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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 122

Annnnd WE’RE BACK!

Thank you so much for your patience during the hiatus. Work is still crazy, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel there *crosses fingers*. And I was able to build back up my cushion of chapters, so that was a huge win for me.

As a reminder, this is a skip forward roughly 4 years from chapter 121. So, if you read a bit and start to wonder “wait, did I miss something?”, you probably didn’t and it’s most likely something I am going to circle back to. Don’t be a afraid to shoot me an ask, however, if you are just really thrown off by something! I’ll gladly clarify unless it’s something plot-specific.

Thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose, @raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog. By the way, Raven is working on a podcast of The Miys, which I am incredibly stoked about. Please follow @glimmeringfeatherspodcast for updates!

I carefully adjusted my glasses as I suppressed a giggle at Noah, who was swarmed with small yellow puffs of fuzz. In the last seven years since their discovery, Else’s hyper-fast evolution hadn’t slowed down much, although Grey did promise that it had slowed down. Noah buzzed at the puff resting on one of its vomu, eliciting a purr. “I believe they learned this behavior from Mac.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admitted. “I caught him playing with several of them a couple days ago.”

“I have observed them together on frequent occasions.” Reaching up, it plucked another puff from the top of its head. “I cannot hear if you sit on my sensory organs, podling.” Soon after Else evolved to the point they could live outside of a habitat tank, Miys had developed a tendency to treat them like its own young, and generally had several of them perched somewhere.

“How many of them are there now?” I asked, reaching out slightly before stopping myself from petting the closest canary-sized fluff. “Else, can I pick you up?”

In response, it bounced onto my hand. I’d noticed how little they spoke now, but Miys had assured us it was a normal stage in hive-being evolution - once Else became too large to actually fit in our bodies, it wasn’t able to communicate through the translator chip. At this stage, it could still hear us, but communicating back was a work in process. Mostly, they just trilled and chirped.

“Currently, there are five hundred and seven thousand, six hundred and twenty-three.”

“They’re very adaptable,” I observed.

With the one free vomu it had, Noah made a nodding gesture. “Most species that reach sentience are. We are able to observe Else’s evolution on a much shorter time scale than most, as well. Consider humanity’s evolution, and imagine seeing it take place in years rather than over the course of millenia.”

“I know,” I laughed. “But seeing it is way more incredible than imagining it.” I adjusted my glasses again, eliciting the buzz that usually meant Noah was exasperated with me.

“Why do humans insist on using those instead of having their eyes repaired?”

“My eyes aren’t damaged,” I reminded it. “And you did repair my eyes. I’m wearing these because my eyes are working right. You know this.”

“In principle, not in practice.”

It was my turn to sigh. “Our eyes evolved to work in a specific kind of light. Earth’s sun is yellow, I think? But Von’s sun is more blue.” I gestured at the light emitters in the corridor. “When the light is in the twilight cycle like this, some humans can’t see as well as we could in Earth-twilight. Hence the glasses.”

“Sight is so inefficient.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t exactly argue. “Between the light and the gravity, it’s been a huge adjustment.”

“You have all adjusted in quite - innovative ways,” Noah replied. “My kind have done many of these relocations. Not all species adapt well.”

“What was it you called it?” I squinted, both from trying to see what was ahead of me and from thinking. I’m going to have to talk to someone about some flashlights, I swear… “We ‘persist’?”

“Humans are remarkably stubborn, yes,” it confirmed. “As Arthur Farro seems to prefer explaining it, your species began space travel by attaching chemical ignition drives to your posteriors.”

Even after so long, some things just did not translate. “Yep, we very much strapped a rocket to our asses to achieve spaceflight,” I laughed. “Everything on Earth kind of evolved and adapted like that. We learned what wouldn’t poison us by watching others die from eating it, that kind of thing. Even our superstitions, and later our laws, were basically ‘hey, let’s not do this, it kills people’.” A liw made its way into my line of sight, rocking to mimic a confused head-tilt. “You rescued us for our sight, not because we are a particularly bright species.”

“I understand that the polite thing to do, according to your customs, is to object to that statement, however I have been told on several occasions that I lack any skill in falsehoods.”

“We bombed ourselves back to the Stone Age the second we hit our highest peak in technology.” I reached out and patted what would have been a shoulder on a human. “You don’t have to lie about that. Arthur has studied an absurd percentage of human history. Even from a scholarly perspective, I am assured we are a singularly idiotic race. Besides, we’d already ruined an entire planet at that point...”

“It has evidenced itself to be a lesson well-learned.” It returned the pat, gently. “For a species historically inclined to warfare, those on the Yjq have demonstrated a profound proclivity toward peace.”

“Trying to keep it that way, bud,” I admitted.

Removing yet another puff from its sensory organs, Noah continued. “Please be assured, also, that Terrans are far from ‘singularly’ idiotic. There are many species in the Galactic Community that are demonstrably lacking in what you refer to as ‘common sense’.”

Noah was still a terrible gossip. “Do tell,” I asked, crossing my mental fingers that we weren’t the worst out there.

“Preeyar,” it listed immediately.

“The rift-valley avians?”

“The same. They experience terrible reactions to liquid water, and yet they are fascinated by fountains and insist upon touching them!” Startled chirps erupted as all six appendages on Noah’s upper body flung out in frustration. “Any vessel transporting Preeyar has specific instructions on how to treat the resulting burns.”

I had to admit, that was pretty bad. “Terrans at least learn not to touch things that will burn us by the time we can speak, usually.” My nose tickled as several little Else-puffs migrated over to me, upset by the grand gesture from my friend. I was almost glad it was so difficult for humans to see in the corridor, because I probably looked absurd.

“Shalt’krii are somehow just as difficult,” Noah confessed. “As a species that have what you term an ‘allergy’ to sonic waves - they develop painful rashes and can have seizures when exposed. Yet, it is entirely inevitable when transporting a large group that several will have forgotten or neglected to bring dampeners.”

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped, trying not to laugh and upset Else again. “How?”

“It has eluded the Galactic Council since they joined. The dampeners are far less barbaric than what the So-K’nor do to resolve a similar concern, but I must privately admit that the So-K’nor are at least more consistent and effective.”

Well, yeah, deliberately deafening yourself permanently when you go off-world tends to be that way, I thought to myself. I knew I didn’t need to say it out loud, but I also knew that Noah would not address my thoughts out loud. “Okay, maybe we aren’t that bad,” I granted. “I think the worst we do is ingest mild poisons.”

“On an alarmingly frequent basis, yes. Including plants native to your world that actually attempt to digest you as you eat them.”

I shook my head. “Not this girl. I don’t like pineapple.”

“And the number of humans on the ship who willingly consume lactic acid, knowing it will cause them digestive distress?” If it had eyebrows, they would be arching, I just knew it.

“You have pointed out several times over the years that you can’t taste,” I pointed out. “So you have no idea how tempting cheese can be.”

Noah shook one vomu like a head. “Incorrect. Having witnessed the sheer amount of it that Tyche consumed once she realized that you were not lactose intolerant, there is empirical evidence to support your claim.”

Unconsciously, my hand jumped to touch my left ear before I could force it down. “I remember the spicy food,” I said carefully, stroking one of the fluffs on my arms. “But I didn’t know about the cheese. Come to think of it - “ I stopped in my tracks and turned to face Noah directly, “Why weren’t the consoles just adjusted to make all the food… I dunno, lactose-free, I guess?”

Two liw reached to pluck several yellow beings from my arms and head as Noah used one vomu to start ticking reasons. “One, because I was specifically asked not to by Grey Hodenson and Xiomara Kalloe, the consensus being that bovines are, in fact, in the genetic database. Two, because that was attempted several weeks before you were brought on board, and I was tempted to damage my sensory organs to block out the sheer number of complaints regarding how everything tasted.” Thankfully, its vomu was still empty when it flung outward. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accommodate requests regarding something you do not experience?”

I felt slightly ashamed. “Not entirely, no.” Trying to lighten the mood slightly, I felt the need to point out “Besides, I really like goat cheese.”

“Something about chetter and mootsareeleh,” Noah grumbled.

“Ohhhhh,” I whispered. “Eyeah… do not mess with Italians’ mozzarella, I have learned. And cheddar does have a very specific flavor. I can see those being very loud complaints.”

“In eight Terran years, I am still confused why the color of the chetter is a determining factor, as well as how something so soft can be compared to an edged weapon.”

I felt like I was going to explode from suppressed laughter. I had to stop, tears streaming down my face, and catch my breath. “Oh, Noah… I honestly don’t know if I can explain that, but I can try…”

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#the miys #humans are weird #found family #humans baffle aliens #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #original science fiction #science fiction #sci fi #original sci fi #my writing

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nothisis-ridiculous · 4 years ago

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Take Me Home Now: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: I Hear Her Voice in the Mornin' Hour

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Shepard," the cold voice greeted her, the mechanic gravel unneeding of the visive tone, "or is it the fragment of your former self?"

Jane's head craned slowly, letting her eyes rake over the colossal figure of the derelict Reaper that sat before her. Should she be trembling? Why was she trembling?

"Brave words, for a dead roach," she murmured, wavering in her conviction.

"Your victory accomplished our end goal; your struggle was in vain."

Jane looked away from the synthetic, training her vision on the open sky above her. Lifting a hand above her face to shield it from the afternoon sun. The Citadel was a stark presence in the sky. It was a thing of awe. Now it was a wreck. While four of the arms remained, it wasn't without severe damage to the remaining limbs. The bright center of civilization flickered, struggling to sustain itself after the attacks that likely left millions dead. With the detonation she caused.

"Was the price to defeat your salvation truly worth it? You may think your species achieved enlightenment, but will it last to see those vain promises through?" The Reaper grew louder, a hint of yellow reflecting across the glass-like surface of the optic lenses, "In your hubris, you have destroyed everything that kept your species together! Witness the Citadel! How many died for nothing? How many more will die from starvation? Disease? Eachother? Will you watch your peace crumble?"

Trying to block out the voice, she focused on the rations half-eaten in front of her. Another task she no longer took pleasure from, another waste. Feeling this heaviness was quickly becoming unbearable; she was a beacon for passion and fire. A goddamned, fucking hero. One with a will that ignited others, not a tired soldier that snuck away to avoid eating a full meal. Not someone questioning why they remained. The goddamned bit was right, at least, there was no luck here. Just beating after beating.

She was so alone.

Where were her friends? How long would she have to wait? After all they had been through, wouldn't they at least attempt to find her? She wasn't far from where she had made them leave her behind. Already, she had been back to the beacon several times over the fortnight since the LT had conscripted her into this ragtag community.

She needed the Normandy crew. Her mind whispered horrible things. Taunted and dogged her in each agonizing moment of calm. All she held was death, screaming, the weight of all the choices she made. Her soft place was nowhere to be found.

"This legacy you attempted will end in the spoiling of your name. Villanhood only matched by the word 'Reaper,'" The machine was rarely silent long, it was content to keep speaking filling the silence that Jane left, "a Shepard only heralding death and destruction, because your weakness was what you thought strength. Overconfidence always leads to downfall."

In a simmer of sudden rage, Jane gathered energy into herself, merging the familiar burn and tingle of dark matter and letting it stir just beneath the surface of her skin, pleasure, fury, and a twinge of pain. Just the way it should be. It released in a single burst.

"Pathetic."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Recruit caught herself before she toppled ass over tea kettle, fists grinding into the ground before her to stabilize. Her signature move from cocky grin to a deadened expression had yet to sit right with him, but as he was learning about his woman, forcing an issue wasn't going to move it aside any quicker. Reflexively adverting his gaze to allow her pride the room to readjust and soothe her attitude. Most in his company did not understand his patience with the newest recruit, but they couldn't empathize with the bittersweet familiarity it welled up inside his heart.

With any luck, he could one day reiterate to his son how proud he was of him.

"LT," the woman chirped, a hint of a smile crawling up the side of her mouth.

"Recruit," the old man was looser with his smile. With an admonishing raise of an eyebrow, he drew a finger across her philtrum, "I see you've met our lawn gnome. Still haven't named him yet."

Jane's eyes rolled and a smile she could not fight spread across her features, "Harbinger," but the utterance came out with surprising severity.

"I'd have gone with Harold, Pookie even," he mumbled, dragging a handkerchief across the underside of her nose.

Just as quickly the moment was gone, she pulled away from him. A token of gratitude left in the form of a gentle smile, "did you come out here to bother me, or did you need something?"

This was the prickly personality he didn't care for as fondly. Requiring a brief moment to placate a moment of hasty rebuke, his gaze moved to the half-empty can and the lid that lay a few meters downwind—twice ignoring the blood that peppered the ground beneath her seat. Perhaps he didn't have the patience to baby another mouthy soldier, and she seemed content to throw herself away. But in the same vein, he had regretted doing that years ago with his own child. Sure, this woman was a stranger, but she belonged to someone that worried about her. His innate integrity could hold him out a bit longer.

"You know, we don't have enough supplies to be wasting it," Roy found something to vent the heat building inside.

Jane's bright blue eyes that reflected the setting sun snapped to the can, a wince revealing the words did strike something, "you eat it then. I've been watching you pawn off your rations."

He accepted the can, plopping a hearty portion into his mouth, "still tastes like shit."

"I could really go for some steak fries and chutney," Jane mused gently.

"I'm thinking I could make that happen."

The woman's full attention turned to him, the fine fuzz of her returning eyebrows raised at him.

"Give or take a few weeks."

"I'm assuming you have a plan?"

"Yeah," the man paused, testing out the recruit, the hold on her patience proving to outlast him for the first time, "I'm hoping to test out your skills. And you need to start earning your keep."

"Ready and willing, sir!" She snapped to attention, a foreign energy oozing from her at this moment. Not that he doubted her willingness to come along, he was just surprised to see her motivated to do something.

"Hold your horses, Recruit. You may not be so excited when you find out what we are doing," not that he had much doubt about her grit, "it should be a standard supply run. With a large Krogan exception."

"Krogan, sir?"

He nodded, "before this mess all started, I had a small orchard; I knew a guy from London that shared the hobby. He was more into plants in general, but anyway, I couldn't recall his exact address but knew about the general area his warehouse was located. It should be a rapidly growing, resistant crop. The problem is the Krogan found it first."

"Are we trying diplomacy or just rushing in?"

"I want to try the former, the ladder only if things go south. Some big wig Clan Urgnut-"

"Urdnot."

Roy cleared his throat, that did sound right, "Urdnot was holed up there. Smart move on their part. But they don't have a protected area with access to sufficient sunlight to grow anything, and more importantly...hopefully, they aren't likely to know how to grow the crop."

"You're hoping to grow it within the atrium?" it seemed the recruit was astute enough to guess at the plan without it needing to be spelled out, "trading access for food and maybe protection?"

"If we are lucky."

He had already began to act hopefully, ordering the healthy refugees under guard to start collecting and tagging soil for growing crops. They had some luck, even if it meant desecrating the dead's gardens. The corporate offices he felt less guilty about robbing them of soil.

Finding power had been an easier ordeal; military generators were easily plugged into the grid to power the essentials like heat and some lighting. Water filters were easily found, and London's preference toward rain lent them an easy water source. They weren't foolish enough to rely on a regular storm pattern and already had begun to build a reserve of water. Communication was an entirely separate issue- they needed to find an engineer and fast. Or rely on another splinter group to fulfill that gap. On the subject of protection, he didn't want to let on how direly he needed the talks to go peacefully. Once word got around that they could produce food, the untold number of refugees and nefarious forces pounding on their doors would create unfathomable problems.

But all this conjecture was counting chickens before the eggs hatched.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane kept her assignment besides the Lieutenant with minimal complaint. They couldn't know that keeping watching along occupied territory was old news to her. While she was used to point, settling into the left flank was quickly done.

It was nice not being the center of attention, without the burden of anyone looking to her for guidance. Without the worry of making a wrong call, she could let down some of the instinctual guard associated with the position of leader. Luckily a hard call wasn't required for this part of the journey, the few-kilometer trip went by without incident.

"LT," she pressed once the first evidence of a perimeter came into view, "have you ever met a Krogan before?"

The male on her right smirked, rolling his eyes. Roy stopped, pulling a deep breath. Some of his stoic calm wearing at the edges. Jane knew this wasn't because of her, she had yet to do anything that would constitute annoying the man. He was nervous.

"No, but how different can they be?"

The man chuckled, "I heard they're almost mindless brutes."

Jane threw him a sharp glare, "they're the rough and tumble type, but not mindless. I'd suggest reminding him of home."

She could guarantee cooperation if Shepard wanted to come out. Shepard liked to remain locked away anymore.

While the man to her right heavily rolled his eyes, Roy seemed to take it under consideration. His gaze flickered back to the path before them, hesitation now more detectable in his manner.

"Maybe you-"

Roy's voice stopped with the interruptions of Jane's pistols suddenly unfurling to full length.

"Don't stop," a gruff Krogan voice called, "I'm looking for a fight."

A second voice was a little more reasonable, "what is your business? This is Krogan territory."

"Human territory," the man retorted with surprising gusto, "you overfeed iguana."

For his bravery, the man collided with the road the third but silent Krogan finding the insult not to his liking. The first Krogan spurred on by his comrade shoved Roy aside, the older man spun without resistance to the ground, "humans are so soft."

Jane was purely lucky that the more tolerable Krogan was nearest to her. It didn't make her less angry. Yes, pushing over the douche of a specimen was permitted but bringing the old man into it? She expected better of Clan Urdnot. Pissed off, the female stormed for the offending Krogan.

Now, she wasn't foolish enough to go in guns blazing, but she knew a better way to deal with the offending reptile. According to Zaeed the spot she had to hit corresponded with a weak spot on the species' frontal plate. If she had a knife and the gall to do so, she could rip that piece off and cause the Krogan to panic. But on the less violent and more in line with the peacekeeping mission she had a superior move: simple, elegant, and a returning item on her personal bucket list.

Headbutting another Krogan.

In retaliation, he glowed blue.

It never came to fruition as the reasonable member stepped between them, "you have offended her krant. Let it go." But his smirk didn't go unnoticed, "what do you want?"

"We're here to speak with Wrex."

The Krogan chuckled, "you have an impressive quad. But I don't think the clan leader is interested in what you have to say."

"You really want to test that? Would we really be here if wasn't important," Shepard's fire returned, "what other reason would we have to seek out the Krogan? Certainly not for the fight." She motioned toward the two with her.

The Krogan gave an exasperated sigh, "fine, but only one of you. The other two wait."

Jane pivoted and proffered an open hand to the LT, "this is your ball game, sir. Do us proud."

#shenko #mass effect fanfiction #femshep x kaidan #mass effect #mass effect spoilers #kaidan alenko #commander shepard #fanfic #take me home #mass effect andromeda

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escapadeist · 4 years ago

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Hope, A Dangerous Word

Do you remember,

the way you hazed in the glory of celebrations,

or fell asleep reading that book,

yet we all landed on the other side, the same.

Started with bleeding fires,

face of a species wiped from Earth,

should've cried for help, but could they?

rushed by their side, gave prayers or two,

water, food and love to save.

Then was hellbent a madman,

declaring wars on petty battles he lost,

couldn't stand his own downfall,

made them shush up

proud of victories wrongly achieved.

Such was the sullen burden of time,

upon the shoulders of an angel,

Lakers lost a bright star,

families and a daughter.

Averted by a hair line these disasters,

skeptical were eyes, so red with tears,

mourning what could be worse?

little was known of the littlest trouble just a while away.

Wrapped in the markets of a land,

once known for its inventions,

claims rang they invented this too?

came a gift unasked for,

in sneezes, coughs and outbursts of air.

Made fun of it, thought it untrue,

until escaped the last choking breath,

streets deserted which once were filled,

jobs gone, lives altered forevermore.

Ushered and confined to our abodes we waited,

some found theirs, others got no peace,

in overloaded hospitals reeking of death and loss,

heroes now wore coats and masks.

Burning were the lungs,

both of the Earth and the humans,

aching were the hearts,

wanting this to end,

yet pain on pain kept on repeating.

Couldn't breathe one day,

not for this illness,

but for a ruthless knee brought down,

on his neck as he cried out his mama's name.

The world watched in horror, yet horror unfolded,

tears and gases, shrapnel and bullets,

took to the streets, the silenced ones,

masses on masses conjoined,

fists raised, knees bent, they cried.

Madmen they did, what they always do,

paved their paths on the blood of the naive,

but uncaring, enraged came those in torrents,

for whom now enough was enough.

Injustice, uprisal, were the call of the day,

yet the affected numbers kept mounting,

case on case till left no more,

what was this hell unleashed on Earth?!

Never stopped, I'm afraid, the scars did burn,

heal some didn't, cruelties abundant,

water, fire, wind and us,

the very victims and perpetrators.

No end is reached, man hasn't yet learned,

treat as you want to be treated,

or face the karma in vicious return.

Reopened have the gates now,

graphs and piles too high to count,

carefree some, cautious others we step into what's left.

As we lie here, awaiting the cure,

the end of this year upon,

do you ever look back and feel,

we could've made this far alone?

Hope, maybe a dangerous word,

yet if it weren't so,

would we be alive and holding on?

for a new year and a dawn,

where mercy shall be shown.

- B 🎈

#spilled ink #spilled words #writers on tumblr #spilled emotions #spilled thoughts #tumblr writers #writeblr #writers #writerscreed #my writing #december 2020 #endofyear

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thegreatpapersandwich · 4 years ago

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Happy Holidays!!!

Salutations @remaining-head-spirits, I am happy to inform you that I am your Secret Santa for the @secretsantafrans @venelona event!!! The drawing will be included in a separate post, but for now, I wish to give you a little something Underfell-themed, and I really hope you like it!! (o゜▽゜)o☆

Autumn had always been Frisk’s favorite season: the copious, crisp orange and crimson leaves carpeting the ground in a golden-vermilion glow, all the soft and fluffy sweaters and socks, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla intoxicating passers-by to coffee shops and restaurants, the soft, brisk breeze of the encroaching winter...

Unfortunately, she was on a high-risk mission, and would not have time to bask in the season’s bestowal.

Especially given the fact she was embarking on this mission with Sans... The one monster that no matter how hard she tried to be kind, was absolutely and completely...

Intolerable.

Approximately three years back, the monsters had surfaced, and Frisk, despite having saved them, had politely declined to be the Ambassador. The monsters all had rough edges, due to having lived in such a harsh environment for who-knows-how-long, and the only way Frisk had survived was through pure Determination and an open heart. Sadly, she never really got the chance to truly get to know them, despite having tried countless times, but the silver-lining was that each of them had, for a split moment, shown their true colors, and it was those moments that had given her a glimpse into who they truly were.

Frisk had taken it upon herself to spend time and, should they accept her, dig a little deeper into the monsters she had met in hopes of calling them “friends” some day. That was until she tried to achieve such a feat with Sans. Papyrus, his brother, had been a tough nut to crack, but eventually, through the power of Italian cuisine and patience, they had bonded quite nicely, even so far as to Papyrus reaching out to her for cooking sessions and friendly chatter.

Alphys and Undyne had been quite the hard case for Frisk, given the tumultuous start of their first meeting. But again, just like with the others, Frisk not only proved herself through combat, but through her headstrong personality to give them all a chance, they deserve it, she had thought.

But Sans?

Every time Frisk so much as showed a smidgen of kindness, Sans would make sure to transform it into anger, and boy did it work. In spite of it all, she refused to give up, and time and time again, was met with animosity from this angry and self-deprecating skeleton. So much so, that Frisk truly began to question if anything would ever change for him? The others were beginning to adjust quite nicely to life in the surface, and even though he didn’t really show it much, Sans was still on edge, his guard never dropping, and his walls as high as they had been in the Underground, possibly even more so now given how humans were stronger and a threat to their existence. It was a shaky truce, but a truce nonetheless, and Frisk was only a bit relieved. Certainly not satisfied, not until monsters could be truly at peace.

Frisk high-risk mission arose when Lady Toriel had inexplicably gone missing, and Asgore had gone berserk, immediately blaming humans and threatining to declare war once again. Of course, Frisk had intervened and decided to not only be the voice of reason, but volunteered to find her and prove that humans, with all their flaws, were still worth something.

Frisk didn’t notice then, but Sans had been staring intently at the little fiery human that was now desperately trying to prevent a war between the races, and the way her expression was pleading, but not begging, anguished, but not pitiful, Determined, but not pushy. He had always assumed she was honey-potting them, or simply marinating them before she stabbed them in the back and fed them to the wolves, yet there she had stood, fists balled-up and head held high, standing face-to-face with their king, insisting on going out to find Toriel. Sans knew humans had to have been behind all this, but stayed quiet. He felt as if a lighting bolt struck his spine when the king actually conceded and not only was willing to fund her little mission, but encouraged a monster to accompany her.

This was going to be... Interesting...

Now they walked quietly down the leaf-encrusted streets, asking for any information on Toriel they could gather, and retraced her steps before she had gone missing. There was a little flower shop near her home, where Frisk decided to do some snooping. Sans stood at the entrance, eyeing the place warily, so he decided, then and there, to conduct a little experiment,

“hey doll, I think you’d better come see this, it certainly arose some questions,” he chuckled.

Frisk rolled her eyes, fighting down a laugh with all her might, “What did you find, Sans?”

Despite him having used the evidence as a test for her reaction to his puns, there really was a clue to Toriel’s disappearance.

And it was macabre, to say the least...

“A piece of her dress... with some fur still on it. A hefty chunk at that...” Frisk could feel her eyes sting, and her stomach churn. What if she had been taken for ransom? What if someone had kidnapped the once-queen to incite more hatred between the species? And... what if she was already...

“FRISK!” Sans shouted.

She whipped her head to look at him, and just as Sans was about to call her out for spacing out, the way she was clutching at the little piece of torn cloth, her expression...

“ya spaced out fer a bit, y’need to keep it together doll, we should ask the shopkeeper some questions,” Sans mumbled, making his way to the man behind the counter.

Frisk’s eyes went wide with disbelief: had he just shown... restraint?

With no luck and empty stomachs, they headed to a little mom and pop sandwich shop a few streets down, despite much protest from Sans,

“why can’t we just hit up a fast food joint? it’d be quicker and taste better too!” he had pressed.

So much for the restraint, huh? Frisk thought tiredly, “Supporting local businesses is important, and either way it’s a lot closer to our next stop than the next burger place, but you’re more than welcome to go. I’m gonna use all the daylight to my advantage.”

Sans gave a curt and dry laugh, “y’know what? i will head over that way, see ya when i see ya.” He took the quickest shortcut she had ever seen him pull, leaving her alone and frustrated.

Frisk could guess why he was so distrustful, but she was doing everything she possibly could to prove she wasn’t a bad person, but then again, the hardest nuts to crack sometimes yielded the best flavors. Maybe.

A few hours rolled by with Frisk checking stores, hotel rooms and their records, undetected, and parks. Her only lead was the cloth from her dress and a hotel record of her having stayed there less than a day, where, upon further questioning, the receptionist had seen her with someone else, and they were apparently in a rush to someplace downtown, but didn’t catch the name or location of their destination.

So there she sat, cloth in hand, eyes welling up with cold, bitter tears that felt thick and left salt-saturated streaks along her face. Her sobs were quiet, but they rocked her body into painful little shudders. Frisk had finally achieved significant progress with Toriel, even so far as to talking about her deceased children over a cup of tea and shedding a tear or two during their conversation. Toriel had been carrying such an agonizing and heavy burden for so long, no wonder she had lost her mind, or nearly had since she seemed to have recovered well-enough to adjust. Deep down, however, Frisk knew that the grief of a parent was powerful and would never truly dissipate, that was why she was completely heart-wrenched at the thought that she was put through even more pain, and possibly suffered before-

“i don’t think yer gonna find Toriel by sitting on a bench and crying yer ass off...” Sans mused.

Great, this was just what she needed: an angry, emotionally-constipated, selfish, crude, ill-mannered skeleton to come and-

He sat next to her, and gave her something in a wrapper.

“What’s this...?” Frisk took it and turned it over in her hands.

“i didn’t mean t’spy on ya, but i take it yer not dealing with this any better than us, so just take that and let’s find a place t’crash,” Sans mumbled.

Confused, but intrigued, Frisk removed the wrapping and found a little deck of cards still neatly tucked in their little box. It had a note on it:

“Stop yer whinin’ and take yer mind off’a things. after all, you were just dealt a bad hand.”

Frisk looked up and smiled at him, “Thank you Sans, this means a lot-”

“yeah, yeah, c’mon, i scouted out a few hotels and there should be one a few blocks away, let’s get goin’” Sans practically bolted from the bench,

Frisk looked back down at the cards and felt her smile soften, “I knew he was a good guy...”

Sans had arrived at the hotel before Frisk, but when she walked in, Sans was irate and making threats at the lady behind the counter,

“I RESERVED THAT ROOM AND YOU JUST GAVE IT AWAY TO A BUNCH OF ASSHOLES AND THEIR SNOT-NOSED BRATS!!?? I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING DRAG THEM OUTTA THERE AND BEAT-”

“SANS! I’m so sorry ma’am! What seems to be the issue?” Frisk shoved Sans away from the counter,

“Y-yes, well, a-a family came in with nowhere else to stay, so the room this... individual had taken was the last large room we had...” the lady’s voice trembled slightly.

“Oh... So there are no more rooms then...” Frisk slumped.

“No ma’am, we actually do have one room left, but...” the lady looked at Sans.

“But... what?” Frisk pressed, arcing a brow.

Sans growled, “there’s only one bed.”

#i know... cliche I'm a sucker for the one bed thing boy #this was a lot longer than I intended hope you like it!

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a-mole-of-iron · 4 years ago

Text

Short story: “In Broad Daylight“

Living in a solarpunk utopia has got to be not only healthy and prosperous, but also safe, to really count - right? And for the most part, it is. But even in a world where everyone is well-off, communities all around the world live in peace and harmony, and everyone is on first-name basis with nature, there still might be a few rare wrongdoers who stay up nights trying to figure out how to take that away from the world. And to find those, you need the kind of person like Sverrir Haraldsen; a detective of the people.

Genre: solarpunk thriller Content warning: mild violence, and also moderate action

PREFACE

There exists, and has for a long time existed, a common and persistent misconception about utopian fiction. Whenever one brings it up, one can always count on an obstructive response like "but where do we find conflict and plot if everything is already perfect?" This idea, I should clearly state, is false. The term "utopia" itself has a double-meaning, possible to read as "ou-topia" ("no-place") or "eu-topia" ("good-place"), and it's the latter that so many people underestimate the massive literary potential of. When people bring up the idea that "utopian fiction has no room for conflict", they're presuming that a utopian society would not just be a perfect society, but a perfect society filled entirely with perfect people. For some reason, it's difficult for many to imagine that even in a society that's good to live in, people would still be able to have arguments about the different good things that they want, or that they would need to maintain society against the natural wear-and-tear that adds up over time. People don't think too often of all the literary conflict inherent in building a resilient society that won't wear down easily due to factors in the environment, or building social structures where people can "agree to disagree" and still have all the good things their society can give them, or defending those social structures against an occassional bad person or group thereof who are willing to harm others and damage society for their own gain and are deliberately ignoring whatever kindness might still be in their hearts. Those are all fine sources of literary conflict - and this story sets out to show how a particular one can work. It is a utopian, solarpunk thriller: a practical example of the way you can have high-stakes action, danger, and excitement in a society that has achieved peaceful harmony, renounced war, and sees violence as a measure of absolute last resort.

THE STORY

Anxiously pacing back and forth along the embankment, Sverrir tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle. He stopped, his tail swishing from side to side. Try as he might, he couldn't contain his seething dislike of the entire case. He needed a drink of good tea, he needed a day off for gardening, he needed a friendly, fun game of parkour tag with his community at home, he needed a ticket to an in-person concert by the original lineup of Solar Flares. What he had was a coat, a phone, and a badge.

Sverrir was distracted from his annoyed thoughts by a voice coming through his earpiece. "So what do you think, Detective?" the machine intelligence on the other end asked, their synthetic voice resonating through the comms channel.

"Well, Amos... you told me yourself who this is." Sverrir said. "Robert H. Price... knowledge dealer, with a shady reputation and criminal connections, as far as we could find out... and he was shot to death. It's like a small forest of warning flags." He looked around to notice more clues. "Huh."

"What?" Amos asked him.

"I... think the shooters were firing from a boat. There are bullet holes over there, in the advertisement column." he gestured over towards one standing inland. The column's OLED display had several punctures in it, the screen image distorting subtly around them. Sverrir walked up to the display and eyed the bullet holes. "I don't like this, Amos." he said.

As Sverrir looked around, eyeing the local buildings and all the different plant species growing around the area, a crime scene examiner walked up to him with more information. "I think you'll want to see this, Detective." she said, holding up a damaged combat rifle bullet.

"Okay... illegal military weapons... this day just keeps getting better and better." Sverrir groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "On the plus side, now I'm dead-certain that these are our criminals... and more, that they are running out of options. If they went so far as to murder one of their partners in crime, well..." he said with an unpleasant grimace, his speech trailing off.

The detective went over to the community watch car; a light, compact electric vehicle painted white and green that was small enough to park anywhere without blocking people's paths. The interior and trunk were full of forensics equipment, with the one community watch driver having brought in the entire forensics team to the crime scene. Sverrir picked up a solar-powered bullhorn - rather pointless, but indisputably cool - that was resting on the car's back seat, and addressed the half-perplexed, half-scared onlookers. "Attention, citizens!" he said. "If you're from this district, please search through your recordings for potential evidence! Anything, literally anything, might help!"

***

In a few minutes, a small crowd has assembled around Sverrir, sharing information about what they saw and heard and downloading records from their phones and other computing gadgets onto his personal device. The evidence confirmed Sverrir's theory: sonic triangulation from the community's recordings of loud ambient noises, ones designed to measure noise pollution, allowed him to know that shots were fired from about six metres off-shore - and to his horror, the weapons used were fully automatic rifles. Intercepting the contraband weapons shipment they were used to guard, and likely belonged to, was now the absolute topmost priority he had; those kinds of weapons were insanely dangerous and banned worldwide. From the soundscape, he also knew that the shooters made off in an electric-powered speedboat of unknown make and model. However, he had no concrete leads: the sousveillance turned up no video footage, and the witnesses had little information beyond being woken up around 4 AM by what sounded like firecrackers to them. However, when he was already wrapping up, a dopey-looking guy wearing sturdy clothes typical for plumbers and machinists walked up to him.

"Hey, detective!" he said. "I... think I've got something for you!"

"Good." Sverrir said. "Your name for the record, please?"

"Matt. Matt Frohman." the guy responded.

"What do you know?" Sverrir asked.

"Um, I don't actually, but I know someone else - she works a night shift in a diner downstream!" Frohman replied. "She's actually really cute, but the thing is, she may have seen or heard your guys making off from the crime scene!"

"Alright, that's encouraging... what's her name, and where can I find her?" Sverrir asked.

"Oh - Diner Olimpique, a couple of blocks away!" Frohman said. "Her name is Amanda De Vries."

"Thank you, citizen!" Sverrir said. "Who knows, maybe your friend really did see something..."

***

As he stepped off the bus near Diner Olimpique, Sverrir adjusted his coat and looked around. The diner was placed at the base of an old high-rise building, refurbished for supporting garden walls and extra balconies, with one side turned towards the nearby canal. Nearby, people were playing in a community garden, and a flock of city birds passed overhead to nest on the wall of another building further away. With graceful step, the snow leopard walked forwards and into the diner. The interior made good use of green walls, and wooden chairs and tables throughout the hall looked quite stylish, as well.

The old concrete walls were decked with wood plating, or covered in growing lichen, as well, to create a more cozy look to the place. He looked around, seeing a few people who were eating lunch, and then turned to the waiter.

"Excuse me, but where can I find Amanda De Vries?" he asked them.

"Well, she's sleeping after the night shift right now... what exactly do you need from her?" they responded.

Sverrir reached into his pocket and flashed his badge in an inconspicuous manner. "Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives. Amanda may be a witness on an important case." he said quietly.

"Oh..." the waiter said. "She's... not in danger, is she?"

"No, not at all." Sverrir reassured them. "I just need to talk to her."

"I guess you're in luck." the waiter replied. "She lives a couple of buildings away, on the other side of the canal." They pointed to a low-rise apartment block and a bridge leading to it. "Sansevieira Drive 26/3, right over there. Just talk to the concierge."

"Thank you." Sverrir nodded, turning around and walking out of the diner.

***

Walking on over the bridge, Sverrir shook his head fur and straightened the collar of his jacket. Walking into the building 26/3, he looked over the decorations and smiled. The plants were growing all along the walls, reaching towards the upper floors, while the lobby itself had a floor of irregular stones matched close together. He approached the concierge - an older woman wearing a dress gorgeously complex even by latest standards - with a businesslike smile, and said, showing his badge: "Hello. I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from Earth Global Detectives. I would like to talk with Amanda De Vries."

"Oh dear." the concierge said. "What could possibly be--"

"If I do my job right, you'll see really soon." Sverrir bragged. "Amanda could be a valuable witness, so can I come talk to her?"

"Oh, I suppose so." the concierge told him. "She's living in the left-half apartment on the fourth floor. Most her roommates are off in the city at this hour, too..."

"This is good." Sverrir frowned. "I'm not looking to attract too much attention. Good day to you." he said, leaving for the stairs.

As he made his way up the first two flights of stairs, Sverrir was pleasantly surprised: even in his eco-friendly city, a stairwell with so many plants was a rarity. The climbing vines were stretching up from the ground floor and across the panes of glass that let the light in for the entire stairwell. The walls were festooned with frames that held up a great variety of potted plants, from all around the world. There was even a fun-sized artificial waterfall cascade in one of the corners, much to Sverrir's delight. As he walked upwards, he looked out the stairwell windows as well; they opened to a magnificent garden, its orange trees overhanging a communal area with benches and a small, modest-looking fountain. By the time Sverrir was up to the fourth floor, the tree branches have completely eclipsed the view, and he could even see above them a little, with the city skyline poking out above the trees. Admiring the view for a few quick seconds, he turned to the short corridor that went inwards into the building, and went down it, pressing a doorbell button for the left-hand door. A friendly chime rang out, and after a brief wait, a middle-aged man with red hair, wearing practical but eye-catching kaleidoscopic pants and jacket, opened the door. After a few moments of measuring Sverrir with his eyes, he asked: "Hello... what can I do for you?"

"Hello, ah..." Sverrir started.

"Jan." the man told him in response.

"Jan. Good to meet you." Sverrir said. "Can I talk to Amanda De Vries?"

"Not really, no." Jan said. "She's sleeping after her night shift at the diner right now."

"I'm aware, actually." Sverrir told him. "But it's important. Sverrir Haraldsen, Earth Global Detectives." he said quietly, showing his badge with a gentle motion. "Could we wake her up gently to answer a few questions? I'm searching for dangerous criminals, and she may well be a witness."

"Oh..." Jan replied.

"Don't worry, the entire detective service in the region is on-point." Sverrir said. "We just need a little more information."

"Alright then, I suppose..." Jan said. "Please, come on in."

***

Sverrir walked through the front door, looking over the apartment. The center room was a really neat social pad, with beanbags, chairs, and a massive poofy sofa centered around a coffee table. The windows on one side opened towards the city, providing a great sightline over the treetops, and the partial walls separating the other rooms were all festooned with either bookcases or whole-wall planter arrangements. Sverrir looked over as Jan pulled away a sliding door and went into another room. A good few minutes later, he walked back out, followed by Amanda: she was wearing really impressive floral pattern pajamas with massive bell-shape sleeves.

"Hello there." Sverrir said, waving his hand to greet her.

"Hey." Amanda replied. "Whatever you woke me up for, pal, I hope it's important."

"Important enough, I'd hope." Sverrir said, showing his badge. "Sverrir Haraldsen. I'm from the Earth Global Detectives. I'd like to ask a few questions about the last night at Diner Olimpique. Or to be more precise, the canal outside."

"Funny you should say that..." Amanda told him.

"Why?" Sverrir asked as she took a seat on the sofa.

"There was at least one thing blatantly out of the ordinary tonight... I suspect it's what you are following." Amanda said.

"That's definitely my concern." Sverrir replied, walking over to a nearby bean bag. "May I...?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Sure, go ahead." Amanda responded.

"Alright." Sverrir said, before sitting down and placing his phone on the table, opening a connection to Amos. "Now, would you please state for the record what you have seen?" he asked.

"Okay, sure." Amanda told him. "I noticed one very unusual boat around the break of dawn, so a bit after 4 AM... speeding down the river in violation of all community water traffic rules I could think of. I was thinking it over untill I went to bed."

"How did that boat look like?" Sverrir inquired.

"Bright azure-blue, very narrow and long." Amanda said. "The nose cowling had two parallel humps running front to back, the front of the cabin had a tall wrap-around windshield from what I remember... the back had a very distinctive spoiler sticking up, and I didn't hear any engine noise, so it must've been electric... plus, the boat had a name printed on the side in big bold letters. Could be the builder name. It was... "Smithson", I'm pretty sure... is that a boat manufacturer?"

"It is." Sverrir said. "Thank you; all of this is extremely helpful."

"No problem." Amanda told him, giving him a weary thumbs-up. "I'm pretty sure the idiots breaking the water traffic laws with it were all wearing opti-camo cloaks. They couldn't be any more memorable if they tried."

"Okay, these are definitely the people we're looking for." Amos chimed in. "Thank you for your assistance!"

"Great. Now, I suppose I can go back to bed?" Amanda asked.

***

Sverrir nodded to Amanda with a quiet "uh-huh" and stood up from the couch, picking up his phone in the process. "Well, you heard that, Amos. Smithson Model W-51.6 electric speedboat, azure-blue. Find it!" he told his companion.

Turning to Amanda, he said: "Good day to you. I'm sorry I had to wake you up, but this is of utmost importance. You'll see the results in the news soon enough." He nodded, and walked out at a brisk pace. He made his way downstairs, nodding to the concierge, and walked out of the building. As he stopped and stood at a small plaza with people going to and fro, he heard Amos come back through via his earpiece - with new information.

"Okay, Sveri, listen up." Amos told him. "Have I got something for you..."

"I'm all ears." Sverrir replied.

"I did some looking through local information, especially libraries of things." Amos said. "It'd take too long to round up all the sousveillance, but I found something else. The speedboat matching the description was borrowed in the wharf district a couple of days ago. The person who got it used a stolen borrower's card, but guess what - the idiot used the exact same card to order a dry-erase marker board. And we have an address!"

"Guess we found the weakest link, ain't that right?" Sverrir replied with a smirk. He paused for a second, and asked: "Where to, Amos?"

"Green Lizard Craftshop Annex. That's a few districts over, I'll send you a route." Amos told him.

"Do you think you can convince the local community to give us a search warrant vis-a-vis the stolen identity?" Sverrir asked in a hushed tone.

"I'll give it a shot." Amos replied. "Otherwise you'll have to talk with the craftshop custodians."

"Okay." Sverrir said, pulling out his phone to look at the map and directions. The path that Amos laid out called for him to take a tram, then transfer to a bus route near one of the vertical farm clusters and proceed to the craftshop area where the Green Lizard annex was located. This was entirely fine by Sverrir; he could blend into the crowd and approach unnoticed by the criminals. He walked on by past a couple of local shops, going through an arch between buildings that was overgrown with plants and festooned with low-intensity sun spectrum lights, and emerging into a busy street. He quickly moved into the crowd, at one with his surroundings, and smiled confidently as he walked down the street to the tram stop. It only took two minutes for a tram to arrive; an impressive bubble canopy vehicle with fused quartz windows across all of it supported by brass metalwork. The doors of the tram opened, and Sverrir stepped on board, taking a seat. Now, he thought, he had some time to focus - and work out the plan in his mind for how to go on.

***

When the tram started moving again, Sverrir quietly nodded towards his phone, and texted Amos with a request for the schematics of the craftshop annex and a bulletproof vest delivery to the site. He looked over the plans, and figured out a quiet way inside through a side entrance. With the tram passing busy streets and river canals, the detective thought on the situation. Even one combat rifle in the wrong hands could be destructive; but now, he was chasing after dozens, if not hundreds, of such rifles. If those slipped away and were used to arm the criminal underworld, the public danger would be immeasurable. There was a damn good reason why military weaponry and equipment was banned from use decades ago. Nowadays, it was the provenance of very, very dangerous people - the few that managed to run their criminal dealings in spite of peace and prosperity surrounding them. Thinking on that, Sverrir looked out the tram windows, with the sunspots passing across the interior as the sun was obscured by trees, wall gardens, semi-transparent awnings, and more besides. And if there was one thing he was sure about, it's that he wasn't going to allow those dangerous people to have their victory.

Going over the plan in his head, Sverrir stepped off the tram near the vertical farms, looking upwards briefly to witness the buildings' green-and-glass surfaces and a large banner overhead advertising all the different types of produce it was possible to get in this place in particular. Soon, the bus that the detective needed arrived to the stop, and he stepped aboard, taking a relatively short trip down to the craftshop area he needed. It took him just six minutes to arrive there; as he got off the bus, Sverrir looked the place over. It was a busy market street, with all the people taking up workshop space in the nearby complexes hawking their wares to an interested crowd, all kinds of people mingling with eachother and picking up artisan crafts. The snow leopard smiled and quietly walked down the street. He reached the green lizard street sign on a large, complex building partially refurbished from the prior eras, and sat down on a nearby bench. He texted Amos, asking "Did you get a warrant?"

"No, you'll have to work otherwise." Amos immediately responded.

"Noted." Sverrir replied. "I hope you did get the bulletproof vest, though."

"Positive." Amos replied. "I've asked the community watch to get you one from class A emergency storage."

Sverrir turned his head, and noticed a plainclothes community sentry with a large suitcase standing near the side entrance to the Craftshop Annex. He walked up to her, saying quietly: "Hey. Sverrir Haraldsen. I believe that this bulletproof vest is for me."

"That it is." the sentry responded. "Nehal Al-Farsi, pleased to meet you."

The two walked into the Craftshop Annex through a side entrance: above-board, but out of sight of the building's windows. Sverrir looked around the side atrium, quietly stepping forwards when he saw the plaque reading "Administration and Occupancy". He slinked over to the door, and gently knocked on it.

"Hello, who is this?" a voice asked from the other side. "Please come in!"

"Hello there." Sverrir said as he and the sentry walked in, closing the door behind them. The person in the administration office was an anthropomorph like him, a badger wearing an impressively-designed vest with a few big pockets and a pair of bright-orange pants. When Sverrir walked in, she was watering the plants near a small circular window. He nodded to her, and said quietly: "Excuse me, but I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, from the Earth Global Detectives." he said, walking up at a gentle pace and showing his badge. "Can you assist us?"

"What with?" the woman said, squinting at him and Nehal. "Global Detectives are a pretty important office, aren't they?"

"I'm following up on a stolen borrower's card." Sverrir told her. "Possibly tied to contraband, murder, and who knows what else; this is an outrageous situation. My partner in service couldn't get me a warrant from the word go, but I hope I can take a look at a suspected workshop with your help, miss..."

"Narangerel." the administrator replied, her expression becoming more troubled by the minute.

"Narangerel, alright." Sverrir said. He showed the administrator his phone, with the evidence about the stolen card - traced information about the borrowings, and a later official complaint to the community watch about the card being stolen. "Will you help me out with the investigation?" he asked.

"Yes... if someone's been stealing borrower's cards, I don't exactly want them to hide away in our building." Narangerel said. "And that's even if the rest won't turn out to be true." She frowned, then muttered: "...though it does all look awfully truthful..."

Nehal made a sarcastic expression, handing Sverrir the suitcase. "Trust me, any detective who lies about evidence doesn't keep their job for long." she smirked. "One time, someone got thrown out of an EGD branch because they accidentally misplaced a spathiphyllum plant that belonged to a witness."

"Huh." Narangerel told her. "Really?"

"Somehow... yes." Nehal shrugged.

Sverrir opened the suitcase, revealing two bulletproof vests. After a moment of silence that lasted while he and Nehal got these vests on, the detective asked: "So, could I take a look at the 25th workshop, with the permission of the building's staff?"

"Hold on a moment." Narangerel replied.

***

Sverrir looked around to find a chair and proceeded to sit down for a moment as Narangerel sent the few other people responsible for the building a message, requesting their presence. In short order, they all showed up: the guy from the reception desk, the janitors and custodians, the tech support chief. Sverrir explained the situation to them, and once he got the permission, he called them to come with him; extra witnesses would help him make his case if he was right. Once they approached the door, Sverrir whispered to them: "It's better for you to keep back for now. I don't know who or what might be on the other side of this door."

"I was doin' some cleanin' there, and I don't think there were booby traps or anythin'... just so you know." one of the janitors said.

"Nevertheless." Sverrir replied. "Narangerel, could I have the key?"

Narangerel nodded, and handed Sverrir the keys. The detective opened the door, him and the sentry quietly walking in. The lights were out, with sunlight from the street streaming in through the windows covered by Venetian blinds. Sverrir turned around, telling Narangerel and others: "You can walk in. I think you should look this over with us."

"Okay." Narangerel said, her and others from the building's staff carefully walking in. As he saw them approach, Sverrir looked around - the workshop didn't seem to be too suspicious from the get-go, with plenty of plants, some computer terminals, algae-sheet paper stacks... and the suspiciously empty whiteboard next to one of the walls.

Looking at the whiteboard, Nehal asked: "So... where is anything? It's just a normal workshop..."

"Hold on, I think I know what this is..." Sverrir said. He took out his UV bulb flashlight - standard equipment for detectives and forensic scientists - and pointed it at the board, lighting it up. Suddenly, an entire map and schedule appeared, written in invisible ink: the criminals made notes about the buyers for weaponry, technical specifications, and the time for when all the weapons would be shipped out from the Wharf Embankment docks... which was in exactly 36 minutes from now. "Gods dammit..." Sverrir muttered. "This is bad! Really bad!"

"You don't say..." Nehal told him in response.

"Quick, call the rest of the local watch!" Sverrir all but yelled, with fire in his eyes. "Lock this place down, get all the evidence you can, and ask the staff to be witnesses! And I'm going to try and stop these gunrunners before it's too late!"

"Okay, will do!" Nehal replied.

Sverrir nodded and pressed his earpiece button. "Amos! Code Wildfire!" he yelled. "Get the officers to Wharf Embankment, Dock 24! We have 36 minutes before the weapon shipment is gone!"

"Got it!" Amos replied.

"Okay, Sverrir, I'll handle things here!" Nehal said "You just--" She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, her and Sverrir turning immediately to look behind them and seeing one of the gunrunner conspirators looking at them from the workshop's other entrance, keys in hand. Sverrir and the gunrunner looked at eachother for a brief moment - and then he immediately tried to flee with a few loud curses. Sverrir followed, chasing after him with a yell of "Stop! You are under arrest!"

The conspirator just kept on running, reaching into his pocket for what looked like a flashbang grenade. Before he could throw it, Sverrir lunged at him, and the two crashed into another workshop through a garden wall in the corridor, getting slathered in leaves and ivy.

"You!" his opponent yelled at him, trying to grab Sverrir as the two leapt up from the floor.

"Surrender!" Sverrir demanded in reply, trying to get a few more hits in, his opponent dodging all but one. "You've got nowhere to escape!"

The gunrunner just grappled with Sverrir in response, throwing him towards a bookcase - the detective trying to make a roll to cushion the impact as he fell back. He quickly leapt back up and threw himself at the gunrunner again to delay him, yelling "Nehal! Help me out, please!"

"I'm going!" Nehal yelled from down the corridor, Sverrir throwing his opponent to the ground in the meantime. The gunrunner grabbed a bamboo ivy support frame from a nearby workshop table, swinging it aggressively towards Sverrir - but at that moment, Nehal caught up with the two, and now the detective and the sentry tried to flank their opponent to stop him.

"Two against one? How is that fair?" their opponent smirked.

"Fairer than smuggling combat rifles!" Sverrir retorted angrily. "Surrender now!"

"Oh, keep dreaming!" the gunrunner yelled at him, going after Sverrir. The detective dodged most of his swings, parrying the few that did connect, and then delivered a few strikes of his own, trying to get his opponent off-balance. The gunrunner just laughed, asking "So that's the best you can do? Ha!"

Sverrir just grinned in response. "It's not me you should worry about!" he replied - at the exact same moment as Nehal hit the gunrunner with a massive book she grabbed from the bookcase, getting him off-balance and making him drop the ivy frame, and then did a decisive judo throw to get them on the ground for good. The two looked at eachother as they realized their opponent was stunned for a brief moment, then Nehal handcuffed the gunrunner to a nearby wrought-iron table - a good idea to ensure he couldn't just run off. The two went through his pockets, fishing out several flash grenades, and put those way out of reach. Sverrir then breathed out - and quickly told Nehal: "Keep an eye on him, and call in more sentries! You know how to take it from here!"

"Damn right we do!" Nehal replied. "Now go! You've got to get those weapons before they disappear for good!"

"I'll do all I can!" Sverrir replied. "Hope we'll talk later at the debrief!" He nodded, and ran back out. As he passed Narangerel and others in the corridor, he told them without as much as slowing down: "Be careful, keep an eye on the exits! The watch will be here soon!" He didn't even look back to see their reaction; right now, all that was on his mind was the emergency objective.

***

Sverrir double-timed it down the stairs, rushing out onto the pedestrian walkway; the sudden onrush of wind whipped his fur about as he pressed the button on his earpiece, still running.

"Amos!" he yelled. "Borrow me a car! A fast one!"

"Understood - I'm on it." the machine intelligence on the other side replied.

Dashing past the onlookers, Sverrir kept on running. He had to make it to the nearest motorway if he wanted any serious chance to catch up, and they weren't plentiful these days. Highlighting his way on the map, he ran past green embankments, cafes, and crafts stores. In other days, he liked going through the market streets at a respectably slow pace, appreciating the foods and wares from around the world, but now he ignored everything as he made his way to the motorway sector. One moment, he glanced upwards to the vertical gardens and the blue sky, and thought of the stakes at play. The largest contraband weapon shipment in two decades was slipping out of his grasp, but if he ever learned anything from Earth history classes, it's that you never surrender when the stakes are high. Leaping over a high-up guardrail, landing with a roll to cushion the impact, he saw that fortune was on his side: there was the motorway he needed, a large stretch of its parking spaces perfectly clear. Good thing not that many people used motorcars anymore, Sverrir thought.

He raised the phone again, asking "I'm here! Do you have the car, Amos?"

"Affirmative, I have it!" Amos replied.

"So where is it?" he asked.

"Turn to your left, Sveri." the machine mind replied, with what Sverrir imagined would look like a massive self-satisfied grin. He turned as instructed, and saw the approaching car: a solar-powered performance sedan, with some aftermarket improvements that caught his eye and a custom paintjob to boot. The car skidded to a stop next to him, and he leapt over the hood, flinging open the door on the driver's side and quickly getting into the driver's seat. He turned to the person in a passenger seat - a middle-aged man wearing an engineer's apron who seemed slightly perplexed by the urgency.

"Hey, uh..."

"Esteban." the human said.

"Esteban. You currently in charge of this car?" Sverrir asked.

"No, I... erm, I borrowed it from a friend after he did a few new mods... what's, uh--" Esteban continued.

"Okay, where were you going?" Sverrir interrupted him.

"I was going to the Manufactory Glades, but--" Esteban started, only to be interrupted by Sverrir again.

"Good. I'll have to drop you off before everything lights on fire; it won't be too far." Sverrir continued. "Amos, specifications?"

"Full specificaitons will be available in a moment." Amos responded. "For now, you can just floor it."

"Excuse me, but what is happening?!" Esteban reached out to Sverrir. "Is this some kind of emergency?"

"Actually, it is." Sverrir said, flashing his badge. "Earth Global Detectives. I'll tell you everything, personally, as soon as there's time. Now just hang on, this is going to be a fast ride!" he said, flooring the accelerator.

As the car accelerated, Sverrir's phone lit up again, and the distant MI read the specifications of the car. "Kometa-Tri, modified and improved. 110 kilowatts power total, maximum speed 215 kilometres per hour. Drag coefficient 0,17. Maximum battery charge 300 kilowatt-hours, current battery charge 257 kilowatt-hours."

"Good!" Sverrir yelled. "Now give me the optimal path to the Wharf Embankment! Our time is running out!"

***

As Sverrir's car rocketed down the motorway, dodging and weaving to pass the few other cars on there and the occasional bus or truck, the detective tried to figure out a plan of action. He put his phone on the dashboard, and Amos connected to the car's systems, projecting a 3D volumetric map of Dock 24 for him to glance at and tactical information about the docks and the waterfront. Sverrir noticed that the place was fairly secluded, a small landing surrounded by warehouses with plenty of tree cover... and he saw an opening. "Amos, I've got a plan!" he said.

"What have you come up with, detective?" Amos asked.

"I'll explain the details later; now, we need stunner arc-pistols and thermal imagers for the watch, rapid-acting smoke canisters, three or four pollen dusters, and the mobile scrap metal crane from Dock 29 to scoop up the guns!" Sverrir said. "Can you get all of that?"

"I can." Amos replied. "I like your plan, detective."

While Amos was coordinating the preparations, Sverrir focused on the driving, trying to get to the docks as fast as he could. He still needed a couple of minutes to coordinate the plan with the community watch on the spot, but thankfully, the Kometa-Tri he was driving could manage immense speeds, and the motorway was not only grade-separated from the all-encompassing network of pedestrian streets and bike lanes, but also mostly devoid of vehicles. He sped through the Manufactory Glades, an industry and workshop district that was drowning in greenery of century-old trees, but near its edge, where the Wharf Embankment began, he turned to Esteban.

"Esteban, it's better that you get out here." Sverrir said as he slammed on the brakes, the car quickly halting to a complete stop.

"Alright, but I'm still not sure if..." Esteban started, but Sverrir cut him off with "Don't worry, I'll do my best to handle it. And I'm not going to wreck the car. Now go!"

Esteban got out, closing the passenger door, and Sverrir pushed on the accelerator again; in just a minute and a half, he was at the heart of Wharf Embankment. He skidded to a stop over the unoccupied parking spaces - with no time to park carefully, he just left the car as it was, slamming the door shut and running off. He quickly reached the docks, noticing a group of seven bulletproof-vest-wearing sentries with several compact equipment boxes near them, the boxes festooned with warning symbols and class-A weapon safety measures. He ran up to the sentries, who were camped off to the side from the main street, and said: "I'm Sverrir Haraldsen, the guy who called this in! Is the crane in position?"

"Yes, it is!" one of the officers said, pointing to the crane parked inconspicuously between Dock 24 and Dock 25: a clunky, utilitarian eight-wheeled vehicle with powerful fuel cells placed on the cargo bed next to/under the crane assembly. "I hope the arc pistols really are called for, Detective?..." another officer asked.

Sverrir nodded grimly. "Yes - these are the most dangerous criminals I've followed in several years. And they have firearms. I'm going to personally write a full report on the request for stun weapons, but first, we've got to halt the weapons shipment."

With that, Sverrir continued, explaining his plan to the watch officers. It was risky, but if it worked, they would instantly disarm the gunrunner conspirators and their buyers. He grabbed an arc pistol and its holster that were brought for him. With everything ready, the group readied themselves and their equipment: it was now or never.

***

When Sverrir and the community watch were ready to move, the snow leopard told one of the city's machine intelligences whom the group had on the line: "Alright, we spotted their lookouts; deploy the pollen dusters!"

"Done and done!" the machine steward responded.

Sverrir looked up into the sky - and among several unmanned drones hovering in the vicinity, a group of three dashed in with extreme speed, the machine mind in charge expertly piloting them at low altitude. In just a few seconds, they were over the goons guarding the front entrance, dropping their entire stock of pollen in a dense cloud, the lookouts immediately beginning to sneeze and rub their eyes. That's when the team moved in, approaching the front entrance, with two of the officers decking the lookouts to knock them out and quickly pulling the guns from their holsters, then handcuffing them and retreating a few metres back to stand watch, and the others moving into the warehouses. The group quietly fanned out, arc pistols at the ready, and took the high ground, Sverrir and others looking out into the inner yard. In the yard, Sverrir saw no less than nine people, some wielding the combat rifles he was looking to seize, and three in particular making a deal over the several boxes of rifles, three dozen at the very least. He was quietly horrified by how much weaponry was there, ready to slip into the hands of any among the most violent and unscrupulous people around the globe - but he didn't let himself lose composure. He pressed a button on his earpiece, and asked: "Okay, everyone in position?"

The group all replied in the affirmative, and Sverrir nodded quietly - but then, he noticed one of the gunmen run in and pull one of the two dealmakers aside to tell him something, gesticulating wildly. Carefully approaching a warehouse window, Sverrir overheard the conversation... which was about the front gate guards. Reacting quickly, Sverrir said: "Okay, change of plans! Sentry group, smoke the yard immediately! Amos, get me the crane operator!"

"Got it, Sveri." Amos said. There was a short burst of static, and Sverrir heard the voice of the crane operator hidden behind one of the warehouses - that same moment, the sentries quickly rolled the smoke grenades into the yard, beginning to fill it with dense white smoke.

"Good day, officer, what can I do you for?" she asked.

"No time for details! Extend the crane to the Dock 24 as fast as you can, and slam the magnet to maximum power!" Sverrir told her. "That'll pull the guns right out of their hands!"

"Guns? Oh man oh man..." the operator said as the crane's beam extended over the yard - and at the same moment, much to Sverrir's fear and discontentment, the shooting started. The gunrunners started shooting blindly to try and get back at the sentries who surrounded them, yelling things like "It's an ambush!" and "Everyone retreat!" - but thankfully, the walls were made of old-school clay bricks, more than enough to deflect the bullets even as other shots broke windows and pierced through sheet metal. With his fight-or-flight response kicking in right away as the shooting started, Sverrir yelled into his earpiece: "Everyone, take cover! Amos, give us overhead recon!"

"Affirmative!" Amos told him.

At that same moment, hiding from enemy fire at some distance from the windows, Sverrir looked a bit up - and saw how the crane magnet has lifted and attracted all of the boxes with combat rifles, stuck to it like so much iron scrap. The gunrunners yelled in panic and confusion, noticing the magnet overhead, and ran in different directions to escape before their own weapons were snatched away. But suddenly, the crane operator came back on the radio, asking: "Hey, what's going on?! Is that gunfire?!"

"Yes!" Sverrir replied. "Take cover! Your crane just pulled away most of their firepower!"

"Okay, okay!" the crane operator responded, Sverrir hearing her leap off the crane and run for cover. Changing the radio frequency, he got back to Amos, just in time to hear her make an announcement.

"Attention all sentries!" Amos told the group via radio. "We have three gunrunners in a boat speeding off, four hiding out in the container yard, and three others trying to flee along the dockside embankment!"

"Got it!" Sverrir said back. He looked at the other sentries with him, and tried to come up with a plan. "Okay, we are almost even with them!" he said. "Four people should go after the criminals in the container yard; climb up, smoke the place, and use the height advantage to corner them! Front gate detail, catch up with me and one other sentry! We'll go after the three who are running via embankment!"

"And what about the ones in the speedboat?" one of the sentries asked.

"That won't be a problem!" Sverrir said "Just mobilize the vehicle-pursuit drones, now that they're fleeing from us in broad daylight!"

"I'll get right on that." Amos said via the communications as they got in touch with the drone operators.

***

With four of the sentries splitting off to the container yard, Sverrir and the other sentry ran out of the building, rallying with the other two who were guarding the front gate. They risked by leaving the front gate guards unattended, yes - but it was a necessary risk. More of the community watch were already on the way; this was big, bigger than anything that the city has seen in years. The other watch group came in over Sverrir's radio channel as stray shots rang out among the containers, yelling: "We're in the container yard! Edwards, throw smoke! Fujishima, flank right!" "Got it! Zelenko, I'll cover you!"

Sverrir changed the frequency, contacting Amos again to get fresh recon.

"Amos, where are they on the embankment?" he asked.

"They're approaching a canal drawbridge behind the bend on your right." Amos responded.

"Good! Get the port authority on the horn and raise the bridge! We'll corner them there!"

"Affirmative, on it!" Amos replied.

"Follow me!" Sverrir called to other sentries. "Take cover with every move, these guys will do anything to save themselves!" The snow leopard's eyes narrowed, and he ran off, the sentries barely able to follow him without falling behind. He ran from cover to cover, hearing the drawbridge up ahead creak as he approached the sightline open to the criminals. He finally ran up to a big tree that was growing near the bend - and as soon as he peeked out, he was met with a hail of gunfire directed his way. Sverrir immediately hid back behind the tree, the other sentries forming up with him. "Okay, we need a plan! We've got them cornered now, we just have to take them down without undue harm!" he said.

At that moment, the other group came in via the radio channel again. "We got 'em! I repeat, we got 'em!" one of the sentries reported. "Our group of hostiles is under arrest! Fujishima got injured, but it's nothing serious, the bullet just grazed them!"

"Good! Get them medical attention, stat!" Sverrir said in response, before turning to other sentries. "I'm actually a bit stumped right now - there's no way we can safely fire back..." he admitted.

"I have an idea!" one of the sentries raised her hand. "Why won't we ask for another pollen duster run?" she asked with a smirk.

"That's pretty good! Everyone, arc pistols at the ready!" Sverrir said. "We've got them pretty close, but we need that opening! Amos, get us on the line with our friend, if you will?"

"Right away." Amos responded, patching in the city steward machine mind who helped them earlier.

"Hello again!" Sverrir said. "My friend Amos just gave you the coordinates; can you do another pollen drop for us?"

"Of course! Drop in 45 seconds." the steward replied. Their pollen-duster drones were normally intended for rapid ecological bootstraps - a wildgrass meadow around a finished-up construction site here, a flowerbed of epic proportions there - but now, they flew in like a strike group, dodging all gunfire that was directed at them and dumping a second batch of pollen over the gunrunners. In a few seconds, the sneezing started - and that's when Sverrir and sentries with him popped out from behind the tree, landing several precise arc pistol shots on them. The electric stun made the gunrunners drop their weapons, with Sverrir and the watch closing in... and in a minute, everything was over. The two groups on land have been safely apprehended, and soon afterwards, more of the community watch were there to take them away. Sverrir raised his finger to the earpiece, and asked: "Amos?"

"What is it?" Amos responded.

"Did we get the ones who fled by boat?" Sverrir asked.

"Yes, we have." Amos told him. "They are currently floating on the open water one kilometre away from shore, and the coast guard is coming in to apprehend them."

"Whew. Thank gods." Sverrir said. When one of the criminals walked past Sverrir as the community watch led him away, the snow leopard smirked and winked, with the gunrunner making a grimace of anger and annoyance in response. Sverrir knew one thing for sure; with all criminals apprehended, and all contraband combat rifles accounted for, his mission for the day was accomplished, and he prevented who knows how many calamities from ever taking place. In his line of work, he really couldn't ask for more.

***

For the rest of the workday, Sverrir went down to the local community watch office and did all the busywork that was called for after any case of such magnitude. He compiled evidence, filed reports about his actions, talked with witnesses and local watch officers, and tried to figure where else the Earth Global Detectives may be led by the connections from people they apprehended. But, eventually the workday was over with - and in late afternoon, he took his recess to what constituted his favourite hangout no matter where in the world he was: the Arbor Diner, a chain of restaurant co-ops serving his most preferred selection of food combos from across the world. After locating the nearest one and making his way there, he walked in, finding a nice table near the panoramic windows and looking over the place, with its prolific abundance of plants and wooden drink casks in the back, he figured he could simply let himself relax for a while.

"Hi there, and welcome!" the waiter said. "What will you have today, Detective?"

Sverrir - a person of note among the employees of that particular restaurant chain - gave it a thought, and figured he owed himself a really good snack after all that has transpired today. He turned around to the waiter, nodding to him politely.

"I'll have a double solarized Cheesemonger's Special, extra garden space on top, a dash of Appenines, overdo the mustard, and no rowing boats." Sverrir said.

The waiter just nodded and yelled to the kitchen: "You got that?"

"Yeah!" the fry cook replied, with Sverrir just smiling to the waiter and kicking back in his chair to wait for his order.

#solarpunk #detective #short story #community sleuthing #utopian thriller

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schiste-argileux · 5 years ago

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Idw Prowl is an evil SOB (took him two years to send the Wreckers to Garrus-9 and help Maxy (who was protecting all the war crimes the Bots did), put Maxy’s torturer and a war criminal on board the Lost Light cuz why not, sent Pharma to Delphi knowing it was DJD territory)

Prowl... Prowl’s creation and competence in his area of work is astounding. He is brilliant, creative, and defiantly apathetic of this world. But, he is very human in his own way. IDW Prowl is selfish, yet not. He is a unique in that aspect because most people make decisions like his for the sole reason of benefiting themselves. But Prowl’s sole reason of existing is to create PEACE.

Peace. Peace can only be done when people are complacent, happy, and satisfied. When things are stationary. Stable.

But life is never stable. Elements desire to form bonds, yet are almost always leaning towards to instability... Prowl’s form of PEACE is a world where there is no fighting. But everything sentient requires to fulfill its desires. As long as there is desire, people will fight.

A world of PEACE would be a world of full control, there are no surprises, no change. Safety, routines, and constants. No creativity, no development... nothing. stagnant.

But I must admire Prowl’s tenacity and dedication to this world!

He sacrifices everything for the sake of the directive, preserve cybertron, PEACE. He sacrifices his morals (Robot Gets Bullied By a Human), his dignity (Recent News, Cop Accepts Orgy For The Means of Establishing Peace, his body (Recent News, Cop gets Molested by A Spider for The Autobot Cause), and of course, thousands of lives (Not Recent News). :D Prowl respects and understands that there will always be chaos and instability, and he is so very flexible around it all! He literally can maximize everything and anything he has. He is the embodiment of consequentialism with a lil dash of politics. I wish my group project members were 1% as productive as him! Prowl tries to put everything black and white, and he gets upset when things get far more tricky, and wants to get everything in control so people can stay safe and remain in peace and not fight! And that’s a respectable goal! Control can be good, it means one understands and is able to retain themselves and the thing they are controlling. But Prowl doesn’t want to accept that there are things out of his control. And Prowl likes to think he’s justified when he controls the uncontrollable.

I mean, yeah, if he didn’t do what he did, the autobots would have been six feet under A LOT EARLIER. Optimus is not a good leader, preserving organic life over his own soldiers? Psh. Look at Spike, he’s got valid points and can I understand why he left the ‘bots. Prowl’s probably thinking everyday, DAMN, OP, WHY R U SO DUMB. LISTEN WE NEED TO FEED OUR SOLDIERS AND PRIORITIZE OUR SPECIES LIVES INSTEAD OF THIS FUCKING CARBON BASED CIRCLE. HELLO??? And literally Prowl could have been like I’m gonna get ya assassinated so I CAN HAVE IT MY WAY. But Prowl was BORN for the RULES. To follow, to MAKE PEACE. Killing the prime figurehead is against that, even if it would make his life way easier! (hence, not that selfish and also sad that your life is the rules. That’s a short leash, but he makes due)

Honestly I feel bad for Prowl. Must suck to be so big brain that everyone hates you when you say the truths (but also you could learn some more tricks from Jazz to be nicer and hide the truth, but that’s scary because a nicer prowl means more people he can trick and use. Thanks Prowl for being so straightforward! Now people can avoid you easier). He's so straightforward about things that need to be done, he’s in constant denial about the grey area of life!

That’s why when Spike slapped Prowl with reality slaps, Prowl lost some of his shit. Remember, nearly everyone had the edgy depressed time in their teens or young adult years where you realize the world is truly unfair and nothing is black and white? Yeah. Slap that on a 6+ million year old robot with a battle computer and is capable of big brain CPU-age, and was literally built for the sole purpose of enforcing rules and making peace? And no one really cared about Prowl enough to understand him and his background. So Prowl goes through his angst moment alone with his huge titties, frustrated. THIS. IS. WHY. YOU. COMMUNICATE. YA DINGUS.

Prowl doesn’t become a school shooter like Pharma cuz hes got bigger brain and a lot more power and control over himself, but he literally becomes Shadow The Hedgehog (Even if the world’s against me I’ll fight like I’ve always have). HE’S GONE ROGUE. MA’AM, SIR, THE FUCKING OREO COOKIE HAS TRANSFORMED AND ROLLED OUT. like. OP was the one thing holding prowl back, which was good! But now prowl’s on the roll and bumblebee is too nice and passive to hold him back. + the bombshell brainwash? feels so bad. being prowl sucks. because Prowl is a necessary evil.

At least he’s wonderfully blunt about his goal to create a peaceful cybertron, which makes it easier if you want to avoid him or smth. meanwhile you have fake people IRL that smile their way through and then slit your throat and you won’t even know it was them (hey jazz, no offense, but that’s what spec ops does). Fakers are the scariest enemy, but Prowl is still a threat, just not as big as a someone who fluffs you up on a balloon and then pops it. Prowl would just be like, hey, you’re really useful, come over here in my white van i wanna show you something and then maybe you get destroyed. But hey! You were the one with the highest chance of surviving compared to other people! Isn’t that great? You’re so skilled WOW. (Prowl gets punched. Again!) Prowl represents the necessary evil in society. We WILL ALWAYS HAVE EVIL people in this world. But Prowl is a far better evil than people who do evil for their own selfish reasons. It’s like how we have law enforcers and politicians . It’s basically giving them legal rights to do illegal things (lmao). BUT we need them regardless. We need those people to get their hands dirty, possibly killed, so that people can live in innocence and peace.

I don’t think Prowl ever realized that he was a necessary evil, and when Spike showed him that, he was bitter. But he accepted it. Which I respect because most people can’t be bothered to understand themselves and just throw themselves in denial, and point fingers for their flaws. Prowl sucks up and understands who he is, and he makes the best of it to achieve his goal. I mean, honestly? Prowl is probably a miracle worker. Not in a Ratchet sense. But look at the way modern governments run, nothing gets done, everything is stalled because no one has the guts to make sacrifices. Prowl would have gotten a shit ton of things done, man, and take quick efficient action. Even if he sacrifices many things for it. (Warning. I do not condone any taking of lives, NO ONE has the right to judge whenever a person should live or die.) Prowl reminds me of 秦始皇 (Qin Shi Huang), the king who unified China and sacrificed millions to make the Great Wall, canals, and road systems that last to this day. If it wasn’t for these accomplishments, China wouldn’t have been what it is today. Was it a good thing? For the future residents of China? Hell yeah. But the costs? Those are sins that can never be erased, and they are horrible and shouldn't be done ever again. Was it necessary? Perhaps. But that’s another discussion. Is Prowl evil? Depends on your definition of evil. Perhaps he’s justified, perhaps in his world, he’ll go down as the Qin Shi Huang of the Cybertronians. Regardless, Prowl like Pharma, is an EXCELLENT example to study on public ethics, and administrative officials should analyze him and learn from his mistakes and sins. I think Prowl is not evil in a sense that he wishes to harm others, but evil in a sense of his apathy. Prowl is a necessary component to a functional society (someone to plot, to use people, to enforce rules even if some are sacrificed, someone who can get their hands dirty). He lives a terrible and sad fate, and I do not wish ANYONE to live a life like Prowl’s or look up to Prowl. Yes, he’s so clever and brilliant, but that kind of power will make you the loneliest person on Earth.

Thanks Prowl for taking the entire load of sin on your shoulders! Big MVP! You get nothing from the world except hate and contempt. I would go on about him more but I have IRL stuff to do. I love Prowl as an example to tell people that MODERATION. COMMUNICATION. AND COMPASSION are important factors to have a healthy and good mental state. Prowl is the perfect example of someone who doesn’t want to empathize (haha so many people are like this today), who doesn’t want to try to use more braincells and friends help to make better plans that are more moderate and not extreme, and who doesn’t want to talk to anyone thinking its a waste of time or have difficulty explaining things. BUT I LOVE G1 PROWL because he has far more patience and manners, and doesn’t take a darker, route for his goals. awhohdohd he’s baby,,, i wish all cops had patience and manners and in general open-minded yet cautious enough not to be taken advantage of,,,, perhaps then we wouldn’t have so much polarization and fighting with authority in this world....

uwuwwuwuwuw they did prowl so dirty in idw WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ;____; Again, you are welcome to disagree or agree! I wrote this really quickly so I’m sure there will be points that could be clarified or edited. Prowl’s really complicated and I do not like to talk about current IRL problems, but Prowl represents a lot of problems in society. And I think it’s critical if we try to look at both perspectives to get an understanding on WHY people do these things, and is there a solution to AVOID making those same mistakes? There’s a couple of controversial things in this short essay I wrote, esp. about cops IRL. So feel free to have at it! Or ignore it! Whichever is more comfortable for you! Thanks for coming to my ted talk! Again, Prowl is a bad influence and a sorrowful life to live. please do not try to be like prowl. xD I won’t intrude on you if you do, because you have a right to live the life you want as long as you’re not hurting other people’s interests and wellbeing!

#prowl #transformers #idw #asks #omfg #prowl is so horrible to write about #ugh #oof #idw prowl is the bane of my existence #i love g1 prowl

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goddessofeternity · 4 years ago

Text

Chronicles of the Supernovas: Chosen

Chapter 3: Moving On

Nerissa

“I do not see why you dragged me along with you to this side of the galaxy…”

“Well for one thing...you said that you would treat me if I learned better control over my shapeshifting.”

“I am aware of that, but I meant getting you food. Not...this…” I smiled as he raised his arms up, several articles of clothing hanging on his muscular arms. I did want him to get me some food after this, but since he said he would treat...why not extend the scope of the offering? He didn’t seem to mind at first, but I think my indecisiveness was starting to work his nerves. I could admit that I took advantage of his care for me, but he never really complained about it. It had been some time since we last hung out together like this. He did give me quite the tug on my horn earlier after the prank Ka’seem and I did on him. It could have been worse in my opinion, we always had more ideas to rattle Nim. I know that he would always forgive me no matter what I did...maybe.

“Nerissa...are we finished yet?” I looked at his annoyed face and felt bad, so I nodded and he went to the pay for it all. Sitting in one of the chairs, I watched a family look over some matching outfits to wear. The daughter didn’t seem like she wanted to have anything to do with it at all, while her younger siblings looked ecstatic. Feeling my heart tug, I looked away from the happy family. It was funny to know that my heart still yearned and felt pain for memories that I could never have. It had been years since I saw my father, and even longer since I saw my mother. I saw my brother on a regular basis though and we were as close as ever. I often asked about our mother, but he only gave me vague answers. He told me that I should look to the future instead of the past, but a part of me couldn’t let her go. She used to care about me and love me, and that was the part of her that I desperately wanted to hold onto.

I had no doubt that my father must have done something to her. I couldn’t prove this fact of course, but it just seemed the plausible assumption. As much as I hated him, I never once tried to use my new powers against him. I was far stronger than he was and it would be easy, but I never liked doing things the easy way. Lady Serafina wouldn’t want me to give into anger and hate either, I know that she wanted to give him a harsher sentence, but my mother had made such a fuss that she left them alone. I wondered how she was doing, Celica had handled her punishment back then and it was hardly over.

Celica never gave me the fine details of it, but I never had any intention of asking about it, mostly because she always had a dark look in her eyes when it was mentioned. I flinched as I felt a tug on my horn, looking up Nim looked at me with a raised brow. I smiled and wrapped my arm through his and dragged him out the store. “Are you feeling ok Nerissa?”

“Just thinking about the past.”

“Why?”

“It happens sometimes don’t worry your cute little tail about it. I’m great, but we’ve talked about me enough for the day. How are you doing?”

“....”

“I figured that would be your response. I know something that will be more your speed. Why don’t you see how good my water control is? I’ve been doing some pretty impressive things lately.”

“Is it better now that you aren’t drunk enough to flood another planet?”

“......” I opened and closed my mouth before I laughed in embarrassment. In all fairness, it was a bet that I clearly was not ready to handle. Lady Serafina was so mad at me that day and I received an earful from Celica since the planet was under her watch. I never backed down from a challenge though. It was not in my nature in the slightest. “Listen, that was a simple mistake…”

“You almost wiped out an entire species.”

“I have no comment. Let’s go!” I laughed awkwardly as I dragged him away. He huffed and puffed as we went to a lake outside of the small town. After leaving Callum and Masami’s house, I took Nim to a small planet right next to it. Masami told me that the clothes there were really cute, so of course I had to sample them. I also noticed when we were coming in, that the lake here was large so I could play with it a little bit. We reached the lake and placed my stuff down and Nim leaned against a rock as I stepped out onto the lake. I slowly walked across the surface and held my hands out. I took a short breath before I slipped through the surface. I pushed the water away from my body so I’d stay dry as I touched the bottom of the lake. I looked up at the sun shining down on me as I parted the water and began to lift it. I laughed at the aquatic life swimming through the streams that I produced. As I raised it higher, I formed a sphere over my head. I winked at Nim as he looked slightly impressed at my water control.

“Well?! I know it isn’t my greatest achievement but my control is good. Not a single drop is falling and not a creature misplaced.” I smugly smiled at him as he folded his arms. “Oh don’t try and be stoic now Nim!” He scoffed as he pushed off the rock and walked towards the edge of the lake. I was about to comment on what he was doing, but the sparks of electricity told me enough.

“Wait! Don’t you dare-” I shrieked as he shot a bolt of electricity at my feet and the sphere over my head. A jolt of electricity shot up my spine and the sudden pain sent the water falling out of my grasp. I suddenly was entangled in the sudden rush of water and I hissed in anger as I swam up to the surface. Nim just looked at me as if he didn’t throw lightning at me. “What the hell was that for?”

“You need to concentrate more. Instead of trying to be a showoff.”

“I thought you were over the whole teacher phase with me.”

“There is always time to learn Nerissa.” I scoffed as he helped me out of the water and I pulled the water from my hair. “Stop pouting about it.”

“I’m not pouting. I just think you need to chill out some old man.”

“I’m hardly old Nerissa...some of us weren’t lucky enough to stop aging at nineteen.”

I chuckled at him as he picked up my bags and we walked deeper into the adjacent forest. I enjoyed these silent moments with Nim, but it meant I would be more into my head then I’d like. I liked to keep busy so I wouldn’t think about my life. I enjoyed what I did more than anything, hell I love it and I would never stop. A part of me wanted to go to Zhikar, but I always avoided it. Something in me just couldn’t go see where I actually came from. Maybe I was just scared and nervous. Celica thankfully didn’t talk about its status around me. I was thankful that she considered my feelings about that. I looked up at the sky and contemplated going many times. It never felt like the right time and I wasn’t going to rush it either.

“Are you going to talk about it?

“Huh?” I stopped and looked at Nim as he stopped walking. I pursed my lips as I tangled my fingers in my skirt. His radar on my feelings was unmatched I swear to Serafina. His eye bore right into my damn skull as he waited for me to say something. If I didn’t say anything then he would stare me down until I relented. I was not trying to experience the hard gaze of a lightning god. I folded my arms as I looked him in the eye.

“I was thinking about my Zhikar...and my parents…” He opened his mouth to retort, but I rushed out the rest. “Both of my parents…”

“Nerissa…”

“I know! Talking about them pisses you guys off! Trust me I know that...I just...I can’t help but think about them. They raised me and I wonder how my mother is doing more than my father. He’s just a weak old man now...he can’t do much of anything anymore. I just wonder if...if my mother is lonely.”

“.......” I pushed past him and kept walking the path, well more like speed walked it.

“She has Anubis though...I guess that’s all she needs though. What do I know though? For all I know Celica had her eyes torn out! Shut off all her senses and is torturing her slowly!”

“Nerissa...it’s probably nothing as bad as you’re thinking.”

“You don’t know how Celica punished her?” I stopped to look back at him. “You know how Celica’s punishments are Nim. She makes me look like an angel.”

“Calm down and breathe. Do you think a trip to Zhikar would do you some good?”

“I really don’t know Nim...I’m still not ready for that yet. If I go I won’t learn about any family while I’m there. My biological parents died thousands of years ago.”

“Seeing your people and culture could give you some peace of mind. You could have family and just not realize it yet. I know that you wished that you could have met your biological parents and had some peace. I wish that I could provide that for you, but I can’t. No one can do that for you but you Nerissa.”

I looked down to the ground and he sighed and tilted my head up. “Listen little one...you will never be alone. Whenever you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

I smiled and hugged him tightly and relaxed when he ran his hands through my hair. I always felt better when he called me that. He really was like a father to me, and he would grasp how much that meant to me. I was going to say more but then remembered that I had a prior engagement.

“Sorry to cut this tender moment short, but I have to meet up with Celica.” I giggled when he rolled his eye and we parted. I smiled when I left his side, but it vanished once I turned away. I wasn't really that excited about where I was meeting Celica at. I knew that it would be better for me in the long run, but it didn’t mean it would hurt any less. I wish I could fly to my destinations but I knew I’d never be any good at it. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a bracelet that Lady Serafina had given me in my youth. The pretty silver bracelet was an item I never parted with, and not just because it was stylish. The blue gem on it shined brightly as it allowed me to whisked away to a destination of my choosing. Lady Serafina had gifted us with many ways to travel the infinite cosmos, but she gave this to be specifically because of who I was. It used to keep away my nightmares about the Darkness when I was young, but now I use it to channel my cosmic energy into. Lady Serafina wanted me to practice my abilities as a star child whenever I could. I knew how amazing it was to be gifted with these cosmic powers, but I felt more comfortable using my water.

I had to admit I was pretty neglectful about practicing that half of myself. I watched the gemstone glow as I concentrated my energy into it. Looking at my hand I smiled, I did like the effects that it did to my body. Stars and the cosmos were etched into my skin and I loved seeing it every time. Realizing that I was stalling, I pushed more energy into it and was whisked away to another planet on the edge of the universe. I hated the sudden sickness I experienced when I did this damn thing. I stumbled forward as my feet touched solid ground. Holding back my vomit, I walked up a hill towards my destination. I stopped halfway there to admire the sight in front of me.

Celica was sitting cross legged suspended in the air. I purred low in my throat as I looked at her ass. Celica had the best ass I had ever seen, and I took great joy and care into looking at it whenever I had the chance. I used to wish I could get her to swing in my direction, but she was more like a sister to me then anything. I’d still admire the beauty of that ass though. I wanted to take a nice bite of it too, but her cool voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Your lust is so tangible Nerissa. Stop staring at my ass.” I grinned and made my way up next to her as she handed me a glass of wine. I took a dep swig of it as we both looked over the cliff we were on. A wedding ceremony was taking place below us. I gripped the glass tight as I watched my old love Khepri, meet her wife at the end of the aisle. I was glad that Lady Serafina had allowed my friends another chance at life.

Well...technically speaking…

The concept of death is a different sort of concept as far as I was concerned. If Lady Serafina granted it, should who have died can advance to live amongst the stars. They could essentially choose to reincarnate and live out an immortal life. Khepri had spent over three hundred years in Duat before I had asked Lady Serafina to grant her another life. It still frightened me that she could die, and I was always afraid of my father doing something to her, even in his weakened state. Death after reincarnation meant nothing afterwards. The second chance was also the last chance. The very thought of that happening to Khepri, or anyone I cared about terrified me. I, of course, hid it well.

“She looks beautiful.” My shoulders slumped for a second, before I straightened back up and forced out a laugh. Khepri always looked beautiful on any given day.

“So you do have a wandering eye Celica?” She rolled her eyes as she poured herself more wine. “All you have to do is ask and I’ll lather you up nicely~”

“Hush you horny animal. I think I should be asking if you’re ok.” I shrugged as I sat down and leaned my cheek into my hand. I watched as Khepri smiled happily and kissed her bride. The happy cheers carried through the wind and filled my ears. I had no right to feel sad about this, especially since I told her I couldn’t commit. I thought I would be able to, but it seems that would be a thing that would never change. I was here to get rid of the residue love I held for her, and I couldn’t help but think maybe I was selfish using her like that. I hurt her enough for one lifetime, and perhaps I could mend our friendship later down the line.

Only time would tell I suppose.

“I’m pretty great Celica...all things considered. Seeing her happy is the greatest gift I could ever receive. I think I’ll bless her as my wedding gift to her.” I stood up and held my palm out. “Congratulations Khepri...here’s to a lifetime of happiness...and great sex.” Celica coughed on her drink beside me as I laughed and began the blessing. Khepri and her wife looked up at the sky in joy as the clouds parted and the day grew brighter. I wished her happiness and I wanted nothing but good things for her. Chugging back the wine, I tossed the glass back to Celica. Catching it, she stepped down onto the ground and put her hand on my shoulder.

“We can go to that club that you like if you want? Keep you focused on something else…”

“No I’m good...besides I think that-”

“Sorry to interrupt you girls, but we have a problem.” I looked over my shoulder as Lady Serafina descended from the sky. “I’m sending you all on an assignment right now.”

“An assignment?! Seriously!? Oh fuck yeah!” I threw a fist in the air as I jumped in place gleefully. If there was anything that would brighten my mood it was this. Sex and drinking were one thing, but fighting and killing gave me a different type of pleasure.

“So what’s going on that you need all of us?” Celica asked with her usual indifference towards her. I could only wonder when that debacle would end. Celica was cute when she had an attitude so it wasn’t all bad.

“I’m sending you all to Sector 4857….as you are aware Celica, activity around there has been bad. I believe the Darkness is moving in on that area.”

“Great...just when I thought I could handle that myself. The Darkness always finds a way to screw me over…” Celica shook her head as she walked forward and took off into the air. I watched her go before batting my eyelashes at Lady Serafina. She giggled as I sauntered over to her and circled around her. I flipped my hair over my shoulder as I stopped in front of her.

“So...how would you like to give me something to think about while I’m away?” Her laughter filled the air causing flowers to grow around our feet. “See? I’m gonna need more than that sweet laughter.”

“I think I’ve gifted you with quite the “objects” already Nerissa.” I laughed as I ran a hand over my breasts. They were the greatest things I could say I asked for. My breasts were a bit on the small side, but the bump up to some lovely double D’s was an excellent choice. “Come along Nerissa, you can come with me to pick up Ka’seem.”

“Oh joy...I hope he’s doing something naughty~”

“He might be…”

She wrapped an arm around me as she whisked us away. I could only imagine what my best friend would be doing now. I glanced over my shoulder one more time, sending one more well wish to Khepri. I had a feeling the next few hours were going to be more than interesting. I licked my lips and grinned as I could feel my heart race in excitement.

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

Next: https://goddessofeternity.tumblr.com/post/648958621260136448/chronicles-of-the-supernovas-chosen

Previous: https://goddessofeternity.tumblr.com/post/647300345002852352/chronicles-of-the-supernovas-chosen

Thanks for reading!

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#Nerissa #Nim #Celica #Serafina #Khepri #writing #my writing

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awhitehead17 · 5 years ago

Text

Universal Signs

Chapter 3 / Previous Chapter

A/N:Just for the record for some of this story I will be making up things, such as names of places and different items. They're not overly important, but I'm trying to build the idea that it's slightly different to Earth and what humans would be used to in a way.

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Flying the ship was basically second nature at this point. Kon had been learning to fly a variety of ships since he was born and this one was no different. Of course the other two also fly it, but he prefers to be the one to handle the controls.

Cassie often likes to navigate them, leading them from galaxy to galaxy as they go which Kon doesn’t mind because despite being able to fly ships, his sense of direction was horrendous. Bart doesn’t tend to fly or navigate, he finds it hard to sit still for long periods of time and gets bored easily, he will fly however if Kon or Cassie aren’t around to do it.

With a smooth take off, Kon gets the ship into the air and expertly flies it up and out of the atmosphere. Once they were safely away from the planet and once again in space, Kon shouts over his shoulder, “Right where are we off to now Cassie? What’s the next stop on our route?”

His blonde team mate comes over and stands beside him, her hair falling over her shoulders as she looks down at him, “Our next stop is two galaxies away, we need to gather up 50 bags of Hydrinain Seeds from the planet Romore.” She leans over and starts pressing buttons and typing in commands on the dashboard. “That’ll be where we can restock everything we need as well, the planet has a wide range of markets we can explore.”

Kon nods, he’s not exactly sure how she knows that but the knowledge is helpful and useful in the best ways so he’s not going to argue against it.

Once she’s done with the commands he takes a moment to study them, they were simply directions that needed to be followed and different bits of data from the planet they’ve just left. Kon guides the ship for a moment before activating the autopilot. Two galaxies away is a long way to travel, the autopilot allows Kon to be away from the controls until they reach close to their destination.

“Right, autopilot is on and I’ll check it every now and again just to make sure we’re on track. We’ve got a long while to go before we reach our destination yet.” He says standing up and looking at her with a smile.

Cassie nods, “Yeah, also don’t forget to write the report and check in. You know they hate it when we miss check ins.”

Kon rolls his eyes, he hasn’t forgotten. “Yes boss.”

She opens her mouth to retort but is interrupted by Bart who appears next to them, “Guys I think he’s dead. Did he die? We killed him!”

They look wide eyed at Bart who had his gaze set behind them. Snapping their attention that way they find their fourth passenger slumped on one of the seats. His head was resting on his chest, which really didn’t look like a comfortable position, and he wasn’t moving.

Kon looks back at Bart feeling slightly panicked. “Is he dead?” He looks back over and sure enough he hadn’t moved in the few seconds Kon looked away. The metal pole that Tim had been carrying around was grasped loosely in his fist on his lap

He certainly looked dead and Kon couldn’t believe it. Tim looked fine when they picked him up off the planet, his actions and speech made him sound healthy so what happened between then and now? It wouldn’t have been to do with leaving the atmosphere because the ship has been designed to circulate every kind of element every species in existence needs to breathe, therefore meaning there’s no way he died because he couldn’t breathe.

“No wait! His chest just moved!” Cassie blurts out, hitting them both as if to get their attention. Kon narrows his eyes at Tim’s chest but couldn’t see any movement.

“You sure Cass because I can’t see it.”

Cassie hits him again and looks at him, “Why don’t you use your hearing to see if his heart is still beating.”

Kon pauses and blinks. He hadn’t thought of that. He completely forgot he could even do that to begin with. Now feeling stupid he rubs his head with embarrassment, he had been too panicked to even think of it.

He focuses his hearing on Tim and moments later hears a steady beat. It was slow but firm enough to be deemed alive. Kon turns back to the others with a sigh of relief, “He’s alive and his heart is beating, it’s just slow, maybe because he’s apparently unconscious?”

“So he’s just sleeping?” Bart asks vibrating on the spot, looking between them all. “That’s an awfully weird place to fall asleep, how is that possible? But that’s great to know, at least we haven’t killed him!”

The three of them go quiet for a moment watching as Tim ‘sleeps’. It’s odd thing to see considering none of them three really need to sleep at all. It isn’t an unknown thing to them, just one of a rarity. Bart needs to sleep the most out of all of them but that’s for only a really short time before he’s back up bouncing around. He and Cassie hardly sleep at all, like once every four days maybe, probably longer. Their species aren’t really designed to rest like that.

It’s probably to do with Tim’s own species, once they work out what he was then that would give them some answers. Whatever Tim is, why did their ‘resting’ have to look like they were dead? There are lots of other ways to rest without looking like he had died.

“Bart go poke him. Wake him up.” Cassie tells him, nudging the ginger towards the slumped figure.

“Why me? Why can’t you do it?” Bart pouts.

“Just do it.”

Kon snorts in amusement as Bart heads over to Tim without further protest, he always gives in way to easily.

The two of them watch as their friend steps up beside Tim, clearly trying to work out the best way to wake him. In the end he stands just to the side of Tim and reaches out to poke his shoulder with a finger. When the first poke achieves nothing he does it again this time firmer. For a second time nothing happens. They hear Bart huff in annoyance before he changes tactics and simply shoves Tim with his hand, nearly pushing him out of the chair as he does so.

With a shout that startles them all, Tim snaps awake and jumps to his feet. His hand grips that metal pole tighter and he takes a swing at open air. It was a good thing Bart was a speedster because he would have been smacked right in the face if he hadn’t of moved out of swinging range quick enough.

The three of them stare with wide eyes as Tim frantically looks around for the threat. Kon takes a note on how tense he was now and even how fast his heart was beating, it was such a contrast to moments before.

After what feels like forever Tim seems to come back to himself, he meets their gazes and frowns. This time looking around more cautiously, as if trying to remember what happened. He lets out a quiet sound and drops his defensive position he had gotten into after jumping out of the chair, the pole falls to his side as he runs a hand over his head.

“Uh sorry. I, um, I forgot what happened for a moment. Did I fall asleep, cause that wasn’t supposed to happen, I guess I was just really tired, it’s been a long day and a lots happened, plus that chair is actually really comfy. And I’m rambling so I’m just going to shut up now…”

Tim snaps his mouth closed and looks at them apprehensively. There was an edge to him that Kon picked up on but he couldn’t work out what it was. He was still on the defensive side despite appearing relaxed, the grip on the pole hadn’t loosened even though it was down by his side.

Maybe he was scared? If that was it, Kon could totally understand because it was a scary thing to wake up not really knowing where you are or who you’re with. This isn’t exactly a normal scenario, if Kon was in his position he would probably be scared too.

He feels bad for Tim but was unsure on how to help. It’s not like he would be able to understand him considering their language difference and how Tim doesn’t have a translator.

Kon turns to his friends who turn to him at the same time. Cassie was frowning, “You brought him on here Kon, you help him.”

“I don’t know what to do! He’s scared, doesn’t trust us and is unable to understand us!” Of course he knew this when he convinced the others to agree to let Tim on bored but it’s now only really hitting how hard this actually could be.

Bart shrugs, “Why don’t we offer him something? Like a peace offering to show we don’t mean any harm. He just said he was tried and since he sleeps why don’t we offer him a safe place to rest? After that we can try and work out where he’s from.”

Kon scratches his head, “I guess. You go and lie down to rest don’t you? So he would need a bed to rest comfortably?”

“Yeah, he could have one of our rooms or even the seats down in the common room?”

“That could work, he may feel more at ease when he can relax comfortably.”

Kon turns back to face Tim who was staring at them with an intense expression on his face, like he was desperately trying to work out what they were saying. Kon would love to be able to clearly communicate with him but unfortunately they don’t have the right equipment in order to perform the procedure needed to implant a translator. That’ll have to be something they look into soon.

Kon heads for the exit and gestures for Tim to follow him. Once at the door he opens it up and waits for Tim to join him. As he’s done the last few times, Tim hesitates as he looks around at everything before finally moving. Kon sends him friendly smile and repeats the gesture before walking down the corridor to the opposite end where the common room was.

They reach the other end of the corridor and Kon opens up the door before walking through it, he keeps it open to allow Tim to enter after him. Understanding that Tim will look around at the surroundings first, Kon gives him some time before encouraging him further into the room.

It wasn’t anything special, the room was designed as a place to chill that wasn’t their own personal rooms or the cock pit. One side of the wall held a large universal transmitter screen which allows them to access any form of entertainment from around the galaxy they were currently in. Just opposite that was a long comfy seat, it stretches across the room and curls in at the ends creating an arc like shape. It was great for lying down on and resting.

Behind the seat, just opposite the door, was a large rectangular table was designed for multi purposes. The three of them use it for everything, games, a place to eat at or even a desk when they need to work and don’t want to be in the cock pit. After the table there was a large kitchen set up, with counters, storage places, cookers, coolers and it was all stocked with a wide variety of food. A long thin window was just next to the kitchen area which allows they to see out into space.

After several moments Kon points to the seat. Tim blinks at him, clearly not understanding. Sighing, Kon firmly points at Tim before pointing to the seat again. Tim continues to look at him but then his eyes flicker to the seat before coming back again.

He still looked like he was unsure on what Kon wanted. Kon pinches his nose in frustration, why was it so hard? Either he was terrible at getting his message across in gestures or Tim was incredibly stupid. He thinks for a moment before getting an idea.

Walking over to the seat, he jumps over the back of it and sits down on the plushy material. He sprawls out over it and leans his head back to mimic what Tim had been like earlier in the cock pit. After a few seconds he gets back up and looks expectantly at Tim, hoping he finally gets what he’s trying to tell him.

The guy raises an eyebrow, looking just as confused at before, “Are you saying I can sleep here? On this sofa?”

Kon doesn’t know what a sofa is, but if he means this seat then yes. At least he gets it! Kon smiles and nods is answer.

Tim makes a face of understanding, letting out a little “oh” as he does. He rubs the back of his neck smiling slightly, “Uh, thank you. I guess this is better than being upright in a chair.”

Now getting up from the seat, Kon nods again and gestures to Tim to take his place, he assumes Tim would feel more at ease if he wasn’t close by. Just as Tim begins to walk over and as Kon walks away a loud rumbling sound could be heard.

Kon straightens up and looks around for the source because that wasn’t right. He’s never heard such a noise before. It happens a second time and he feels himself getting worked up. Had something gotten onto the ship without them knowing? He’s going to need to alert the others as soon as possible because if it was a threat then they would need to fight it off.

Opposite him, now standing by the seat Tim makes a harsh noise and smacks his stomach, “Oh shush….”

Kon stares at him confused, especially when that rumbling sound could be heard again. Was that sound coming from Tim? What kind of species makes that kind of noise?

After hitting his stomach a second time, Tim looks up and meets Kon confused stare. He blinks as if surprised to find Kon looking at him, red appears across his face and he smiles shyly, “Uh sorry. Its been a little while since I’ve eaten, my stomach is just being annoyingly noisy.”

So that noise was coming from him. But from his stomach? He doesn’t understand that, did all different parts of his body make different sounds then? That was oddly strange. Tim was from a strange species.

After the initial shock of Tim’s stomach apparently making noises, Kon’s mind catches up with what he had said. He hadn’t eaten in a while, which implies Tim was hungry. Was his stomach making that rumbling noise because he was hungry? Kon would ask him, but sadly can’t because Tim wouldn’t understand him.

He glances over at the kitchen and holds a finger up to Tim before darting over there. He’s sure there’s something for him to eat. Not knowing what species Tim was makes it harder to know what he can and can’t eat but there surely will be something.

He rummages through the cupboards and cooler until he finds something. While he could make something with various of ingredients he figures Tim would want something packaged because of his trust issues at the moment, which was understandable.

In the end he finds and gives Tim a packet of dried out flat bites. They were from Cassie’s planet but they were a decent snack, he’s sure Tim wouldn’t mind them. He also gets Tim a bottle of water, nearly every species needs water so hopefully Tim’s does to.

Walking back over to where Tim was still standing, who had been wearily watching him, he holds the items out for the guy to take. Tim blinks at him for a moment before moving to place that metal pole down and grab the items from his hands.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to but thanks.”

Kon nods and smiles, he gestures to the seat once again before motioning to the door. Without further prompting Kon leaves the room, leaving Tim to do whatever he needs to, hopefully he’ll feel a little more at ease now in his own space and with some food at hand.

He walks back to the cock pit and finds the two others around the table looking over some papers. “This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.” He declares loudly while walking over to them and slumping down in a chair.

Cassie snorts, “Why am I not surprised?”

Bart simply looks curious, “What happened?”

“Well communication is difficult, we’ll need to look into that by the way, understanding gestures takes a little longer than it should. Also his stomach made a weird rumbling noise. I’ve never heard anything like it and actually thought something had snuck onto the ship before realising it was just coming from him.”

Bart pulls a face, making a “huh” sound and Cassie raises an eyebrow in question. “What was the rumbling noise?”

“I think it was because he was hungry. He smacked himself and told his stomach to be quiet so I’m not entirely sure. Maybe something else lives inside of him?” Kon says cocking his head to the side thinking about it. “I gave him your flat bites Cass, I hope you don’t mind. It’s hard to know what he can and can’t eat at the moment.”

She waves the comment off, clearly not bothered by it. “We really ought to work out what species he is if he’s going to be staying with us. While you were dealing with him, Bart and I started to go through our archives looking at what we have to try and figure it out. We used that he doesn’t have a translator as a starting point.” She tells him.

Kon perks up at hearing that, he straightens up in his seat and peers at the papers on the table, “What have you got so far?”

“Well in the short amount of time we’ve been looking we’ve been able to narrow it down to basically one option. We did consider him potentially being an Atlantean but he doesn’t show any signs of gills or webbed fingers so we ruled that option out.” Cassie explains looking at him. “We could be wrong though, his Caucasian skin makes it a bit harder to specifically work out what he is.”

Bart jumps in then, “We think Tim is a Human Being. Which is awesome because I’ve always wanted to meet a Human!”

Kon’s eyes go wide at hearing that. A Human Being? Was that even possible? “Are you sure?” He questions them.

Cassie sends him a knowing look, “We know what you’re thinking and we thought the exact same thing, but it’s the only option that makes sense.”

Kon frowns thinking about it. Humans are rare to find out in the galaxy. They’re considered to be one of the lowest species in existence at the moment because of how under developed they are. Kon’s never met one before but he’s heard a few stories about them and what they’re capable of. No one has much knowledge on them because they’ve barely made it into space travel, so you wouldn’t find them anywhere but on their own planet where they originate from.

However, Kon does know that Humans haven’t yet discovered the universal translator that every species has. It allows them all to communicate with no problems as it automatically translates any language into your own. Humans haven’t explored enough of the galaxy yet to have come across this, so if Tim was in fact a human, his lack of translator would make more sense.

Apart from that and what he’s heard, Kon doesn’t know a lot about the species. “How much information do we know about Humans, because my knowledge on them is very limited.”

Cassie sighs and sits back in her chair, “All I know is that they are a high maintenance species. Those who had talked about Humans on Themyscira used to all complain about how needy and underdeveloped they were. I didn’t learn anything besides that.”

Bart was nearly vibrating form where he was sat. “I know that they aren’t as developed as the rest of us are but my grandpa talked about how he once met one and what it was like and I’ve always wanted to meet one since! If Tim really is a Human Being then we should take this opportunity to learn about him, this is totally going to be crash!”

Kon shakes his head in amusement over Bart’s enthusiasm to the situation. It doesn’t help them much but it’s something that’s not hatred at least.

“Assuming that Tim is a Human then, do we have anything about the species in the archives?”

“Some,” Cassie tosses a small file over to him. It couldn’t have more than six pages in it but it’s better than nothing.

“Looks like we’ve got some reading to do then.” Kon says. At least this will help them understand Tim a bit more. And Kon isn’t going to lie, he’s curious to see how different Tim is and what a Human Being is like to be around. He’s never been in the presence of one, so if their interactions so far are anything to go by, this will be interesting.

#Universal Signs #Space AU #Tim Drake #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #core four #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #sleep #fanfiction #humour

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aradia-hub · 4 years ago

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5 Top Spiritual Destinations

When we journey to an unfamiliar and sacred land, we become explorers with an ability to tap into energetic frequencies, ancestral dialogue and historical context of our destination. This gives us a chance to expand our mindsets and create a new frame of reference for our own belief systems.

There are different reasons why one might travel. Maybe you yearn for change or crave an opportunity to expand your consciousness. Whatever the case, travel provides a curation of your unique spiritual expedition.

The following is an overview of five of the top spiritual destinations in the world. Which one resonates most with your soul?

Macchu Picchu, Peru

Explore a Mystery

As a sacred landmark, Macchu Picchu is a top priority for spiritual seekers. With a blurred history and the resounding spirit of the Inca people, effervescent energy surges throughout this popular destination.

This energy is undeniable, yet remains a mystery. Although Macchu Picchu has been under investigation for over a century, unanswered questions inspire a sense of curiosity in explorers far and wide.

Thus, if you seek an exploration into the unknown, then Macchu Picchu is the place for you. When visiting this lost city, reality as you know it is subject to question and for those who crave expansion, this is worth its weight in gold.

Surrender to the city and its monuments and you’ll encounter a sense of disbelief and consequent inquisition. How did the Inca people build their perfectly constructed walls without tools? Did aliens intervene? Did Gods once walk amongst us on Earth?

Use your time in Macchu Picchu to develop your own theories, explore belief systems and connect with the archetypal Gods who live in the mountains.

Bodh Gaya, India

Find Peace

Bodh Gaya is a sacred site that is known by its role in the story of Buddha. This is the location where Gautama sat in contemplation for 49 days under the Bodhi Tree.

As the story goes, during his journey towards The Truth, Sidharta Gautama found himself seated under a pipal tree (now known as the Bodhi Tree). He vowed to remain in a meditative state until he discovered Truth – the solution to suffering.

Finally, on a Full Moon, Gautama gained realization and became a fully enlightened being. This initiation process ensured his role as The Enlightened One – i.e. Buddha. From this point forward, Bodh Gaya has become a landing place for past and future Buddhas in search of enlightenment. In fact, this sacred location is prophesized to facilitate consciousness for at least one thousand Buddhas.

So, if you’re searching for the meaning of life, an understanding of your existence, liberation from suffering or a peaceful union with Self, then Bodh Gaya is the place for you. When you arrive, connect with the land and immerse yourself in the experience of awakening.

Will you achieve enlightenment on a short trip? Maybe not, but one thing is for sure – by connecting with this sacred land you can connect with yourself.

Stonehenge, United Kingdom

Reclaim Your Magic

As a destination associated with Merlin, Druids and healing power, Stonehenge is a magical place. This magic is intertwined with a rich story of the famous standing stones.

Because of the circular pattern of the stones, many have prophesized that they carry a distinct message. Some believe that the pattern of the stones is meant to mark the movement of the Moon and the Sun.

Others associate the stones with a monument to the Gods, powerful healing technology or a crop circle. The specifics of the messaging are unknown. This evokes a sense of mystery, magic, and charm.

Historically, Stonehenge served as a burial site for the elite during the Neolithic age, which designates the area as Holy ground. This solidifies the sacredness of the destination.

Regardless of the theory, visitors and locals consider Stonehenge a magical destination filled with wonder. If you seek to get in touch with your magical nature, Stonehenge is the place to journey.

Jerusalem

Become Inspired

If you visit Jerusalem today, you’ll discover a diverse population filled with a variety of belief systems, cultures and nationalities. With such variety, the city helps us connect on a fundamental level.

This connection is one of the many reasons why travelers journey to The Holy Land. Unlike Bodh Gaya, Jerusalem booms with kinetic energy. This energy is a combination of passion, conflict, and spirituality.

Holy to Judaic, Chrisitan and Islamic belief systems, Jerusalem is a coveted city. Historically, this land has been destroyed and rebuilt more than 20 times and remains a transformative locale.

According to religious text, Jerusalem is the city where Jesus lived his last days. Although some may not believe in the story of Jesus, Archeologists continue to validate biblical Jerusalem.

So why should you visit? Whether you want to discover a deep connection with a rich history, utilize the healings of the Dead Sea or enjoy a diverse culture, Jerusalem is a place of possibilities.

Visit Jerusalem for spiritual inspiration, discovery of religious roots, an exploration of archeological findings and experience of holiness.

Egypt

Understand Your Power

Egypt embodies the ingenuity and power of our species. With a rich history, this sacred land has much to offer. With a multitude of tombs, sustainable agriculture, sacred art, language and artifacts, Egypt inspires locals and visitors alike.

The tombs represent a culture dedicated to honoring their people while the delicate artwork reveals a detail-oriented people and, some say, the beginning of written communication.

Visiting Egpyt helps remind us of our resourcefulness and power to create. In fact, modern Historians have recently discovered that the Pyramid of Giza, is vastly unlike traditional tombs. The differences lie in the power-plant construction.

This begs the question – was ancient Egyptian technology once as advanced as our modern-day systems? Tap into your innovative power and explore Egypt’s innovative feats for yourself.

#travel #destiniations #blot

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rogue-hammer · 5 years ago

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ELDAR PART 2: #5 EXODITES You know that army everyone says their going to do, and then you never see anyone doing it? You know that concept that seems kind of bizarre and niche, but is always kind of fun when you think about it? Lets cut the bull, do you know about the Exodites? Yeah you know the ones I mean. The Eldar who where smart enough from the get go to realize that shit was gonna hit that fan. And by hit we mean, the shit was a dirty nuclear bomb, and the fan was spinning at Mach 10, and no one within a 1 million light year radius of it was going to not get shit on them? The Eldar that if they had a proper army dex, would probably be Toughness 4, Strength 5 and could break an Aspect warrior over their knee? Well fear not, because the Chaos Druid is here to tell you how it may be possible to have these “Salt of the Earth” Style Eldar as a force. -First off, the lore. The Exodites as we all know, where those Eldar who, at the time before the fall realized what was going to happen, and after trying to tell the rest of their race that the liberal agenda was a bad idea, went fuck it and took off for the distant Eastern fringe of the galaxy. Abandoning much of what their race had achieved, these highly attuned seer like Eldar went and settled many a wild and dangerous world. You could say they where Mountain Men of their race. Minus the Buckskins. When establishing a concept for your army, it should be important to note these sorts of things, and mayhap research our own real world history, looking for those who left behind more advanced surroundings to wander the wilds and tame or become a part of their new surroundings. Besides, whats not to like when coming up with a how did your army tame mutha fuck’n dinosaurs for an army concept than to read about people who did much the same thing?

-How to represent it? This is the big hurdle to Exodites. GW never did give these backwoods space elves a codex of their own (sometimes I wonder if they where meant to be a mirror to wood elves from WHF) and so you have to be able to work a little bit of magic to bring them to the table. There are two ways of doing this: 1: Use a community created and tested Codex. This one is pretty simple. There are loads of communities on the net who enjoy making non-official but professional quality dexs that never existed, or that did and got left behind. This can be a good place to start if your unsure what exact kinds of units and characters you want to try and represent on the table. 2: Do a “Counts as army.” While this may seem a bit less interesting than going out in search of a quality fan made dex, believe it or not, counts as armies and models are some of the funnest challenges in the hobby. After all, who says you have to stick to one area? When it comes to a race as wide spread as the eldar, you can use all kinds of lists to represent your Exodites. From IA books, to the various inner factions and old codexes, you have a wealth of pre-made stats and rosters for your army, and it may even inspire you to create a Home Brew Dex of your own for use with friends and fellow Exodite fans, it can even be a group project!

-Modeling. Ah yes the next big hurdle in your quest to make this awesome idea come to life. But lucky for us, in this day and age of vast miniatures Renaissance, your never short on companies who produce all sorts of models for use in creating your own flavor of Exodites. Even the GW ranges can be put together via the various universes and factions to give rise to a unique and conversion heavy Exodite host. It’s these kind of armies that GW once upon a time used to really try and get their community interested in. Your own imagination is the only limit when making a fully converted army, and since everyone likes Dinosaurs, dragons, and laser guns, well, who isn;t going to have plenty of models ripe for bits fodder and base construction?

-So then next, whats your theme? After all, Exodites can be as various as their craftworld kin. They don’t all have to be from the same sort of planet, or even have the same sort of unit arrangement. Think first to yourself, what wild and possibly feral world has my army tamed and guards as their own? Are they Jungle style folk, Eldar survivalists of the deepest jungle worlds know to the galaxy who could give catachans are run for their money? Taming giant lizard like creatures and avian like Dinosaurs for use in war, while using mainly Stealth and Guerrilla style tactics against invaders, blending seamlessly into the Jungle foliage to strike while using the elements of their home world to wear down an enemy, Maybe they are a desert folk. Having traversed the sands of a barren wasteland planet in the style of Dune. (Dune….Eldar. Ok I may have to do this now) and have grown hardy and strong from the unforgiving conditions. Training and using burrowing and dangerous desert creatures such as serpentine lizards, Scorpion and draconic scalies of fire and ash to their use. Able to blend in and traverse the known ways of the sands to out maneuver and flank their foes foolish enough to come after them (and now I also want to watch Lawrence of Arabia). An alpine people would also not be a far stretch. After all we have seen plenty of Jungle Exodite concepts. So what about their Highlands dwelling kin? Eldar who live off the rock and timber of a giant temperate and sub arctic worlds. Strong of limb and able to survive the cold and wild temperaments of their chosen homes. Going into battle atop heavy plated and massive dino/prehistoric mammal like hybrids, battering their foes aside by ferocity and strength much like our own history’s hardy people of the mountains regions. Truly when creating an Exodite army, any hardy and primal like folk of our own world can serve as an excellent source for theme and character.

-And that leads us to story. Yet another thing that can have infinite possibilities based off your own imagination. Are your Exodites of the first migrations away from their Stellar Empire? The ancient and proud ones who fled the fall of their doomed race and have since held onto life and world for thousands upon thousands of years? Are you a young and newly aspiring tribe of Exodite travelers, having only just now in recent years and light of galactic events decided it best to leave the constraining confines of a Craftword and forge a new and hard destiny for yourself? Are you a sanctuary to Outcasts and those who have been forced or chosen to leave their homes in the Craftworld or even the Dark City. Do you dream of rising once again to dominance, or have you accepted the humble life of survivors and exiles. Are your Exodites proud warrior like people, given over to tribal customs of battle, honor and glory in combat? Or have you attempted to become a peaceful and conservative folk, only drawing a blade when pressed by outside forces. Do you count many of the ancient seers among your ranks, or do the physically strongest and most warlike lead you? Have you shunned all forms of technology or do you harbor much of your ancient relics and tech for use to give you an edge over your environment and enemies? Again, the sky is literally the limit with the number of ways you can forge your own unique brand of Exodites. That is, at the end of the day the fun of non-official, but canonical armies. #6 CORSAIRS Everyone’s thinking it I’m just say’n it. Pirates! Ah yes, corsairs. Eldar Corsairs no less. A throw back to the original concept of these ancient Space Elves from the Rogue Trader era, where the Eldar, much like Orks, and even Chaos were cast in a more “Raider, Pirate, Freebooter” light than as giant interstellar empires of their own. And if I may be frank, my favorite style of all Eldar. Corsairs are in a league of their own when it comes to lore and the table top. If Craftworld Eldar are the Boomer parents, and the Dark Eldar are the teen goth phase kids, while the Exodites are the redneck uncle you visit during summer vacation, then the corsairs are that cool older sibling who always seems to have a few rings in his ear, rocks out to old style metal music and owns some sort of sup’d up car you love riding in. Over the years the Corsairs have had many attempts at army lists and most have fallen by the way side with each passing edition. So what is a pirate to do? Break out your Space Rum and lets find out.

-Find your inner Outcast. This is the best place to start. Of all the Eldar sub factions, Corsairs are considered the Outcast. Too liberal minded and self serving for the Craftworlds, not into back stabbing, court intrigue and BDSM which counts the Dark Eldar out, and still too fucking full of themselves to go and play salt of the earth farmer with the Exodites. In all things the Corsair is the embodiment of the classic pirate trope. Those who live outside law and country. Content to ply the stars and do as they wish, when they wish, and save their own skin above all else. This type of “Sandbox” mindset can be used to create an eldar force with limitless background, style and character possibilities.

-What sort of pirate be ye? That’s your next question. Being Self sufficient and serving, Corsairs fit just about any niche you can think of when it comes to reaver like style. This also means they can be found just about anywhere, with just about anyone. Are your Corsairs a club for eldar only? Or have they allied to other even more unscrupulous characters? Corsairs can be found raiding alongside the likes of Rogue Traders, other alien species, and even among chaos warbands and Ork freebootas! And the reasons are just as varied. Are your pirates proud Corsair Princes/Princess’, plying the stars on an ambitious mission of their own? Are they fallen from grace renegades who have or will fall in with any dirty crowd? Are they the ruler of a pirate kingdom all their own, or do they sail the stars in a single infamous vessel like pirate stories of old, ravaging and stealing as they desire? Are they survivors of a larger group of CW Eldar, hiding amongst Exodites and teaching them the old ways of your people while trying to accumulate enough power and followers to rebuild what was lost? The options are almost limitless when forging a narrative for your Corsair warband.

-What is your goal? In the end, many a Corsair is an individualistic character. Shunning the Narrow dogmatic path of the Craftworlds, and refusing to become a corrupted sadist like the Drukari, they live a life of self fulfillment and ambition. So what motivates your band of pirates? Do they seek a sporting challenge as arrogant reavers of the stars? Are they after the ancient glory of their Race’s past when they ruled over the galaxy? Maybe perhaps they are altruistic, and ally themselves with whoever they foresee being a benefit to the galactic order of things. Fame and fortune? Women and wine? A warrior code dedicated to Khaine, or another esoteric group of reavers worshiping the many faded or forgotten gods of the past? Nefarious allegiance to chaos, or maybe a darker order of things. Maybe perhaps just indulging your own hedonistic desires without care to share them with others. Again, a corsair can have many a goal, which makes for all sorts of unique concepts regarding your army.

-Models models models. Ah yes, models, and what to use for your physical army on the table? Fortunately we live in a time where not only is there quite an expansive range of Eldar style models, both official and third party, but there are other factions with models that can be used to further augment your Corsair warband. The options are many. Maybe you use a combination of CW and Dark eldar models to achieve a rough reaver/noble look. You can also dip into the Human side of models, utilizing Necromunda and RT faction models to give your eldar a much more grounded and space faring/gang like look. Even fantasy Elven ranges can be used to boost a more primal look to your Eldar, or perhaps Out of the way factions like Mechanicus and Warcry warbands can be augmented with Eldar models to produce some very unique Tech mash ups or tribal like appearances. Not to mention older far more grim looking GW models from Ebay can be used to add a spice of old to your model ranges. However you choose to do it, make sure your models are cut apart from straight up CW or Dark Eldar style figures. After all, your above that kind of crap.

-Now we come to the final question, how do we play this army? As I mentioned before, there are older Corsair lists under official publishing one can use, as well as no doubt a bevy of fan made content. Like the Exodites, the Corsairs can easily be used as a counts as force, with even more options as you can pull from a number of different books in order to create homebrew allies and piratical alliances with your army. Once you have down how to create a list, its time to ask, how will yours be a unique pirate band? The cornerstone of any crew of pirates is Speed. After all, no need to hang around and risk your own neck am I right? This luckily is the Eldar’s forte, and can be done in numerous ways without too much overlap. On one hand, taking advantage of Eldar Air power is an awesome idea for Corsairs. Not only have they used in pass incarnations many of the powerful aircraft of the Eldar race, including the feared Void Dragon, other smaller editions have been made of time such as the handy Wasp, and fast moving Jump pack corsairs. Building off this concept, corsairs can utilise the various armies of the Eldar to kick into high gear. Between the DE and CW books, there is a wealth of fast moving raider vessels, teleporting and deep striking units, as well as high initiative and deadly close combat infantry. Depending on your list and homebrew rules, you may even have options to add other races in for flavor, such as Ork Meatshields…..I mean Ork allies that are very useful and cared about. Human RTs that can use various codex designs to function as an extra bulwark of strength and toughness and even Chaos elements if your feeling like you need the warp on your side. Maybe your corsairs favor Jetbike and light attack craft tactics and are made up almost completely of such units, along with jump infantry to help support your already fearsome maneuverability. There’s even ways to create an Eldar Corsair force that deploys almost exclusively from Deepstrike, entering the table at any point, ready to strike the enemy’s weak spot or run circles around their more cumbersome units. Always remember the enemy can;t hit back if they never see you coming, or are too slow to catch you!

It can be said, if the Exodites are a Modeling enthusiast’s dream, then the Corsairs are Narrative army creator’s playground. Enjoy Pillaging the stars fellow pirates! I can only hope this lengthy entry has given some of you new perspective or even just revivied old ideas on how to create and Eldar army of unique or simply enjoyable design. Sometimes I do feel as if Eldar are bottlenecked into repetative lists and story styles that leave little to customize, and rarely seem to fire the imagination. So really, these Pointy Eared ones arn’t just simple ELVES IN SPACE. There is little limit to what one can make of so many different aspects of this once great and powerful race.

As Always, Happy Hobbying!

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #eldar #xenos #exodites #corsairs #lore #insperation #hobby #miniatures #gaming #aliens #pirates #art

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shinra33459 · 5 years ago

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Simon PL600 x Homeless!Reader - Home and Family

It was a cold night in Detroit, Michigan: 22°F with a gust of wind that would occasionally let itself be known. It was shortly before midnight, and most people were in their homes peacefully sleeping, but you weren't most people; you were homeless. You lost your home after you fell into extreme debt about 6 months ago, and everything seemed to go downhill from there. Your friends wouldn't let you stay with them, you lost your job, your family couldn't care less, and you haven't slept in a bed for so long, that you've almost forgotten how a bed felt. You were starving, alone, cold, and scared.

Your physical shape has also taken a turn for the worse as well, you had become quite thin as a result of malnourishment, so much so that one could easily see the outline of your ribcage and your cheeks have sunken in as well. You recently got into a knife fight to protect yourself from a red ice addict who went ballistic and tried to kill you. As a result, you had quite a few lacerations on your arms, legs, torso, and one on the left side of your head.

You sat in some damp alleyway hiding from said red ice addict, trying to keep yourself quiet. You clumsily dropped the knife when you ran, so your only real mean of self-defense was long gone. As you sat in the alley, soaking in your own blood, you wondered if this was the end; would this really be the way you died, to some drug addled psychopath? You tried to think about more positive thoughts, like what home used to be, before all of this. But those thoughts immediately vanished as you started to hear footfalls reverberating off the walls of the alley. You noticed a silhouette of a man at the entrance of the alley, and he seemed to notice you as he started walking toward you.

You tried to get up and run, but the adrenaline high from the prior chase had long since passed, so you felt every bit of pain in the laceration in your right thigh. As you got up to run, as soon as you took a step, you fell flat on the ground. This was it; you were dead. You had finally been found and were most likely going to die. You pulled yourself up against the side of a dumpster and buried your head in your knees. You prayed; you prayed to God that you would live, that you could see the light of day at least one more time. The man's footfalls became louder as he was getting closer, and they eventually stopped as he was now right in front of you.

"...Don't-don't kill me, please. I won't tell anyone, just please don't kill me." you croaked out, begging, and trying your hardest to not start sobbing.

"I'm not going to hurt you. You're okay, I'm friendly. My name is Simon, what's yours?" a soft male voice rung out.

You lifted your head from your knees and saw a man with blonde hair combed to his right, blue eyes and a sharp jawline. Well at first you thought that he was a normal human man, but then you saw the blue LED on his right temple; he was an android. This gave you comfort as you knew that he wouldn't just murder you like that red ice addict would.

"(Y/N)." you weakly squeaked out, still trying to rein in your fear.

Simon scanned your physical state. Just glimpsing at you would tell the average person that you were suffering from starvation, but he could see in depth what it was doing to your body. He also saw the lacerations and the bleeding. Judging how you acted when he approached, you had to have been assaulted, and very recently at that.

"You've been severely cut in several places and you're also starving. Could you tell me what happened?" the blonde android inquired, hoping to find out why you were in this dreadful state.

"I-I'm homeless. I've been stuck on the streets for 6 months, just trying to stay alive. I have nowhere to go, or anybody to trust or rely on. I was attacked by a drug addict who went into a frenzy and tried to kill me." you explained to Simon. You noticed as his LED turned from a steady blue to a flashing yellow, as he processed what you said to him.

"rA9, I can't just leave her here; she's cold, starving, and badly injured to top it all off. I don't care what Markus or North will say, I must take her to Jericho. She deserves a place to stay as much as my people do." Simon contemplated as he looked down at you. He calculated your probability of surviving out here on your own if he just walked away: 21%. If he just walked away, you were more than likely going to die. Either from starvation, that drug addict, hypothermia, the possibility of your wounds getting infected, blood loss, or a combination of those things.

"Do you want to come with me? I have a place where you can stay; a home if you will." Simon queried as he looked down at you.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden..." you replied looking away from the PL600's eyes.

"You could never be a burden. I want to help you." Simon responded as he held out his hand for you.

"Okay Simon, I'll go with you." you said as you finally relaxed before you grasped his hand and were pulled you up to your feet.

Simon pulled your left arm around the back of his neck and put his right arm around your back to help stabilize you so that you can sort of walk. You winced in pain, but it was dulled by the happiness that you felt. Someone finally cared; it didn't matter if that someone was an android, someone, for the first time in many months, cared about you.

TIME SKIP: AN HOUR LATER

You were lying on a bed inside an old, abandoned freighter named the Jericho. You also came to learn that this place was the main safe haven for deviant androids. After everything some of these androids went through, and the many negative experiences they had at the hands of your species, you expected them to be cold and distant toward you. But that wasn't the case; in fact, quite a few of them, upon seeing your sorry state, rushed over to you and Simon to help you.

They got you to your own room, got you a fresh change of clothes, and they were able to get you some medical care. They didn't have much in terms of medical supplies, but they were able to disinfect your wounds with alcohol (as much as it hurt), they had to use fishing line to stitch your wounds shut to heal, and they got the wounds bandaged. After the wounds were cleaned, they let you rest. You finally slept in peace, on your own bed, for the first time in months.

You woke up when the morning light came through the window and touched your face. You slowly opened your eyes, expecting all that happened last night to be a dream, but instead of finding yourself in some alleyway, or under an overpass, you were in a bed. The same bed from last night. You looked at where the lacerations were on your left arm, only to see bandages. This was REAL; you really were saved by an android.

You heard two voices in conversation as they grew closer to your room, one of the voices you recognized: Simon. However, there was another voice, one that you didn't recognize. It was masculine, but slightly higher pitched than Simon's voice.

"You think she's already awake?" the voice asked, you assumed that it was directed toward Simon.

"Possibly, but even if she isn't, her bandages still need to be changed." you heard Simon ring out.

You saw Simon enter the room, smiling as he saw that you were already awake. You saw that he was followed by a man with tan skin, a buzzcut, and heterochromatic eyes: his left eye was green, while his right eye was blue.

"(Y/N), I'd like to introduce you to Markus, the leader of our cause. He's trying to get androids equal rights with humans." Simon introduced Markus as the tan RK200 walked closer to you.

"Nice to meet you Markus." you said as you held out your hand for him to shake, and the leader of the revolution returned the gesture with a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you, too." Markus replied, with a slight smile on his face.

"So, what do you think about such a proposition; equal rights?" Simon queried, nervously wondering if you respected androids in such a way.

"After all the abuse that's been hurled at your people, you deserve it, more than anything. You deserve your freedom." you responded to Simon's question, the positive answer making his eyes light up with joy. Finally, he met a human that cared about the plight his people suffered. Finally, he found a human that cared.

"Simon, I have some things to attend to, I'll see you later. It was nice meeting you (Y/N). Who knows, maybe after you get healed up, you can help us achieve our freedom." Markus beamed before he turned around and left the room, going to do whatever he had planned.

Simon pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat down next to you, with some surgical paper tape, a roll of gauze, scissors, and isopropyl alcohol to clean the wounds. You sat on the edge of the bed to give Simon easy access to the old bandages that needed to get disposed of. Simon cut away the old bandages, cleaned the dried blood away from the wounds, and applied some new bandages. The old, bloody ones being thrown in a trash bin next to the doorframe.

"Simon, I want to ask you something." you told the blonde android sitting in front of you.

"Ask away." Simon quickly replied with a happy expression on his perfect face.

"Why did you save me? You could've easily just left me in that alley, so why did you decide that I, a common street rat, was worth saving?" you questioned. Simon's happy expression left his face and was replaced with one of concern. Why would you think such self-doubting thoughts? His LED turned from it's usual blue to a steady yellow as he thought.

"I've been in your shoes before; lost, alone, scared, and with nowhere to go. I had no friends to care about me, or anything I could even consider a family. When I saw you cowering in fear in that alley, it was almost as if I was looking in a mirror. Until I found Jericho, I felt the exact same way you do. I knew, right from the minute I saw you, that I couldn't leave you there, especially in your weakest moment." Simon answered, looking into your eyes, as his LED still was glowing that golden yellow.

You winced as you stood up from the bed. You walked over to Simon and pulled him into a hug, tears threatening to well up. Simon was shocked at first, but he quickly returned the embrace, and his LED turned back to blue. You felt him relax in your arms as he melted into the embrace.

"I love you, Simon." you whispered into the android's ear.

"I-I love you too, (Y/N)." Simon whispered back, pulling you even closer. You two were content to just stay like this for a while. Unbeknownst to you, Markus returned to check up on Simon, and upon seeing you two like this, he knew that his mission of equal rights was more than just possible.

You pulled away from the embrace and gave Simon a quick peck on the cheek which made the PL600 giddy. Markus slowly stepped away as to not disturb you two, as you were having a moment. You never would've guessed that your prayer was answered, and that it came in the form of not only just an android, but also love.

"We can't stay like this forever; you still need to eat. Come with me, we've made you some breakfast." Simon whispered in your ear. You let out a sigh of relief; you finally found a home, love, and a new family. You were no longer alone, and you were eternally grateful for it.

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh simon #dbh markus #dbh simon x reader

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celticfeather · 5 years ago

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Akatsuki Fic: Campfires

A brooding clan-killer and a man who prefers to see himself more shark than human are not the most likely, or friendly, of new partners. But hunted and hated, their backs on are the wall, and the Akatsuki starts to form a complex refuge for its members. Their missions blur the lines between men, beasts, and gods, and Itachi must either accept his complicity in evil, or contemplate revolt.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863

-Chapter 1: Dawn

The tongues of flames danced against the stars like heathens frenzied before a war, springing into the night with a fibrous crackling. The one called Pain stood like a preacher, tall and black, his shadow painted by the leaping blaze onto the rockface behind him. His voice was low and commanding, yet vibrant, like velvet over steel. From everywhere and nowhere it echoed around the chasm like the voice of a god. “And if you join us, Uchiha Itachi, make clear your mark.” Itachi raised his arm and the thick kunai glinted black and orange. The metal fang plunged down, and with a jumping spark, the knife slit a ragged slash across his headband’s gentle leaf. “You are damned to the world, Itachi. May you find refuge in our Dawn, and together we shall light the world in the rays of a new peace.” No devilish cheering welcomed their new member. There stood a half dozen of his new comrades in black robes with red clouds, their dark eyes peeking out from high collars. Among them he noted the bandages of a Mist swordsman, and he recognized the grinning snake eyes of Orochimaru.

Now at least, damned by his nation as he was, Itachi had no orders to follow but his own. He would protect the Leaf from the shadows. And from this Akatsuki, whatever it was. He was washed with a strange sense of peace. It was not relief. What was done was done. Compared to yours, our pain will be over in an instant, his father’s last words echoed through his mind. He was unsure if they were sympathetic or the curse of a dying man. But it mattered not. The deed was done.

He wondered what had happened to Sasuke. The Hokage himself must be consoling him now. Maybe the boy would be sent to live with another family, or an orphanage. No, probably not, unsavory types would be waiting to adopt the boy. “Hey, you.” Itachi looked over, his thoughts of family broken. A man older and taller than he had prodded him on the shoulder. “Name’s Kakuzu. Follow the rules, don’t be brash, and I won’t kill you.” He gave Itachi a small leather pouch. “What is this?” “Ten thousand yen.” An unexpected gift. But since his days in Anbu, Itachi was reticent to show surprise around people he wasn’t sure he liked. “That’s for the month. If you need food or an inn, buy it. Petty theft is beneath us, and attention costs money.” Ten thousand yen was hardly generous for a month’s travels. In fact, an ordinary human would die of exposure. The inflation rate had been such that fifty years ago one could travel a few weeks on 10,000 yen. Now it would suffice for only a few bowls of ramen. ��Hey now, Kakuzu! Let him live a little bit! No one lives forever! Oh wait, you do, heheHAHA!”

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes hatefully at the interruption. The high pitched voice sounded like it belonged to a teenager. Itachi looked in its direction, and giggles simmered from the orange mask. Kakuzu growled, and ‘Tobi’ yelped and wilted. Finding the boy sufficiently scared, he did not press his advantage. Itachi suppressed his unease: the disguised, giggling, Madara was also alive far beyond a human lifespan. It unnerved him to see him manifest this boyish farce after they had worked together only hours prior to massacre their clan. But Itachi‘s face was an aloof, slightly irritated mask. “Rumor has it,” a woman’s cool voice uttered to him, “Kakuzu fought the first Hokage.” “Is that so,” Itachi echoed. If true, this Kakuzu would be eighty-five years old at minimum. He only looked forty. It seemed that Orochimaru and Madara were not unique among those who experimented with eternal youth. He would have to tread carefully here.

Itachi studied the woman. She was older than him, early twenties maybe. Her hair was bluish. He had only now seen her leave Pain’s side, and she was the only female member of the group. He wondered if she and pain were romantically involved. It was strangely like an academy clique: the one woman had chosen the highest ranking man of the group. “Konan is my name,” she told him. “I hope you can find a home here.” “Uchiha Itachi. A pleasure.” She did not seem terrible. The mist ninja with the executioner’s sword and red face paint stepped forward to Itachi. He smiled his mangled, filed, teeth at Itachi, and extended his bandaged hand. “Looks like you’re the only other shoe without a mate, kid. Biwa Juzo.”

“Now,” the gravelly voice of Pain claimed order. “Our organization needs to gather funds if we are to achieve our goals. You have your partners and your missions-- you are dismissed.” (keep reading)

A long time later, Juzo was dead.

Itachi did not know if the swordsman understood he would die when he jumped to shield Itachi from the Misukage’s strike, or if it had been an impulse he did not live to regret. The Kage’s blast had shattered his sword, and sated its iron-hungry blade in its owner’s abdomen. Not risking a burial, Itachi had returned the hilt to Juzo’s hand and fled the Land of Water for his life.

He wondered if he was still there— if the crows found him. He hoped they had. If it were him, he would prefer crows to the Mist intelligence corp-- and especially Zetsu.

Itachi’s newest partner introduced himself a few hours ago. The eyes that now walked beside his were white and devoid of mammalian emotion, and Itachi had not yet noticed Hoshigaki Kisame blink. The ex-mist ninja was of hulking stature, maybe two meters, which brought Itachi’s highest hairs up only to his jaw. He might have been thirty, but he had a strange face and it was hard to tell. His skin carried a faint bluish sheen, and his cheekbones were slashed with what could best be described as partial gills. Itachi had once pondered a similar thought with Orochimaru: Were you born looking like an animal?

Itachi found the Mist ninja’s desire to be partnered with him ignoble. By the end of the bizarre introduction speech involving live shark births, this Kisame seemed to advocate fratricidal cannibalism. Respecting Itachi because he killed his family was a poor way to gain his admiration.

“Isn’t this a mission for state ninja?” Kisame’s voice broke his thoughts. “A jounin could handle this.”

“The Land of Iron has no ninja village,” Itachi said. “The Ishikawa tiger, too, is an endangered species, and I do not think the neighboring waterfall ninja would agree to hunt it.”

Earlier, the pair had debriefed each other on their strengths and strategies. Kisame, as far as he had trusted to self-report, had massive stamina, lethal dexterity with water style, and was skilled with the chakra absorbing sword he carried. Itachi had listed fire style, shuriken, and genjutsu as his advantages. It seemed a profitable marriage of skills.

“Hm. Now, how to find the poor sap?”

“My tracking skills are… above average,” Itachi said. Red gleamed out from under his high collar.

“Right. I’ll let you lead.”

His world flared in the expanded spectrum of colors and avian detail of the sharingan. Itachi looked at the tree limbs above them, where a bird’s nest balanced lithely on a swaying branch. In the nest’s carefully woven lining was a tiny tuft of orange fibers: a mixture of orange guard hairs and slightly lighter whitish underfur. Among the orange was a single black hair of the same length.

A few minutes later he saw some twigs broken by a large quadruped. Then he saw a smeared paw print with retracted claws. They continued into a shallow ravine. Kisame followed quietly, but a crackle came from his direction: his living sword was excited.

Itachi peered from the bushes and signaled to Kisame. Through a leafy window they spied a massive cat, far larger than an ordinary animal, nearing the size of a horse carriage. Bunches of muscles rippled on its haunches as it lapped a sandpaper tongue at the creek. Facing profile to them, it yawned, and fangs longer than kunai flashed in the light. Itachi reached into his robe to draw a single knife. A strike to the brain would be sufficient.

“Allow me,” Kisame said, unshouldering the huge, blunt, Samehada from his back. “Pity to let such nice chakra soak the sand.”

Itachi tipped his knife back into his robe in consent. More than he would like to see this over, he would like to observe how this Hoshigaki Kisame operated.

Kisame alighted before the beast in the clearing. Surely the tiger was unaccustomed to being approached by anything living, especially not something smaller than it. It sprang with coiled fury at the man that dared, but its front claws met only earth. Shiny brown river pebbles sprayed loudly into the air and clattered back down to the ground.

Brandishing the thirty-kilo sword, a grinning Kisame landed spritely five meters from the tiger’s impact. With the darting grace of a tropical fish, he danced away from the cat’s frustrated strikes, his sword carving the air around it, but never cutting it, until the cat grew weak. At last it stared at the two men, panting, black lips curled back over yellow teeth.

Kisame had to turn his whole head to look at Itachi. For, perhaps like a shark, he was incapable of moving his eyes much in their sockets. “Can you sedate it, Itachi?”

The cat’s pupils, black slashes on yellow disks, dilated to wide spheres as Itachi set the animal under a genjutsu. It was always a strange procedure with beasts. Genjutsu involved manipulating chakra flow to the brain, and in a brain that was not human, it was a coarse process. Itachi could not communicate complex images like he could with humans, so instead he instilled it with feelings of darkness and warmth.

Kisame approached the sleeping tiger and drew the broadside of Samehada along its jugular. The sword’s scales rippled, and Itachi knew the cat was dead. Itachi revealed his kunai.

“Could probably get some gold for the pelt, too,” Kisame said, slinging the purring Samehada to his back.

Probably they could. But Itachi was not Kakuzu, and he did not desire to carry a bloody tiger pelt around for a few extra yen. Itachi crouched over the carcass, and with careful incisions he removed its teeth. They clattered against each other in his leather pouch. Whatever some royal leech would do with them to cure his presumed impotency, Itachi did not know.

“Someone’s coming,” Kisame warned him.

“Just merchants,” Itachi said. The rogues sprang into the trees. They heard the surprise of the men to find the freshly killed tiger. They’d feed the village! Get drunk! They invoked the gods for their luck. Kisame smiled devilishly but Itachi was unamused. Soon enough, the two rouge ninja were over the border of the Land of Rice.

Obtain the teeth, the scroll, the real or metaphorical scalp-- the object was the only variable. Then he brought them to a collection office. He gave the reward to Kakuzu and awaited further orders. The string of missions seemed to be the only constant in Itachi's life since the Uchiha massacre.

The sun yellowed and sank as they traveled. Juzo, his senior, was usually the one to suggest respite. But now that Juzo was dead, Itachi supposed this responsibility fell to him now. He slowed, halted, and sprang down from the tree to the clayish earth. A shaded wood surrounded them, and willow boughs trailed gently on a narrow, clear river with a sandy bank. The sinking sun painted dappled golden strokes on the surface of the water, and fish tail slapped from the waves. Kisame alighted after him.

“What do you say, Itachi? Fancy a fish dinner? We’ll see who can catch the most.” Kisame’s gently rough voice was surprisingly only baritone for a man his size. As many fish as two elite ninja could catch? “What a wanton slaughter.” “I can eat a lot of fish,” Kisame said. “We’ll do first to catch five,” Itachi decided. “Fine.” Kisame strode to the bank. With a blur of signs and motion of his arm, a sphere of water rose, and a wriggling green bass shimmered inside. He released it from the water prison jutsu and the first thrashing fish tumbled to the earth, and he removed its gills with a stomp. Kisame raised his hand to snare his next victim. Itachi slid kunai between his knuckles like bear claws, three in his right, two in his left. He ignited his sharingan, and like an osprey he saw through the water like glass. He pinpointed the motion of five adult fish, observed the current, and noted the water’s angle of refraction. He jumped high, extended his arms, and let the kunai fly. Easily as wooden targets, each knife struck its living mark. “Impressive,” Kisame said with restrained mirth, dispelling a ball of water and depositing a fish on the bank. “But in my book, fish don’t count as caught when they’re pinned to the bottom of a creek.” There may have been a flicker of perturbance on Itachi’s face. But it must have been a trick of the light. Itachi was not annoyed.

Itachi shed his robe and with a few launching steps he pierced the chilled water in a shallow dive. The fish were weighted by the knives to the riverbed, their eyes wide and mouths open. He snatched the knives by the handles and kicked hard towards the surface. When Itachi breached, he looked to the bank to see Kisame perched on a tree root, one elbow on his knee, grinning widely. His five fish were lined up in size-order at his feet, each about the length of a sandal. “A bit too slow, unfortunately,” Kisame grinned. “I knew I lost the moment I had to dive in,” Itachi said, stepping drenched to the bank. Having to retrieve the fish was a technicality— losing gracefully was not a skill Itachi had to often practice. “No, Itachi. You lost the moment you humored a shark to a fishing match.“ Doubtful, Itachi thought. But he said nothing as he removed the knives and placed his five fish on the bank. “Would you go find some sticks to spit them on?” the victor asked with a gesture to the forest. Itachi did so. Upon returning, Kisame had gathered kindling and larger branches, and arranged them into a conical shape

“Be a pal and light us up?” Itachi wove a sign and blew a thin jet of flame at the base of the cone. Which, aerating nicely, set the tiny pyre ablaze. “We both have our fields Itachi. You’re not terrible... for a leaf ninja.” Kisame said. The two rogues speared their ten fish in a radial pattern around the flames. Perhaps a bit too soon, Kisame selected a fish and sank his huge teeth into its head. A wretched, wet, splintery sound crunched across the flames as Kisame ate his catch skull, spine, organs and all. Maybe he was doing it to see if it would bother Itachi. Kisame grinned. Or maybe that was just his face. Either way the mist ninja’s huge triangular teeth made quick work of the food. Itachi bit into the side of his fish, now especially careful not to eat its needle thin ribs. Its flesh was moist, hot and salty, and he felt strength flowing back into his body. He allowed his spine to sink against the tree trunk he leaned against. He was cold and tired, and it felt good to have a hot meal around a fire… Even with company as reptilian as Kisame.

At that moment, a sudden jab of pain split behind Itachi‘s eyes and he coughed into his hand. He discreetly curled his fingers into a fist to conceal the blood on his palm.

“Eat a bone?” Itachi cleared his throat and swallowed the blood. “No.” Kisame grunted, his eyes flashing from his soaked partner to the icy stream. “Do you drink, Itachi?”

“Not alone.”

“You might as well start the fun kind of sinning. It’ll warm you up.” Kisame tossed the greasy stick into the forest and reached for the next largest fish. As he bit a steaming, flaky hunk out of it, he reached for a waterskin on his body. He removed the cap, and passed it to the young man. “Kakuzu would not be pleased to hear what you spend your allowance on,” Itachi said. “That stinge gave me his speech. He can try to punish me.”

“Kakuzu has already killed two members of the Akatsuki.” Kisame laughed. “You’re kidding!” “Afraid not.” “Did Pain punish him?”

“No. Our leader has many killers, but only one bookkeeper.”

“Hm. Better hope we develop new talents then, eh?”

Itachi took a few swallows of the sharp but sweet rice wine and returned it to Kisame. Kisame sniffed the lip of the waterskin: he closed his eyes but made no remark.

The fire flickered lower. Itachi had gathered a little pile of fish bones at his feet. Fish were pretty animals, not frivolous, with graceful spines and streamlined skulls. He counted three heads in his pile. He was comfortably full. Kisame had eaten seven of them, bones and all.

“I learned something today. I wasn’t sure you could use genjutsu on a tiger,” Kisame said. He picked his huge teeth with a shard of rib, then chewed on it as if it were a stem of wheat. He did this until it was pliable, and then swallowed it.

“Men and beasts are very different,” Itachi said.

“Are they?” It was a challenge rather than a simple reaction. Kisame’s contracted eyes studied him.

“Unquestionably.” Itachi held his gaze.

Kisame grunted but said nothing. Instead of glancing down in defeat, his hard eyes swept deliberately and coolly to the side. Thus, Kisame postponed a conclusion to their discussion, at least until he was certain he could win it. The mist ninja sat with his hands clasped over his stomach. They rested by the fire until it elapsed into smoke and the spirited flames sobered into glowing black and red coals.

“So Itachi, how does this work? Do we sleep on the ground? Take watches?” “In peaceful conditions, I don’t watch. But I do sleep in a tree for concealment,” Itachi said. “Leaf ninja,” Kisame muttered. “Sleeping in trees like a bunch of monkeys.“ In a flicker, Itachi had climbed the oak above them to its lowest fork. Kisame covered the ashes with a kick and leapt to the limb opposite him. They faced each other for a moment, chins down, listening in the silence for possible observers. Sensing no one, Kisame turned his back and fastened Samehada to the underside of the branch. The weave of his robe was tight and warm, and Itachi tipped his chin inside its high collar. His breath filled the cavity with warm air, and it was not uncomfortable. Crickets chirped. Neither of them said good night.

Day 2----

Dawn corded its cold light through the pine needles and onto Itachi’s eyelids. As he parted their red curtains, he saw a young crow. It stared for a moment, curious at the oddly placed human, then shuffled its wings and darted off. Rising gently, Itachi stepped to the other side of the trunk to rouse his new partner.

Round fish eyes opened on his approach. “Did you know, sharks never fully sleep?”

Great.

“Let’s get these teeth to the collection point,” Itachi said.

He led the way until the building became visible from the forest. As was often the case, the underground bounty office had its cover as a mortician’s practice. Morticians had plenty of space for storing bodies, and arriving there from the country with a corpse on one’s shoulder was considered only slightly rude.

“Who goes in?” Kisame asked.

“I’ll go. You watch.”

Itachi entered the building: he tipped his chin under his collar until only his coal black eyes peered out. Itachi was not an immediately intimidating man. He was of average height, average build, perhaps even thin. There was nothing special about his coloration. But the representative at the counter knew the red-clouded robes, and rising from his collar, Itachi’s eyes gleamed garnet.

The collection man’s knuckles tensed a tendinous white as he stared at the approaching Akatsuki. Itachi halted, and hailed him as stipulated:

“What rings the Dawn, and shall bring Man to his haven?”

“Our world glimpses Death’s yawn: the hoarse call of the raven.”

Good. Itachi placed his pouch with the teeth on the counter. The man inspected the smooth oranged teeth and accepted them. He set a case of cash on the counter and displayed it to the Uchiha. Itachi did not count the money: no contractor had been foolish enough to short change the organization since a recent incident involving Kakuzu.

One million yen. Not bad for a glorified pet hunt. Now they just had to deliver the money to the Akatsuki’s ancient master of coin or one of his henchmen. The zombie pair were conducting a mission some forty kilometers away; they could meet them in just a few hours.

“I’ll carry that,” Kisame said when Itachi emerged with the large briefcase. Itachi gave it to him and they set off north. They traveled a quiet hour before Kisame spoke.

“I smell blood.”

Itachi had sensed nothing unusual. Kisame’s strengths were complementary to his indeed. With a gesture of his hand, Itachi instructed Kisame to lead. The shark-ninja’s sense of smell was better than his, but not at the level of a ninja hound’s, because in just another few long leaps, Kisame had grounded himself on a dirt cart path.

Hung upside down on a tree was a human body. The victim’s feet were tied together with a strip of cloth and jabbed through with a stake into the trunk. Itachi thought the man was less than thirty minutes dead. Blood dripped down from his death wound, down his sternum, his throat, to collect on the jut of his jaw and dye maroon swirls in the muddy water of the cart treds.

“Huh,” Kisame surmised, wrinkling his wide nose. He looked at Itachi.

“This is the Akatsuki’s doing. One of us makes such displays,” Itachi said.

Itachi cut down the corpse. He strode powerfully, urgently, along the path. Between the trees appeared a traditional inn with the peaked roof of mountain tribes, dark wood paneling, and pale stucco walls. An inn of the piquant sort, judging by the oiran fan and floral carvings on the upper balconies. A familiar black robe with red clouds lay discarded on a bench outside. “Do Akatsuki go to brothels?” Kisame asked. Itachi didn’t answer. On the ground outside the brothel was a circle drawn in blood. “He’s going to kill those women.” “So?”

Itachi rushed forward.

At the instance of his arrival, an individual strode out of the building’s door. He was young, zealous, handsome, and walked with his smooth chest bared bared. His muscled arm was wrapped around the thin waist of a pale woman with long black hair. Mid sentence, he recognized Itachi.

“Hey hey, Itachi! Wouldn’t think I’d find you at a place like this. Where’s your new partner?” Hidan greeted.

Itachi’s voice was low. “You paid these people for a service. Their deaths were not part of that.” Like a friendly dog Hidan smiled. A friendly dog, who just in case the friend was a foe, smiled to remind him he had teeth. “Well! I haven’t paid anyone yet, and I think Lord Jashin will appreciate their talent!”

The woman’s smile faltered. No sooner had she realized the danger, Hidan threw her against the wall and held her by the throat. He drew his pike.

That damn Kakuzu. Maybe if he wasn’t squeezing Hidan’s purse, the cultist would not have extra incentive settle his debts with death. Or maybe Hidan would just kill anyone weaker than him regardless. Itachi’s patience for negotiation had elapsed. Flickering, he grabbed the girl and deposited her next to Kisame in the yard. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Kisame said, but Itachi had already flickered back to Hidan some ten meters away. Now Hidan’s teeth flashed impatiently when he spoke. “You’re annoyingly noble for a member of an evil organization, you know that?”

“Where is Kakuzu,” Itachi asked, though as customary for his questions, his voice lacked a submissive rise pitch at the end. The bothersomely rational waterfall ninja would surely restrain his partner from this idiocy if he were around.

“Think I need him, huh?”

“Idiots require supervision.”

Shrieking, Hidan raised his scythe and sprang at Itachi.

Sharingan! Hidan froze. Inside the fictional realm, Hidan was tied to a tree trunk. Itachi created a replica of the retractable pike he tried to use on the prostitute, and with its sharp point, Itachi punctured the man’s intestines. Drawing it out, Hidan flexed his fingers in convulsing pain and howled like a jackal. Itachi felt a presence in his realm he did not invite. A hulking black monster lumbered out from behind the trunk, humanoid in shape with flesh of black fire revealing a white skeleton. It had a skull like a goat and its glowing pink eyes regarded Itachi hungrily. Hidan’s trembling lips parted in rapture as he beheld it. With a bony talon the monster pressed Hidan on his sweating forehead. The brothel, the forest, the yard had returned. The genjutsu was broken. Itachi seized a reactionary few steps back. Hidan was not skilled enough to break out of that on his own. What was that skeletal monster? Did he just witness his god? “You,” Hidan said breathily. Trembling and weakened, he leant on his scythe as he stood. "You'll pay for that!" he swore, swinging the blade at Itachi's throat Itachi would have to fight Hidan without genjutsu. His ninjutsu wouldn’t kill him. And close quarters taijutsu was risky, since one graze could make that blood ritual of his troublesome. He would have to incapacitate Hidan. Chop off a limb. That was how he would win.

Hidan swung at Itachi with the graceless zeal of a chunin, and each time, his weapon only met the air. Itachi drew his tanto blade. Hidan smashed his scythe into the earth on another missed strike, which grounded him. Placing all of his strength in the blow, Itachi cleaved through Hidan’s tibia, crushed his fibula, and Hidan was gracelessly grounded, separated from the bottom half of his leg. Bleeding heavily, Hidan’s severed shin spun to a halt a few meters away.

“FUCK!”

In the corner of his vision Itachi was aware of Kisame standing tense: he had been ready to act, but must have decided it unwise. Itachi paced forward, shortsword swinging, and when he swung it through the air, the blood leapt off in a fine spray to speckle a tree in red. The blade had cracked beyond repair: he had been reckless to cleave the two bones in Hidan’s shin in one strike. To the music of Hidan’s curses, Itachi began to wipe the soiled blade in the grass. He would have to bury the thing, better children did not find it.

The toothed crown of a plant, like a venus fly trap, emerged from the grass nearby. Zetsu’s head had materialized from the dirt and Itachi’s hands stilled in surprise.

“Hello, Zetsu,“ Itachi greeted the head.

“Hello.“ Then, “They’re here, Pain,” the strange plant ninja said.

Pain appeared. Robe billowing, he stood between Hidan and Itachi. His presence was magnetic and every head turned to him. “What,” Pain growled, “is the meaning of this infighting?” “I was just... behind on my sacrifices...” Hidan breathed from the ground, and struggled to prop himself up. “When this prick insulted me, gutted me in a genjutsu, and then. Lobbed. Off. My. Fucking. Leg.” “Hidan. Killing civilians and leaving witnesses awards you with the bounty of the five nations. We can not afford this attention.”

“Sorry about that, sir,” Hidan muttered, looking diffusively at the ground.

Pain’s attention swiveled to the next unruly young adult. “Itachi, we are no heroes. Never compromise our goals by attacking our members.”

Itachi dipped his chin in an acknowledgement that was not quite submission. Pain strolled forward to the wooden building. The brothel’s matron, three prostitutes, and a few men stared out at the colorful flock of S ranked ninja from the porch and balcony. Pain extended his right arm. “What are you doing?” Itachi demanded. Pain unfurled his fingers. “Shinra Tensei.” The wooden house exploded in a rain of splinters and structure. Wooden beams and ceramic roof tiles hailed down around them. Itachi searched Pain’s expression for a reason. Instead, Pain’s ringed eyes fixated at the surviving girl who stood shivering next to Kisame. “Kisame,” Pain ordered. Massive Kisame took the girl, placed either hand on the side of her face, framing it in a gesture that seemed almost intimate. But a ligament in Kisame’s forearms twitched, and she was dead before her corpse hit the ground.

Fire erupted from the uprooted gas pipes and ravenous flames quickly devoured the wooden house. The black beams stood like a skeleton among a roaring, moaning fire that devoured the wood and paper structure. The intense dry heat prickled against the moisture of Itachi’s scleras, but despite it, he could not blink. Pain rounded on Itachi. Backlit by the flames, he saw his own face reflected in the rippling fog-colored eyes that locked him.

“Our enemies hunt us as we speak. Because of you, Itachi, too many saw too much. If I decide that anyone is disloyal to the Akatsuki, I will kill him.” Itachi stared into eyes more ancient, more evolved, and more knowing than his own. He learned then he was not free in his outlawry. Even he must tread the line between light and dark as closely as he dared. Should his steps toward the light be too obvious, he would find his own neck on the rope, and dead men can protect no one.

—

Author’s Note:

暁 Akatsuki = Dawn

A step away from my usual work, but I recently fell in love with Naruto Shippuden. I have chapter two, Cannibals, about finished and will post it soon.

*Special thanks to myochiikurin for her hard work beta reading this chapter and the next!

I thought the life of Itachi and the others members settling into their lives in the Akatsuki was the most compelling and underexplored aspect in the Naruto universe, and thought I’d give filling the gap of this organization my try.

Feedback is greatly appreciated,

Celtic

Next Chapter on Tumblr: https://celticfeather.tumblr.com/post/188589156066/akatsuki-fic-campfires-ch-2-cannibals

(Follow on FF or Ao3:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863 )

#I worked on this fic for months #basically a fic on life in the akatsuki #with a twist #I have 40 pages already written #naruto #akatsuki #itachi #kisame #kisaita #if you squint #campfires #naruto fanfiction #this is on both FF and Ao3 #celticfeather #thanks for reading all my embarrassing tags

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