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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (122/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[29 May, 233 Before Age. Yetitan.]

Wampaaan'riix was tired. He had spent much of the day on the windswept pastures of his ancestral farm, clearing brush and counting livestock. For a man of his extraordinary strength, this was physically simple, but the tedium of it had a way of wearing him out. He had gone straight to bed upon returning home, barely making time to say good night to his wives and children.

When the communications terminal alerted him to a priority subspace call, he expected the worst. When he saw it was from Luffa's star-yacht, only for Dr. Topsas to appear on the viewer instead, he was even more concerned. He knew Luffa's Federation alliance was at war, with Saiyans battling on both sides.

"She is recovering in a stasis tank," Topsas explained. "I expect she will be completely healed in two months' time."

Wampaaan'riix stroked the long white hair that hung from his chin. There was long white hair covering the rest of his body as well, but the chin was the part he always reached for when he contemplated grim tidings. "In warfare, two months is an eternity, doctor" he said. "I'm surprised you were able to talk her into it."

"I suspect her injuries were more persuasive than anything I might have said," Topsas replied. "Individually, these enemy Saiyans are no match for her, but she has had to fight groups of them, on planet after planet, with little respite. I think she understood that if she didn't take this opportunity to heal, there might not be another chance later on."

"Is there something I can do to help?" Wampaaan'riix asked. "I've all but retired from fighting, but I owe her my life, after all."

"No, nothing like that," Topsas said. "I simply needed some... advice."

"Advice." he repeated.

"I spoke with one of my sons a few days ago. He wasn't very happy about my presence in Federation space during wartime," Topsas said. "He practically begged for me to come home. He arranged a transport ship to arrive at Woshad in four days."

"Then I think you should take it," Wampaaan'riix said. He first met Luffa and Topsas in a Deathmatch tournament on Plutark VII. He had been so certain of his fighting skills, and she had defeated him with ease, then she toyed with him to test her abilities. Then she accidentally read his mind, and after seeing his regret for walking out on his family, she decided to spare him. "I'm positive that she would understand if you left the war to go back to your loved ones."

"I don't know that I can do that," Topsas said.

"Doctor, you just told me that Luffa will be in a stasis chamber for the next several weeks," Wampaaan'riix said. "I've seen how those things work during my time in the Yetitan military. They're very low-maintenance. Now that you've set it up, you could probably show Zatte how to handle the day-to-day operations. And there's no shortage of doctors in the Federation who could take over for you."

"I'm not so sure..." Topsas said. "The statis chamber is one thing, of course. Plenty of others could handle it."

"Well, what else is there?" Wampaaan'riix asked. It was difficult for him to keep his patience. Bad enough that he had been woken from his sleep, that he was sitting at his desk instead of the warm rugs of his den. But Topsas was never very forthcoming about his feelings. Always masking everything with dry humor and sarcasm. He had never known the arachnoid to ask for help like this, and now he was beginning to understand why. It wasn't stubborn pride so much as the doctor just couldn't quite spit out what the problem was.

And when Topsas finally answered, he only said: "Mycotherapy."

Which told Wampaaan'riix absolutely nothing. "What?" he asked.

"There is a particular species of fungus," Topsas explained. "In the wild, it has the ability to alter its DNA to mimic plant or animal tissue. This allows it to graft itself onto a host while avoiding any immune response. Three years ago, a team of researchers found a way to modify the fungus for medical applications. Genetic engineering, you know. A few fungal cells are applied to the site of the injury, and cultivated to replicate. If managed properly, they'll form a structure to fill in the wounded tissue. Then the fungal mass can be made to transform itself into part of the patient's own body."

"That sounds unbelievable."

"It's a rather new form of medicine," Topsas said. "I only learned of it myself very recently, while I was researching possible treatments for Luffa. I... began casting about for more... radical ideas."

"Radical," Wampaaan'riix said. "As in 'dangerous'?

"The graft has to be carefully monitored. Left unchecked, it could grow out of control, and consume the patient. And it hasn't been tested on many species. Until... recently, there's been no testing on any mammalian species at all."

"If you don't know what it could do to Saiyan biology, then why risk it?"

"Because I do know how it will interact with Saiyan biology. I... performed my own tests, using tissue samples from Luffa herself. I only did it to set my mind at ease-- to prove that it would never work, so that I could stop second-guessing myself. But, the results turned out to be more promising than I expected. There's a very strong chance that I could heal her wounds in a fraction of the time it would take for conventional stasis chamber therapy to work."

"Why haven't you told her about this?"

"I only obtained the results a few days ago, right before she went into the chamber. Before that, it was only an experiment. Besides, there would still be an immense risk. I would need to apply multiple grafts to her body and monitor them all simultaneously. No one has ever attempted this before, on any species. No one would."

"Then why consider it at all?"

"Because when I look at the work that would be involved, I cannot help but think I might be able to carry it off. It's not a certainty, but I've carried out delicate operations that humanoid physicians wouldn't dare attempt. The researchers who devised mycotherapy techniques were all vertebrate doctors. Greater minds than I, but even so, I believe I have abilities they did not. And while I lack experience in this specific therapy, I dare say I know Saiyan physiology better than anyone. If it can be done at all, then I believe it must be I."

Wampaaan'riix stroked his chin again. "And if you try this, you definitely won't make the transport your son sent you. But that's not what's bothering you. Otherwise you would just take the transport and let Luffa heal for two months under someone else's care. That would be the best thing for everyone, right? So why are you even considering this fungus of yours?"

He didn't answer right away, and Wampaaan'riix wasn't terribly surprised. He hadn't called from so far away for idle chit-chat.

"I became a doctor because I wanted to help people," Topsas finally said. "In my religion, it is said that my people were blessed with eight eyes so we may always see when others are in need, and eight limbs so that we may always have one ready to lend aid. I was fascinated with vertebrate anatomy, and I thought becoming a doctor would enable me to see more, to help more. Do you remember when we met?"

"On Plutark. You were patching up the competitors in the Deathmatch tournaments. I never did understand how you ended up there."

The tournament organizers paid handsomely for my assistance," Topsas said. "And my practice needed the funding. Besides, I felt that if I could at least tend to your injuries, then I could know that the competitors received as much genuine care as possible before most of them met their end. Another doctor might not bother, since he would expect most of you to die by the end of the day anyway. But I could hold myself accountable at least."

"But Luffa changed all of that."

"She spared you, and in the process, she defied the tournament organizers, and ended up shutting down their entire operation, thereby saving the lives of the other fighters who still had matches that evening. To say nothing of the fighters who might have participated in future matches that will no longer occur. Before, I had written you and Luffa off as little more than brutes. Yet you returned to your homeworld, to your family. You've raised your son into a fine man, from what I can tell. I trust the rest of your offspring have been just as fortunate."

Wampaaan'riix was honored by the compliment, but he was also wearied by the late hour. "What are you getting at, doctor?" he asked with a loud yawn.

"For a time, I saw my work in those dreadful tournaments as an unpleasant chore. I was less a doctor and more of a priest, administering last rites for the condemned. Oh, one fortunate soul would live to see the next day, but I always knew that survivor would die in some other battle, thinking his victory made him invincible. But Luffa was special, and in discovering that, I realized that I had been remiss in my duties, both medical and spiritual. That was why I came to her aid on the Tikosi Hiveworld. It was the right thing to do, of course, but I wonder if any other doctor would have felt such an obligation. You owed her your life, Wampaaan'riix, but I owed her my soul.

"And now, it seems that she blames me for her overzealous crusade to defend the Federation. I comforted her in her hour of need, you see. I held her hand and calmed her down after the battle with the Tikosi, after she killed her own father. She reminded me so much of my daughter. Nwitt died of a terminal illness. In the final stages, it affected her brain, made her a danger to herself and others. In the end, she was so terrified, and all I could do was euthanize her. I couldn't hold my own daughter's hand in her final moments. She had to be restrained, you see. When Luffa first transformed, it seem as though she might explode at any moment. I thought that if this were to be the end, then comforting her in her final moments would be a fitting way to die. Instead, she lived, and she apparently has taken my gesture as an example of courage.

"I never considered the things my patients might do after they leave my care," he said. "Their lives are their own business, of course. I was content to help them with what I had. But there is a ripple effect to it, isn't there? The person I mend one day may help someone else another day. And another. Perhaps someone down the chain actually manages to save someone's life. It's a frightening thing to consider. And Luffa is no mere pebble tossed into a pond. With her power, she's more like a meteor crashing into the ocean. I cannot bring myself to think of hers as a single life. There are so many other lives that she has influenced and may still influence in the future. A week or two months might mean the difference between life and death for countless people. And I can choose. A week or two months. I can play it safe, or I can dare to perform a challenging procedure that might kill or cripple my patient."

"Cripple?"

"One of the potential side effects of mycotherapy," he explained. "Even if the fungal growth is kept under control, the drugs used to maintain that control can affect the patient's senses. Her sight or sense of smell might be permanently damaged."

Wampaaan'riix leaned back in his chair. "High stakes," he said. "Knowing Luffa, she would probably just as soon fight blind, and she might even win, powerful as she is. But her enemies would just injure her again, and worse than before."

"I trust you see my dilemma," Topsas said. "I asked Ms. Dotz for advice. The woman is a fortuneteller, but she has a psychic blindspot where Luffa's fate is concerned, and she seems to have no idea how many people will live or die as a result of my actions. It serves me right for trying to peek ahead a few pages in my own life. She told me that I would certainly do the right thing, but it isn't that simple. I... I don't know what the right thing is."

"And that's why you contacted me," Wampaaan'riix surmised.

"There was no one else to ask. I wanted an objective opinion from someone who knows her," Topsas said.

Wampaaan'riix sighed and considered the matter carefully. "Doctor," he finally asked, "what do you think Luffa would say to all of this?"

"I haven't discussed it with her yet," Topsas replied. "Knowing her, she would probably insist on taking this gamble. Which is precisely why I am so reluctant to suggest it. For me it's an ethical problem, but for her! As far as she's concerned, even a disabled Super Saiyan would be better than an injured one. All she cares about now is time. The young always worry about running out of something they have in abundance."

"No, that's not what I'm asking," Wampaaan'riix said. "Suppose Luffa were in your position. How do you think she would approach this dilemma?"

"I don't understand... you mean, if she were a doctor treating a patient?" he asked.

"Yes. What would she do?"

His fuzzy pedipalps twitched as he wrestled with this scenario. Wampaaan'riix never quite learned to read Topsas's alien body language, so he watched uncertainly as the doctor thought it over. He was mildly concerned that he might drift off to sleep while he waited for Topsas to respond.

"I suspect," Topsas finally said, "that she would find a way to push herself to her limits. The difficulty of the procedure would only be a challenge for her. She would rise to meet it, unless she were absolutely certain that it was beyond her ability."

"Very good," Wampaan'riix said. "Spoken like a true warrior. I think that is the way you should decide. If you truly believed this plan of yours is unsound, then you would have abandoned it a long time ago. Instead, you've slowly talked yourself into it, until now, you stand at the threshold, but you aren't sure you're ready to commit. You're asking the rest of us for permission to try, but this is your battlefield, doctor, and yours alone."

"I will... consider what you have said," Topsas said after a long pause. "Though, to be honest, this was not quite the advice I was hoping for."

"We have a saying on Yetitan," Wampaaan'riix said. "'Advice is what we ask for when we already know the answer, but wish we didn't.' I don't know Dotz, but she sounds like a wise woman. So I agree that you will do the right thing, whatever you ultimately decide. Good luck to you, doctor."

They exchanged a few pleasantries before terminating the connection, leaving Wampaan'riix sitting alone in the darkened room. He thought about returning to his den, but somehow he doubted he would get much sleep, knowing what he knew of Luffa's condition.

*******

[30 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

Topsas did not decide right away. He resolved instead to wait another twenty-four hours and see how Luffa was responding to conventional treatment. The results he obtained from the sensor scans was less than encouraging.

"This isn't working," he said as he read the results. Luffa could not hear him. She floated in a suspension of medicated statis fluid, kept in an induced state of unconsciousness. Nor was there anyone else in the sickbay of the Emerald Eye to hear him. He continued speaking anyway.

"Your injuries are responding to the treatment, but not nearly at the rate I had hoped for. My own fault for being overly optimistic. I expected you to produce another miracle. Somehow your Saiyan biology would repair itself even more quickly, and you would break out of this tank in a mere ten days.

"But no. The inflammation in your feet has barely changed. Your cracked ribs have only just begun to knit. What is wrong with you, Little mammal? Are you so determined to keep fighting that you defy medical attention, even when you're unconscious?"

He had originally projected her full recovery would take at least two months. Based on the data he now had, that estimate would have to be revised upward. Three months, maybe even four. The bio-regenerative gel was working. He had used it on her in the past, after all. But it wasn't fast enough. Something about her condition was slowing down the whole process.

"My apologies. It is a poor physician who blames his patient. And yet, I cannot fathom what is going on in those cells of yours. Is your body focusing itself on increasing your power? The 'zenkai' as your people call it. Am I seeing a physical manifestation of that right now? Ninth Eye, are you so starved for combat that your body would fight itself? Half of you is trying to use this treatment to repair itself, and the other half is working on making you stronger."

He had prided himself on his expertise in Saiyan biology, but that honor was mostly by default. He was the only doctor who had spent this much time on a Saiyan patient, but there was still much that he didn't understand about how their bodies worked. The light of the full moon could make Luffa grow into a gargantuan ape-creature... unless her tail happened to be injured or amputated. It sounded like pure fantasy, but it was well-documented fact. They were so unlike other vertebrates, and Luffa was unique, even among her own kind. She never spoke of it, at least not to him, but he often imagined that being the Super Saiyan made her very lonely.

"I pray that I am wrong," he said. "Perhaps your body simply doesn't have the necessary compatibility with the medication. It can't be that your power is resisting the healing effects. It would be dreadful to be so devoid of peace. I think you crave peace as much as the rest of us do. Perhaps you only want it as a respite between battles, a good night's sleep, a quiet evening with your wife. I wish I could give these to you. As it is, I cannot even give you a swift recovery."

He stooped down in front of the chamber and looked at her through the transparent surface.

"I am not as oblivious as you might think," he said. "I know how important it is that you return to the front lines. Even now, I feel like your expression is daring me to do better. I don't know that I can. Is it worth the risk? Is it worth your life?"

He had gone over the mycotherapy procedure several times after speaking with Wampaaan'riix. He thought he could do it. What troubled him was that it had never been done quite the way he had in mind. As he regarded Luffa's face, he thought of his son, Turner, begging him to take the transport he had arranged to get him out of the warzone. He thought of his daughter, Nwitt, desperate for help, when the only thing he could offer was a painless death.

Then he put his hand on the control panel of the chamber, and activated the program to revive the occupant.

"I'll need to interrupt your sleep," he said. "I have something to discuss with you, and you may want to talk it over with your spouse."

*******

[31 May, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

They said yes. Of course they did. Topsas never doubted it. Luffa was a warrior anxious to return to her war, and Zatte was... well, she was something of a fanatic where Luffa was concerned. She insisted on performing some Dorlun ritual to honor Topsas before he began his work. It involved some sort of liturgy, and burning bits of her own hair in candle flames. Zatte could be very strange at times. But Luffa was the one that made him the most nervous. When he had explained the risks and difficulties of his proposed mycotherapy treatment, she simply grinned at him with that savage smile of hers, and shook his hand.

"I can tell how fired up you are about this, Doc," she had said before being sedated. "This should be fun."

It was as if she couldn't tell excitement from apprehension. But something about the conviction in her voice made him wonder if maybe she knew his feelings better than he did. Perhaps he was the one who had been mistaking enthusiasm for fear. Luffa had a peculiar talent of making him question himself.

And so far, it was working. Dr. Topsas wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. An early failure at this stage would at least put the matter to rest. He could say he tried, and move on. But it was working, at least for now, which mean that he had to keep going, and brave the potential failures that might still lie ahead.

He had never used seven hands at once. Not for surgery, not for anything, until today. Now, he rested his cephalothoarx on a barstool he had borrowed from a lounge on the ship, and used only one of his limbs to steady himself on that perch. The other seven limbs loomed over the stasis chamber, operating controls, dispensing drugs, and occasionally probing surgical incisions. His eight eyes observed all of this: his own movements, computer monitors, vital sign readouts, and more.

His two greatest points of concern were a hole in Luffa's left foot, and a damaged section of her right kidney. The foot had the largest injury, which required the largest fungal graft. If any of the grafts were to grow out of control, that was the most likely to do so. The kidney, on the other hand, was the most vital organ he had grafted. The graft was small, but if anything went wrong there, it could lead to more serious complications.

There were fifteen other sites to consider as well. Tendon damage in the right tricep. Puncture wound in the right foot. Left ring finger fracture. Three cracked ribs. Anterior cruciate ligament tear on right knee. Six lacerations in the abdomen, all damaging the large intestine. Large contusion on left thigh. Tendon damage on right shoulder. But he was certain that if the left foot and kidney could be made to recover, the others could be made to recover as well.

The first seventy-two hours were the most intensive. Normally, a team of doctors would carefully monitor the patient's progress and make adjustments as needed. He would need to do this alone, continuously. And he would probably have to be more nimble, since there would probably be unforeseen complications. He could slow down and take a little more time, but this carried a risk. If Luffa's organs rejected the fungal grafts, or vice-versa, he would need to take quick action, or risk undoing his progress. Better to exhaust himself across three days than to pace himself across four or five.

An alert from one of the monitors warned him of an acceleration in growth on one of Luffa's ribs. He applied a dilute solution of R-gel to slow it down. Beside Luffa was a tray of solutions he had prepared at various concentrations before beginning the procedure. Normally, a doctor administering mycotherapy would simply use one of the stronger concentrations. At worst, the entire graft might die, and he would have to apply a new one. Topsas didn't want to wait that long, and so he added his own variation to the procedure. He had to slow any runaway fungal growth, but he would try to use dilute R-gel first, so as not to risk destroying his progress on that front.

It was all experimental and unprecedented. The technique was sound, and he was sure of his abilities, but it had never been done quite like this, with so many simultaneous grafts. He didn't care for blazing new trails. Being the first was a scary proposition. But the situation had forced his hand. How could he turn away from this? He had too many hands, and too many eyes not to try.

Luffa's metabolic readouts were fluctuating, and so he had to divide his attention to modifying her nutrient intake. This, in turn, shifted the delicate balance of the grafts. He was losing one of them, the one on her arm.

No. He refused to surrender. It would be all too easy to sacrifice a few of the mycotheraputic sites and start over on a second session. Easier, safer, and more time-consuming. How many people could Luffa help during that lost time? Was he willing to doom them just to make things easier for himself?

He looked down at Luffa's face. Even unconscious, there was something aggressive in her expression, like she was aware of the struggle he was going through.

He had never completely understood his late daughter. Even before her illness, Nwitt's manic passions seemed alien to him, and to everyone he knew. He had seen some of Nwitt in Luffa, and pitied her for it. But over time, he came to see the Saiyan heart as something more than an engine of war. Luffa had shown him a fiery passion that could do more than kill. She could laugh, cry, love, and draw strength from those intense emotions. And as Topsas came to admire Luffa, he began to appreciate Nwitt all the more. For the first time in decades, Topsas saw his daughter as something other than a tragedy to be mourned. Her short life, and the wild emotions that fueled it, were something to be celebrated and cherished. Even the fear that came at the end, well that had its own meaning, in its own way.

He prayed for some of that energy now. If his skill and steady hands should falter, there was still his pride as a healer to drive him. There was still the thrill of the challenge, the fear of failure. His daughter was dead, but if he could save this little mammal in her honor, then maybe it would give some purpose to her loss.

"I won't lose," he said aloud. Whether he was speaking to himself or to his patient, or to Nwitt's spirit, he did not know. As he worked, he soon forgot all thoughts of the risks of this task. He ignored the fatigue that began to weather his stamina. He simply ignored all other courses, save the one he was on.

Zatte--bless her soul--believed Luffa to be an instrument of God's will. While Topsas respected this viewpoint, he disagreed. He had seen Luffa on the day she had first transformed. He had seen how violent and terrified she was. He had held her hand to calm her down. He still remembered the feel of Tikosi blood on her fingers, the whimpers she made as she fought to regain control of her own body. Perhaps this was the way divine instruments were chosen, but Topsas had trouble believing it. There was nothing glorious or honorable about it. She was compelled to follow an unknown path that was fraught with danger. And Luffa had faced that fate with courage on that day.

He swore to do no less on this day.

*******

[1 June, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

And the next day.

*******

[2 June, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

And the next...

*******

[3 June, 233 Before Age. Pillimede Asteroid Belt.]

He didn't sleep in the way that vertebrates did. When he was tired, Topsas simply ceased moving, and remained still for a time, though he remained fully aware of his surroundings. He was long overdue for this type of rest, but he couldn't stop for long. Having completed his work on Luffa, he was anxious to drain the chamber and revive her, so that he could conduct a more thorough examination, and make sure there were no lasting side-effects. The entire process took forty-five minutes. While mechanical pumps removed the medicated fluid, a tube attached to a face mask removed the fluid from her lungs, gradually reacquainting her respiratory system with air. The mask also delivered a sedative, and when he was ready, he reduced the dosage, opened the lid of the chamber and waited.

She regained consciousness almost immediately, barely giving him time to prepare the med scanner. "Where...? Oh. Right, the stasis chamber," she said, as she came to her senses. "How did it go?"

"Better... better than expected," Topsas said, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. "I... yes, better than expected. I'll leave it at that."

"Where's Zatte?"

"Oh, I... er, neglected to call her. I imagine she would be on the bridge. I've lost track of the time."

"How long was I out?"

"Three days." Tired as he was, he could not easily forget this, as he hadn't rested in all of that time.

"Three? You said it would take a week."

"Ah, yes, I did. It seems that your body was much more agreeable to the mycotherapy than I anticipated. I still want you to rest, but I don't know that we'll need the chamber for that. How are you feeling?"

Luffa paused for a moment, as though searching herself for an answer. "Sore," she said. Holding her hands in front of her face. "Not as bad as before, but... my vision's all... blurry."

Relief washed over him. Blurry vision, he could deal with. He had worried that she wouldn't be able to see at all, or something worse. He passed the med-scanner over her face anyway, to verify what she had said, but now he could feel more confident about it.

"A side effect of the fungal grafts," Topsas explained. "Your eyesight will return to normal eventually, though I shall have to monitor it carefully before we repeat the process."

"Repeat it?" Luffa asked.

"I think... yes, I think I've learned enough from this first attempt to feel confident about trying again," Topsas said. "The benefits seem to outweigh the risks at this point."

Luffa tried to sit up, and Topsas reached out to hold her back and guide her upright.

"Hold on," she said. "You're telling me that you managed to heal me up from all of that, in three days' time? And you can do it again? Whenever you want?"

"Not 'whenever'," he said with a sigh. "As I just said, I need to monitor your vision first. If we proceed too quickly, use the fungal graft too often, we run the risk of permanently damaging your senses."

"Yeah, but still..." She held up her left hand and looked at it. "It's not too blurry. Not sure why I see this blue tint on my skin..."

"That is the stasis fluid, little mammal," he said. One of his hands was already reaching up with a towel to wipe it off.

"Doc, are you okay?"

"Why would I not be?"

"You just sound tired somehow. It's hard to tell with you."

"I... may have overexerted a little," he admitted.

"You should rest," Luffa said. She planted her hands on the side of the chamber and began to pull herself out. "I can the service droid to bring us some dinner--"

He grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her from going any further.

"You are going to stay put until I am satisfied that your condition is stable," he said, noticing a faltering in his voice. "I just put you back together, and I want at least a little time to savor the victory before you rush off to undo all of my hard work."

"Sure, Doc, whatever you say," Luffa assured him. He turned to fetch something from one of the benchtops, and then he noticed her smiling at him.

"Does something amuse you?" he asked.

"You turned a corner, didn't you?" Luffa asked. "I'm a little out of it, but I can tell that much."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You weren't too thrilled about trying something like this, but now that it's over, you're practically champing at the bit to do it again."

"Oh yes, because I always look forward to seeing you return to this ship, bloodied and battered. Truly the highlight of my day."

"You remind me of when I was a kid, after I did my first Gallick Gun," Luffa said.

He said nothing, and pretended to be preoccupied with his scans.

"It might be a while before you get to do it again," she said. "Now that I'm healed up, it'll take a lot more to wear me down again. Those Jindan-using bastards won't have it so easy next time. Don't get too eager. You might get bored waiting for me to get hurt."

"I shall believe that when I see it," Topsas said.

She kept on gloating, as Saiyans so often do, about how she would destroy her enemies and reign supreme on the battlefield. Topsas simply carried on with his work, and when he was satisfied that there was nothing left for him to do for the time being, he called Zatte, then went to Luffa's bedside, and held her hand.

NEXT: To the future...

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #lssjluffafic #luffa #dr topsas #wampaaan'riix #yetitan

4 notes · View notes

one-of-us-must-be-crazy · 5 years ago

Note

👀 spare a WIP for a weary traveller

This isn’t going to happen for a LONG TIME but spoilers, eventually in Lucky Star, Christopher gets a little more human, and finds a hobby that he rather likes.

“You’re reading one of his?”

“What?” Ripley bent the mass market completely in half, setting it upside down on the coffee table. Samuels winced.

“That author,” he specified.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve read the whole series so far,”

“I didn’t think high-fantasy interested you much.”

“Not usually, but I’m over the shoot-outs, military lit, and what generally passes for fantasy anymore. Retro science fiction only goes so far too,” she shrugged. “But I kind of like this guy, he’s got a…I don’t know, his perspective is weird. I like it. Except that thing in this one, where they brought in the wyvren hatchery, the way they move…Reminds me too much of shit.”

“I like what he did with them though; dragons are far too beloved of a feature to demonize at this point, especially by a newer voice.”

“You read them?” Amanda perked up.

“…Technically.”

“What did you think?”

“I want to know what you thought—“

“Nope, you first.”

“I think they could have been better,” he began. “Too many instances where you can tell the author is merely reciting a scene instead of creating one. I think several conversations between the knights and their lords are taken from his own experiences,” there’s more he could pick apart, so much more, but Amanda looks crestfallen as it is, and he’s a little confused by it.

“Yeah but I don’t think he was wearing armor, or talking about a surge of monsters in real life.”

“Well, you never know,” he said with a slight grin.

“What do you mean?”

“You know that I’ve met many, many people through the company. I could have possibly seen him one day,”

“There’s no fucking way that you’ve met McClaren,” Amanda crossed her arms.

“Why not?”

“He lives in Scotland, for one; two, he’s probably ancient, so what would he be doing in the HR office of Weyland-Yutani, on Luna?”

“I don’t know, but I am familiar with him.”

“You’re lying,” she didn’t bother biting back her smile—she never bothered to around him.

“I’m not lying, and I’ll prove it to you,” she didn’t ask him to elaborate further, and he vanished for a short moment to his office, returning with a hardcover of the second novel.

“So you own a hardcover?”

“Open it,” he said, handing it to her. Amanda raised her eyebrow at him, flicking through the pages, before falling back on something strange on the title page that she missed in her copy of the book.

“holy shit. He signed it for you? The guy never does signings!”

“How do you know he doesn’t?”

“I looked him up once...read a lot about him. I thought you’d like the series, and I was going to try to find a boxed set of it for a gift for you, and see if I could get it signed. But then I found out that a) he doesn’t fucking sign anything ever, b) no one knows what he even looks like, and c) there’s another book left."

“There’s at least one, but knowing him he’ll probably drag it out for another two. He isn’t exactly...aware of human time and space.”

“Wait...Are you still in contact at all?”

“Yes but you can’t talk to him. I’m afraid to lose you to him,”

“Shut up,”

“I am though; he’s no older than I am. And is…apparently, your type.”

“I have at least three types.”

“He’s…much like me.”

“Then I’d rather keep you, not the updated-famous-writer-you. But I just want to ask him-- I’m mad about the alchemist—how could she not know what she was doing? If the king was using her work to help breed the wyverns, she had to know something, she couldn’t be that blind.”

“Perhaps she thought her work would help someone she loved.”

“That’s a whole other thing, that weird statue-hexed-to-life thing by some fuck up of hers? It doesn’t have a soul or a thought of it’s own and it’s...It’s creepy. She never even questioned it. And as far as her research for the wyvren hatchery—how would she think that the king gave a fuck about her science project sex toy—“

“That is awfully cruel, she really thinks that given enough power he might be able to live outside of her study, to be a person.”

“She fucked him though. Without knowing that he can’t say no to her. It was skeevy.”

“We were sleeping together nearly a month before you realized that—at the time—I couldn’t tell you no—“

“Again different story—“

“—is it? And why do you like the character so much if everything she does bothers you that much?”

“…She’s on her own. She came from nothing and now works under the king, not at the big castle of course, but still.”

“I don’t think she thought she was helping the king’s project; or that he was trying to breed monsters in the first place. Her father died in a dead-end battle for him, but…it happens all the time. Accidents. Mishaps. She doesn’t know—“ “Wait, did her dad die at one of the dens?! Oh my god it’s too long until the next one. And shit, if--” Amanda stops herself. Samuels isn’t going to call the guy up just becuase she wants spoilers, but--, well. Actually, that’s the exact kind of thing that Samuels would do.

“She does find out; and her ‘sex toy’ finds the record of her father’s death.”

“How do you—do you have an advanced copy?” he leaves the room again, and she half expects another treasure, an early release with a note in the front, maybe? Instead, he returns with the notebook she had bought him for Christmas.

“I’m…getting to the point where it’s beyond something that I can…bend out of my own experiences. I don’t want to lean too heavily on folklore but for now it’s the best I can do to avoid just copying out Beowulf.”

“…….You wrote a fanfiction?”

“Amanda, I wrote the whole series.” His partner is silent, and he’s wondering if she hasn’t already guessed it in the past, but she’s clearly in shock. “The author’s first two initials are ‘C. S.’ and that didn’t—“

“I thought it was a Narnia reference!”

“How didn’t you figure out you’re a main character—“

“……I’m the creepy alchemist?! And--she’s like…minor royalty. And pretty.”

“I think you are,” there’s a moment when it clicks in, the secondary character, her hair color, her attitude, her lover, her missing parent, her drive, her lover’s tender affection towards—and it clicked. And other scenes clicked too.

“You wrote and published a sex scene about us?”

“….I’m sorry? It was a fade-to-black though, nothing happened on the page. In the moment it felt like that’s...where they wanted to go.”

“When were you going to tell me about this? Not--not the alchemist but all of it, how did you even keep this a secret???”

“I started…writing memories. Then I could change them. Slightly, and eventually I could reset them entirely and even add and take things and…I figured out how to make things up. As for how I kept it a secret, well, I don’t require a fraction of the rest that you do, and while I do enjoy relaxing with you, I like feeling as if I’m accomplishing something.”

“Look at you figuring out how to be creative,” she did look proud of him, and she was, even if it would take a while to fully comprehend it.

“I’d appreciate it...if no one else found out.”

“People love you—“

“They love a thing that I made.”

“And you by extension—“

“I’d lose my royalties, copyrights, and probably my waking job too if I was exposed on a large scale.”

“You’re being dramatic—royalties?”

“…I…I’ve been saving them.”

“For what? I mean you make a decent check at the meteo center, and the flat’s paid off so what—“

“If you ever want to try--the genetics laboratory on Titan.. We’ll need tickets, lodging for multiple months. Supplies. Medical—it’s…not—don’t think that you have to make your mind up if you aren’t ready--only if you did I thought having the funds ready would...”

“I’m the one that brought it up, but I think…Another day we’ll talk about it but—spoil it for me,” she changed the subject. “Tell me what’s going to happen.”

“You can read it.”

“…You did’t write another sex scene did you?”

“….Yes but not for publication. There’s one that I was going to include but—it was too tasteless, it didn’t suit the rest of the story, and I thought it unnecessary. They arrive back at the main group the following afternoon, walking closer, touching more. Readers will know something happened.”

“But you did write it.”

“…I did. I also wrote another six hundred pages of plot and character development aside from it.”

“I want to read it,”

“Read the actual story first—please I don’t know what I’m doing with it, and it’s overdue to the editor—“

“I’m sure it’s perfect—“ she remembers the dedications at the opening of each book perfection’s closest being, love of my eternity. “The dedications… I’m…I’m the woman they’re all for. All those thank you’s and acknowledgements and—“

“There’s no one else,” he means it in honesty and love. Of course there’s no one else. So few friends and so few confidants. If there were more, she’d still be the one they’re dedicated to, but as it stands, there is quite literally no one else.

“Could you read it to me? The whole thing. I want to hear it, if it’s so important to you.”

“That’s a lot of –“

“Just a little! Each night a chapter or two. I want to hear it from you, how it was meant to be heard.”

AAAAAND that’s all you get. This is a stand alone bit inside of my “bad AU ideas” file that often ends up getting chopped up for later chapters of LS. This is likely to happen but the thing with Titan isn’t (a genetics lab, the sense being that they’d eventually have a kid/science project of their own). Maybe a one-shot becuase Samuels fretting over an infant is ridiculously cute but it’s not gonna fit the final version of them in Lucky Star.

#sunnyhomes

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Why Lamb Taps Into Childhood Roots for Noomi Rapace

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Noomi Rapace has been waiting for Lamb all her life. That’s how she describes the new pseudo-folk horror being released by A24 this week: something close to kismet. The film’s first-time director and co-writer, Valdimar Jóhannsson, had even crossed paths with Rapace before this movie, back when he did special effects work on Prometheus (2012) in his native Iceland. Yet it was only after she really got to know Jóhannssson nearly a full decade later, and once he showed up at her door with a drawing for a creature who was half-lamb and half-human, that she felt the touch of destiny.

“It’s been before and after Lamb for me, as a human and as an actress,” Rapace tells Den of Geek. “And I felt it when Valdimar came to London. I just knew in my body and in my soul I had to do this, and I’d been waiting for this film. It brought me back to my roots and where everything started.”

Those roots of course go deeper than when she broke into Hollywood with movies like Prometheus, just as they also dig further down than even her original Lisbeth Salander in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2009). This extends to a bedrock, foundational level for Rapace—back to when a young Swedish girl moved with her family to Iceland, living a life very similar to the one in Lamb: where you looked out at a harsh landscape and imagined what lay beyond.

Indeed, the movie Lamb begins on a frozen and stormy Christmas Eve, with lonely farmers Maria (Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snær Guðnason) oblivious to the cries of their sheep as an unseen visitor creeps into the barn. But this assailant’s work becomes visible enough the following spring—after one of the sheep gives birth to something that is neither lamb or human. In the eyes of most, it would simply be an abomination. But to Rapace’s Maria, the babe’s a gift from God. It’s a balm after she lost a daughter long ago. Now she will claim another, naming her Ada.

When we sit down to speak with Rapace and Jóhansson in New York City, they have an easygoing camaraderie after shooting in a landscape that is as unforgiving as it looks onscreen. They’re also in frequent agreement, including with the insistence that Lamb is not a horror movie. In their minds, it’s a folktale of the Nordic tradition, which is something they’re both intimately familiar with.

“We’ve been talking about Christmas and when I first moved to Iceland,” Rapace says. “And throughout Christmas there is this overhanging threat, an evil witch called Grýla. She has 13 sons, because the 13th son in Iceland is [supposed to be] really evil, and they start coming 13 days before Christmas, and one comes every day.” She then adds with a laugh, “If you’re not a good kid or you don’t behave, you get snatched and punished.”

Indeed, Grýla is just one of many folklore figures who touch on a primal Icelandic tradition. For his part, Jóhannsson recalls Grýla’s “Christmas Cat,” an enormous beast, which like the witch herself, would devour naughty children every Yuletide. It’s frankly a more hardcore legend than Santa Claus or even the Germanic Krampus, but to Jóhannsson and his leading lady, they’re less tales of horror than of mythic caution. A reminder of the natural way of things, particularly in the director’s homeland.

As a man with vivid memories of his grandparents on a sheep farm, and how he would visit them during the “magical time” of lambing, with newborn creatures entering this world, Jóhannsson almost saw this movie like a waking dream. It was memories of those days that first brought the idea of Ada to Jóhannsson as he was drawing a series of sketches; the culmination of a particularly creative period in his life. And he tells us now that “she is almost exactly how we planned from the beginning” in the final film.

With that said, in his first drafts of Lamb, including with co-writer and poet Sjón, Ada was a much more knowable character than the one who is alluded to in the movie.

“At one point, we thought she should talk,” Jóhannsson says. “But because we used [live] animals in the film, we decided we should treat Ada the same. [The viewer] has to give her what we leave out. Like when you see the cat or the dog, you probably decide for yourself what they are thinking about or what their feelings are.”

For Rapace, this also meant acting in as many scenes with actual lambs as it did human actors. Either way, it was left to her imagination to find the face of a beloved child.

“It required a lot of patience,” Rapace explains, “but at the same time we did shoot with real babies and real lambs. Sometimes there was this puppet. But it felt like she actually came to life on the day. I was acting with real lambs most of the time, so I would almost forget that she was not there when we were shooting.”

More difficult for Rapace may have been returning to filming in Icelandic summers. As with Prometheus before it, she filmed under a “midnight sun.” And like Ridley Scott on that film, Jóhannsson too became obsessed with that singular “beautiful” light. But for an actor and crew it can bring out a different reaction.

“It was already quite intense, just living with Maria in me,” says Rapace, “she totally hijacked my body and my mind, and I didn’t socialize with anyone else. And then in Iceland during summer… it’s like two in the morning and it looks like midday, and everybody’s got to go a little bit cuckoo, because you have no rhythm. There’s nothing to hold onto, and you almost start to morph into different shapes of yourself.”

Those shapes can take you back in time though, including to those aforementioned roots. While Rapace didn’t grow up surrounded by sheep-people, she recalls all too well the horses, dogs, and a couple of pigs on her “poor farm,” as well as the feeling of living apart.

Says Rapace, “I did live a life that was isolated from the sophisticated and technical civilization. So it wasn’t too alien for me to deliver baby lambs and to drive a tractor, even though I had not done either before.”

It also wasn’t hard to remember in Iceland, a country still marked by active volcanoes and lava which you can see from your backyard—literally in Jóhannsson’s case—that the natural world is always there. And it can be unforgiving.

“That is the nature of Iceland. It’s angry and it’s dangerous,” Rapace says before forming a smile. “So like be aware of who you fuck with.”

Lamb opens in the U.S. on Friday, Oct. 8 and in the UK on Dec. 10.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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avalon987 · 4 years ago

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THE DEW

A story which is part of a collection

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THE DEW

China

Chaozhou

1855

Huan Sen followed the sinuous path alongside the canal. Spring spread the essence of the renewed promise of the blossoming nature.

The ripples on the canal surface resembled dragon scales.

His spirit was always present to remind you to keep your vows otherwise his punishment would come swiftly. The bright orange of the lanterns in the streets announced that it was the hour of the demons.

In the beginning of the night, Huan Sen felt the devilish calling of the opium pipe.

For two years, he had been addicted to the poisonous volutes.

When he entered the den, dozens of men were lying on the mats. Some smiled, others had their eyes closed.

Huan Sen looked in his pocket, it was the last coins he had.

He was heavily in debt. He argued everyday with his wife who begged him to bring more money to feed the children.

He did not care any more.

Huan Sen had made up his mind, he was going to kill himself tonight, after this last pipe.

He put his head on the pillow, and he inhaled with the whole capacity of his lungs.

The gates of paradise opened.

Why life could not be like that all the time?

Always there was this stinging pain which destroyed his spirit.

Huan Sen could not see any exit from this hell.

Death would solve all his problems and sufferings.

He was ashamed of himself. He had let everybody down. He had failed miserably. He waisted his potential with this satanic drug and the despair that ensued.

But ten years ago, his future seemed so bright, he was appointed by the governor of the province to be the chancellor of the prefecture.

When he tried opium for the first time, it was just an experience, a new pleasure.

All his friends were already hooked, so it could not be so bad.

It was elation, he could find a relief from the pressures of family life.

He had imagined that raising children would be more fulfilling, it was the ultimate act of creation, but he could barely relate to his son and daughter.

He felt alienated.

He could not connect on a deeper level with his wife who constantly demanded more him.

When Huan Sen smoked, the doors of infinity opened. It brightened his mood.

He needed to go the most often he could to the den. He also drank more and more, and he went to see the concubines regularly.

To feed his lifestyle, he began to borrow money from his friends, but because he paid them back so late, at the end, they did not want to help him any more.

The prefect complained about the quality of his work.

Huan Sen was often late to the office.

He made more often mistakes because he could not concentrate like he used to before.

Sometimes he wept for hours at home.

He could not see an issue to his problems.

His wife scolded him everyday about the lack of resources; it was not the life she envisioned when she married him, she thought that Huan Sen was a promising young man with a bright future.

He was so desperate for money that he went to see shady characters to lend him more cash.

He made the mistake to not paying them back on time, and as warning, they went to ransack his home. They threatened to harm his family if he could not honour his debts.

Totally disgraced and ashamed, Huan Sen went to see his father who accepted to bail him out at the condition he stopped his addiction to opium.

His father also decided to pass on his wealth onto his younger brother even though Huan Sen was the first born ,and that he should inherit the majority of his father estate. He could not trust Huan Sen any more.

For three months, Huan Sen tried to stay sober, but the attraction of the opium was too strong.

The sensation of withdrawal was enormous.

He fell back again to his old habit.

He started to steal discreetly money from the prefect coffers.

When this was not enough, he re-contacted the shady people he had previously known. He proposed to help them corrupt the armed forces in the region.

It was an offence punishable by death.

Huan Sen was permanently fearing being caught.

These activities made rival gangs jealous.

To forget his worries, Huan Sen drowned deeper into the void of the opium and the promiscuity with the concubines.

Now his spirit was drained, he was tired of living. Everything seemed vain.

Tonight, he was going to end it all.

He could not be a burden for his family and community any longer.

The weight of the shame destroyed his soul.

Huan Sen went to the bridge where many jumped to commit suicide.

A soft breeze infused the night. It was the time.

Huan Sen was at peace.

A shadow just behind him started to talk.

“It’s a beautiful night, spring takes all its meaning at this hour.” said an old gentleman.

Huan Sen was surprised because he thought he was alone. He turned back. The man looked like an old monk.

“Yes it’s a beautiful night, but if you don’t mind, I’m going back home, my family is waiting for me, so I wish you a good night,” said Huan Sen.

“How many children do you have?” asked the old man

“I have one boy and a girl. The boy is eight year old and the girl is six year old.” said Huan Sen.

“Oh I see, it reminds me a man I met on the same bridge five years ago. He too had two children.

He was a very troubled when I met him.

He confessed to me that he was about to kill himself. You probably know that this bridge is famous for the number of people who ended their lives here.” said the old man.

“Yes I know, you have quite of interesting stories to tell but I’m very sorry, I have to go now.” said Huan Sen irritated.

“You look sad, are you sure everything is fine?” asked the old man

“Why do you care, my life is none of your business!” said angrily Huan Sen.

“I heard that many people these days get in heavy debt to go the opium den.” said the old man.

Huan Sen looked at he old man, he could see that his face was full of compassion.

An uncontrollable jolt of energy seized him. Huan Sen cried profusely.

“My house is just around the corner, come to drink a tea with me, and tell me about your story” said the old man.

Huan Sen told the old man how desperate he was, nothing could change his mind, He wanted to die.

“Do what you want to do, the only thing I will ask you, it’s to wait until tomorrow before you execute your plan. In the meantime, take this money for your family.” said the old man.

“Why do you do this, you don’t even know me” said Huan Sen.

“A long time ago I was as desperate as you.

Someone helped me to go through this difficult period of my life, and now I tried to do the same for other people. I will pray for your soul.” said the old man.

Huan Sen left the old man’s house like he was in a dream.

He went to his home. He gave the money to his wife. Tomorrow, he would muster more courage to end his life.

But a little voice in his heart told him to see the old man before doing something definitive.

The day after when he went to visit the old man,

he saw him practising kung fu with a great agility.

“Wow! you are in great shape for your age” said Huan Sen.

“I’m glad you have come back. What you saw is just about focus and discipline” said the old man.

“If you choose to live, I will give you more money to payback your debts, but in exchange you will have to work for me. the choice is yours.” added the old man.

“No, nothing can save me, some people are after me. Sooner or later, they will get me” said Huan Sen

“So you need to leave this city for a while, I can also help you with that.” said the old man.

“Everywhere I could go, they will find me, they have a very developed network of informants. For now, the persons I know can intervene to protect me but for I don’t know for how long.” said Huan Sen.

“I know a village in the mountains where you could be safe with your family. I have a house there, you can use it.” said the old man.

This proposition made Huan Sen think. If the old man was truthful and sincere, it could be the beginning of a solution for him.

Han Sen investigated the old man with his contacts in the administration.

It turned out that he was the heir of great landowner in a different part of the empire.

The day after having met the old man, Huan Sen explained to his wife that they were going to move immediately to the mountains because it was too dangerous to remain in the city.

She had no choice but to accept even though she was deeply saddened to leave the persons she had known all her life.

They decided to go just before dawn to avoid too much attention.

They went to the old man’s house. He provided a carriage for them.

It took five days to arrive in the village in the mountains.

Around two hundred people lived there, many of them were people that the old man helped.

When they arrived, the village head welcomed them.

He took Huan Sen aside.

“You need to get rid of the demon, after you could join your wife and children.” said the village head.

Huan Sen suffered severe withdrawal symptoms.

For two weeks, he drank a special tea.

He could only eat vegetables. He spent the first days screaming his pain in a secluded hut near the village.

When he felt better, they ordered him to meditate using prayers and visualizations specially designed for the addicts like him.

His boy and his girl complained because they did not understand why they had to live in small house in the mountain away from their friends.

Like everybody else, they had to work in the fields which provided the food they ate. They did not like it at all.

After his detoxification period, Huan Sen was allowed to return with his family.

Slowly, he started to recuperate his zest for life in the mountains. The fresh air was a great help.

With his administrative skills, Huan Sen reorganized the village to be run more efficiently.

He learned carpentry, fixing agriculture tools, and other competences the village needed.

His main project was to dig a new canal to irrigate the rice fields better.

He forgot the city life and its troubles completely.

Near the village there was waterfall where he used to go to reenergise.

Everything seemed to go smoothly for six months, when out the blue, the village was attacked by brigands who used to pillage the peasants of the region.

The brigands considered that it was a yearly tax that was due for them. Most people were fatalistic about the situation.

“There is nothing we can do, if we don’t give them what they want, they are ready to even kill some of us.” said the village head.

Huan Sen loved the place, for him this could not go on any longer.

He proposed the village head to elaborate a plan to organize the resistance.

But the villagers were totally afraid to rebel.

One month later, the brigands came earlier than expected, this time one them raped a young woman. When they left, they laughed.

The villagers were completely outraged, and they decided that it was finally time to fight back.

Huan Sen convinced them that they had to set up trap to lure the brigands into it.

The villagers trained for two weeks to learn the rudiments of the art of war.

They transformed their tools into weapons.

When the brigands came back, the village seemed empty.

They found this strange. They were on their guard.

Suddenly, the windows opened. A swarm of arrows overwhelmed the brigands.

The villagers captured the survivors.

They put them on their horses with boards around their necks saying that the next time they would try to come, it would be worse.

The level of fear was even greater among the villagers because there was no turning back this time.

But they were determined, It was better to die fighting than to accept their previous plight.

It was decided that all the women and children would be send to safety somewhere in the mountains.

Booby traps were placed all around the village.

The best snipers were given the two riffles they had.

The brigands arrived at night, they were strong of forty men. Huan Sen who was one of the sniper deliberately aimed at the chief of the brigands that the village head indicated him.

With all the booby traps in place, it was a carnage. Huan Sen managed to injure and to catch their chief

“The next time you come, I will kill you.” said Huan sen

The chief of the brigands saw that Huan Sen was serious and determined.

Huan Sen let him go.

After this episode the chief of the brigands thought that the village was not worth the trouble.

One month later, the old man showed up in the village. He was amazed by Huan Sen’s transformation

“I can see that you have done a great job.

They told me the way you dealt with brigands was exceptional.” said the old man.

“I love the people here it’s an honour to serve them.” said the old man

“I have to show you something” said the old man.

“It’s a pardon decree from the prefect. With the information you gave me, they arrested many people.

Huan Sen was overwhelmed by the news.

He went to bed early.

He woke up with the first rays of light.

He walked alongside the canal to start his day of work. He looked at the dew on the vegetation.

Never it had been so vibrant and luminous.

When he was an addict, he did not find the time to appreciate how wonderful and precious life was.

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