, you throw your head back, hearing the satisfying sound of his nose breaking. His grip lessens enough that you manage to get out of his grip and rush towards the safety of your team… or what’s left of them. “Feisty little bitch, aren’t you? Where’s that been in the bedroom, huh?”

“There’s no escape, Kai. Give us the gun and come quietly.” Junmyeon commands and Jongin teases them, pointing the gun at each of them and making a pew each time he moves his gun on, pretending to pick each of the team off one by one.

While the team slowly closes in on Jongin, who has his hands in the air, he looks at you and decides to play on your feelings one last time. “You can save me, Y/N.” He says, eyes flickering down to the kit attached to Junmyeon’s belt. Your eyes follow his and it seems like Junmyeon catches on to what he’s trying to get at and looks at you, shaking his head.

“No, he’s lying.” He dodges you when you try to get the kit.

Laughing, Jongin lets himself get grabbed, “no, I’m not. The zombies didn’t destroy all the vials of the cure, did they? I bet the last of them are in that handy little kit for you to take back to the labs and have their team finish what the scientist here started.”

You look at Junmyeon, appalled that he’s got something that can save Jongin and didn’t immediately offer to give it him. “There’s a very good-” He jumps out of the way, trying hard to explain himself but the words never manage to get out when because you are hysteric, cursing at him for keeping the cure to himself when someone who needs it is right there.

It’s true that Jongin is the only person who can get under your skin, who can push all the buttons and pull your strings, having you react how he wants you to. Never in all the years that you’ve known each other has he ever used this to his advantage like this, never has he manipulated you into doing something you would never do otherwise. All professionalism is out the window as you think about how you could save him, cure him and have your boyfriend back because you can’t lose him – not him and he knows this. He knows how much you’ve suffered and how much you’ve lost over the years and how hard you take those losses so losing Jongin? There is no way you would come back from that.

“It’ll kill him, Y/N,” Baekhyun shouts as Jongin clicks his tongue and mutters ‘spoil-sport under his breath, “we watched a recording of them giving it to someone and the risk of death is higher than him surviving.” You stop and fall to your knees, realisation hitting you that you’ve truly lost him. Jongin isn’t coming back. Even if he’s standing there before you, that’s not the man you love but merely the shell of him, twisted and unrecognisable.

“Then what happens next?” You ask, defeated while Minseok places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Junmyeon sighs as Baekhyun and Kyungsoo force Jongin to walk towards the truck, “we’ll find out what we can and do what we can to bring him back to us.” You know that’s a long shot and the tears begin to fall as you stare at the ground, the pain that you’ve kept at bay all this time, hitting you with full force.

“Do you think I want to live like this? What have I always said? I’d rather be dead than a zombie!” Jongin yells and your entire body shakes as the sobs take over.

You can’t do this. Not again. You can’t keep living like this.

Allowing Jongdae to help you up and towards the vehicle, you hear nothing but Jongin’s words in your head. It was a promise. You both had promised on your first day as partners, if you ever got infected then the other would be the one to make sure you died and stayed dead but you can’t do that… you can’t kill the man you love…

-

“It took you long enough.” Jongin chuckles, hearing the click of the safety and turning to face the barrel of the pistol, grinning at he looks at the person on the other side of his cell. “I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about little old me.” He presses his forehead against the muzzle and looks at the person wearing a mask. “Is everything in order?”

They take off their mask, Chanyeol nodding his head as he rests his finger against the trigger. “Yes, thanks to you, everything is going according to plan.”

Looking at his old friend, Jongin sighs in relief, “good.” Closing his eyes, he accepts his final part of the plan – creating the perfect distraction.

[fluffynexu]

imperial life (sorta)

life within the empire is very structured. it’s a society where everyone Knows Their Place and what they’re supposed to be doing.

for ex. there is a certain “life schedule” that imperial citizens are expected to adhere to.

ages:

0-5, raised by family as infants. sent to daycare during toddler years.

5-10, primary school. begin basic education.

10-15, junior school. continue education.

15-20, senior school. start some training alongside education.

20-25/30, MANDATORY SERVICE TIME.

25/30+, marriage and having children encouraged and you can live your life.

now after an individual completes their mandatory time actively serving, they can either continue to serve or return to other jobs and functions in the empire.

so you can have someone who was a foot soldier or sniper during their service time, but then return to “civilian” life as a florist or school teacher.

the sith follow a similar “life schedule”.

ages:

0-5, raised by family and like minded peer groups.

5-10, primary academy. basic training and education.

10-15, secondary academy. continued training and education.

15-20, preparatory academy. continued training and education.

20+, sith academy (proper) and from there, it depends on the individual sith’s master and rank.

tho the purebloods have a tendency to marry their children off after at the age of 20 (or young 20s) in hopes of procuring grandchildren (and therefore, securing family legacies) before anything... unfortunate happens.

another aspect of imperial life that is deeply entrenched within the civilization but never talked about too openly is the caste system.

everyone in the empire, sith or slave, is shoved into one of these castes. it is possible to move UP and DOWN. moving upward requires marrying someone of a higher caste, but ppl usually (tho not always!) stick to and marry within their own castes. moving down tends involves committing a crime and being punished for it, or disownment from family.

there are certain advantages of being a part of upper castes. which include, but are not limited to:

wider access on the holonet

higher pay

more options for housing

priority healthcare

less restrictions on travel

etc.

the two main groups the castes fall into are sith and imperial. obvs the sith castes are above the imperial ones.

castes among the sith are categorized by “blood purity” and family lineages. the older, purer bloodlines that can trace their roots to korriban are seen above sith who might not have such a heritage.

pureblood, greater families

pureblood, lesser families

human, greater families (usually have some pureblood family members as well)

human, lesser families (usually all human)

human, common (usually an individual that comes from a non-sith background that found sensitivity in the force)

alien

imperial castes on the other hand are categorized by “occupation” rather than bloodlines.

officers. self explanatory. within this caste the officers follow the rank order. ie, moff > captain.

healers. ppl who can help and heal others. doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, etc.

scholars. those who spend their time studying, researching, or teaching. scientists, philosophers, lawyers, professors, etc.

protectors. internal security of the empire. police type, firefighters, paramedics, emergency responders, imperial intelligence, etc.

farmers. self explanatory, also includes breeders (for fancy pets and vanity animals).

crafters. for those who MAKE or design things. artists, architects, engineers, cooks, tailors, etc.

traders. folks who buy and sell things or deal with money frequently. business people, vendors, bank folk, accountants etc.

entertainers. mostly performers of some type. actors, musicians, athletes, sex workers, etc.

cleaners. those who deal with trash or bodies. janitors, butchers, housekeepers, manicurists, waste management, groomers, etc.

casteless. ironically named, but still technically a caste. includes non citizens that may be visiting or traveling through, new imperial citizens, or disowned (usually non force sensitive) sith.

slaves. self explanatory.

in the old, old sith empire (pre arrival of exiles), the sith also had a ruler and priest caste. it can be argued that the two were simply merged into the modern sith grouping and all of their castes within.

as far as any that might be lawmakers and where they’d fit in. that’d be the dark council with some occasional input from very high ranking officers like the grand moff.

so in theory(!), anyone can move up or down the caste ladder. in reality it’s very rare and ppl are often born into one caste and simply live their life within its confines and die. but ppl across the entire caste system can and do work together frequently.

an ex is the sw and crew.

akrona is not only sith, but a pureblood from a greater family. making her one of the most privileged and (potentially) influential ppl in the empire.

quinn comes from a family of officers and they’ve all been at the relative top of imperial society for generations. even after his court martial he’s considered to be very lucky to have remained in the same caste.

pierce actually comes from farmers but managed to be promoted to an officer during his time in service. but since he wasn’t born into it, quinn some officers have an obvious bias against him for his position.

vette, being a freed slave is casteless. tho thx to having a sith benefactor and friend, she can get away with a lot more than others within her same social standing.

some notes under the read more since i KNOW you ppl don’t go to the op to read my darn tags! >,< lol

so... i know. i KNOW i didn’t list literally every single conceivable job that exist or could exist. you’ll have to excuse me on that lol.

and in case it wasn’t obvious, yes, i used my sw and my own hcs for the crew. NO, i am NOT saying that quinn dislikes pierce ONLY bc of “lower caste upbringing”. just that it’s one of many factors of tension between the two.

and regardless of caste, every citizen* in the empire is guaranteed food, shelter, water, and medical care. but obvs those in the upper castes would be eating the fanciest~ of feasts in their big ass floating mansions while the lower castes live off of ration bars and street food while living in small, utilitarian apartments. *does not include slaves since they are technically not citizens.

i am once again here to remind you that the empire is NOT

a democracy

capitalist

or a utopia

(but if for some reason you wanna make your empire all those things, go for it. i ain’t stopping you lol.)

but why castes?

bc it was an aspect of the ancient sith In Canon and thought i’d tinker with the concept.

lastly! i stfg...

IF YOU THINK ME MAKING A HC/WORLDBUILDING POST REFLECTS UPON MY MORALITY OR HOW I THINK A SOCIETY SHOULD BE RUN...

YOU HAVE NEXT LVL BRAIN ROT.

also, yes, you can use any/all concepts in whatever way you see fit if you want. you can also, ignore the whole thing!

[logically-asexual]

yes YES

OP PLEASE SHARE YOUR LOCEIT AS PROFESSORS BRAIN ROT

akdjhksajfhkas thank you alkdj you’re in for it now

ART/ original idea

I just love Logan and Janus in a dark academia context so much like them both in elegant suits and big dark coats you know like in those old fancy universities where it snows in winter and everything is so Aesthetic~

and i love that Logan were a physics professor or anything science but i am particularly fond of modern physics (quantum theory, relativity, etc.) and like Logan’s position has recently been upgraded from teacher’s assistant to an actual teacher so he is still a little lost and is still a nerdy student at heart.

but Janus has been teaching for a while longer and appears always so put together and like he has everything figured out. his area is very different from Logan’s because he teaches history, sociology or maybe even literature courses. He’s always calm and reading huge books that Logan is sure he wouldn’t understand one sentence from. but, to be fair, it’d be the same for Janus in reverse. 

they meet where i made the drawing, at the library because Logan was running late for his first day of class and forgot his book, so he had to go borrow one and then run as fast as he could to his classroom. but of course, he is no athlete so he trips and falls. Janus comes help him pick up his stuff but instead of giving him his book back he just examines it with that analytic gaze he has sometimes

and Logan is just super confused because first of all hot man, second of all, why hot man won’t give my book back, and third, shit i’m still late.

but that third thought quickly is ignored in favor of listening to Janus tell him with his smooth low voice a story of how the very same Heisenberg from the uncertainty principle worked with the nazis on a nuclear bomb, which sucked but it’s also said that he had to somehow defend the theory of relativity from them since it was a “jewish” idea (because of Einstein). Logan thinks he should really get his book and get going but there is something so mesmerizing about this guy’s voice telling him about the historical impact of the scientists he thought he knew.

of course, humanities aren’t Logan’s forte, and he didn’t know any of this information. Janus scolds him because he should always know the human side of his studies, the troubles behind, the selfish motives that lead to some discoveries, as well as the more wildly known heartwarming stories, because knowledge and logic aren’t so simple, there’s always more behind it.

eventually Logan comes to his senses and reminds Janus that he is really late to his first day of class, and Janus lets him go. but he is a little distracted during the whole lesson and the rest of the day to be honest.

maybe a few days later, Logan goes on a quest to a smaller library in Janus’s department because he’s too intrigued by everything he said, so he is determined to learn more about his role models history and whatever was going on at the time they lived. however, again, Logan has no experience in this, and has no idea where to start looking. luckily for him, Janus spends most of his time at that library and, after a few minutes of being amused by logan’s lost expression, he decides to stop hiding and go help him.

what started as one study session turns into two, three, then a book club, and maybe a few coffee dates (to discuss what they both have learned from each other’s area, of course, nothing else). ((Logan would drink coffee at first, but then they realized it was part of the reason he was so stressed out all the time and Janus convinced him to try tea instead. now it’s his favorite drink)).

Janus doesn’t know a lot about science either but he is surprisingly good at catching on to the abstract concepts and theories Logan tells him about, which Logan is great at explaining in simple words without all the math behind.

Slowly they realize both of their teaching habilities have improved, and their students are way more enganged in their lectures than before. Janus has learned to compartmentalize and do more structured analysis, while Logan has learned to consider the bigger picture and be open to less concrete ideas. 

.. i could go on but its past midnight and i should really go back to sleep.. im enjoying myself a little too much here lol.

have one last flustered logan

[dollsted]

Title: Black Pearl Rating: M (nsfw) Characters: reader, sans, Wingdings, papyrus, Jukin, lucious  Source: a03 (archive of our own)  Author: F0rce0fnatur3 

Plot: You the reader are about to go on an adventure to the underground. You don’t necessarily have a good home life but even so you weren’t expecting what happens to actually change it so drastically! When you come out the other side you weren’t expecting to wake up after your harrowing escape, in the Gaster Brothers home.

                           B     L     A     C     K   |    P     E     A     R     L

You open your eyes and as you do so there’s a nagging throbbing rage against your skull. Your cheek is pressed against something soft while your fingers confirm that its a pillow elevating your head from the mattress you’ve been propped upon. Three days ago you were back in your world with your normal life going about your business. Three days ago everything was perfectly fine and you took back all the times you silently wished your life would be more adventurous. You really had only meant that you wanted to go somewhere. That was the most daring thing you really wanted in your life. Not what actually ended up happening. You roll to your back and trace with your eyes the shape of the bars leading up to a circular top like a firework in reverse as you spiral your eyeballs around the circular shape overhead and count all thirty three of the bars banning you from escaping. The steel is strong, you’ve tried more than once to bend them with whatever strength you could muster on three days without food.

A giant birdcage wasn’t the conventional cell you thought you would be subjected too and yet here you were. The fairy lights or as other people referred to them as garden lights are looped around the very top. The height of the cage was at least ten feet high and out of your reach. Lazily you flop your hand above your face as far as the length of your arm can extend and trace the shape of the looped lights and mentally scoff at the attempt to make your jail cell “pretty” and non threatening. When your arm gets tired you let it fall over your stomach. You let your leg dangle off the edge of the bed and look around your little enclosure. A dresser, a bathroom with a little curtain for privacy, a small bookcase with titles that you’ve never heard of. You utter aloud just to have something other than silence as you mockingly joke about there not being a perch for you to swing on or newspaper lining the bottom so you can shit anywhere you like.

Back and forth your leg swings while your toes meet the floor every-now-and-then before your dull entertainment passes and you grow bored. You switch to rolling over onto your stomach looking out through the bars. The room you’re in but not allowed to frequent is a dome like grand open scoop. There are no windows, only overhead lights as if you’re in an opera stage minus the incline of said stage, and seats for an audience. There are a pair of doors which are always closed and evidently heavy given the thickness of the wood. There are carvings in the oak but its hard to register from this distance. Your cage is stationed in the far right corner of this huge room and you often inspect it taking in the details. The cobblestone fireplace always has a cackling fire which helps break the silence when he’s not around to bother you with awkward praises. You look from the mantle to the red leather chair aimed in your direction and next to the fire. It’s his favorite spot to plop down into when he strides in to gawk at you. You skip looking at the black and white tiled floor. For some reason the lack of bright light makes you feel a bit dizzy when observing it and so you go back to the bookcase. The room seems like a study to you and you wonder why he decided putting a human woman in here in a giant ass bird cage prison would be just the cherry on top of the minimal decor.

The rotten apple from two days ago has lost its luster and the single bite you took out of it is already bruised and rotting. The tender tan flesh has browned and the sheen of red has wrinkled and withered into a leathery texture which you ran your finger over just a day ago to give yourself something to do other than increase your anxiety in the situation at hand.

“You’re going to go out of your mind if you keep sticking to those habits you know.”

Your surly friend with an oddly deep voice for being something so small, casually chides you from above. You tilt your head to look past the slit in the bars above your head moving away from the circular topping of the cage to the butt of the one suspended just above yours dangling from the ceiling. You only have had this view unless you stand and your little companion stands to look down at you. You can however, see his weblike toes extended from between the bars suspending themselves in the air as he lays upon his back with his arms behind his small head and leisurely has one leg crossed over the other. You discovered him after you were thrown in here and the endless weeping caused him to peep up and bark at you to desist. Since then your ill mannered friend and you have engaged in conversation whenever one of you wasn’t weak enough to do so. It wasn’t long until the pair of you got to the topic of how each of you came to be here came up. Two days later you develop a small kinship given the parallels of your predicaments. His abode is much smaller in size than yours making it seem like a palace, but his stature also seems to fit inside perfectly despite when he elongates to stretch and his feet stick out like this.

Supposedly the amphibious looking creature suspended above your palace was a highly regarded doctor that bordered on doing some questionable things during his practice. He went against a high order that was delivered to him months ago refusing to carry out the mad monsters wishes and landed himself in this tiny little apartment as he liked to call it. You found the overall description vague and feigned reluctance when speaking with him while the back part of your brain wondered if he was terrible like some of the doctors you heard about in your world. Did he tear people apart? Was he experimenting like the mad scientist in Frankenstein? He puts on a nonchalant facade but you can tell just by the small growls in the night he’s starving. Trays are brought to you in three square meals which you refuse to eat until you’re set free and only a bit of scraps once a day if the attendants don’t forget are offered to the doctor above. You were instructed specifically not to share any of your meals with him for all the meals and scraps are recorded before going in and what’s left when coming out. Yet somehow you managed to tell them you wanted to keep the apple. Just in case.

You scoop up the rotting fruit while carefully balancing on the flat surface of the dresser praying it doesn’t concave under your weight. Once you find your center you still barely touch the top of the bars even with the apple extended upon your fingertips.

“Here, Jukin.”

You watch as his foot gets slurped into the cage and out of your view. Seconds later one of his eerily long limbs comes down to meet you in he middle and easily slips his long arm and fingers into your sanctuary curling them around the morsel. You notice he has the same color stripes of black and white on his arm as the flooring. You can hear him taking small bites to savor each nourishment and he doesn’t thank you. The crude creature never does but you know he appreciates this small act of kindness despite the knuckle wrapping you’re sure you’ll get later. You dismount from the pedestal easing back into the carpeted cage floor stretching out your own limbs to keep the circulation flowing. You’d rather not have your muscles turn to jelly should your prediction of being here for awhile come to fruition. After a good half hour and the last joyous sounds of crispy bites subsides Jukin decides he has enough strength to chat.

“That thing was rotten you know.”

“Only half of it,” you rebuttal. “I didn’t hear you complaining either. I bet you’re sucking on the seeds right now.”

The creature crunches in response spewing the seed in the opposite corner of your confines. Then waves a second one outside the cage letting you know he’s about to pop the second one into his mouth. You roll your eyes.

“You could have given it to me sooner before the rot set in, or perhaps even had the conviction not to take a heaping bite out of it to start the decomposition process.”

“I would suffice a thank you. But if you must know I had a small moment of weakness.”

“Clearly.” Out come his toes as he wriggles them and assumes his natural position of laying back.

“I don’t know how you can stand being in something so small and not get the urge to move around.”

“Focus is an easily accessible trait my dear and it all stems from being able to tap into that part of your brain in order to use it. If I think the pain away then it stays away.” You roll your eyes again rolling back into bed.

“I’m going to sleep now so don’t be too loud when spitting the seeds out.” At this, it prompts the creature to poke his head out and down peering directly into your cage. You meet his half lidded gaze and watch the abnormally large lips of the frog-like creature speak. The tiers seem to be a pale pink and the only color on the being that has the height of a toddler yet its body is small and limbs long and slender. You can see the brown sphere firmly in the corner part of his mouth, teeth firmly grinding against the hard shell.

“If only this was a beetle.” He contrived before concerting to your request to quiet down in order to let you sleep. You shutter at the gross imagery and close your eyes slipping away from the confines of your cage and find freedom in your dreams.

———————————————————————————————————

When you rouse the next morning you drift back to four days ago before the abduction replaying everything that transpired. Perhaps you were feeling sentimental when you opened your eyes this morning but as you rewind the tape you try not to create scenarios where you actually escape. You have to revisit the truth. Even if your brain wants to correct the story of what really happened. Even if it was ugly you have to revisit it. You steal the few moments you have before the attendants will walk into your room and set down a tray you wont touch, before Jukin rouses from his own dreamland and bothers you with morning ramblings. But your thoughts slip further back and you let it all play out on its own.

                                                                               .          .          .

Three years ago you still lived with your mother. It was five years since your dad had passed away and only two years after his passing that your mother moved on and married an arrogant prick. With this prick came an entitled pampered little princess that you were meant to call stepsister all thanks to the marriage that bound you to the asshole. Her own mother ran off and left her rotten daughter and disgusting husband behind as she fled somewhere out of state. Since then you’ve been wishing and praying that your eighteenth birthday will free you of this play happy pretend family torment and you can painfully detach from them and flee just like the sensible ex wife had. Last year you graduated and couldn’t move out of there fast enough, your mother was heart broken about the decision for you to dorm immediately at the college you studied so hard to get into since the entrance of dick one and dick two came into your life. Your own heart aches that you’re leaving her behind but if he makes her happy who were you to ruin that opportunity for someone you loved so dearly?

Enter four days ago when the father who never disciplined the now fourteen year old girl who had more gadgets and things stocked in her room than a Best Buy demands you bring her some weird Greek type of ice cream that’s mad expensive. You cant say no because if you do she’ll suddenly become a daddy’s girl and pout and cry until she got her way and it would just result in a terrible headache for you. You were there solely to visit your mother and had thought those two were going to be on an outing during the time it would take for you to get a good catchup in but found out they came back because one of their batteries died on the way and they forgot to bring the car charger. So you were stuck playing happy family until your stepsister cornered you when you escaped up to the bathroom and with half hooded eyes glued to her phone screen explained in a flat monotone way that if you didn’t get her ice cream then she was going to throw a fit. So you went. During this time your mother and her husband went to run to the grocery store when he decided it was going to be a good idea to have a cookout in celebration of your return. You wince as his stare lingers a little too long over you and that’s when you made a B-line to the bathroom in an attempt to right yourself.

Luckily there was a quick corner store that you went to knowing your mother and the husband would go thirty minutes out of their way just to get these quality items and maybe knowing your mom just get a few things she needed grocery-wise while they were perchance there already.

You chuck the stupid item into the dual freezer slash fridge and trudge up the steps to inform her highness that you indeed got the snack she so rudely desired when you feel an odd tingling sensation against your skin. You have an overwhelming sensation that someone else is in the house besides the brat camped out upstairs in her room. It’s eerily quiet and normally in the past you know if it was just the two of you at home she would have her music blaring. Yet the absence of it now sends warning shocks throughout your body. It isn’t like her not to have on something even if she had it on a lower setting. So you silently stalk up to her room making sure you avoid the creaking wood under the carpeted stairs. You make your footfalls invisible and the door to her room is open just a sliver. You can see the vibrant overly saturated pink of her walks and bedding glaring at you from the fairy lights strewn around the edges of her cubic squared room. You don’t realize you’re on your hands and knees inching closer rather than on your feet like a normal unafraid human being but as you get closer you notice that her room is a mess. Not the typical teenager mess either, things disheveled and knocked over. She would never allow her precious stereo to have fallen and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. This throws you to your feet and you call out her name. Frantically you shuck off the fact that there’s a potential intruder and curse the fact that you let that little girl dictate what you do. You should have been here to protect her. You should’ve stood your ground and told her no and just camp out in the living room. You were gone for five minutes. Maybe six since you literally timed yourself and that’s all it would take for someone to get in here and snatch a ninety pound girl up.

You scope the entire room for any sign she might be hiding or the intruder still being there and it’s blatantly easy to see the normally hidden spaces like the closet or under the bed have been shoved open and the covers from the bed thrown onto the ground. Then you feel it again. That same tingling sensation as before. You try to quiet your irregular panting and stay still so you can hear the sounds of creaking. But you only hear a high pitched whine of resistance of the door behind you as it closes slowly and gently. Someone is behind you. You turn your head as the back of the door reveals the figure that was hiding there. Lurking and waiting until you stupidly came in. But—-this isn’t a normal hooded figure in dark garbs or a human man. You’re confronted with a giant wolf-like creature waiting in the pit of the shadows of the room. The lights begin flickering and you can feel the air around you change. What was this? You take steps back and feel wind where this is no possible source for it to get in especially on this dry summer day. You take slow steps back and despite the utter fear seizing all your nerves causing you to shake uncontrollably you feel the instinct to protect that bratty teenager you’ve known for three years.

You confront the thing. You demand to know where she is. You take in its appearance. It has a wolfs head and yet the eyes almost seem human with the brown hue gleaming in the fizzled lights shining above casting devious shadows. You look at the plume of fur that disappears beneath a neatly pressed suit and matching black pants. The brown Oxford shoes are a blend of black and red complimenting  his tie and is the only colorful thing on this monster. How can this thing be dressed like a human and walking on two legs? You look to the hands which remind you of werewolf hands. They aren’t condensed like a regular wolfs paw and yet it too is covered in silky strands of fur but then your eyes go to the black pearled daggers upon its fingertips and you gulp as they slickly gleam like the hide of a snakeskin under the florescent lights. Even the undershirt seems to be clad black with pearl buttons carefully buttoned.

Like the scoop of a ravens wing those eerie claw-like fingers span in menacing formation outstretched ready to grab you in those terrible talons getting closer to you. Your only escape is a window that would take time to open and even then you’re looking at a three story jump which will result in broken bones, the door that the terrifying figure is occupying would surely result in your capture. But those are your two options unless you can somehow master the art of supernatural powers and phase through the figure to your freedom down the hallway. He lunges, you evade by scrambling onto the bed to create some distance in this small span of space and your eyes focus on the door. You spring from the other side but there’s a death lock on your ankle which causes you to fall short and you cushion your fall by landing face first into the toppled blankets pooled at the end of the bed. You wrench your leg trying to get away from the deep reverberating cackle of the monster knowing he’s got you.

The wind you felt earlier picks up and you fail to find the source of where its coming from. One of her headbands rolls across the floor, your eyes follow it as its sucked into the...closet? It’s definitely the source, you can feel the vacuum of what you can only rationalize is a portal? All the contents inside the closet jostle wildly as if its own personal hurricane is occurring in the walk in space. Even you can feel the pull from seven feet away. You have to get away, you’ve got to make sure the brat is safe, you have to call the police or...animal control to put this thing away far from you.

You pull away and in the same motion the being is upon you, pinning you down as his massive lanky form hovers over you pressing your chest into the carpet suffocating the air from your lungs. It seizes your wrists and the only thing you can manage to move are your legs which you flail until you stub your toe on the metal base of the bed and cry out. It’s muzzle comes in closer contact with your ear causing further discomfort when the hot breath of the predator encases the entire side of your head. You’ve never heard a deeper timbered voice as the one gruffly growling against the shell of your ear.

“Caught you little rabbit.” The monster purrs sweetly into your ear making your skin absolutely crawl. Your instincts kick in and you need to get to that door, that’s your focal point and even if you lose a limb you have to get to it. It is your means of freedom. It all comes crumbling down when the monster easily lifts you to your feet wrenching your arms behind your back in an uncomfortable twist of pain that shoots down to your fingertips. You look to the window hoping your screams can reach past the streets to the close knit neighbors that are blissfully unaware of the supernatural predicament happening across the way.

The portal like structure quivers and something in the pit hums as the wolf creature drags you over to the closet. Dread fills every fiber of your being and it is vital that these last few seconds you fight even if it costs you. You try to unknot your limbs in a natural way to regain them without the casualty of a broken arm but the being merely shifts tactics wrangling you in a different manner. A fistful of hair is all it takes for your compliance as it painfully resists being yanked out of your head.

Entering a different dimension isn’t as painful as you anticipated. The movies got it wrong. It’s like going through a simple archway and stepping through the other side. And here you thought due to the force of the windstorm you were going to expect something terrible like the very atoms of your matter coming apart and re-stitching back together. Maybe you’d lose and eye coming out the other side. But you blink and its over. The ripples in the air subside until finally it dissipates altogether.

———————————————————————————————————

And that’s how it happened. Soon after you were shut into this room and after the first day you watched as your abductor casually strolled in, perched in his favorite armchair and watched you for at least an hour before introducing himself.

There’s a famous saying here that you’ve heard more than once from both the wolf and the doctor.

“I am Lucius. I am a monster as you well know. No I am not a lycanthrope or werewolf. Yes, I can alter my appearance to look human but I cannot maintain it for more than a day. We have rules and regulations here just as your realm does. And by all means should you feel the need to escape do so at your own risk. But outside of my manor are monsters and murderers just waiting to tear that beautiful flesh apart. You are certainly safer in here then you are out there. This cage is for my aesthetic as well as your protection from the hungry things that lurk outside the garden of my estate. You are mine now and I own you. Don’t worry about your sister I delivered her safely upon the orders of a high paying buyer. Just so we’re clear if you also feel the need to rescue her, just know she’s probably already dead. So. Now that that’s cleared up I bid you a good night.” He stands and you watch through bleary eyes as his distorted wobbly figure gets to the large wooden doors but he pauses and looks back at you and grins...yes wolfishly.

“Oh, and welcome to the underground.”

[shinylitwick94]

Results of Star Wars reading month!

A while ago I mentioned that I had, first accidentally, then on purpose, turned january into a sort of “Star Wars reading month”, meaning that the only things I read this month were Star Wars books, and I read quite a few of those.

Overall it was a pretty fun experience. The quality of the writing and my enjoyment of the stories definitely varied, but most of these were very easy to read, and relatively short, which is why I managed to read so many in such a short period.

I did have some issues, of course. Sometimes the writing felt very weak, some books have very flat characters and some books suffer from problems with how closely they’re stuck following the stories of the movies.

But overall, I think I liked it and I might pick up some more of these later.

Disclaimer: Obi-Wan is my favorite SW character. So there will be a lot of Obi-Wan in this.

So, here are my thoughts on each of these, in the order that i read them in:

(under the cut because this is looong)

Revenge of the Sith (Novelization), by Matthew Woodring Stover (status:Legends)

After a bit of reflection and reading recommendations online, I decided to start with this one. I think it was a good move. RotS is one of my favorite Star Wars movies and the book does a lot to combat its worst issues. The dialogue sounds more natural, more time is spent on exploring Anakin’s messed up state of mind before he falls, and a few nice scenes are added to give extra context to the actions of certain characters. I didn’t love what it did with Dooku and some of the tools it decides to use (this is... or Anakin’s fear dragon, for instance) become repetitive pretty quickly, but all in all I enjoyed this one a lot. The opening with the republic citizens watching the Chancellor’s kidnapping on the holonet was especially nice and really makes me wish we had more of that in the movies themselves.

4.5/5

Master and Apprentice, by Claudia Gray(status: Canon)

Master and Apprentice follows Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan before the events of the saga, at a moment where their relationship as master and padawan is at a crossroads. The story itsel is fairly simple and not that engaging on its own, but what I like about this one is the time it takes to explore these two characters. It’s pretty solid and I liked it, but I wouldn’t call it a must read.

3.5/5

Lost Stars, by Claudia Gray (status: canon)

I think I enjoyed Claudia Gray’s writing much better in this one than in the previous one. Lost Stars is a bit special, in that it doesn’t follow any main characters. Instead, it follows two original characters in their journey through the galaxy at the time of the OT. It’s part love story, part “let’s see the OT through an outside perspective” and it works pretty well. I quite liked the new characters and their friends and I think they fit in pretty well with the established universe. A few of the main characters have cameos, but really, this isn’t their story. I also appreciated some moments where it calls out a few of the absuridities of the OT, such as Lando leading the attack on death star II and Vader chasing after the falcon so obsessively, both of which look extremely weird from an outside perspective. The only thing I don’t really like is that the story feels really restricted by the OT canon, so you can kind of guess where everything is going after a certain point.

4/5

Kenobi, by John Jackson Miller (status: legends)

Obi-Wan has adventures after arriving on Tattooine when he really, really would rather not get involved. I absolutely loved this one. I liked the writing, I liked Obi-Wan’s character, I liked the new characters (although I had trouble keeping track at first), and I liked the plot. It has a slower start than most of the others here, but it definitely pays off. Without going into too much detail, I particularly appreciated Obi-Wan’s issues with having to let go of the “let’s help everyone” jedi mentality, the exploration of the Tusken raiders, and the fact that it didn’t actually focus on Luke and the Lars’ at all, which I admit I had rather been dreading. 

5/5, and my favorite of the bunch

Darth Plagueis, by James Luceno (status legends)

This one started off really strong, but then fell a little flat by the end. It tells the story of Plagueis’ rise as sith lord, and later his relationship with Palpatine. I enjoyed Plagueis’ character and the writing was pretty solid throughout. all the political machinations were hard to keep track of at first, but after some time and a little help from wookiepedia my brain began to make sense of things. Its strongest moment by far is an event halfway through the book when the two sith lords are attacked by another faction that shows us both their ruthlessness and the fact that they can, in fact, be caught off guard. Plagueis is wonderfully sinister, but Palpatine comes off as even more coldhearted, which is fitting. The one thing I didn’t like, and the reason I felt the ending was a little flat, is that it tries too hard to tie into the Phantom Menace at the end. I think the story would have benefitted from letting Plagueis die earlier and not have its final events tied up in the movie’s plot.

4.5/5, and my second favorite

The Rising Force (Jedi Apprentice #1), by David Wolverton (status:legends)

This one is aimed at kids, and it shows. But because I can never get enough obi-Wan, I decided to read it anyway. It focuses on young Obi-Wan, at risk of not being able to become a jedi knight, and his difficult first meetings with Qui-Gon, and the little adventure they accidentally end up on. As a kids’ book, the writing is easy even by SW standards, and that’s saying something. Like, an 8 year old could probably read this just fine. The story is also pretty simplistic and works on building the foundations for the later development of these characters. It’s the first in a pretty long series, so it doesn’t get that far, but it was fun enough, I guess.

3/5

Heir to the Empire (#1 in Thrawn trilogy), by Timothy Zahn (status: legends)

I had high expectations going into this thing and none of them were met. I’ve read a bit on the side, and I can appreciate how it was an important story for the franchise as a whole, but it really did nothing for me. This is partly, I think, because my expectations were so high in the first place. Everyone seems to think that the Thrawn trilogy is the best thing to ever happen to Star Wars, but from my impressions of this first book it was just...meh. It takes place in the years following the fall of the empire, where the new republic faces threats from the imperial remnants, one of which is lead by Grand Admiral Thrawn. Thrawn as a character is adored by the fandom, and I really don’t get it. He’s dispassionate (pseudo)rational, supposedly very Smart and apparently can predict how people will act because he studies their country’s art (which...stinks of 19th century “scientists” measuring skulls, but whatever let’s pretend this doesn’t bother us). He doesn’t really have any particular outstanding character traits outside of this. What I’m trying to get to, is he’s a bit of a Sue and not very interesting to read about. Then there’s Mara Jade, who is also introduced in this, and who I also didn’t particularly like, but yeah. The story told in this is actually pretty short - the trio is having issues, Luke get’s captured for a while and then there’s a big battle at the end. It’s fine, there’s nothing particularly wrong with it, the writing is ok, and maybe the characters are a little flat sometimes, but overall it’s ok. I just don’t get why people adore this so much. Personally, I’ve no interest in the rest of the trilogy.

3/5

Path of Destruction (#1 in Bane trilogy), by Drew Karpyshyn (status: legends)

This one tells the story of the rise of Darth Bane, he who would establish the rule of two for the Sith. The early parts of this felt quite interesting, and I liked how Bane’s character was different from what we usually get in SW, especially in terms of background. But once the story gets to the sith academy, it just stalls. There’s a lot of back and forth between Bane, the masters and the other apprentices, a lot of musings from Bane on the nature of the dark side, and theoretically all this should work, but at some point during this part of the story I just stopped caring about any of the characters. Maybe it’s because I find the whole dark side philosophy thing quite silly, or maybe I just didn’t find the writing all that engaging, or maybe it was that I already knew what was coming so much of this felt like padding. In any case, it’s a decent enough read, but doesn’t make it past meh for me.

3/5

[aion-rsa]

How The Walking Dead: World Beyond Expands the Zombie Universe with Its Unique Teen Characters

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After its premiere was delayed by several months due to COVID-19, the two-season The Walking Dead spinoff series The Walking Dead: World Beyond finally makes its debut this week. The story expands the TWD universe in a unique way, taking place 10 years after the zombie outbreak and focusing on a predominantly teenage cast of characters. Unlike the battered groups of survivors from The Walking Dead and Fear the Walking Dead, these teens have been sheltered from walkers (or “empties,” as they’re called on this show) within the walls of a university in Omaha, Nebraska, a thriving colony that has afforded them a relatively normal, safe life post-outbreak.

But, as fans will learn from the very first episode, the Campus Colony (as it’s referred to) does have a seemingly precarious arrangement with the Civic Republic Military (CRM), whose ominous helicopters act as a narrative thread that ties the three shows together. It’s safe to say you’ll learn way more about this mysterious faction in World Beyond than ever before.

The show primarily centers on sisters Iris (Aliyah Royale) and Hope (Alexa Mansour), who leave the safety of the University in search of their father, brilliant scientist Dr. Leo Bennett (Joe Holt), who they’ve learned is somewhere in New York. Joining them on their mission are fellow student Elton (Nicolas Cantu), a resourceful scientist and historian (who also happens to know karate), and school janitor Silas (Hal Cumpston), a soft-spoken social outcast whose murky past has earned him a questionable reputation on campus. The teens are tailed by battle-tested adult guardians Felix (Nico Tortorella) and Huck (Annet Mahendru).

Last fall, I visited the show’s set in Richmond, Virginia, where filming was underway for episode 7 of the show (alas, there were no CRM helicopters in sight). The location was an old waterpark called Hadad’s Lake, which was appropriately creepy-looking. The abandoned facilities looked dreary and greyed-out under the looming rainclouds — the juxtaposition of a children’s park rotting in a post-apocalypse seemed to fit the show thematically as well.

Huddled around a table with other members of the press under a tent that sheltered our equipment from the occasional drizzle, we were joined by the cast members one by one to talk about their respective characters and what fans can expect from the show. Here’s what we learned:

Iris

“Iris is smart and caring and loving and doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body,” Royale says of her character. “She really wants to make sure that every single person that she encounters is taken care of and has what they need. At some point she realizes maybe it’s time to start doing things for herself and when she makes that switch, it is a roller coaster of events.”

Serving as the beating heart of the show, Iris is an overachiever on campus and a compassionate leader amongst her peers. She’s got a tight bond with Hope, and while Iris is generally viewed as the more straight-laced, level-headed of the two, the absence of her father compels her to make the drastic decision to venture out beyond the University walls for the first time.

“The mission for Iris is: where’s my dad at?” Royale explains. “I want my dad back. The other side of that is, Iris is following in his footsteps. She’s super involved in science, biomedical engineering, all of those things that her father’s brain is being used for…that’s exactly the path that she’s going towards. Saving the world.”

At the University, though the majority of students haven’t encountered empties, they’re trained by instructors like Felix to defend themselves against the dead, including with a weapon called an S-pole, a staff with a retractable blade at one end. Iris is a fast learner, although she quickly discovers that no amount of training can actually prepare her for the horrors that await in the real world.

“She’s got a lot of information stored up here,” Royale says as she points at her head. “But the minute that she encounters the first walker, it’s this just absolute fear. As much as you learn, as many books as you read, you could never feel [that fear] until you’re in that moment. You’ve got your four best friends next to you, and it’s you or the empty.”

Hope

“She doesn’t give a shit about anything,” Mansour says of the rebellious Hope. “She lives for today and I mean, realistically, she doesn’t think she’s going to live tomorrow. She’s pretty sure she could die at any moment and I don’t think she really cares. So she gets herself in trouble, doesn’t care what people say, and is always doing the opposite of what Felix tells her to do. It’s kind of ironic that her name is Hope because she really doesn’t have any of it.”

Hope and Iris have a tight bond despite their polar opposite temperaments and outlooks on life. “They’re complete opposites,” says Mansour. “Iris is the one that will be off studying until four in the morning while Hope would probably be partying until four in the morning. But they love each other. I think they really do balance each other out. Iris will bail Hope out whenever she is sneaking out and doing stuff that she should not be doing, and Hope would take a bullet for her sister.”

As for Hope’s lack of, well, hope, in human beings and their future prospects on the planet, Mansour made it clear that this speaks to a pressing real-world issue of mental health that affects teens everywhere. As someone who was bullied for her ethnicity (she’s half Hispanic, half Egyptian), she feels World Beyond and the platform it’s given her will allow her to help teenagers who are struggling like she has.

“I really hope they realize that they’re not alone,” Mansour says. “I think it’s important for kids who are watching this to take away that it’s okay to be open about what you’re feeling and it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling and it’s not the end of the world, it is going to get better.”

Felix

“Felix is the head of security detail at the university,” says Tortorella, who also reveals that his character identifies as queer. “He is kind of an adopted son to the girls’ dad. He had a troubled childhood dealing with his family coming to terms or not coming to terms with him being gay. He’s very much a hero. He protects the people around him in a way that’s contradictory to the stereotype of like what a gay character usually is on television. And that’s why I was really excited to play this role.”

Tortorella, who identifies as genderfluid, felt drawn to the show and the The Walking Dead franchise for its strong representation of marginalized communities. “The diversity was a huge thing coming into it, you know? We have people from all walks of life on this show. Genders, sexualities, race, religions. It was a no brainer for me.”

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Hope and Iris’s father took Felix in as family after the outbreak, and Felix’s made a promise to take care of the girls at all costs. Unlike the sisters, he and his partner Huck have seen action outside the Campus’ walls, which makes him a formidable fighter. When Iris and Hope escape the walls of the colony, Felix and Huck quickly give chase.

“Yeah, he’s in full dad mode all the time with these kids,” Tortorella explains. “I think that like after the first episode, the stakes are at maximum levels in terms of our safety and our fight for survival. And Felix is the one that has the most training in terms of any sort of military background that we know of.”

Huck

Huck is Felix’s right hand, dear friend, and confidant. She sports a sizable scar across her cheek, which all but confirms she’s been through some tough shit.

“Huck comes from a Marines background,” Mahendru says. “When you first meet Huck, you just know the scar. There’s a story [behind it]. She is an independent thinker. She’s really tough, but she’s really hopeful and really positive and warm and is adamant about bringing the world back to what it was. She wants as many people to live as possible.”

As for Huck’s relationship to the sisters, Mahendru says that she has a deep connection with Hope, who she sees herself in. “She was a bit of a rebel when she was young, [too]. They have a big/little sister relationship, and I train her how to fight. I want her to survive out there. I mean I’m going to send her out there and so I’m responsible for her. I really believe in her potential and I feel her pain. I’ve gone through the same similar things.”

Elton

“Elton is a very intellectually curious child,” Cantu says. “He has been sheltered from the world outside with a bunch of horrible, horrible things happening out there. So he’s kind of trying to understand the world for what it is and how nature is changing along with most of humanity. He’s on a journey to analyze and document and just see what this new world is about.”

A classmate of Iris and Hope’s who offers to join them on their quest to find their father, Elton admits that the outside world isn’t exactly foreign to him.

“Elton has been outside of the walls before because he does a lot of experiments outside,” Cantu explains as he motions to the mustard-colored, corduroy suit he’s wearing. “It’s bite proof, which Elton learned through controlled experiments. So he kind of has a little bit of a glimpse as to what the outside world is. But once he steps out there, it’s intense.”

Cantu says he sees a lot of himself in Elton. “I really do relate to Elton. I mean, he’s kind of got this view of the world where he’s very blunt with it. He knows a bunch of the threats out there. He realizes stepping outside of those walls is going to be a life changing thing. The world is brutal and he has just come to accept that. So if it’s coming down to survival, he’s ready, he’s prepared, he’s got everything on lock. And I feel like if I was in an apocalypse, I would prepare similarly to Elton.”

Silas

“He’s been shunned by the particular community they’re in. People refer to him as a monster or just completely shun him. It’s like a Boo Radley type of character,” Cumpston reveals about the quiet Silas. “No one knows his exact story, you know what I mean? When kids hear something then they exaggerate and that type of thing.”

Cumpston, a young Australian actor and filmmaker also feels he relates to Silas. “Yeah, everyone’s felt like an outcast. There’s definitely been situations where I’ve felt like an outcast. I’d be a funny kid at school. I joined a soccer team and there’s already these different funny personalities [on the team] and I’m just sort of like the quiet kid who’s also not good [at soccer]. I’m like, ‘Oh, fuck. I need to make up for it by being funny but there are no opportunities.’” 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Unlike his three teenage counterparts, Silas isn’t a student at the school, and he’s got little excuse not to join the others on their quest, seeing as he hasn’t got much going for him at the Campus.

“He’s just a janitor who no one speaks to and everyone refers to as a monster,” Cumpston says. “When he walks past people on campus, you can hear that people don’t have very nice things to say about him. He catches wind that there’s an [opportunity] to prove to himself and these other people that he’s not a monster.”

The Walking Dead: World Beyond premieres on Oct. 4 at 10 pm ET on AMC.

The post How The Walking Dead: World Beyond Expands the Zombie Universe with Its Unique Teen Characters appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[angiogenic]

dude props to u for doing exams,, could not be me 😳😳 we dont function in home enviroments we drop out !! but fr real tho hope the quarantine is aight for u. So enlighten me my fellow kny addict, what are kny characters u would lov to write for in the future ? u said u love tamayo and i stand with u,, demon scientist queen who gets shit done and exacted her revenge ? 💍

LISTEN. listen. i fuckin respect that if i was smart i would have deferred the rest of the semester but its my last one so i figured id [grits my teeth] fuckin graduate already 

screams…. screams…….. this fucking series has given me brain rot and i wanna write SO MUCH for it !!!!!!!! i love the characters so much !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

tamayo is probably top of my list cuz like i mentioned i ADORE her. i love unhinged women and i ESPECIALLY love unhinged women that hide the fact that they’re about to burst at the seams… i was workin on a modern au w her n shinobu so heres a lil snippet

Tamayo stands across the platform and smooths the fabric of her skirt. She adjusts her satchel and tucks an errant piece of hair behind her ear. Shinobu watches her. The way her spine is as straight as the strap of her bag, her brow as straight as the edge of her spine. It’s as if her whole body wishes to become linear: a seamless pane of glass with no fissures or cracks. At best, a blank surface. At worst, a means of separation or distance. The creation of solitude.

SHINOBU…. shinobu………. shinobu shinobu shinobu……… actually the butterfly sisters in general….. i was playing w the idea of another shinobu character study but from kanao’s perspective after shinobu [REDACTED]

also a mui character study CUZ HE’S…. JUST A LITTLE BOY !!!!!!!!!!! when i first read his backstory i was fucking DEVASTATED & i found his character 2 be one of the most interesting of the pillars…. like i really really love him and there’s a lot of aspects of his character n backstory i wanted to explore… like his memory loss from trauma (both emotional & physical), his relationship w his brother & taking on parts of his personality after losing his own identity… that fucking scene where he was lying next to his dead brother for days(?) after the demon attacked n his wounds started festering before amane n oyakata found him n raised him back to health… the fact that he’s a child prodigy ? fuck dude idk there’s so many parts of mui’s character that i am simultaneously fascinated w and heartbroken by…. im getting emotional just thinking abt him

recently been interested in obanai… mostly because of this fic so i wouldn’t mind doing something quick abt him (but usually when i say that it turns from 500 words to 3k so??????)…. also saw someone on twitter saying “he/him lesbian obanai” & it was like a galaxy brain moment so.. u know… obamitsu rights…..

rengoku probably… never thought abt him too much but 1. train movie hype 2. drew him recently and it turned out pretty good so now he’s on my mind… maybe a modern au sanren ??? or renkaza…. akaza is so good go @ the kny movie please hurry up i need it…….. anyways uh rengoku’s got low self esteem & a big personality to hide it & i would love 2 dig around n explore that

my favourite awful man sanemi shinazugawa….. actually both shinazugawa brothers but mostly sanemi…….. like sir…. that’s my fucking son……….. i already have a shit ton of sanegiyuu fics in my wip folder but i would love to write some more sanemi-centric stuff.. again, maybe a character study like wasp’s nest ? i like writing in that disjointed angry style & i think it would suit sanemi lol…. n e ways here’s a lil silly sanegiyuu snippet just cuz… i can lol

Sanemi moves to stand, a little wobbly. Giyuu remembers he should offer a hand instead of just watching Sanemi struggle but as soon as he does, Sanemi swats him away. Uses the hilt of his sword as support, knees popping as he pulls himself up. 

“Old man.” Giyuu says. 

“Eat shit.” 

hm ok this is embarrassingly long thank u for asking im so chatty !!! its me procrastinating on studying !!!!!!!!! would love 2 hear more abt ur opinions on kny characters n who ur favs r… feel free 2 dm if you’d rather chat over discord but im groovin either way…… & as per usual, love u angel n be good !!!!!!!

[howtohero]

List of Handy Excuses (E)

It’s time for another installment of our highly popular list of handy excuses to use when you want to get out of doing something so you can go be a superhero (or to get five seconds of peace and quiet when your cousin Bethany comes over to visit. We get it Bethany, we know that it’s really rough out there for moon painters. People just don’t want their moons painted as often as they used to. But please, please shut up about it oh my gosh) sorted in alphabetical order by job. So, after a brief 70 or so post interlude, here’s the letter E!

A B C D

E-Tutor

I know that you’re online so that I can tutor you so let me give you some good A-grade knowledge. Being online rots your brain, you’re destroying your precious mind every second you stare at that screen. Logoff immediately. 

Eagle Scout:

If I don’t climb to the top of the nearest mountain every seventeen days they’re going to revoke my eagle scout status, I must be going now. 

Early Childhood Educator

I’m starting a new thing where I just declare nap time at random times and all the kids have to go lay down on their mats and I want to practice a bit so for the foreseeable future whenever we’re in a room together and I shout nap time I need you to immediately go to bed.

Nap time!

Economist

If my calculations are correct everyone in this room stands to make the most possible amount of money if they leave me alone for a few hours or until the spinach monster attack downtown is resolved.

Ectoplasm Harvester

(Anytime you need to head out just knock over a lamp when no one’s looking, blame it on a ghost, and then clear the room so that you can set up your equipment. Then just sneak out and fight that gang of Egyptian-deity themed bikers!)

Editor

Ha, get a look of this fool. They’ve used a subordinate clause when, according to APA guidelines, they should really be speaking in the active voice. If you ask me they should be drawn and quartered for insubordination. Hahaha, oh you people just wouldn’t understand. I must go to my offices immediately. A kick out this will surely be gotten there. Hahaha I slay myself. 

Elder

If I’m not mistaken I believe there are some young whippersnappers out there who could use a good cane wagging and cryptic advice.

(Kudos to you for being a mysterious village elder and a secret superhero by the way.)

Election Clerk

Oh! The numbers from Florida just came in, I better go count them now. 

Electrical Engineer

I have to go figure out why all of the electrical fixtures I’m designing keep failing. 

Electrician

Just cause a blackout wherever you are. Take a wrench to all of your electrical engineer’s meticulously designed electrical fixtures. Just absolutely destroy it. Then you can sneak out unnoticed to go fight the criminals who have been causing intermittent blackouts all over the city. (Spoilers: It’s going to be other electrician superheroes.) 

Elementary School Teacher: 

I have to go grade these spelling tests. It’s going to take me a long time. Some of them wrote in crayon, some of them just glued pasta to the paper to form the words. It’s gonna be a wild night. Don’t wait up.

Elevator Operator

My temperature is really going up. I better go lie down.

Oh that supervillain is definitely going down. (Remember, you can always give up your secret identity if you can make a sick pun while doing it.) 

Embalmer

(As an embalmer, most of the crimes you’re going to fight are going to occur in the workplace, reanimated mummies, people trying to steal the corpses of superhumans, embalming fluid addicts. So you can just tell people that you’re going to work.)

Emergency Services Coordinator

These fools can’t find an emergency unless I literally hold their hands and guide them to it. So if you need me I’ll probably be at a super-crime scene or something.

Emperor/Empress

I’m pretty sure the sovereign ruler of an empire can do whatever they want whenever they want. But if I’m wrong you can say something like “I’m going to conquer a land” or “there is trouble in the outermost territories, I must go see to it.” 

English Male Judge of a Competition Show

I have to go use a loud voice and mean words to make a supervillain regret every decision they ever made which led to them crossing my scornful path.

Engraver

I’ve started doing some freelance work carving names and hearts into random trees across the country. If you need be I’ll be in the woods.

Entomologist

Yet another one of my interns became a bug-themed supervillain so I have to go cooperate with another FBI investigation. Those guys just won’t stop bugging me! (And then actually go fight your ex-intern. And stop hiring interns who express an interest in covering their own body with bugs. Those guys are clearly going to become supervillains.)

Environmental Engineer

I’m gonna go harness the powers of fish to singlehandedly close the hole in the ozone. They said it couldn’t be done. But I’ll show them it cod. 

Environmental Scientist

I’ve got to go deliver a very morose report to the public about the likelihood of our planet surviving into the next century. (As a superhero and an environmental scientist I guess you’ve for some reason decided that the best way to help save the world is to punch crab-wielding bank robbers and monster-truckers instead of developing solution to the problems you’re studying. Neat.)

Equestrian

(Anybody who can do stunts on a horse should be fighting crime anyway so I’m sure everybody will understand when you need to scurry off when a supercrime is committed.)

Excavator

My dog ran off with one of the bones I dug up at work and buried it somewhere. So I’m going to have to go dig up my backyard now so I can find it... again. 

Executioner

Odds are good that the vial I’m using doesn’t have the real poison anyway so I’m just gonna duck out if that’s cool with you guys. 

Explosive Operator

(Just cause an explosion somewhere and run off during the ensuing chaos.)

(No wait that’s probably a crime isn’t it.) [Of course that’s a crime!]

Time to blow this popsicle stand. (And then actually blow up a popsicle stand.) [Again, no, that’s a crime.]

Exterminator

Another bug themed supervillain? That’s it, I got this one.

Oh I just got a call from someone asking me if I could terminate someone for them. I need to go tell them that I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.

Extra

(Just leave without saying anything. People will think you’re honing your craft.)

With these excuses you’re sure to be able to make a quick exit so you can fight crime or skip stones or invent a new sport called “fire sledding” where you set a sled on fire and then go down a snowy hill and see whether or not the snow puts the fire out or the fire melts the snow. Please let us know if we missed any E jobs. (If you’re an esquire you’ll have to wait until we do lawyers in “L”.) If you’ve got a job that starts with another letter feel free to tinker with these excuses to make them fit or use a boring generic excuse like “I need some fresh air” or “my refrigerator is running and I need to go catch it.”

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 36

The scientists needed some supplies, so I went on a scavenger hunt. Danse came with me without being asked, and without asking. I was glad for the company.

It took most of the day. A nearby toy factory overrun by super mutants proved fruitless, so we tried going east past the southern edge of a ruined town.

“Those ruins seem worth investigating,” Danse said.

“If you don't mind fighting Gunners,” I said. “That's what remains of Quincy.”

Danse paused, and studied the town anew. His helmet hid any expression, and I wonder what sort of affect seeing the place Preston nearly lost everything had on him. “Have you been inside?”

“Briefly. Valentine and I needed access to the police station for a case. The Gunners occupying the town are led by a Lieutenant called Clint. I only saw him from a distance. His hat stands out amid the Gunners.”

“The Minutemen traitor leads them?” The trace of anger in his own voice as I led us south seemed to surprise him. “... Does Garvey know about this?”

“Yes. His response was to ‘let Clint rot there,’ or something along those lines. We didn't have the firepower or training to stage a full scale assault on Quincy.”

“We still don't, but…” the sight of a small house amid a swampy area distracted him, “may I ask where we're going?”

“Since we're here, there's a young acquaintance I want to check on. Though I suppose he isn't all that young. He's older than you.”

“Considering I'm no longer certain when I was… made, there's no way to verify that claim.”

“My apologies, Danse, I didn't think of that. Trust me, when you meet him, you'll understand why I know for a fact that he is older than you, no matter how old you may be.”

“A pre-War ghoul.”

“Yes.”

“Then why the joke about this person being a 'young acquaintance?’”

“Ah, Mr. Peabody!” I called across the yard as he opened the front door, “Good afternoon!”

“Mr. Holmes! Nice to see you.”

The excited shout of a young boy echoed from inside, and Billy Peabody came barreling out the door. “Mr. Holmes!” The boy slid to a sudden halt when he spotted Danse. “Wow!”

I caught a muttered "What the -?" from Danse as he stared at the ghoul child, but he recovered admirably. "Hello."

“Billy!” his mother scolded from the doorway beside her husband, “don't just run out like that!”

“It's alright, Carol,” Mr. Peabody said, “he's safe with Mr. Holmes. Who's your friend?” he asked as we reached the porch.

“This is the Lt. Colonel of the Minutemen. Lt. Col. Danse, meet the Peabodys. Oh, and don't mention his name within earshot of the Brotherhood.”

Mr. Peabody scoffed, “Not likely for that to happen. Those tin cans would sooner shoot us than give us the time of day.” He shook Danse's hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Danse said.

“Can you stay a while?” Billy asked.

“Unfortunately, we're on a bit of a scavenger hunt. We have to find some supplies, and have no time to lose.”

Billy was clearly disappointed. “It's been hard on Billy having no one else around,” his mother said. “We keep thinking we should move, but this has been our home for 230 years.”

“Besides,” her husband said, “where would we go with kids willing to play with a ghoul? And anywhere we go would be a dangerous trip.”

“I'll arrange something,” I promised. “My son would love to meet Billy, as would his friend Nat.”

“Really!?!” Billy was ecstatic.

“That's wonderful!” Carol said.

“I'll assign a few Minutemen as escorts when a date has been set,” Danse said.

I smiled, “Outstanding.”

“Say, what are you looking for Mr. Holmes?" Peabody asked, "I just did a little business with the Atom Cats north of here, maybe I can help?”

Fortune smiled on us. The Atom Cats are apparently a group (I hesitate to use the word gang) of power armor enthusiasts. Danse was confident the components in the equipment and scrap they'd traded would suffice for the scientists’ purposes, though perhaps not the quality they'd hoped for.

It would have to be enough. We bid the Peabodys goodbye, with a solemn promise to Billy that he would meet some other children soon.

“A ghoul child,” Danse muttered as we left. “How is that possible?”

“He hid in a refrigerator when the bombs fell, and couldn't get out again. I heard him calling one day, let him out, and brought him home. Fortunately, his parents had become ghouls as well.”

“But how did he survive?”

“I don't know. The only theory I have is some sort of stasis or hibernation, but no one seems to know much about ghoulish biology, not even ghouls.”

It was midnight by the time we returned to Murkwater. Peter's response was a less than encouraging “it'll have to do,” but Paul was reassuring. “Pay him no mind, Robotics division were always perfectionists.”

“Then you are making some progress?”

“Some,” Paul nodded, then warned, “but the news may not be what you want to hear.”

“Anything is better than the alternative at this point,” I said with all the confidence I didn't feel.

The settlement woke at dawn to the sounds of laser muskets and automatic weapons in the distance. Danse took off running immediately - the Minutemen checkpoint was under attack. I rushed after him, and we came upon an albino deathclaw trying to make a meal out of my Minutemen. The soldiers held their ground, and after the beast fell they were grateful for our added firepower. It was clear Danse had already established a rapport with them, and had apparently spoken well of me. I'm not sure what strategic value this old crash site in a swamp holds, but it was a checkpoint when the Minutemen were in their prime and they were confident they would hold it again now.

We divided the spoils, as it were, and Danse hauled the bottom half of the titanic lizard back to the settlement for further preparation. One of the Minutemen wanted to keep the head and hands as trophies. We didn't object.

The settlers were very impressed to see the prize, and two scavengers-turned-settlers set to cleaning and preserving what they could. Danse got out of his armor to assist, and I decided learning how to properly butcher a deathclaw was preferable to sitting by the operating room, waiting.

The settlers asked questions as we worked, wondering about the Minutemen and the rumors of the General that destroyed the Institute, adding that the scientists described the place as a paradise. I explained it was a paradise with a price. This did not surprise them. They held no ill-will against the three scientists they now lived with, saying they'd welcomed them with caution but treated them fairly. Any fear they might have had for the Institute had faded, though they confessed it had been easier once the scientists gave up their Institute clothes.

It was later in the afternoon when Peter approached me. He was more energized than I'd ever seen him. I sympathized; a chance to use one's knowledge and experience is a relief to the mind and a balm to the spirit. I might have been glad for him were my own mind not focused on all the possible ways his news might crush me.

“Mr. Holmes? We've discovered what the problem is. May I speak with you in private?” We made our way to the edge of the settlement, away from everyone else. “A portion of the mechanism that functions as a spinal cord is severely corroded, as well as various degrees of damage to a number of regulatory systems. After over a hundred years without proper maintenance and repairs, it was bound to happen. He's a prototype, so some of his parts are unique. It's fascinating, really, you can see the very beginnings of organic reconstruction experimentation…” my expression must not have encouraged his enthusiasm. “Ahem. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I'm sure. Can you fix him?”

He tentatively shook his head, “Not with the resources available.”

“What do you need?”

He sighed, “It isn't simply a matter of a shopping list. We can patch him up, but it's a temporary fix at best. He said he's been living in Diamond City? We can get him walking, he can make the trip back, but I wouldn't count on him making many more long distance trips after that.”

My mind scrambled for any source of light in all this. “It’s only his body?”

“Only-?” Peter was momentarily confused, but realized what I was trying to ask, “Oh! Yes. A remarkable amount of care went into the creation and protection of the 'brain’, or what functions as it. As long as Mr. Valentine's primary power core remains functional - his ‘heart,’ if you will - there's little chance of his mind ever becoming damaged, short of extreme blunt force trauma.”

“And the chances of his heart remaining in good condition?”

“It's in good shape, especially considering how old it is. With regular tune-ups, perhaps it will last another hundred years. Understand, life expectancy estimates regarding Mr. Valentine are primarily speculation. We don't even know what material some of his systems were constructed out of.”

I took a breath, quelling the internal maelstrom of emotion. “Speculations aside then, the immediate problem is that even should he live another hundred years, he would be unable to move.”

“I'm afraid so. We simply don't have any familiarity with his prototype model. We're learning as we go, trial and error, and it would take years to gain the expertise necessary to fully repair the damage. Either he stays here for us to study and continue working on him, or we patch what we can, enough to get him home, and one day he stops moving.”

Unknown years of separation - no, that was never an option. Either we move the family to Murkwater, or we return to Diamond City with the knowledge that someday he would never leave again. “May I speak with him?”

“He's in a sort of stand-by mode right now. I can wake him up if you want.”

“Will he be in pain of you do?”

“I can disconnect the receptors. He won't feel much of anything at all, but he won't be in pain.”

“Please.”

Seeing him in 'stand-by’ was unnerving. His self-diagnostics might be compared to a meditative trance, but seeing him lying there unconscious… it was different than seeing someone asleep. Perhaps it was because I'd never seen it before, but it seemed unnatural. The scientists left the room as Valentine's gears hummed, his yellow eyes glowing with life. He was disoriented a moment, blinking in confusion.

“Hello, Valentine,” I smiled.

He slowly focused on me, “... hey.”

“How do you feel?”

“Can't feel much of anything. Sort of... numb?”

“They disconnected the receptors that allow you to feel sensations.”

“Why?”

“I didn't want you to be in pain.”

His confusion cleared with a soft smile, “I'm alright, partner.”

I flinched. “You aren't yet. The scientists can't fix you, not completely. They can get you on your feet again, but it's a temporary fix at best. Or you can remain here for them to study and work on for a few years and they might be able to make you good as new.”

He frowned, “Exactly what do they call a temporary fix?”

“Travel outside Diamond City would not be recommended.”

He was skeptical, “If I ignore that?”

“You run the risk of never walking again.”

He blinked, “... oh. Well. Guess I'm... I'm stuck here for a while, then.”

I held his hand, though I knew he wouldn't be able to feel it, “I'll send word to Diamond City, have the Minutemen escort Shaun -”

“Like hell you will.”

My throat was tight, “Our son -”

He was firm, “Is staying in Diamond City where it's safe and he can go to school and play with his friends. I'm not risking his life to bring him down here just because I'm stuck.”

He was right. I knew he was right, and I was ashamed to have put my own want before considering my son's safety, but...

My hand tightened around his, “I don't want to leave you.”

The tenuous control I'd manage to hold my emotions under nearly unravelled at the look of sheer, aching love on his face. “I know, Sherlock. But if I'm gonna get back on my feet, you're gonna have to.”

It was unacceptable. I was... frightened, that I might never see him again. It was an irrational fear, but it remained nonetheless. I didn't want to wait for the Institute to relearn what it had discarded a century ago. If only there was someone familiar with... ... “There is a third option.”

He was wary, “Why don't I like the way you said that?”

“There is an expert in prototype synth mechanics we could ask for help - as close to an expert as exists, at least.”

“Who are you...” he paused, the pieces falling together. “Oh.”

“You won't be able to make the trip yourself, I'll have to ask him to come here.”

“Think he will?”

I shrugged, “I haven't the slightest idea, but we have to try to convince him.”

He nodded once, “Alright.”

I kissed him, even knowing he couldn't feel it with the sensors deactivated. “I'll inform Danse. Do you want to go back into stand-by, or remain like this?”

“Rather have the feeling back, honestly.”

“But the pain -”

He chuckled, “You're sweet, partner, but I've felt all manner of horrible things in my life and I can say for a fact not one of them was as bad as this feeling nothing business. Weird sort of disconnect. Not to my liking at all.”

I couldn't help but smile. “Very well. I'll tell them.”

I asked Peter to restore feeling to my partner and went in search of Danse. I found him attempting to clean a stubborn piece of vegetation from his power armor's ankle joint. He stood up as soon as he saw me coming, “Any progress, Holmes?”

I sighed, “The scientists can repair him enough to get back to Diamond City, but need more time to do any meaningful repair. On the other hand, there's a man in a settlement on an island to the north who may be able to help, if I can convince him to come to the Commonwealth. I'll have to leave immediately.”

Danse's brow furrowed. “You should remain with your family. If you can provide detailed directions, I'll go.”

I was shocked. “You don't have to-”

“I am volunteering.”

“Thank you.” It wasn't remotely adequate a response. “As grateful as I am for your offer, I cannot in good conscience send you all that way on your own.”

“I'll contact Sanctuary and have Garvey send a recruit or two to meet us in Diamond City.”

“It's an island, you'll have to travel by boat, and you hate water.”

“I'll survive,” he smirked.

“Even so, dealing with the people of the island will require some finesse. They don't care for outsiders.”

Danse was offended. “It won't be the first time I've interacted with civilians unfamiliar with my organization.”

“That wasn't a comment on your social skills,” I smiled a little. “The island is different from the Commonwealth in a multitude of ways. It isn't a place I would willingly send a friend in general, let alone my third in command...” I trailed off, an idea coming to me. “Danse, come with me a moment, I need to ask Valentine's opinion.”

Danse was puzzled, but followed. Valentine was leaning up on one arm as he smoked a cigarette. “You look like you've got a plan,” he said. “Only question is if I'm gonna like it?”

“Would you object to moving your convalescence to Sanctuary?” I asked. “We can stop by Diamond City to pick up Shaun first and bring him with us.”

He blinked in surprise, “Can't say I mind terribly, but why?”

“Sturges and Curie will be on hand in case of an emergency, and at least one of the three men in charge of the Minutemen should be in residence.”

Both men looked at me with confusion. Danse asked, “You're sending Garvey with me?”

“Sending them where?” asked Valentine.

“To collect Faraday,” I said to Valentine, then turned to Danse, “There are no two other people I trust more to see this done. Not only do I have confidence in your abilities to bring Faraday to Sanctuary safely, but you'll also be acting as ambassadors of a sort. I've been wanting to set up some Minutemen trade routes there.”

“You want to show off the best the Minutemen have to offer,” drawled Valentine with a grin.

“It was originally your suggestion that the Minutemen offer a hand to Acadia,” I replied, “as well as Far Harbor and the rest of the island.”

“I mentioned they could do some good. You're the one who ran with it, despite it being 'out of your jurisdiction.’”

With a slight smile, I said, “It’s settled, then. I'll have the scientists patch you up to the best of their abilities.”

We leave for Diamond City tomorrow.

[onlymorelove]

fic: We are made to bleed (and scab and heal and bleed again)(3/4)

Title: We are made to bleed (and scab and heal and bleed again)(¾) Fandom: Teen Wolf Relationship: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken Characters: Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar Summary:  What doesn’t bend, breaks. (Liam and Theo both have questions.) Rating: T Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms,  Liam Dunbar needs a hug, gratuitous Florence + The Machine references Chapter Title: “The laws of physics bend, when you touch my hand.” A/N:  Thank you, @tabbytabbytabby & @eclecticklutz , for giving me song suggestions when I was looking for additional angsty tunes. :)

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within But then he rose, brilliant as the moon in full And sank in the burrows of my keep And all my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet And my winter giving way to warm, as I’m singing him to sleep

— Fiona Apple, “Pale September”

Early September, and the summer heat that had girls and guys alike turning bare shoulders and legs toward the sun eases into crisp hints of the fall chill still to come. If Liam closes his eyes, it bites at his nose, the faint, bitter scent of rot and decay wrought by dry, crumbling leaves and broad swaths of grass that have gradually shifted from the brilliant green of a lacrosse field to dull brown.

Green. Brown. The mix of which Liam finds in the quicksilver flash of Theo’s eyes.

Seasons turn; civilizations die. If there’s anything history has taught Liam it’s this: change and death are the only constants in an inconstant world. And yet— 

Without the sun’s rays to warm him, goosebumps rise on Liam’s bare forearms. When his bedroom started to feel too small, shoving against each one of his boundaries; when all the oxygen in the atmosphere seemed to have fled, and his lungs struggled to pull in the air his brain said his body needed; when that scalding ball of rage started simmering in his stomach, he’d opened his window, jumped out, and run.

He’d only been wearing a loose pair of sleep pants. The fact that he was shirtless hadn’t mattered at the time. But slowing down enough to think instead of just acting on impulse when he’s angry hasn’t been one of his strengths for a long, long time, if ever. Now he’s cold, even wearing the t-shirt Theo had forced on him. He’s grateful to the other boy for loaning him a shirt. For saving his ass, yet again.

Why does Theo even bother? What anchors him to Beacon Hills? He could go almost anywhere, and the thought of having that kind of freedom—the freedom to choose—fills Liam with sour jealousy.

Scott never asked him if he wanted to be a werewolf, something to be feared, hated, and threatened by a slavering mob; he bit him when they were still strangers and then offered hollow platitudes like “The bite is a gift!” after the fact.

(Nor did anyone ever ask Liam if he wanted an asshole for a fa— He’s not thinking about that. Nope, not going there.)

The shirt Theo tossed him to wear smells like cheap laundry detergent and Theo’s truck, and Liam really, really doesn’t want to think about what it might mean that as he stands in the darkness and drinks in the combined scents like a man who’s been wandering in the desert for a hundred years, throat parched, skin blistering, his wolf whines piteously and throws itself against the bars of its cage in an effort to get closer to Theo.

Theo, for his part, watches him, hands in his pockets and head angled down the slightest bit because of the few extra inches of height he has on Liam. He holds his body perfectly still except for the slight furrow between his eyebrows.

Questions curl in the night air around them, in the space between one breath and the next. But Theo doesn’t voice them. His gaze glides skyward for a moment, luring Liam’s attention to the sleek line of his throat. Then he looks to Liam again, endlessly patient in a way most people stopped being ages ago, if they ever bothered in the first place. That patience is a dangerous thing because it catches in Liam’s throat and his hands; makes him yearn to forget caution and tell Theo things—important things.

Theo had called himself a murderer and a liar. Liam saw no use in arguing against that. But since Liam had released Theo from his underground prison, he’d risked himself to help. When he rinsed the blood from Liam’s battered hands, his touch was gentle, even careful. Is a person merely the sum of his sins, or is there room for a more complicated calculus of morality in their supernatural world? Just thinking about it makes Liam (more) tired.

Moonlight carves harsh lines and casts strange shadows onto the unreadable mask of Theo’s face. All the color has leached from his skin, leaving him pale as a marble statue. As untouchable, too.

Liam shivers. Not from the cold that’s seeped into his bones, though. From holding back.

He wants to touch.

Theo’s pulse thuds even and regular, giving away nothing. Not panic. Not fear. Not awareness of the war raging within Liam.

Must be fucking nice, Liam thinks with no small amount of resentment rising inside him in a bitter, towering wave, to be able to hide what you’re thinking so completely. His hands curl into fists at his sides. The movement sends small glimmers of pain jolting through Liam’s almost-healed skin and bones. A confusing tumult of feelings Liam doesn’t want to name riots inside his chest, making his breath sough a touch faster. To name something is to give it meaning and power; Liam is tired of things having power over him. His IED. The moon. His alpha. Hunters. The Anuk-Ite.  

Nevertheless, he wants— He wants to draw closer to Theo. He wants to plant his hands against Theo’s chest just long enough to feel the throb of his heart and the hot tide of blood rushing through his veins under his palms, and then shove him back until he stumbles. He wants to set his hands to the hard planes of Theo’s cheek and jaw; wants to slide his fingertips over that skin like he’s reading braille and check for the rasp of overnight stubble. He wants to hear Theo’s heartbeat stutter. He wants to make it stutter—in shock; in arousal; in something.

In his chest …  In the whorls of his fingertips … In the storm-heavy electric pressure behind his eyes, Liam wants.

Above all, Liam wants to claw through Theo’s composure and leave him as wrecked and bloody and off-balance as he feels. Why should he get to stand there and look like nothing and no one can touch him or hurt him or make him feel, when Liam is an open wound spilling blood and guts out on the uncaring ground at his feet?

Liam’s body doesn’t feel big enough to hold everything itching and clamoring beneath the surface of his skin. With his breath held, he watched Theo take a dying Gabe’s pain. Tributaries of black swam up Theo’s corded arms, and now, Liam wishes Theo would take his pain. Wishes he could.

He’s not oblivious to how Theo watches him. Watching: he’s always watching Liam. There’s a quiet, patient quality to the way he watches Liam. Theo studies him like a scientist. He observes Liam with those kaleidoscope eyes, as if just the act of looking is enough. As if Theo knows that if he simply bides his time and waits long enough, Liam will act.

(Theo’s not wrong.)

Be careful; he knows you. Liam doesn’t want to be known like this. Liar. He doesn’t want to be understood. Liar liar, everything on fire. Sometimes Liam wonders exactly what Theo knows and understands about him from all the watching he’s done.

What is Theo waiting for? Liam is exhausted from all the waiting and being watched.

One sharp exhale and Liam stands in the sacrosanct bubble of Theo’s personal space, hand stretched over his breastbone. Things crack and splinter inside Liam as he listens to Theo’s heart and feels it, too, in stereo. He taps his fingers against Theo’s chest in time with his pulse, gratified when the tempo increases.

Finally, the scientist is gone. What’s left in his place is a boy looking down at Liam with ancient, shadowed eyes growing slowly wider the longer Liam tap tap taps.

“You first, Theo. Why do you keep trying to save me?”

Theo hesitates, then takes a deep breath. Another. If Liam didn’t know better, he would say Theo’s calming himself.

*** Liam is the warning prick of claws against the carotid arteries in Theo’s neck. A single swift slash and Theo’s blood would jet in a brutal crimson arc. 

Theo’s prime directive is survival. In spite of that, he doesn’t know how to step back from Liam.

A hand at Theo’s chest, Liam’s hand, holds him in place. His fingertips drum in time with the cadence of Theo’s heart. Through a layer of cotton, through strata of skin, Liam’s touch scalds. It transforms fabric and flesh alike to ash, burning through every one of Theo’s defenses, until Liam’s hand curls around Theo’s naked, pulsing heart. Around the heart Theo stole from his sister.

“Because you saved me,” Theo replies, voice hoarse, and speaking the words is like vomiting shards of glass. Liam’s mouth draws down in a frown. “How?” He leaves one hand resting on Theo’s chest, but the other drifts to Theo’s jaw, strokes lightly, the motion seemingly absentminded.  A sigh breaks from Theo’s lips. “You know how, Liam,” he answers, wondering if there’s blood dripping from his mouth. 

“No, Theo, I really don’t. You know why?”

Theo shakes his head.

“Because you don’t talk.”

“I talk plenty, Liam.”

Liam’s fingers stop their stroking and flick Theo in the chin. “Not about yourself, you don’t. So talk to me now.” Command and plea twine in Liam’s voice, jerking at the choke collar that circles Theo’s neck.

Bile rises in Theo’s throat, thick and sour. Theo closes his eyes; he can’t look at Liam while he says this. He can’t bear to see the horror and condemnation that are sure to follow, even though he knows he deserves it all—and more.

“That heart you feel beating under your hand? It’s not mine. It’s … It’s my …” Coward. “It’s Tara’s. It’s my sister’s.” Theo coughs and attempts to gather the tattered rags of his courage around him. “I killed her.”

“I know you did.”

“You asked, Liam. Let me finish.“ The brusqueness in his tone, he almost regrets it. But he has to finish this while he still can. “It was winter— The creek was icy. She begged me to help her. But I … I just stood there and let her die so the Dread Doctors could give me her heart.

“When Kira split the ground open with her sword, Tara pulled me down. She wanted her heart back. She came for it. Again and again and again, she ripped it out of my chest. It’s hers.” Theo’s shoulders snap up and down in a shrug he hopes appears careless. “She wanted it back.” He laughs, the sound wet and humorless. “She still wants it.” Though his voice remains steady, Theo’s body is anything but. He’s quivering, unbalanced, teetering on a serrated blade. “That’s what you saved me from, Liam.” That’s why I’ll do almost anything for you, he thinks but doesn’t say.      

Theo clasps Liam’s hand, intending to pull it from where it still sits against Theo’s chest. Being touched like this feels nearly unbearable. He doesn’t deserve it, and as soon as Liam’s head clears enough for him to process the immutable reality of what Theo’s done, surely he’ll regret touching him at all. Better to get it over with now.  

But Liam’s grip tightens, and Theo is left holding their joined hands to his own chest.

“Open your eyes, Theo. Look at me.”

A/N: I swear I’m going to put these guys out of their misery and end this in the next chapter. If you’re up to commenting, I would love to hear what you thought. Should you feel like it, you can tell me the good, the bad, and the ugly; it’s all okay. :) Regardless, thanks for reading. 

Click here for my Thiam fic Masterlist post.

[insomniac-arrest]

The Omnipotence Theorem: Chapter Two

words: 2k

genre: cold war, sci-fi, wlw original

summary: a group of scientists tries to unlock the secrets of telepathy as cold war pressures mount and a fever rises in the belly of the Pentagon

Chapter One X

Ao3 – Wordpress

Chapter Two

“Red,” she blinks, “blue.” She takes a breath, “green.” The lights flash behind her eyes, “red, again.” A doctor was frowning at her through his mask and it’s all Cindy can do to keep her eyes straight ahead. A crown of wires whizzed around her head and she feels more like a rat running through an electro-shock maze than a team player.

She blinks her eyes and feels a pulse in her temple, the wires sent a little spark of electricity through her. She doesn’t flinch, Cindy holds herself still.

Two steady blue eyes stare back at her. “Green.” She says softly and the scientist next to her keeps scribbling things down.

Cindy imagines the notes on his pad absently: ‘candidate 5- sleep deprived?’ ‘Has not guessed a single color right,’ ‘forgot to brush my teeth this morning,’ ‘look at the cans on candidate 4.’

‘Still haven’t brushed my teeth.’

Perhaps she should be more charitable with him, she barely remembered his name after all. But he was breathing on her and he, nor anyone else, had asked her if she needed to pee in the last four hours.

And for the record, to hopefully be documented, preserved and studied with the rest of the paperwork. Cindy really really needed to pee.

“Blue.” The woman across from her forms the words with a soft curve to her mouth, like she was kissing a cloud with her palette. Cindy looks down at her lap.

The doctor on the other side of the room clears his throat, Cindy forces herself to look back up and look at candidate five in the face. Louise gives her a curious look but pronounces the word ‘yellow’ like she was going to take it out to lunch.

Cindy takes a deep breath and tries to be more charitable again, Louise was from Minnesota, things were different there.

She thinks about the wonders of what must be Minnesota as she looks the other woman in the eye and little buzzes go through her forehead. Connecting the left and right brain synapses, stimulating the cerebellum.

Activating neurotransmitters between two totally different individuals.

“Red.”

She hears a deep sigh behind her and Cindy feels the buzz of the machine, a wall of wires and transmitters and entire processing system, power down. The fritzing, whirring sounds slowly tapers off as Cindy exhales.

The little electric pulse in between her ears stops and she takes that as a sign to pull out the pads on her temples.

“Let’s break for lunch ladies,” the doctor says behind her and Cindy takes the opportunity to not look any one in the eye again. It was the little pleasures.

She stretches and flattens out her skirt as she plans to go dart to the restroom as fast she can.

“Be back by half past one.” The doctors weren’t looking at her, but stood in her way as they reminded her of their Very Important Work. “I know sir,” she nods at the man she wished at least try out a toothpick or flossing one of these days.

She passes the next military scientist and hopes Doug was bumbling about somewhere, Doug always let her pour over the numbers once she was free and walking around again.

Cindy darts over the woman’s restroom (newly installed) as she hears a pair of footsteps trailing her, she looks over her shoulder to nod at Louise.

“Be right back,” she says with a wave.

“I’ll save you spot in the cafeteria.” The woman must have an iron bladder, Cindy shakes her head as she watches the other participant retreat. Cindy ducks into the small sterile gray restroom, there were still urinals in the corner from before the room had been ‘repurposed.’

She sighs heavily in relief and tries not to touch the bruised areas around her forehead before she’s done.

“Red, yellow, blue, green,” she snorts and picks at her nails, looking at the walls as she finishes.

The underground military facility felt and tasted like a knock-off brand of seltzer water, sparkling and vaguely unpleasant. The ruling design theory was functional and grey, grey like the inside of a dying man’s mouth, grey like storm clouds that make your chest rumble. Grey.

It was being sucked into an entirely different world, and needing to pee most of the time you were there.

Cindy washed her hands and was pleasantly surprised by the pinkness of the soap, it was the little thing.

She takes a deep breath and spends some time fixing her hair, she wasn’t sure she was going to miss the sun or personal space. But it turns out some part of her was attached to both those things.

She relishes her time alone in the restroom before one of the cleaners steps in and they nod at each other before Cindy heads out.

“Red,” her heels click on the cool floors like a bad joke, “green.” She passes several brass with papers and whispers between them, there were other experiments going on in this same facility. They were just the only ones trying to unlock the powers of bad hotline psychics.

Cindy was so close to rolling her eyes into a coma as she thinks about it. She concentrates on the smell of stew and white bread as she enters a bustling cafeteria, a small Asian woman waves at her from the corner.

She waves at the table of women and waits patiently to be walked, fed, and walked again to a little rectangle surface. Everything was made of boxes and squares and more rectangles, it was like a geometry sex dungeon.

She crosses off the last part in her mind and lets the thick stew pour onto her plate, she inhales deeply. The food at the very least wasn’t bad.

“Cindy,” one of the girl’s was grinning as she waved her over.

She shuffles over through the other long school tables to where the four other woman sat. There were roughly eight of them living down there in total, not counting the cleaning staff that came down regularly.

Cindy wasn’t sure if they bunched them all together to increase ‘telepathic potential’ or just out of convenience, either way, she kept telling them they needed a bigger sample size anyway. They told her they had been doing these same things on men for 3 years now.

At least it was equal opportunity brain rot.

Cindy sits down delicately as her skirt sweeps under her, “Martha,” she grins with a nod, “Tric.” Martha was a friendly girl from South Florida with a psychology degree, as most of them did. Tric was a secretary that got stuck down there with them.

“See,” the women slicked her beehive black hair back, “it’s unrealistic, no one wants to shave that much muff.” She shoves a magazine under her nose and Cindy politely pushes it back.

She was currently browsing a playboy she found in one of the restrooms like it was a Sears catalog. “It looks like a terrible tiny mustache.” Tric was squinting her eyes, “The things they do to these women, jeez.”

Cindy doesn’t look down at the naked woman on the magazine, “Stew is nice and warm today.” “Is it a Tuesday?” The frazzled Mrs. Catherine at the end had her notepad out and was calculating something. The days of the week next to the months next to an astrology chart.

She had a degree in communications and math.

“God, someone tell me it’s a tuesday,” she chewed on her bottom lip, “it’s been two hundred fifty two days, Venus is in retrograde…” She was mumbling to herself, she was also candidate number one and the first one they dragged into The Depths (as Cindy was calling it) to see if their tickers could talk to each other.

“Did you see Dr. Stevens today,” Martha beamed at her, “he sure was handsome with those new glasses.” Cindy wrinkled her nose as she tried to remember which one that was, “I’m sure he was.” She reassures as she organized her plastic spoons and forks on her trey.

“Don’t bother Cindy with that sort of thing,” And there she was Louise.

Louise was seated two spots away from her, wearing her regular fleece pink sweater with a baby blue skirt. She always had the look of someone who rather be knitting or talking about the different shades of sycamore trees.

A sweet girl with bright eyes and soft round everything from her personality to everything else.

Though, of course, Cindy always had the temptation to give her a Catholic Speech on numerous things, and Cindy wasn’t even Catholic.

“She’s a woman of science,” her lips turned up, “She’s already married.” They tittered around her and Cindy’s not sure if she should be relieved or offended, it felt like the time for a Catholic Speech about teasing. And smokey eyes and long lashes and whatever else the Minnesota girl was doing.

“No wonder my son has hang-ups, none of these women got any marks on ‘em,” Tric took another long drag of her cigarette and Cindy sighs.

Louise delicately continues her meal and Cindy couldn’t guess what she was thinking if she tried. And she’d been paid to try.

It had been one week in The Depths of the Pentagon with several hundred scientists, but Cindy had barely got to touch a spreadsheet. The fairer sex was meant to be tied into whirring machinery and watch the own gears in her head wear thin.

She keeps these complaints all to herself as Martha talks about getting cookie dough here for the winter season and Tric compared the January and February centerfolds. Miss Catherine went into the depths of her paperwork, submerging into the relative position of Uranus.

Cindy wondered at what point she might start to gradually grind herself down into a distilled crazy paste, but she had a vision that it wasn’t going to be as interesting any of these women.

Louise quietly talks about her new knickers with Catherine until the other woman gets her tarot cards and takes out the hanged man.

“I’m not sure if I really need another one of these Miss Cathy,” she laughs hallowly and Catherine gives her spooked fish look.

“It’ll increase your chances.” She whispers in the way that would make Edgar Allan Poe write poetry.

“Right right, of cracking the case.” Louise grinned, “Don’t worry miss Cathy, we are on it!” More tittering.

Catherine slips her another card, “hide this under your pillow.” Louise was smiling but her face was slightly paler, she had been dealing with these women a lot longer than Cindy. She just mildly turns her face away and gets re-engaged with the very rosy Martha talking about the letter her sister sent.

Cindy watches this all go by like a film of someone else’s life, not for the first time she wondered if she made the right decision. Or if there was one.

She moves the rest of her stew around the plate moodily before throwing the rest of it away and following the other woman back to the test rooms. The giant wall of machine was already getting warmed up again and Cindy could see someone waving.

“Oh thank God,” Cindy murmurs and jogs up to a portly middle-aged man. “Doug,” she greets, “Good to see you.” “What? Yes.” Dr. Doug Johnson had slight hearing problems from his time in the war, but was an overall agreeable figure.

Cindy almost bounces, “I was hoping to get a peek at any data before the next session starts.”

He nods back, “yes, yes, I did appreciate your last observations on some of the wavelength fluctuations.”

Probably just anomaly, but Cindy doesn’t say that out loud. She nods as they let her into the backroom, she can feel Louise looking at her curiously again from behind her. She doesn’t quite look over her shoulder.

“Progress is slow, but we think if we keep up the transcranial stimulation with the right locations, we’ll be getting you all to be reading morse code to each other in record time.” He was beaming with his gapped front teeth and round cheeks.

Cindy is more grateful than the time she got her period during her ‘fear of immaculate conception’ phase of teenagehood.

The cool military fans blow against her face, keeping the test samples and piles of paper dry and clean. Cindy turns toward the analysis, gingerly picking up the spreadsheets as her mind swims, the points read off their electric current stats.

“Would that mean we should start shaving our heads?” Cindy asks hoarsely before frowning, “it might open up more vectors of magnetic connection with the machine.” She blinks, it made more sense to have multiple stimuli around the cranium. She glances at him to see if he was listening.

Doug Johnson laughs slightly, “we did that with the boys, but got similar results.” He winks, “plus, I’m not sure if all the ladies would be as willing as you to let go of those pretty locks.” Cindy blew air out of her nose but just nods stiffly, she surveys the data points quickly as she considers the different existing communication pathways they could be using. They seemed to be hooked into the right sectors, but perhaps the wrong surgical connectors.

She opens her mouth briefly, “could I take these to my room tonight?” Doug flattens his mustache out, “I think I’d get in a little more trouble if I let these out of the room.” He hums and adjusts his glasses, “besides, they're not too different from the last ones.” She frowns again and puts them down, the clock was almost at exactly one thirty. Doug pats her on the back, “you’re a great asset Ms. Jabiyev.” “Thank you,” she feels her stomach bottom out and she follows him out of the back room, Louise waves at them warmly as they come back.

“See anything worthwhile?” She grins, “any changes?” Cindy just shakes her head, “nothing to report on.” “That’s a shame,” Louise clicks her teeth, “but I have a good feeling about today.”

“That’s our Louise.” Dr. Johnson laughs and pats Louise also on the back before disappearing into another one of the rooms where one of the other pairs was.

Cindy eyes him before she feels a slight nudge on her ribcage, she turns around to see Louise’s bright blue eyes staring widely down at her. She was a good head taller than Cindy.

“Did you sweet talk him into that back room?” Her full lips were in that same elegant curve.

She shrugs, “I listened to him talk about his kids for two hours and he seemed to warm up to me.” Louise chuckles, “they musta hired you for your listening skills.” Her eyes twinkle and Cindy finds her somehow mildly more round and tolerable.

“That, and my exceptional ability to sit in chairs.” Cindy says dryly because no one else was around.

Louise lets out another laugh, “you don’t say, is it in any way connected to your above average ability to say colors out loud?” Cindy covers her mouth to laugh slightly, “I was color naming champion at my college.” Louise slaps her knee, “you are a delight miss Cindy!” She snorts before grabbing Cindy’s shoulder, “no wonder you could sweet talk Mr. Doug.” Cindy glances down at Louise’s dove-white hands before looking back up, “I wouldn’t call it sweet talk,” she catches her breath, “More like… psychology. Nice things.”

Louise nods and Cindy looks down at her shoes, she jumps when she feels a warm hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what.” Louise says, “I was a psychology major myself,” she says with her chest puff out, “if we put our heads together we’re bound to make that data sing.” Cindy cocks her head to the side, “you want to see it too?” Louise bites her bottom lip and turns back to the room as it opens, “better than sitting on our bums and having ‘em shock us day in and out.” Cindy exhales, “I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking that…” Louise squeezes her shoulder and they hear the machine ding as it finishes warming up. “Some time then.” She enters the dim whirring room again and sees the next new doctor preparing the electro-helmet that attached at her temples. She stares wearily ahead, vision blurring together as she watched Louise be plugged into the exact same machine across from her.

Sometimes they did the experiment with a sheet obscuring each other, sometimes they thought eye contact helped. Cindy personally thought it was better double-blind, but no difference had been recorded yet.

The heat of the computer electroencephalogram (EEG) bathed the left side of her face, preparing to translate and stored their thoughts. A piece of paper is put in front of Cindy.

“Now, you know the drill miss Jabiyev, concentrate.”

Cindy looks up and makes steady eye contact with Louise, she turns her thoughts into a pointed dagger trying to stab out into the darkness. A little prickle goes through her skull again and she can feel the electric currents working through her. Toward her.

She takes a deep breath and the light blinks for them to start.

“Yellow.” She says dryly as Louise's mouth stays a shapeless flat line. She concentrates, “Blue.”

[ririban]

One Month

I wrote an original story for a college assignment (I'm a physics major though. This is for a foundation course. Just saying.) and posted it here as it felt kinda sad to just delete it…

~*~*~

I wonder how many days it’s been now… Has it been a week yet? Perhaps more? How much longer do I need to continue with this? Well, as long as I can get out of this god forsaken country, anything will do, I guess… Besides, this is not so bad… Kinda lonely I suppose… And a little boring…

When was the last time I spoke to someone? I’ve never really been a social butterfly in the first place I guess… Ah! That girl on the street leading to the market! That was the last time I spoke to someone! Oh, but I did speak to some of the scientists when I signed up for this thing! But I do wonder what happened to that little girl… I gave her a piece of bread but what about after that? Did she get any food after that? Will she still be alive when I get out of here? If she continues living in this country, I doubt that will be possible… I wanna get out of here soon.

It’s so easy to lose track of things when I’m like this… Oh yeah! The researcher responsible for me said that I should constantly remind myself of my circumstances so as to not lose grasp of reality. Ah… so let’s see… The country I belong to went into war with one of the neighbouring countries and lost. This led to the neighbouring country invading us and turning us into another of their colonies. Honestly, what was the government even thinking? Going into war with a major military power like that! Sheesh! We all already knew that we’re gonna lose. Making them our allies would have been much better! And since part of the war was fought using chemicals, the soil was damaged thanks to which the agricultural sector took a major hit and is now practically dead. And people are just left to starve. A result of this is frequent thievery and fights and sometimes even murder. The water pipelines were also damaged leading to lack of clean water, so people started drinking stagnated water which gave rise to epidemics. Medicines are too expensive. These days it’s not really a surprise to find corpses rotting away on the roadsides. And the new government set up by our colonisers have no interest in dealing with all this.

Then the government informed us of a new research project they were funding. They needed volunteers to be test subjects. They said that those who do end up going through with the experiment would be allowed to leave the country and even be provided money to start their life in a new country. Considering how difficult it is to even move from one part of the country to another, let alone relocating to a different country, I sure as hell wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass me by. And even though I was among the more financially privileged, the rising food prices were leading to a hole in my pocket. I don’t even have a family or anyone I care about here, so I didn’t see the point of continuing to put up with this hell. This was the perfect opportunity, so I took it.

Living without any senses sure is hard… One month huh? If I stay without any senses for a month will I really develop a sixth sense? Ah well, I guess the whole point of this experiment is that they don’t know what will happen. That’s why this is an experiment, isn’t it?

No sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch… I wonder, is this what dying feels like? Since this experiment started I’ve kinda felt like I have been floating around in space. I mean, there’s no way I can even tell where I am or what’s going on around me… I’m pretty much disconnected from the world… To me, everything seems to have come to a standstill but even when I’m in this state, time keeps on flowing… The Earth still keeps on moving around the sun… Day turns to night, night turns to day… The world is unconcerned with my existence…

If I were to die now, would I feel any pain? My nerve ends have been blocked so I’ll likely not feel anything… What does living even mean? Just having your heart continue to pump blood to your organs… Is that what living is? Or is it the things you experience that makes you alive… If it’s the latter, can I still be considered to be among the living? Or am I already dead?

Even when I’m like this, I still sleep, I still dream. I dream of the walks I took in the forest surrounding my hometown. This was long ago… long before the war started… It was a beautiful place, very pleasing to the eyes… There was a stream there… The water was cool… I used to enjoy feeling the water run over my bare feet… The flowers in the nearby field always smelled so nice… And the sounds of the birds chirping were always so sweet… So was the sound of my mother’s voice as she called me to come and eat… The food she made was so delicious… So warm and so fresh…

Oh, but… did that really happen? Or was a dream all it was? Did I even have a life before this? Or did I just imagine it? Just dream it up? Fabricated memories… Fabricated feelings… A fabricated life…

What?! What was that?! A sound?! And why is it suddenly so bright?!

“Careful there. It’s going to take you a while to get adjusted.”

Guh! So loud! It’s giving me a headache!

“Ah!”

Did that sound come from my mouth? From my throat? Is this what my voice sounds like?

Goddammit! Stop shining that stupid light in my eyes it hurts!

“There, there. It’s okay. You’ll get used to it soon.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

Ah! My own voice makes my head hurt!

“Don’t touch me!”

My shoulder hurts! That guy gripped it too hard!

“Stop! Stop it! Don’t be too rough with him! He still needs to learn how to adjust to his senses!”

Thank god! My eyesight seems a bit clearer now! Is the man screaming the scientist who was studying me? It seems that he is.

“This man showed amazing results!”

Who’s that guy? I don’t think I’ve seen him before… Seems to be another one of the scientists though…

“Ouch!”

I get that you wanted to get the headgear off of me, but can’t you be gentle! It hurts!

“I just said to not be rough with him!”

That guy is screaming again! Damn! This makes my head hurt really bad!

“This headgear is used to measure the subject’s brainwaves and the data is then transmitted to our computers.”

There’s another person I haven’t seen before… Looks to be one of the government big-shots…He hasn’t said much, has he? Only listening to the explanations he’s being provided. Ah he seems to be saying something!

“… Continue studying him.”

What did he say before that? By “him” does he mean me? But why? I should be allowed to leave now, right? The digital newspaper I saw earlier said that the date today is 31 October, 2087. It’s been a month, hasn’t it? I should be free now!

“But of course! We have every intention to continue studying him! His brain waves have shown incredible activity! We believe that he may have actually developed a sixth sense!”

A sixth sense? Me? Is that why I won’t be allowed to leave? Why? I’ve done my part damnit!

What sense do I have, I wonder… Mind reading? Nah, I doubt that. I can’t tell what these guys are thinking after all. The ability to transmit my thoughts to others? Well, even if I do have that, I wouldn’t know about it myself…

Or could I?

Oi! If anybody’s hearing this right now, I could really use some help! Somebody? Anybody?

Maybe they can’t get to me in time? Or maybe they just don’t care? I’m just grasping at straws here anyway.

“H-Hey! He has a gun!”

“Which of you fools just left your gun lying around?! What kind of careless security guards are you?! Fools!”

If there’s anybody who can hear me, I wonder do you only here my conscious thoughts or can you hear my subconscious desires as well? If you can’t, let me give you a narration.

I found a gun lying on one of the tables and took it. This was while those guys were discussing how to further study me.

At present, this gun is pointed at them. More specifically, at the government official. The security guards naturally have their guns trained on me. I’ll probably be shot down the moment I pull the trigger. And I have no experience with guns not to mention the fact that for a month I wasn’t even aware of my body and its movements. I’ll probably miss anyway.

I’m currently bending my elbow and twisting my wrist, experimenting with the motion of my joints. The muzzle of the gun is no longer pointing at that man. Everyone is visibly relaxing. Now their faces are once again showing expressions of horror. Why? Because the muzzle is now pointing at my head.

I don’t want to go through that again. That half dead state. That hopelessness and darkness. That fear of not even knowing whether you’re alive. I can’t go through that! I can’t continue to be a guinea pig!

So, if I can’t escape, I must die. But I want to die by my own agents. I don’t want to be killed by anybody else. My hands are the only ones that will be stained with my blood.

I’m tightening my grip on the trigger.

Ah! That was too loud!

[exilevilifyrp]

                                          file: introduction

full name: cairo age: 46 identifies with: terraform by novo amor & ed tullett genesis: synthetic gender: cisfemale (she/her) portrayal: lucy liu

                                                                        file: biography

Her memories come in two types, now.

First are from Before, and these are hiccupy, loud things full of gunpowder and the whistle of mortar shells overhead. These are the ones that tear into her like iron hooks. These are the ones that  threaten to swallow her whole.

Secondly come the new ones, and these ones come in droves, are energetic and plentiful and full of stars. She holds them close, half because she wants to; half because she doesn’t know where to put them all down.

I. IN A FLOWERLESS WORLD, SHE STILL WANTED TO BE A BOTANIST.

Hers was a family of scholars, studying in a planet full of cosmic businessmen, made of glory and gold and the intergalactic bourgeoisie. How was anyone supposed to take it all in? Cairo tried — her youth was a flurry of colors and smells and unplaceable languages that dissolved into fluency on her tongue. The Harbor of Wrotham was a faultless place to raise a child, and Cairo took every opportunity she was given. Like ivy, she grew wherever she could, even if there was no sunshine, water, or room. During the day, she’d attend school alongside rows and rows of children just like her, with smooth skin and eager eyes and a predisposition for prodigy. In the evenings, she’d immerse herself in articles from all branches of research, but eventually she favored biology above all others. She lived in a clockwork world smothered in machines and electricity, which was all good fun, but there was an unseen mystery to the way a seed made a tree. Scientists worked so diligently to preserve life; she was fascinated by its origin.

For the next several years, Cairo devoted herself to cataloguing and studying flora. Sometimes that meant traversing City Park for the hundredth time. Sometimes that meant locking herself away to reread phytology records from neighboring planets. As she grew, Cairo enchanted her teachers, who relayed their esteem to her parents. Cairo was in turn showered with praise. She was doing all of the right things. A perfect cog in a flawless system; what could go wrong?

Well. Everything.

The military’s public notice calling for able-bodied youth didn’t come necessarily as a surprise, but it certainly shook Cairo’s closest communities. It certainly caused a disturbance. Reactions varied vastly, from skepticism to denial. Cairo followed her parents’ assessment of the situation and never paused her studies to sit with the gravity of the situation. They were rich. Why fight when there were civilians whose lives mattered not half as much as their own? War wasn’t so intimidating on her IBA screen. Everything was distant, as it should be. She had more important things to attend. And then the draft came down like slitting a throat. Just as fast. Just as finite. And Cairo was stripped away from everything she knew without so much as a warning. There was hardly time for goodbyes; just a heavy duffel bag and stunned silence.

II. TIME FOR LIVING. TIME FOR COLD STUFF.  

Guns were heavy in her hands. She was informed that they would be. All of the others were thick-chested and burly, but she had no history with this sort of thing. The pats on her back felt like slaps, and words of exchanged camaraderie, choked with slang, meant nonsense in her ears. At first, the training was agony. She wasn’t used to athleticism, definitely not the kind that moulded her shoulders at the expense of tears. Her legs were screaming by day one, and sweat seemed to perpetually shine from her like a second layer of disgusting skin. When Cairo wasn’t aching for one reason, she was aching for the next. The others glanced wordlessly at the notes from home that she kept stuffed in her knapsack, but that was okay. She didn’t need them to speak to understand what they were thinking. She was thinking it too.

She wouldn’t survive a week in this place.

First, Cairo hated the world. Then she hated the Confederation. And then she hated herself. Her regiment was only a scout group, which meant they were never supposed to face real danger, which meant she wasn’t going to die, which meant she might even live. But she would soon learn that despite what she’d been taught her whole life, she was dispensable. Such was the case for other soldiers who couldn’t continue — whose legs caved, whose ankles broke, whose feet rotted in their boots. People left and were replaced. She wasn’t special. Before her eyes, her regiment metamorphosed. The weak were exchanged for better, stronger soldiers — soldiers who were familiar with whips on their backs and looking down the scope of an enemy’s rifle. Everyone brought something, be it brutish strength, inhuman speed, or an affinity for mechanics. Cairo, well. She knew how to work the portable stovetop.

As time dragged on, Cairo fell into a pattern. During the days, she would steel herself. She would bite her lip and carry her life on her shoulders and move. During the nights, she would cry hot tears, someone would say shut up, and she’d begin again in the morning. Later, many years later, her parents’ letters stopped coming, and so did her tears. Against her instincts, or maybe because of them, Cairo changed.

Some people would command respect by raising their voice, by throwing their fist against a wall, or another person. Cairo achieved the same effect by freezing, by doing absolutely nothing. Severity radiated off of her. When she walked, her face was unchangeable. When she spoke, however briefly, people listened. The only part of her that remained the same was her affinity for learning. The new soldiers taught her many things: the taste of dirt, the feeling of pain, and how to kill. All standard. When exactly her regiment evolved into an armed battalion, Cairo wasn’t sure, nor did she particularly care. The first time she shot a target, it surprised her how easy it was. It wasn’t more difficult the second time, or the third, or the fourth. It surprised her how easy it was to lose count. Cairo, against herself, grew accustomed to the gore of it all. Seeing corpses on the street wasn’t uncommon. Using her knowledge of botany — which seemed unimportant now — to identify edible plants, wasn’t unheard of either. Hungry stomachs and hurting hearts turned to her for tea leaves or stew. Cairo became known as the woman who could make something from nothing.

III. MY INSIDES SHIFT, AND ADJUST, AND I TRY AGAIN.

One ordinary day, right before sunset, Cairo stepped on a landmine and was ripped apart in a fountain of earth. There was no flash of light; just an ear-splitting sound followed by excruciating pain and nothingness.

Her story should have ended there. In many nights to follow, Cairo would have greatly preferred that it had ended there. Alas.

The pain of resurrection was unlike anything Cairo could fathom. She came back to life in a series of fizzes and hums and the face of a surgeon looking over her. This was supposed to be a reward. Appreciation for her service. Given everything that Cairo knew about synthetics then, it made sense that she would be grateful. But a small thought nudged her brain, and it had the same voice as her girlhood. “Wait,” it said. “I didn’t ask for this.”

The next step, the Confederation informed her, was rehabilitation, but her new form made all of the difference to her family. Her father just stared in awe; her mother wept with guilt. They’d abandoned her, and when she returned, they were unworthy. Cairo never said that. They did.

                                                                      file: known associates

VETRA RAGNOS - there are few broken people that you shy away from, few you can tear your emotions away from long enough to do anything but nurture them. but, vetra stirs feelings in you of annoyance and unpleasantness you can’t make disappear. you try to blame it on pity you feel for a poor broken thing, but even you aren’t too foolish to actually believe that. you just don’t like them for reasons you can’t explain, and the feeling, unfamiliar and unwelcome, doesn’t sit well on your stomach. 

                                                                  THIS CHARACTER IS UNAVAILABLE.

[wilddragonflying]

Deep in the Glowing Sea

Came up with another OC lol

Standing on the edge of the Glowing Sea, Kaili frowns at her Pip-Boy, ignoring the soft clicking of the Geiger Counter as she studies the map. “Look pretty thoughtful there,” Nick comments, dusting his hands off from where he’d been gathering some herbs. He carefully stores them in his pouch before moving closer. “What’re you looking at?”

Kaili nods south-west. “I know we’ve already been out there to talk to Virgil, but… A friend of mine worked in a lab close to the crater. I just, I’m wondering if there’s anything left.”

”It’s probably buried,” Nick muses, and Kaili rolls her eyes.

”I know. But I’ve got several fusion cores, and my armor’s right here, and you’re with me, so you don’t have to worry about the rads,” she argues. “I just want to go see.”

Nick grins at her, amusement clear in his eyes. “Well then, let’s go. Preston will let you know through Radio Freedom if you’re needed, and Gage and Hancock can get in touch with you with the Nuka-World radio.”

Kaili nods then, course set, and turns to step into her power armor with determination and nerves fighting for dominance in her gut. Nick’s probably right; odds are, there’s nothing left of that lab. But now that Kaili’s thought about it, she has to know.

It’s an arduous trek through the Glowing Sea, and not for the first time Kaili grumbles - in between fights with radscorpions, bloodbugs, and the occasional deathclaw - about how nobody in the Wasteland apparently decided that working vehicles were a good idea. Eventually, however, they reach where the lab should have been, and find only a mound of dirt. Neither of them say anything, the silence between them filled with the sound of a distant radstorm and the click of the geiger counter in Kaili’s Power Armor. Kaili stares at the mound, grateful that the Power Armor shields her expression from Nick; she’s not sure what she’s feeling, resignation perhaps, but she doesn’t want him to see it, not yet.

”Huh.”

Kaili glances at Nick. “What?”

”Look up there,” he says, raising a hand to point at where -

”Huh. Now what are still-working cameras doing up here?” Sure enough, there’s a blinking red dot on the side of the camera Nick’s spotted, nestled in a small alcove in the dirt covering the rest of the building. It’s aimed at them, and whether or not there’s anyone in the building watching, it’s a sign that there’s something down there.

”Bet there’s an access tunnel somewhere,” Nick says thoughtfully. “I’ll go right, you go left?”

Hefting her rifle, Kaili nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

They end up finding the tunnel at the same time; it’s only a small thing that leads to a locked door, but it’s on the opposite side of the building from the one they’d approached, and Nick makes quick work of the lock, gaining them access.

The inside is booby-trapped out the wazoo. There’s bathroom scales, grenade chandeliers, tension triggers, trip wires, flamer traps, fragmentation mines, plasma mines, basically every kind of explosive or trap that Kaili’s encountered, it’s here in this building. It’s slow going disarming as many as they can, triggering the ones they can’t from a safe distance, but slowly but surely they work their way down. “This place is amazingly well-preserved,” Kaili observes, studying a chart on a wall that’s barely yellowed with age.

”Almost as well-preserved as you,” Nick teases, and Kaili gives him a shove, mindful of the extra strength the armor gives her.

”Very funny, tin can.”

Eventually, they make their way to the third floor, having systematically cleared the first two, and when they emerge from the stairwell - the elevator lights had been on, indicating they had power, but had apparently been disabled - they’re greeted by a sight that neither of them had really expected, despite the evidence.

There’s a ghoul waiting for them, hunting rifle in hand and pointed directly at Nick’s face. “Who are you?” she demands without preamble, and Kaili frowns behind the helmet, trying to place the voice.

”My name is Nick,” the synth answers, holstering his pistol and holding his hands up in the universal symbol of ‘I come in peace’ that doesn’t seem to do a whole lot to reassure the ghoul.

”And your companion? Step out of the armor,” she orders, gaze flicking to Kaili, who carefully bends down to lay her rifle on the ground before complying; this deep below ground, in the shelter of the building, the rads are reduced enough that Kaili feels comfortable leaving for a few minutes. Kaili mimics Nick’s position, but the last thing she’s expecting when she steps around the armor and the ghoul gets her first good look at Kaili is what she gets: “Fucking hell, what the fuck?”

Kaili feels her eyebrows raise. “I beg your pardon?”

”Jesus shit, it is you. Couple new scars, but still.” Now the rifle gets tossed aside as the ghoul strides up to Kaili, stopping an arm’s length away. “Christ, look at you. The fuck happened, did you get stuck in a fridge somewhere?”

Kaili can’t help the way she chokes on a laugh, remembering the kid she had actually rescued from a fridge, but she shakes her head. “No, I was - cryogenically frozen. Iced.”

The ghoul’s eyes narrow, then she snaps her fingers. “That Vault they built up by your place,” she concludes, nodding when Kaili does. “Well hell, you’re looking damn good for - what is it now? Two hundred forty-five, give or take? Hell of a lot better than I am, anyway.”

And fuck, Kaili can barely hope, but… “Meghan?”

The ghoul smiles ruefully. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Kaili’s moving before she realizes what she’s doing, hauling Meghan in close. “Holy shit, you’re alive,” she breathes, burying her face in the crook of Meghan’s neck as her best friend does the same. “My God, I came out here just to see, but I didn’t expect - “

Meghan laughs bitterly as they pull apart. “Yeah, me either. Hell of a shock, it was. You mind introducing me to that hunk of metal over there? He don’t look like no synth I’ve ever met.”

”Oh!” Kaili grins, moving to sling an arm around Nick’s shoulders. “This is Nick Valentine, he’s a second generation synth from the Institute. Actually a prototype of the third generation, I think. He was implanted with the memories of - “

”That poor bastard whose fiance got shot,” Meghan finishes, the pieces obviously slotting into place. “Well hell, pleasure to meet you.”

Nick shakes her hand with a bemused smile while Kaili rolls her eyes. “So you've been here since the bombs dropped?” Nick asks.

”Yep,” Meghan answers, popping the ‘p’ just like Kaili remembers. “Me and about… oh, two dozen scientists and four dozen guards were living here around the clock, working on a project funded by some anonymous client who was rich as Midas. Building got buried in the blast, about half a dozen people died immediately, another dozen died of radiation poisoning. The rest of us turned into ghouls, but… Well, being so close to ground zero, the ones who never spent any time away with me on scavenging missions went feral fast.” Meghan’s mouth twists into a grimace. “Saw how other ghouls like them acted around normal people, learned there was no coming back after one of the doctors did a necropsy - he didn't feel right calling it an autopsy, ‘cause the brains were so rotted the people had become nothing but animals. We all decided to put anyone who went feral for good down, and since I was the most experienced with weapons after the last security guard went feral…”

”Shit,” Kaili breathes, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Meghan’s shoulder; the ghoul gives her a half-hearted smile.

”I led the scavenging missions,” she continued. “went north, out of what I found out people were calling the Glowing Sea. Got away from the worst of the rads fairly regularly and picked up new information, made new friends.”

”And getting away from the rads helped keep you from going feral,” Kaili finishes.

Meghan nods. “Yep, near as I can figure. I’m the last one of the scientists who survived the blast, and I’ve been alone going on… twenty years now? Something like that, I didn’t keep track,” she says, waving a hand. “But! Before Dr. Bradley died, we finalized the latest design for the project we were originally contracted for.”

Kaili blinks, but Nick beats her to replying: “You kept working on that for over a hundred and fifty years? Without being paid?”

Meghan shrugs. “We were engineers and scientists, of course we did,” she chuckles. “C’mon, lemme reboot the elevators and I’ll show you what we designed.”

”What… are we looking at?” Kaili asks, confused; back in her power armor, the click of the geiger counter in her ear, she eyes the flat black slabs before her. “They look a bit like panels, but…”

”Sol tiles,” Meghan announces, patting one fondly. “That’s what we built. They take energy from the sun and store it, and then we’ve got some other bits and bobs to convert it into something that can be stored in fusion cores and cells.”

”Holy shit,” Nick breathes, crouching down to examine the underside of one. “How efficient are they?”

”Well, these are.. fourth generation, I believe,” Meghan says, gesturing to the corner to her left. “Over there is the first one. These are about twice as efficient as the first one we built. Enough for a single tile, out on an average day’s weather for about ten hours to store enough energy to fill two hundred fusion cores. Not that I have two hundred fusion cores just lying around, that’s just what the numbers project.”

”Holy shit,” Nick repeats, Kaili echoing the sentiment.

”This is… It could completely change the Commonwealth.”

”I know,” Meghan says, expression twisting. “But I only have materials to make a limited number, and no idea how to find any more. And the materials are really hard to work with and move very far, and I don’t have any way of getting my truck out of the garage and to the Commonwealth.” She pauses when Kaili and Nick whirl around to stare at her. “What?”

”You have a working truck?” Nick demands.

”Of course; we kept a truck, a car, and a cycle in good condition after the bombs fell, but we could never get the parking garage cleared out well enough to even get the cycle out,” Meghan says. “Why?”

”Well, none of the trucks lying around work - “

”Ugh, I know,” Meghan groans. “I’ve taken a look at most of them; they’re too hard to cannibalize for parts, apparently, because most of them have the bits to make them go, they just don’t have an energy source, and no coolant for the fission cores. None in any filling station, either; it’s all evaporated.”

”How do you get yours to run then?” Kaili asks, curious.

”Converted it to run on fusion cores,” Meghan answers. “Well, me and one of the other scientists. Nice gal, good with her hands. Want to see it?”

”Hell yes!”

”He’s not the prettiest thing, Vega, but he’s nice enough,” Meghan says, opening the doors to the garage and leading the way past the defunct vehicles. “Kept him and the other car and cycle over here by the workstation, just to make it easier to work on them when we needed a distraction.” Meghan opens the driver’s door long enough to pop the hood on the shipping truck - whose trailer is in just as good a shape as the truck - to show Nick and Kaili the modifications. “He can’t sit idle for very long or the cores start overheating. Has to be moving, get air flowing over them to cool them off. But even then, he still can’t go more than about fifty miles, not that we’ve been able to see how accurate that is.”

Kaili makes an appreciative noise, turning to look at the rest of the garage as Nick takes a closer look at the insides of the truck, talking with Meghan. Kaili leaves them to it, following the road through the middle of the enormous - no surprise, considering what Meghan told them about the size of some of the parts they had shipped in; apparently their client had the garage custom built after redesigning the entire lab - parking garage, all the way to where the ground of the Glowing Sea blocks the entry way. “Hey, Meghan?” she calls back, studying the dirt in front of her.

”Yeah?” Meghan answers, footsteps echoing as she comes closer.

”How deep is this?” Kaili asks, gesturing to the blockage in front of her. “I mean, how far from the surface are we?”

”If we could dig straight up? Probably about thirty feet or so,” Meghan answers. “But the truck can only handle so steep an angle, so probably quadruple that, maybe more, if we were going to dig a tunnel. We never bothered with it, didn’t have the supplies necessary to build supports, or the equipment needed to just dig a valley.”

Kaili hums thoughtfully. “Bet if we could convince Sturges to come down here with a team of Minutemen he could clear it out,” she muses.

”He is a handy human,” Nick agrees, having followed Meghan. “Would need to find a lot of hazmat suits, though. And some good equipment.”

Kaili waves a hand. “Of course; you know neither of those are any problem, though. The storekeepers all love me.”

Nick snorts. “They love the business you bring,” he corrects, but doesn’t argue. “Percy and Myrna could probably lay their hands on some hazmat suits and tools.”

”This is great and all, but what about getting out of the Glowing Sea?” Meghan pipes up. “The terrain is rough as hell, and I don’t have a map.”

”What about the Vault 88 Pip Boys?” Nick suggests, and Kaili nods.

”There’s a couple extras, I think. Wouldn’t be too hard to get one set up with a modern map and down here for you,” she says.

Meghan considers that, then grins. “Well, if it means I might be able to test out my stuff in a more real-world situation… I’m in.”

Meghan stays behind, unwilling to leave her lab behind just yet, but with the help of Radio Freedom, Kaili is back within a few days, Sturges and several Minutemen in tow, along with their equipment. Kaili helps Meghan get her Pip Boy set up, and then leaves her to explore and play with it in favor of helping her men. She’d worn her Power Armor and had scrounged up several other fusion cores, enough to share among the older-model suits she’d collected over her two years in the Commonwealth.

With all that extra mechanical power at their disposal, it isn’t hard for Meghan and Sturges to direct Kaili and her men into the most efficient work pattern. It still takes several days, but with the shelter offered by the lower levels of the lab and the food they’d brought, combined with what Meghan had stockpiled over the years, it’s not a problem. When they’re done, Meghan tests the ramp with her other vehicle, a smaller truck. They’d elected to forego trying to build a tunnel, instead carving a valley into the Glowing Sea whose walls were supported by walls. After a few other adjustments, Meghan pronounces the ramp to her satisfaction, and fires up the shipping truck for the moment of truth. She, Kaili, and Nick are the only ones with the practical experience(in a manner of speaking in Nick’s case) of driving a vehicle, but Meghan doesn’t trust anyone else with her baby. It takes some careful maneuvering to get the truck through the rest of the garage, and then she holds her breath as they rumble from concrete to dirt, praying that the packed ground holds the vehicle’s weight.

Miraculously, it does - and for the first time in over two hundred years, Meghan sees daylight through the windshield of a vehicle. “I’ll be damned,” she breathes, grinning. “It worked.”

”It did,” Kaili confirms, coming up to the window that had long ago been broken out. “Now we just need to find a suitable route out of here.”

Meghan gestures behind herself. “Well, we packed this with food and equipment, and so long as we mark the route so I can retrieve more once we get out, we can just keep going; Sturges knows what to look for in the ground, now.”

Kaili nods, hefting her rifle. “I’ll let them know.”

There are several close calls, but with the mechanical muscle provided by the suits of Power Armor, the truck eventually reaches solid ground, its tires finally touching road once again. From there, the group makes its way northward to the Starlight Drive-In, where Kaili had built a large trading settlement that was quickly becoming the seat of the unofficial Commonwealth government.

When the truck finally pulls into the makeshift garage Kaili had built for it, brakes screaming in protest and engine groaning in relief as it’s finally allowed to rest, they draw quite a crowd. Meghan can hear the murmurs before she even steps out of the vehicle, and they only grow in volume when she does. Kaili is already stepping out of her power armor, hooking it up to a nearby frame as she does so before stepping forward.

”Now, I know you all have been very curious since I started building that garage,” she announces, and Meghan can’t help but smile a bit sadly at the image Kaili makes in her General uniform; she’d always been a leader, and Meghan just wishes that Nate and their other friends could have seen her like this, though preferably in better circumstances than post-nuclear apocalyptic. “A couple of weeks ago, Nick and I went into the Glowing Sea to find a building I had known about before the bombs dropped. We didn’t expect to find anything, but we did: An old friend of mine, Meghan.”

Meghan steps forward, giving a small wave when Kaili gestures to her. “I was a scientist and engineer, before the war,” she starts when Kaili doesn’t say anything, just looks at her expectantly. “Several of us were contracted to find a new means of energy; our client didn’t trust nuclear energy - rightly, as it turns out.” She waits while the snickers subside, and then continues, “We were all in the lab when the bombs dropped, and most of us survived that. The ones who survived became ghouls, but I am the last survivor. Before they died, however, we managed to fulfill our contracts and do a bit more.”

Meghan helps a Minuteman get a sol tile out of the track, helping him hold it up. “This is a sol tile - it collects energy from sunlight, and can convert it into a form that can be stored in fusion cells and cores, enabling them to be refilled until they wear out. This truck,” she says, pointing at the truck in question, “runs on fusion cores that were depleted, and refilled with solar energy. I hope to find the materials to make more of these sol tiles, so that I can rebuild more vehicles and help the Commonwealth continue to rebuild in a more meaningful way.”

”We’ve made great strides towards that end,” Kaili jumps in. “This settlement is proof of it. But if we can find the materials to build more of these tiles, we can make even greater strides.”

Meghan can tell that there’s dissent, some traders’ expressions suspicious, others downright mistrustful, but she’s faced those expressions and attitudes her entire life; this won’t be any different.

[braindamageforbeginners]

Week 1, Day 1, Treatment 1

I’m back home, after a day at the hospital. If things continue at the current rate, well, I’ll probably be dead in the near-future (median life-expectancy of GBM patients is 14 months), but at least I’ll make a dent in the reading list.

I began my day with a potentially dangerous, experimental drug. I’m going to focus on the positive and think that this is a step closer to being Hunter S. Thompson, and try to forget the fact that the nurse had to put on protective laboratory gear before handling something that she then injected into my veins. Also, because I’d been warned about keeping super-hydrated throughout this process (and because I have hard-to-find veins), I’d been chugging Gatorade since I rolled out of bed, so hooking me up to an IV  to hydrate me was just gilding the lily. Or over-filling the water balloon, to be more accurate. Anyway, apart from spending a disturbing amount of time, uh, let’s say, “discarding” all that excess fluid, there aren’t too many side-effects worth reporting (we’ll get to that shortly). Admittedly, spending about ten minutes peeing after 18 hours being pumped full of an unknown substance is disturbing, but if that’s the worst I suffer today, I’ll count it as a victory. However, the day is not over, and I have not taken my bed-time chemo drugs, and, as Herodotus wrote, “Judge no man fortunate until he is dead.”

However, as far as side-effects, I’m not too worried about vomiting any more. The nameless anti-nausea drug is amazingly effective; like, I could easily see myself becoming addicted to this stuff. Not because there’s any sort of fun, psychedelic effect, but because I hate puking, and this medication is so effective that I think I could wolf down a rotting raccoon carcass without any side effects (other than contracting rabies, I mean). Obviously, I’ll be putting that to the test over the coming weeks, but life would seem to have improved significantly in that regard (and, I’ve been told the chemo side-effects should be further lessened if I continue my extreme hydration-regimen).

I am, however, experiencing some side-effects; I feel bad, but not horrible. Specifically, my muscles feel sore and cramp-y, which, while unpleasant, isn’t the worst I was fearing. And, according my mad scientist oncologist (specifically, my Southern California Mad Scientist Oncologist), side-effects are indicative that the miracle drug is working well. And, based on how my muscles feel, it’s working. The major complaint, apart from lethargy, is, I shit you not, hallucinations. So, I plan to spend tomorrow lying on the couch, being tormented by my subconscious. This is different from normal because now there will be a visual component, and I’ll have a note from my doctor (also, I’ll eventually have to pry myself off the couch and get irradiated). Also, the worstest side-effects aren’t predicted to show up until week 2 or week 3; bad news is, they don’t think I’ll start recovering until week 10. Worse news - much, much worse news - is, after the six-ish weeks of radiation (for those of you keeping count, I have 30 radiation appointments, but since they don’t work on weekends, that works out to six weeks; and chemo every single day throughout), assuming that’s successful, I’ll get on a chemotherapy rotation, which means I’ll get three weeks off, and one week of chemo, for a whole year. FOR. ONE. WHOLE. YEAR. Which means, at my current life expectancy, I’ll be on some sort of unpleasant drugs for the rest of my life. Still, as I’m very aware, the phrase, “we’re extending treatment” is vastly preferable to the phrase, “we’re stopping treatment because it’s not working.” Also, if I do lose any hair, the clinicians think it’ll be in a very small, specific spot. Still, adding even another unpleasant side-effect seems excessively cruel.

And, I got some very reassuring signs today regarding my physicians. I never had any reason to doubt their competence, but, I have survived three tumors (so far) for fifteen years (the breakdown is; I got tumor #1 removed fifteen years ago, since then, I’ve had two more tumors), but it’s always good to have that confidence affirmed. Before I get there, a brief restatement to all future cancer patients (and humans in general); I’ve said it before, the crucial difference between a fatal disease and a dangerous disease is your medical team. Do not screw around with this, your life will depend upon it; do some research (Yelp does not count), and go straight to the best (the actual best, not the “Trump Steak” best). We now continue with the anecdote currently in progress.

During one of my many, many administrative/clerical intake interviews/vital signs monitoring sessions, an aide asked who my oncologists were, and I said, “Drs. X and Y,” and she, “Oh, they’re the best.” Now, it’s always possible - especially since we have a commander-in-chief who is hell-bent on destroying superlatives - that she was exaggerating, or just saying it because they bought her coffee or something, but, I know from fifteen years on the receiving end of modern medicine, that the nurses and administrative staff are usually where the buck stops, and they know a lot more than they let on, so their endorsements are usually reliable. Also, immediately prior to my serum injection, I was visited by Research Coordinator (and, to preserve everyone’s anonymity, I’m going to be extremely vague), who assured me that they only test drugs that are extremely promising. Which seemed like a regurgitation of Bioethics 101, until he also admitted that my oncology team will occasionally accept money to test drugs they know won’t work, then weasel out of that commitment through various medicolegal means and just keep the money. That might be some sort of standard, cancer research hack, but it’s still brilliant. And, even if they weren’t acting within the bounds of the law, there’s not a jury that would ever convict them.

As far as the radiation treatment, it went mostly-fine. To dwell on the negative (or to forewarn all future brain cancer patients), the weird plastic-mask thing is the most disturbingly claustrophobic thing I’ve ever encountered. I thought it was freaked out about it when they were fitting me for it, and it felt like some sort of weird fetish. Now, it feels like being smothered. The good news is, if you can resist the impulse to panic, and just remember to breathe, it’s not too bad after the initial shock (hopefully, that’s applicable to all my experiences over the next year). So, if you have claustrophobia or a fear of being smothered (a greater-than-average fear of being smothered, let us say), I’d definitely recommend asking about sedation beforehand. Hell, I’d ask about sedation the minute you get a cancer diagnosis, but especially look into it if you have claustrophobia and you’re getting radiation treatment and/or MRIs.

Anyway...

WEIGHT: about 210 lb (95-ish kilos). There were some fluctuations throughout the day (I got weighed several times throughout the day) between 209 lb to 217 lb, but that’s explained by both the incredible amount of fluids I’ve consumed throughout the day and whether I remembered to remove my shoes. CONCENTRATION: Pretty good; I made some decent headway in the Wodehouse novel I’m reading, even while being pumped full of saline and super-soldier serum (which is really saying something, because I really needed to use the restroom during that whole process). MEMORY: Not bad. I’m still missing or forgetting occasional stuff, which is a little upsetting, but I can still quote pertinent studies I read a few years ago. APPETITE: Decreased, but I’m still eating. I’ve also been drinking way too much water and/or Gatorade, and I started the day with a large, bacon-egg sandwich (heart disease be damned), and all that would chip away at the appetite even before factoring stress and experimental drugs in. ACTIVITY LEVEL: Normal. Normal-ish. I’m feeling sluggish now, at 9 pm, after a long day spent in waiting rooms, so it’s not like I turned down the opportunity to go jogging because I was feeling poorly (spoilers: I only ever run when being chased, or when I’m late for a plane). SLEEP QUALITY: Pretty good, for me. I got eight-ish hours of sleep last night, which is great for someone about to start cancer treatments, but I still have a big sleep debt. COORDINATION/DEXTERITY: Not bad, but I’m very slightly wobbly when finishing tasks/movements that require coordination. Starting them and the middle, I’m fine with, for some reason. PHYSICAL: Very much the same as yesterday, which is good. No new headaches or body-based symptoms, and the eternal suture-headache is quite tolerable. SIDE EFFECTS: The muscles in my upper body hurt. A lot. But it’s no worse than if I’d gone to the gym with someone named “Biff,” so I suppose I shouldn’t gripe too much, but it still hurts. And I can’t take aspirin, because I’m already at risk for bleeding thanks to the damned chemo drugs (I guess that’s my pain level - “Needs aspirin and will complain bitterly if deprived, but will survive without”). I’m peeing a lot - an awful lot - but I’m also keeping extremely hydrated, so I’m not sure that’s a side-effect. I feel oddly alert - like I’ve had half an espresso - but my body isn’t moving fast enough to keep up with my mind. It might seem excessively negative to keep track like this, but I actually intend to take careful notes in this area and send them all to my researchers at the end of all this.