#straight lined vitals and cold body

[anonyanonymouse]

I need a minute. to process the update

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 6] Explanations

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“Am I– Am I your daddy?” Suguru slowly blinks, trying to see if he’s seeing straight. He pinches his arm to check if he’s dreaming or something along those lines. Maybe he drank so much that he’s ascended to another place. A whole different universe. He rubs his eyes to see if it’s just his vision that is deceiving him, but the young boy is still there. “What’s your name?”

“I asked you first.” The boy points out, and Suguru thinks about it for a minute. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, Suguru shakes his head in response. The boy in front of Suguru is the spitting image of Satoru, there’s no way that Suguru is the father of the child.

“I’m not your father.” Suguru answers. Suguru wonders whose kid this is. In whose place is he at? There’s no picture frames around, nor anything on the walls. He’s thinking about you– But there’s no way this is your child… There’s no way this is Satoru’s child. “What’s your name?”

“Who are you?” The child ignores the question.

“It’s my turn to receive an answer. What’s your name?” Suguru ignores the second question that was asked. He watches as the kid furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, most likely wondering if he should share that vital piece of information to a mere stranger– A stranger that woke up in his home. He ponders on it for a minute before he ends up answering,

“I’m Ren.” And just as the answer leaves the kid’s lips, Suguru looks up to find you. You wear a white robe around your body, hiding the old pajamas that you wear. Suguru's eyes shift from your face back to Ren’s. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, but he still asks,

“Who’s this kid? He looks just like Satoru.” Suguru’s eyes still shift back and forth between you and Ren. Maybe he’s a figment of his imagination because there’s no way there’s a child that looks identical to Satoru right in front of him. 

You bite down on your lip. You were a little too tipsy– No, you were drunk. You remembered your address, and you gave it to Shoko, but your judgment was clouded. Bringing back Shoko and Suguru to your apartment would not be a decision you would make sober. Shoko knows about your son but Suguru definitely doesn’t. Your blood runs cold and this cold sweat runs down your face. You take a deep breath before you mutter, “He’s my kid.”

“Huh?” Suguru knows a sound came from his lips, but he can’t quite make out the muffled sound. 

“He’s my son.” You tell him, and his eyes widen. That should’ve been expected, it’s pretty obvious. You were with Satoru for so long, and since the child clearly isn’t Sayo’s, it must be yours. Additionally, a child doesn’t just spring out of nowhere.

Suguru sits dumbfounded, unsure of what to say, and you stare at him for a minute before you grab Ren’s hand and you walk to the kitchen. You pour water into two glasses, one for you and another for Suguru. You give a glass of water to Ren and you smile at him, asking him, “Will you please take this to Suguru?”

He nods, a grin coming to his face, happy to be helping. You gulp down your water and then rinse the glass. Your hands rest on the edges of the sink, thinking about how you’ll explain everything, how you’ll tell him that you had a baby with Satoru and that he better not tell anyone about this, not even Satoru; you don’t know how you’ll explain that Satoru has a kid that he doesn’t know about, one that he won’t know about.

“How old are you?” You hear, and you slightly turn your head to look at Suguru and Ren. Suguru takes the glass of water to allow Ren to hold four fingers up. Ren then returns the same question, and Suguru answers.

“Oh–” You hear a more feminine voice, and you’re immediately startled. You had totally forgotten that Suguru and Ren aren’t the only people in the place. Shoko and your mother are also here. You look at Shoko and try your best to smile at her, but she doesn’t notice since her gaze is on Suguru and Ren, “They look so cute together. He could be the step dad.”

“Don’t you even dare.” You tell her, causing her to laugh in response. You look at her, and she looks completely fine. She drank more than you did but looks spectacular, but you’ve always known that she’s a heavy drinker. She makes herself at home, opening the fridge and looking for something appetizing for her. “Do you want pancakes? I’m about to make some.”

“It’s fine. I’m going to the balcony to smoke.” Shoko ends up saying, not really finding anything in the fridge appetizing enough. Pancakes don’t really sound good at the moment either. “Can I spend the day with you guys? I don’t really want to go home.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m just taking Ren to the park and other than that, not much.” You inform her, and she purses her lips together.

“Nevermind. Have fun.” She responds. She can’t fathom the thought of spending her day at the park, hearing children laughing and whatnot. “Are you taking Suguru with you?”

“I don’t know– I know he’s going to want to talk about this, I’m sure.” You tell her. You end up sighing just thinking about everything. Your life would be easier if you had just stayed away from the family, even if it meant you were drowning in debt. “I have to talk to him so he doesn’t tell Satoru about this.”

“Are you sure you want to keep this a secret for so long– The longer you hide it, the more Satoru will resent you when he finds out.” Shoko points out, causing you to shrug in response. There is a better way to handle all of this, you’re sure, but you can’t seem to figure out how to actually handle it. You just know that you’ll keep it hidden from Satoru, even if it isn’t the best option.

“I stopped caring about what Satoru feels or doesn’t feel for me the moment Ren was born.” You say, even if it’s clearly a lie. You won’t lie that the thought of Satoru resenting you tugs your heartstrings, but it also fills you with fury; Satoru was the one that left you even when you were just on a break, you’re the only one that’s allowed to hold resentment, especially since you were the best partner you could be when his father passed. “If you want him to find out so badly, you can tell him yourself.”

“That’s none of my business. It’s up to you.” She ends up saying before she walks away. You stare off into space as you think about it. You can’t let him know, even if you wanted to. You’re able to take care of Ren financially now, the last thing you need is to risk Satoru taking him away from you.

You deeply exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. You walk back to the living room, and you smile at your son before asking him, “Ren, will you please go check on your granny? I’m about to make breakfast and I wouldn’t want her to miss out.”

“Yes, mommy.” Ren nods his head before he sprints out of the room, making you yell,

“No running, Ren!”

“So…” Suguru begins, his hands going from his thighs to resting on his knees. He needs a moment to gather his thoughts. He feels absolutely awful from drinking too much the previous night, and he really can’t wrap his head around the thought that you have a child with Satoru. It’s so early in the morning too. “You have a kid?”

“I do…” You hesitantly nod. You take a seat next to him, and you sigh. You’re not sure how to start it off– You definitely don’t have the energy to explain everything to him, at least not this morning. “Before you ask, he is Satoru’s. Just don’t say anything to him.”

“Oh–” His eyes widen for a moment before he shuts them. He then shakes his head as he tries to process it all, something that he does when he’s overwhelmed; he’s done it ever since he was a kid. “I’m not sure what you’re asking?”

“His mother knows, she doesn’t want him to know… So we’re keeping it a secret, okay? Will you do that for me?” You ask, and he feels as if this is some kind of fucked up dream. Satoru is still his friend, even if they aren’t close like they were at sixteen, but that’s still his friend. This whole situation is so fucked up. You know he has a lot of questions. “I tried to tell him but–”

“But?” He interrupts you without intending to. He mutters an apology before allowing you to continue. You bite down on your lip and you debate if you want to tell the truth or tell a lie– You take a deep breath before you continue.

“He wasn’t ready to have a child, he told me that and when he heard there was a possibility of me being pregnant, he told me it was best to have an abortion. I just don’t want him to know because it’ll upset him, his mother thinks it’s the best decision too.” You become nauseous as you lie to him. You watch his expression go to a shocked one. You grab his hands, lightly squeezing them before you ask him, “Will you please not tell? I really can’t deal with that now.”

“Okay… Yeah. Okay.” Suguru slowly nods, not really thinking everything through. The only thought that runs through his mind is that Satoru is the biggest jerk to ever exist on Earth, and you couldn’t agree more. You stand up from the couch and smile at him, his eyes softening when he sees your smile.

“I’m making pancakes for breakfast, would you like some?”

There’s a knot in your stomach for a week straight, each day you’re expecting Satoru to show up at your desk, yelling obscenities, berating you for hiding his son. The anxious feeling passes after a week, and you’re sure that Suguru won’t tell. Luckily for you, you avoid bumping into Satoru for the whole week.

And just as you think that you’ve freed yourself from ever looking at Satoru again, you’re reminded that you work in the same building. You’re reminded when Shoko calls you into a board meeting since she forgot to bring something, a small gift. You take a deep breath and brace yourself to walk into the place. The door is wide open, telling you that the meeting has yet to start.

You have to bring yourself to take the small steps that you have left to enter the office. You walk inside, your eyes immediately landing on Satoru of all people. He’s looking at the blonde assistant, and you recognize the look in his eyes from a mile away. Lust filled eyes, and it confuses you. Maybe you’ve forgotten how he is; his expressions, his manerism. He surely wouldn’t look at that at his secretary? You’re surely misreading things. Surely the mischievous smirks they share mean nothing. Satoru wouldn’t do that to the wife that he seems to love so much. 

You take your eyes off Satoru, only to find Sayo there as well; it certainly confuses you since she isn’t a board member– At least you don’t think she is. You try your best to not dwell on it, after all, it’s none of your business. You spot Shoko and silently walk to her to give her the small gift. You have a couple of questions about it but once again, it doesn’t concern you.

Once she thanks you, you’re able to sneak right out, and luckily you leave before Mrs. Gojo arrives. When you’re about to go back to your floor, someone stops you and you begin to chat. You’ve luckily made some work friends, and they keep you up to date on gossip. Since nobody needs you, you’re allowed to chat with them for a bit.

You lose track of time but you’re sure you didn’t spend too much time chatting when you step in the elevator, ready to go back to your floor. Just when the doors begin to close, a man comes running to not miss the lift, and when you see him, your nails dig into your palms. You leave just at the wrong time– At the very least, you hope that someone is behind him but no one enters in time.

You stand on opposite sides, and you step farther away because the large distance between you isn’t enough space. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence the same way you don’t acknowledge his. He looks at his watch before clearing his throat and commenting, “Shoko sent you back a long time ago, why were you still on the floor?”

You don’t answer. He guesses it’s fine if you don’t ever talk again, there’s nothing to talk about anyway. You just wait for the doors to open, and when you’re almost at your floor, he decides that if you’re never talking to each other again, he might as well say one more thing before you leave. 

The elevator doors open and he says,

“Time has done you well, you look as beautiful as ever.”

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Thursday, Part Three

<Prev

Jak did not wake that entire day.

Nor the next.

Nor the day after that.

His body was flushed with fever, and dark, angry lines had begun to spread from the double injection over his core. Infection set in so much faster than they could have anticipated.

Was this what his first injection cycle had been like?

No. Even if the symptoms were the same, this was fundamentally different. He wasn't injected while awake and fighting restraints too big for his little wrists. He wasn't dumped in a frigid prison cell to survive the first infection alone.

Jak was constantly monitored, fluids fed into him to compensate for how much he sweated out. Cold compresses pressed against his forehead at all times. Bio readings on constant readout.

And, most vital of differences, the people around him were fighting to keep him alive because they cared about him, not because it was inconvenient to lose a test subject.

Damas barely ate or drank during those two days. He didn't sleep more than a few minutes at a time. Every waking moment was spent at Jak’s bedside, holding his hand or smoothing back his hair.

Sometime after evening meal on the second day, Sister Yan returned with the light eco. That was the first time Jak’s eyes opened, if only for a moment. The light eco did little more than break the fever, but even just that was a relief. Everything else was up to Jak, now. He just had to fight.

"You can do this, little one," Damas whispered, over and over. "Just stay with me, Jak. Stay with me."

By now word had spread: Damas had a child in the hospital. Now was not the time to bring petty concerns to him. The council of advisors appointed Mako as interim steward to seize temporary power in his absence -- how very strange it was to live in a place where he trusted Mako wholeheartedly to make the right choices and peacefully hand over power when he returned! And he would have trusted any of his advisors to be a good steward of the throne!

Perhaps it was because they had all shed blood as equals. They knew what it was to go hungry. To suffer thirst. They each knew what it was to go without a roof over their heads. It was a lot easier to govern a people when you didn't try to balance on a pedestal high above them.

Jak woke while Damas was dozing. His movements were slow, and sluggish, but the faint sound of his bare arm against the sheets was enough to snap Damas back to consciousness. His eyes flew open and he straightened to check the bed.

Confused blue eyes blinked sleepily back at him.

"Jak!"

Damas leaped up, hands hovering awkwardly.

"Are you alright? How do you feel, son?"

Jak squinted against the fluorescent light and squinched one eye shut.

Too tired to lift his hands, he grudgingly used his voice.

"Th. Thhhhh. Hers. Tee."

"You're thirsty?"

"Mhm."

Jak didn't understand why there were tears in Damas’s eyes. Or why he laughed at that.

"I'm not surprised! Hold on, bug, I'll get you some water."

It wasn't cold, but Jak didn't care. He felt like he hadn't had anything to drink in days! He grumbled when Damas made him slow down, and tried to pull away. Something tugged painfully at the crook of his elbow, and he yelped.

"Ouch!"

He turned, and saw a tube. Sticking out of his arm. Sticking out of the skin.

What did that mean?!

Very, very slowly, Jak swiveled back to look up at Damas.

"Tha-at?" He asked nervously.

Damas brushed the hair from his face -- hey! Where were his goggles?! -- and kept making a sad face. Why the sad face? What was going on?

"It's medicine, son."

Damas swallowed hard.

"That's um. It's a special kind of tool for when people can't take medicine like normal. The doctor uses that little- little tube to trick your body into thinking it's part of the bloodstream. The um. The medicine goes straight into your blood to fight infection there."

Jak hastily drained the last of the water in the paper cup and forced out a few lethargic signs.

"It stays there?”

"No, no no no!" Damas took the cup from him and refilled it. "Only until that bag is empty. See?"

He pointed to where the pinkish line sat on the bag.

"Once that's gone, Dr. Rezzik will come take it out. We'll put a little tourniquet on it, and you'll be fine in a few hours."

"Woo. Aye. Nnn-n oh. Ee. Co?"

Damas winced and drew back a little.

"You...need to stay away from eco for a few weeks, son."

A few weeks?! Jak was horrified. What had happened?! He'd just been playing with eco on the beach, with Flick! How did he get to this cold white room, with a medicine tube, and no eco?

Jak wanted to ask what happened. Why he was here. But his voice was tired, and his arms were tired.

"...d...Dad-t?" he asked, trying to pour all his questions into that one word.

Damas’s breath caught. He slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Do you remember what happened? When you were playing with Flick?" he asked softly.

Jak tried to remember, he really did. But his brain felt all mushy and sleepy.

He shrugged.

"That was-" Damas sighed and brushed back Jak’s hair again. "That was three days ago, son. You accidentally made dark eco."

Jak recoiled in horror. Made dark eco?! Like the Acherons?! Did that make him bad like them?

Samos would be so mad at him! Daxter would be so mad!

"Hey, hey, Jak, look at me. Look at Dad."

The words snapped Jak back to the present, and he turned teary eyes towards Damas. Damas didn't look angry, at least.

"It was just an accident, son." Damas reached down and squeezed his hand. "You're not in trouble, and neither is Flick. Not for that, at least. I'm just-"

He shuddered. "I was so worried, Jak! You wouldn't wake up! We had to induce eco overexposure just to correct the imbalance!"

"That's why my core hurts?" Jak felt the spot between his sternum and intestines where the small organ sat. The skin there was hot and tender to the touch. He hissed in pain and withdrew his hand.

"Yes, son. It is. I'm sorry.”

____________________________

There were, Jak discovered, pros and cons of being in "the hoss-piddle". He couldn't run, he couldn't get out of bed, and it was intensely boring.

But Damas was almost always there! And sometimes Jak's friends visited!

Raza even snuck her dogat kitten in under her shirt and almost started a mini riot in the children's ward.

Flick hadn't visited yet.

Damas said shd felt like it was her fault he'd been in a "coma" for two days. That she probably felt too guilty to come see him.

Didn't make Jak feel better about it. How did he know she didn't just want to stay away from dark eco?

Dr. Rezzik said it would never fully go away. Even if it was only a tiny little bit, that dark spot on his chest was probably permanent. They didn't know how he'd done it, but he'd absorbed it into his core.

That scared Jak a lot more than he let on. Would he turn gray and lose his reason, like Gol and Maia?

Emotions sat a little closer to the surface while he was in the hospital. Little things bothered him in ways they hadn't before.

Lights hurt his eyes too much once the sun went down. The sound of the kid in the next bed chewing his food made him irrationally angry for some reason. Sometimes just the chair next to his bed being empty made him start tearing up.

Nurse Brooks called it puberty. Jak was pretty sure he already did puberty. This was something else.

"Hey, kid."

Jak looked up from absolutely mangling a little metal can they'd somehow squeezed juice into. He hadn't even noticed that he'd crushed it into an unrecognizable lump.

Damas folded his arms and looked at the crumpled mess.

Jak's ears drooped. He'd spaced out again. He did that when things got too noisy already, but things were just noisier here.

But Damas just smiled and suppressed a chuckle.

"I bet you're ready to get out of here, huh?"

*"Yah,"* Jak said emphatically.

He looked around a moment, then sheepishly put the mangled can on the little tray his decidedly bland lunch had been on.

Wiping droplets of juice from his fingers, Jak hoisted himself further upright.

"Can I go home yet? I don't like it here!"

He'd repeated the same question almost every day. And almost every day the answer was "no, son, not yet."

More scans. More finger-sticks. More cold metal things against his back and chest so they could listen to his heart and lungs and core. More bedrest.

But today felt different.

Damas set a small canvas bag down on the chair beside the bed and nodded to it. "I brought you some clean clothes. You'll need to wear the pulse-monitor bracelet for a few more days, but Dr. Petros and Dr. Rezzik cleared you to come home."

Jak whooped and pumped his fist.

"Can we go now? Like right now?"

"You don't want to change first?"

Jak shook his head. "No. The longer I'm here, the scarier it gets. I'm gonna fight somebody if I have to wake up for one more night round."

"Please don't fight the nurses, they're just trying to help." Damas held out a hand and let Jak pull himself to his feet.

He examined the dark circles under his eyes and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Nurse Brooks said you haven't been sleeping well even without his rounds at night."

Jak looked away, embarrassed.

"Nightmares."

Tattooed faces and maddened eyes and crackling, arcing, dark eco-

"About when I landed in Haven. And the woods."

Damas pulled him into a very careful hug, avoiding compressing the icky little starburst shape on Jak’s chest.

"Oh Jak. I'm sorry, son. Do you think you'll sleep better in your own bed?"

"Yeah."

Jak took the time to say goodbye to his roommate. It wasn't Beten's fault he chewed so loudly. He didn't need to get so angry about it.

But Precursors he was glad to be getting away from all that slurping.

"Am I allowed to go exploring yet?" Jak asked as Damas walked him out of the ward. Some of the other kids waved to him. Some were only there for bumps and bruises, one or two were longterm residents with chronic conditions.

"We'll see how you feel tomorrow.”

"Aw!"

[clu-ven]

White Lies are just Truths covered in Snow

Summary: After arriving on a barren planet to steal the Empire’s hidden cargo, you go along with a lie in the hopes of completing your mission (Mayday x gn!reader)

Word Count: 2.7k

(currently going through my drafts and found this! decided to finish it off even though I initially started this right after the season 2 Mayday episode came out ;-;)

You look down at the planet’s desolate appearance. Despite being nestled in your ship, the very idea of facing the chilly weather makes a shiver creep up your spine.

The comm in your ship momentarily crackles before a familiar voice fills the small cockpit. “Tooka, this is Jaig checking in, are you on schedule for pick up?”.

In other words, it’s Rex, using the code names you all agreed on as a precaution. Even though your comm channel is private, Rex is a cautious man, preferring to stay vague and use code names while on comm channels. The last thing anyone wants is to accidentally give vital information away to anyone who could intercept your line of communication.

“Roger roger” you reply, biting back your smile.

You hear an audible scoff but it’s as if you can hear the smile in his voice “Stay focused, Tooka”. 

A muffled voice is heard in the background before Rex continues “If you run into any complications, let us know and we’ll provide backup. This should be a simple mission but stay sharp nonetheless… oh, and Rishi wants me to tell you he says good luck”.

Your heart warms at that. Echo has only recently decided to join the fight and although you haven’t admitted this to either Rex or Echo, his return is also the reason you’ve decided to do this mission alone.

You’re more than qualified to do this simple pick up of some cargo stored here. The cargo is rumoured to be something that can aid your fight against the Empire and with how dire things are, you’re more than happy to optimistically follow this rumour. 

With Echo still adjusting from being with the Bad Batch to now fighting the Empire on the front lines, you thought some quality time between just him and Rex would help ease him into it. 

Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

Manoeuvring your ship to land, you peer out at the abandoned base, a thick sheet of snow covering the grey building. It’s not a welcoming sight. In fact, you’ve seen places on the lower levels on Coruscant look more welcoming than here… and a whole lot warmer. 

“Don’t worry, Jaig, I got this” you assure him.

“If you’re sure,” Rex sighs, worry lining his every word.

You laugh, casually sitting back in your seat as the ship descends to the platform below “I think I can handle stealing a few crates, Cap- uh, Jaig”.

“I know you can,” he replies “just remember to lift with your back”.

That earns another laugh from you “You’re kidding me, right? This place is bound to have some droids that can do all the heavy lifting… well, that’s if they aren’t completely frozen”.

After another amused scoff and a brief farewell, Rex disconnects, leaving you alone with your mission.

It takes a few more seconds for your ship to land, giving you the time to peer out at the base. It stands alone. No signs of a local village, a cantina or even grazing wildlife nearby.

The base is truly the only thing here. 

The wind that immediately greets you as you exit your ship is great motivation to pick up your pace and head straight for the building, not wasting time anymore time in surveying the area. The hanger has been left open for all to enter, as if the base is trying to coax the cold winds to follow you inside. 

Huffing, you pull your tattered jacket tighter around your body and walk deeper into the vast space. The dark outlines of empty crates line the hanger, probably full of medical supplies or food for whichever battalion was stationed here long ago.

There is an eerie silence to the place, punctuated by the sound of your own footsteps echoing off the walls. It looks utterly deserted. Now it’s nothing more than another relic of the Republic, frozen in time.

Maybe that’s why you become so rattled when you hear it.

“About time you arrived” the voice takes you completely by surprise, your hand immediately hovering over your holstered blaster.

As much as you want to unholster it and prepare yourself for a fight… you can’t, not when you recognise the voice. It’s the same voice that you know is capable of killing you, a voice that has experienced so much tragedy and the same voice of some of your closest friends. 

A clone. 

And so you simply hover your hand above the blaster, deciding to take your chances without instantly resorting to a standoff. 

You stay rooted in place, eyes darting to each visible nook and cranny, waiting for the clone to reveal himself. Movement catches your eye, your head snapping to the side as you're greeted by not just one clone, but three.

“We were expecting this cargo to get transported 6 months ago,” the clone in the centre states “any reason for the delay?”.

For a moment, you merely stand there, trying your best to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. It’s hard to think of an answer to his question, caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

“Well, uh…” you begin, your eyes trailing down his armour, decorated with ribbons of bandages wrapped around each part of his plastoid gear.

Next, your gaze travels to the clones at either side of him, both with their blasters in hand but thankfully not aimed at you

“Get lost on the way here?” He offers up an excuse. Although his face is covered, his wrapped helmet obscuring his expression, the sarcasm in his voice is thick. “Or did the almighty Empire forget about us already?”.

“A bit of both?” you answer but your uncertain tone makes it sound more like a question. 

Clearing your throat, you try again, this time trying to sound more confident. “They’ve been updating files back at the uh… main base… some data was overlooked, so we’re behind on some missions that should have been completed months ago. Sorry to um… to have kept you waiting”. 

That sounded good, right? And technically it’s not all a lie. Ever since Echo came aboard, he’s been helping Rex gain access to Imperial records thanks to a few tricks Tech taught him. 

The clone replies with a shrug “At least you’re being honest”. The words sting, making you want to wince but you don’t, your expression staying neutral. If only he knew how honest you were truly being. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you where it is,” with the flick of his hand, the clone signals for the other two clones to lower their blasters completely, with one even holstering their weapon. A silent sigh of relief falls from your lips as you step closer to the troopers. 

“Hexx, Veetch, watch the perimetre,” the clone orders, bringing his hands up to detach his helmet. Once his helmet is off, he looks at you, your eyes properly meeting his for the first time as he instructs “This way”.

He takes a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the dim facility and indirectly showing off his mullet to you. His beard was a surprise to see too, though you’ve noticed beards have come into fashion lately within the clone world… mullets on the other hand, well, you’re positive this is the first and last time you’ll ever meet a clone bold enough to try the look and successfully pull it off.

“You coming?” he asks, glancing back at you with one of his brows raised “or did you just stop by for a chat?”.

You silently follow, hoping the less you say the better. 

“Name’s Mayday, by the way” he makes idle conversation “Commander Mayday”.

When you reply with your own name, he nods and leads you through the maze of tall, metallic shelving units. “I know this might be above my…” Mayday lets out a low chuckle “well, above my nonexistent pay grade but what’s in those crates?”.

You choose your next words carefully. Surely this is some type of test and the Commander knows what’s in there, right? Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that it’s cargo the Empire won’t let go of, something they feel the need to hold on to even if it means their troopers are freezing to death to guard it.

“They didn’t inform you? Despite you being the Commander here?” You bat a question back at him.

“Clone Commander, they don’t tell us much these days…” he amuses drily, his sentence trailing off as he stops in front of what you assume to be the crates. 

Mayday pats the top of one, quick to change the topic of conversation “Well, I guess these are your problem now”.

You nod, biting your lip as a sudden wave of guilt washes over you. It seemed simple to take the crates when you thought no one else was here. You would even grab them and take out a few droids if that’s what was guarding the cargo… but even the idea of deceiving these clones makes your stomach churn.

You mirror his movement and put your hand on top of the crate too, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Well then, I best comm the other two and get them moving this out to your ship” he lifts up his comm, giving Veesh and Hexx their new orders. 

While he does, you take the opportunity to look up at him again. You pray he doesn’t notice your guilty expression. By the time he’s off his comm, you’ve already tried to think of a few alternative plans. Would it be possible to persuade them to come with you? Would they be open and understanding when you explain the inhibitor chips and would they willingly get them removed? But then you hear Rex and what he would say:

“We can’t save all of them… but we can fight for all of them, one way or another”.

That’s what he said to you when he told you about what happened with the 501st. You could hear the pain in his voice when he said it and standing in front of Mayday now, it’s like you can feel that same pain making your throat close up.

Mayday seems to notice your shift in mood, a glimmer of curiosity flickering across his eyes. 

“You know, the ship you came here in, it’s pretty small for cargo transportation… not a model I’ve ever seen the Empire use either'' he keeps his head facing downwards but his eyes are locked on yours. The tone of his voice is so balanced, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely being curious or if he’s about to confront you.

A million thoughts race through your head. Should you simply ignore his obvious inquiries? Would that only add to how suspicious you’ve been already? Kriff, are you taking too long to answer?!

“Remind me,” your voice comes out croaky, the words desperate to get stuck in your throat and yet you force them out “when was the last time you were on one of the main Empire bases?”.

Mayday is a contradiction to you. His chocolatey brown eyes are warm and inviting to you and yet his position of Commander during the Empire’s newfound reign makes you apprehensive. The look he gives you isn’t sceptical, nor is it the hardened look of a soldier that you expected. 

“Fair point,” he concedes, his gaze unwavering “so you’re taking them?”.

“That’s what the Empire sent me here for” you lie with the flash of a smile, hoping that’ll win him over. 

You’ve been in worse situations than this, both during the war and afterwards. All you have to do is play along with a lie and despite a few hiccups, you think you’re doing okay.

Kriff, this isn’t even your lie. Mayday’s the one who just presumed that you’re here to collect the cargo for the Empire. 

“And they sent you to retrieve the cargo while you’re off duty?” he gestures to your clothes. 

It’s hard to tell if Mayday is teasing you or if he’s sizing you up for a fight, the smooth tone of his voice disarming yet eerie in the current situation. 

While your clothes aren’t what any civvie would wear, they are quite scruffy and far from the Empire’s pristine uniforms. You tilt your head, eyebrows raised as you feign shock “Commander, are you dissing my style?”.

That earns a laugh from him and you can’t help but feel a spark of pride. “Not at all,” he shakes his head, though his smile stays in place “I just thought the Empire had stricter dress codes”. 

You shrug “I was told this planet experienced extreme weather and I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty… but I do wish I wore something warmer, I knew it would be cold but this is worse than I imagined. I couldn’t even bear the thoughts of living out here and dealing with all you have”. Your tone shifts to a much more solemn note as you say that last part, memories of the war creeping up on you.

There’s a shift in Mayday’s gaze, a cloud of hesitation flickering past his eyes. So close to saying something and yet he stops himself, instead opting to simply nod in response.

It makes you nervous, your brain getting whiplash from constantly going back and forth from being convinced you’re in trouble to thinking Mayday has no idea what your true plan is. 

Instead of commenting on it, you focus on walking in step with Mayday, trying to act calm and bury your instinctive desire to sprint to your ship desperately. Making your way out of the facility, the two other troopers come into view, both of them hauling out one of the crates.

Glancing back at Mayday, you say “I’ll start up the ship, thanks for helping out”.

He gives you a small smile, a telling one though you’re unable to decipher what exactly he’s trying to tell you. Giving him a nod, you pick up your pace, your sights set on your ship. 

Behind you, you hear the Commander reply. “Sure thing, Tooka” he says it so nonchalantly that you almost miss it. 

Your feet jitter to a stop. Suddenly the chill of the wind seems sharper, cutting through you as you slowly turn around to look at him.

“How do you…” you trail off once you see the blaster in his hand, pointed directly at you.

“I should thank you,” Mayday begins, his tone just as smooth and calm as before “listening into your comm channel was the most entertaining thing I’ve heard in months”.

“Mayday, wait just-” you begin, unsure what kind of explanation you're going to give him but determined to at least try. But before you can even attempt to bargain with the Commander, he pulls the trigger. 

A flash of light shoots from his blaster, his aim perfect as you fall to the ground. Before you lose consciousness, there’s only one thought that runs through your mind — at least he has his blaster set to stun.

Mayday approaches you with his blaster held tightly in his hands, his firm grip unwavering. He’s seen it take three or even fours stun blasts to take down insurgents during the war and so he stays prepared, ready to deliver another stun if necessary.

When he reaches you, Mayday lightly nudges your leg with his foot, carefully watching for any movement. You stay still, completely knocked out and he leaves out a long, shaky breath. 

He didn’t want to do that.

And usually in situation like this, he wouldn’t even consider stunning. If any personnel enter the facility without being cleared by the Empire, then they’re trespassers and considered insurgents. In that case, it’s a shoot to kill situation, not shoot to stun. 

But as he watched you clamber out of your ship and survey the base when you first arrived, Mayday could tell this was different, that you were different.

Although every fibre in his being is reminding him that there’s distinct look for raiders or insurgents, you didn’t exactly seem like one. Nor did you act like the other raiders Mayday is forced to deal with on a week to week basis.

Holstering his blaster, he looks over at the other two troopers. “Hexx, go bring the crate back inside. Veetch, go get the binders,” Mayday orders, a satisfied smile creeping up on his face as he announces “boys, we’ve caught ourselves a pirate!”.

[master-ray5]

The King's (Chibi) Crisis

While I plan on posting something bigger tomorrow for Usamamo Week 2024 (run by @random-mailbox and @lilliebellfanfics), I decided to use the prompt for "Free Day" to finally post something I have had in mind for a while. I'm putting in my "Innocent Royal Affairs" series but the prompt helped me finally get it down on paper. Links first but then I'll post the whole fic underneath:

     “ACHOO!” 

     Mamoru’s eyes went wide and he jumped out of bed as the sound came over the baby monitor. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure his wife was safe before he ran out the room, across the hall, and into the nursery. Mamoru was by the crib of Princess Chiba-Usa in record time. He opened a drawer, pulled out digital medical gloves, and ran a complete diagnosis by scanning his daughter. 

HR: Normal

BP: 95/58

Temp: 100.1

    “Dear lord,” Mamoru gasped as he read the results. “Computer, open a channel to the family of wisdom.” 

     “Boss,” Zoisite grumbled as he answered the call, slowly rousing. “It’s late. What’s wrong?” 

     “Chibi-Usa is ill,” Mamoru reported firmly. 

     “What’s her symptoms,” Ami asked, as she sat up in bed next to Zoisite when she heard Mamoru’s words. “What’s wrong with the little princess?” 

     “She has a 100.1 fever and is sniffling,” Mamoru explained, his eyes darting from the results to his daughter and back multiple times. “She’s sleeping peacefully now.” 

     “So let me get this straight?” Zoisite groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She has her first cold?”

     “Yes! I want a full workout to make sure it's not magic related,” Mamoru ordered, a plan forming in his head. “I want you to run a comparison on the database of all known youmas, droids, and known monster types. I need to make sure she hasn’t been poisoned in someway” 

     Zoisite exchanged a look with his wife before he responded. “I’m hanging up now.” 

     “What?” Mamoru grunted, his body becoming tense at his friend’s response. “My daughter is sick. She needs a complete diagnosis.” 

     “Mamoru,” Ami sighed as she laid her head down on her pillow. “You are a former doctor, so you are blessed with an abundance of information. You need to get a handle on it or it will consume you.” 

     “That being said my wife needs her own sleep for the baby she’s carrying,” Zoisite sighed as his hand reached out and caressed Ami’s stomach. “Just get a washcloth, dab her head, and try to get some rest.”

     “What about,” Mamoru countered but the line went dead. “Hello? Damn it! Computer, dial the family of strength.” 

     “Mmmhuhm,” Nephrite grumbled as the call connected. “Wuh, wuzzup?” 

     “My daughter is displaying a low grade fever,” Mamoru reported, his eyes locked on Chibi-Usa’s vitals. “Have there been any anomalies sighted in the area in the last few days?” 

     “Numh, Mumuh,” Makoto replied in something between a snort, yawn, and a groan. “Mmm.” 

     “I want you to get to the control room and do a full city wide search to make sure there are no disturbances,” Mamoru commanded. “If you run every scan possible it should only take like…5 hours.” 

     A loud crunching sound came through the speaker which Mamoru could only assume was Nephrite destroying his communicator again. The replacement he received would be the 4th one this year alone. Mamoru intended on making sure they came out of his paycheck. 

     Chibi-usa grumbled and began to roll in her sleep causing Mamoru’s heart to clench. She was uncomfortable he could tell and he wanted to make sure everything was fine with her. He immediately dialed the next group in his contact. 

     "Jadeite,” Mamoru called when his general picked up. “I need you to hit the library. I want you to look through all the research materials and see if a minor fever may be related to any known curse."

     “I’ve got a curse I can show him,” Rei hissed before turning over and pulling a pillow over her head. 

     “Boss, you need to calm down,” Jadeite insisted, picking up his communicator to talk into it properly. His other hand reached over and stroked his wife’s back affectionately. “Zoisite already messaged everyone and let us know you are freaking out and overreacting. I’m going to turn off my communicator now and nothing short of a Class Five, world ending disaster is going to turn it back on.” 

     “I am not freaking out or overreacting,��� Mamoru stated firmly. “Now come make sure my baby hasn’t been cursed by a demon or I will banish you to the frigid depths of space.” 

     “Good night Mamoru,” Jadeite replied before ending the call. Mamoru felt his entire body tense from the lack of respect he was receiving. 

     "What the hell? Call the family of leaders,” Mamoru ordered the computer. “Kunzite I want…"

    “Damn it Mamoru!” Minako roared. Not through the communicator but instead her voice carried from her and Kunzite’s wing of the castle. “It’s three in the morning! Some of us are trying to have sex!” 

     “Blast it all,” Mamoru roared as he turned towards the door and began to head towards pulling all of his generals out of bed by their hair. “I swear when I get a hold of them….” 

     Mamoru stopped as the door to the nursery opened and his wife came in with a sleepy look in her eyes. 

     “I can hear you through the baby monitor.” Usagi yawned as she moved past her husband and towards the cradle. “You‘re freaking everyone out.”

     “But Usa…,” Mamoru stumbled, his mind still going a mile a minute. “Chibi-Usa could have been poisoned by a demon, cursed by a youma, or…” 

     “Or maybe she caught a cold when we took her out for a ride in the stroller,” Usagi suggested as she placed the washcloth she had brought in against her daughter’s warm head. She picked up her tiny daughter and sat in the rocking chair close by. “She’s going to be fine Mamo. Calm down.” 

     “But…,,” Mamoru struggled, his mind overwhelmed with all the possibilities of everything terrible fate which could befall his baby. “She’s…”

     “It’s okay little one,” Usagi sang to her daughter as she began rocking her. With her hair down nursing their daughter back to health and wearing her white nightgown, Mamoru thought his wife looked like an angel. He often thought of her as such but moments like this made it even harder for him to think she was absolutely sent from heaven. “Daddy is just being silly.”

     “I’m just…,” Mamoru stopped as he watched how Chibi-Usa stopped fusing as she was rocked back to sleep. His gaze dropped to the med gloves he was still wearing and a smile formed on his face as he realized just how foolish he had been acting. “You’re right…daddy is just being silly.”

O.O.O

Come back tomorrow when my first Non-Senshi AU story finally drops. It's a nice light read clocking in at...11k!!

[dangraccoon]

Jari'eyc - Chapter 9

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1888

Warnings: loss of consciousness, major character death, discussion of inhibitor chips and mind control experiments, reference to past child abuse, grief and loss, imprisonment, torture, The Girls Are Fighting

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“The Empire is looking for us,” Crosshair rasped, tears dripping down his face more freely than Tech had seen them in a long time. He clung to Tech’s arm as if he were a lifeboat. “Th-they’re killing her to get to us. Mar'eyir kaysh, Tad’ika.” [Find her, Little Two.]

Runi had taken up a place at his side once he passed out, keeping a check on his vitals with Wrecker keeping a watch over both. Tech had noted Sinya pulling Hunter by the arm into the medbay. The doors hadn’t opened since and Tech decided he wasn’t going to risk opening them.

Echo had offered to help him sort through the data he’d been pulling from the Empire’s databanks. Fives and Omega had offered their assistance as well, but had fallen asleep about an hour ago, Omega leaning against her newfound brother.

Echo had just thrown a blanket over the pair when the console chirped.

“Has the new set finished decrypting?” he asked, coming to look over Tech’s shoulder.

Tech nodded, fingers dancing across the buttons and eyes scanning the information rapidly.

Tech was starting to believe this set wouldn’t have her information either when Echo nearly shouted “there”.

Tech opened her personnel file, her image attached at the top. She looked so tired. Her eyes were cold and empty, seemingly half-lidded permanently. The white streak in her hair was stark against the rest. Her mouth was fixed in a straight line, missing all hint of the pull upwards it used to have. The image sent a shiver down Tech’s spine.

He read down into the file. It showed him the missions she’d been assigned, locations, dates, objectives. And at the very bottom was a report from an Imperial Officer.

Tech opened the report, both he and Echo letting out little gasp at the words written across the top.

“Status: Killed in Action”

“Kriff,” Echo cursed behind him, hand running over the short thatch of curls that had finally begun to regrow over his scalp.

Tech scowled at the report. Hadn’t the Chromira shown Crosshair that Jaine was alive? It wouldn’t make sense to show him images of the past. 

“What about the curse? She could still be alive, couldn’t she?” Echo and Tech’s heads turned quickly toward Omega, who was removing herself from the tight embrace of Fives.

“How do you know about that?” Echo asked, kneeling down next to her.

“It was in a report someone gave Nala Se,” she shrugged. “It came in after you all left for Felucia.”

Echo and Tech exchanged a look. 

“Nala Se read the report and then asked the Prime Minister for an urgent meeting. Then once Jaine woke up, Nala Se ordered…”

“Ordered what, ‘Mega?” Echo asked.

Omega’s hands were shaking slightly. “They did a– an experiment on her,” she mumbled, her expression turning to a mix of fear and anger. “They put a chip in.”

“A chip?” Echo repeated, nervously glancing at Fives, thankful that he was still asleep. “Like the inhibitor chips?”

Omega nodded and Echo let out a breath he didn’t know he’d be holding. “It didn’t work right at first, so they had to condition her. That’s where she got those scars and why her hair turned white.”

Tech felt sick, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. Behind his eyes he saw flashes of his own ‘conditioning’, but he pushed the foul memories to the side. He couldn’t shut down now.

“It wasn’t her?” Echo whispered, his widened eyes finding Tech. “None of it was her.”

—

Crosshair woke up with his head pounding and his entire body sore. He sat up and looked around. He definitely wasn’t on the Marauder. No, this place was too cold, literally and figuratively. A shiver ran down his back. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around his body. He could feel his hands shaking. Wait, his hands? No, these were someone else’s hands. 

He realized a moment later that he wasn’t in control of this body; he was merely a passenger. 

The person reached up to massage their neck at the point that was hurting most. Crosshair noted the knots of scar tissue beneath their touch.

They sighed, reaching up to pull their hair forward, beginning to braid some of the long crimson hair. Crosshair could feel something emanating deep within their soul; an intense pleading for help.

The pieces came together. Red hair, blaster scar on the neck. This was Jaine’s body he was in. 

“Up,” a stormtrooper ordered, opening the laser gate. Despite the resentment that boiled in her chest, she stood without hesitation, holding her arms out for the binders. 

The pair of troopers led her through the facility past numerous cells of clones. He could feel her guilt at not being able to help them. She glanced up at one cell in particular as they approached it. 

“Wait,” she whispered, her movement stilling as her heart dropped into her gut. “Where’s Fluke?”

One of the stormtroopers hit her shoulder with the butt of his gun. “Keep walking.”

She turned to face him. “Where’s CT-5121?” she growled.

“Went last night,” rasped the clone - Sig, she remembered - in the cell across from the one that used to hold Fluke.

Crosshair could feel the deep sorrow in Jaine’s heart and the tear that fell down her cheek. 

“Good morning, Jaine,” that woman, Doctor Karr, said as the gate opened. “How are you feeling today?”

Jaine didn’t answer. Merely allowing herself to be pushed onto the table and secured in place. 

“I’d like to offer you an opportunity,” Karr said, looking up from her datapad. “Answer the question and we don’t have to go through any of the pain.”

Jaine swallowed, her throat dry. “What question?”

“How do we find Clone Force 99?”

Crosshair felt her hesitation, before she finally answered. 

“Who?”

—

Hunter wasn’t sure exactly what was happening if he were to be completely honest. He probably should be anxious and on edge. He probably should be worried sick about Crosshair. He probably should have some kind of feelings about the possibility that Jaine wasn’t truly in control of herself when she’d attacked them.

But he didn’t really feel any of that. He was a little nervous, concerned for his brother, and a little more compassionate for their former medic, but none of that was at the forefront, and wasn’t even really what he was focused on at the moment. No, he was focused on the woman sitting in front of him. He’d lost track of what she was talking about a few minutes ago, but he smiled and nodded when it seemed appropriate. He did note there was an odd… heat in his chest.

“Hunter?” Sinya said, tapping his arm. “You okay?”

He shook his head a little, trying desperately to ignore the buzz of electricity that flooded his body, originating from her hand. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Sinya giggled. “It didn’t matter.”

She smiled at him and he realized he’d probably do anything if it just meant he’d get to see that smile again. Her smile reminded him of the first time he’d seen starlight. 

A sharp pang hit his heart. 

Did I make Jaine feel like this? He thought. Is that why she called me ‘Starlight’?

“Hunter,” Tech called from the suddenly open door of the medbay. 

Hunter hoped Tech didn’t notice the way he and Sinya sprung away from each other. He hadn’t realized they’d been so close. 

“What is it, Tech?”

Tech eyed him suspiciously. Of course he noticed. “Crosshair is awake. He would like to speak with us.”

Hunter nodded, turning to give an apology to Sinya, who shooed him off with a “go”.

By the time Hunter arrived in the bunk rooms, Crosshair was sitting up on the edge of the bunk and Runi was still fussing over his vitals, despite the annoyance written plainly on his face. After another moment she gave up with a huff, rolling her eyes when she saw the smug look on his face. She muttered something violent about that expression as she passed him. 

Omega ran into the room, practically launching herself at Crosshair. “You’re okay!”

“I told you he would be,” Tech pointed out. “And I am seldom wrong.”

Crosshair and Omega rolled their eyes in unison. 

“What’s going on, Crosshair?” Echo said, trying to hide a smirk.

Crosshair glanced briefly at Omega before looking at the rest of them. “Jaine… won’t be telling the Empire how to find us,” he sighed, hating the way his voice shook. The air in the ship seemed to still. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Omega asked, looking worriedly up at Crosshair.

“Yeah,” Wrecker nodded. “If she doesn’t tell ‘em anything about us then we can surprise ‘em when we go rescue her!”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed on his youngest brother. He could hear Crosshair’s rapid heartbeat, despite the measured breaths he was taking. “What aren’t you saying?”

His intense gaze locked onto Hunter’s. “She can’t tell the Empire about us because she doesn’t remember who we are.”

The room went still as the weight of Crosshair’s statement settled over the squad.

“How could she just forget us?” Omega asked, her eyes welling up. “After everything that’s happened…”

Tech knelt down next to her. “It is not her fault, Omega,” he said. “Part of her curse is that she forgets things that are important to her each time she comes back. More often than not, it is people she cares about.”

“That- that’s not fair,” Omega whispered. 

“You’re right,” Crosshair assured her. “But that’s why she had people like Sinya to help her remember.”

Omega scowled, but looked up at Hunter. “We have Sinya with us. We can go and save her and then Sinya can help her remember, right?”

Hunter sighed. His chest felt heavy. “It’s not that simple,” he explained. “Breaking someone out of Imperial custody would be tricky and we don’t even know where she’s being held, not to mention that we’d be walking right into the hands of the Empire.”

“But–”

“No, Omega. We can’t go after her; it’s too risky.”

Omega scowled up at him before storming out of the room. 

“She would do it for us,” Crosshair hissed. “We always said we’d never leave our own behind.”

“And we haven’t,” Hunter growled. “She spent months trying to kill us–”

“That was not her fault,” Tech interjected. “We have learned that there was a chip implanted in her brain when she was on Kamino without us, after which she was put through intense conditioning.”

Hunter didn’t listen. He couldn’t. “Chip or not, she doesn’t even know who we are! For all we know she could hate all clones now and try to kill us the moment she sees us anyway.”

Crosshair spoke up. “She doesn’t. I don’t know who he was or what he meant to her, but she just grieved one called Fluke.”

“How do you know that?” Echo asked.

Crosshair glanced between Hunter and Tech. “I-I could feel it. It was like I was in her body. It was… strange. I didn’t hear the Chromira-”

“The who?” Echo and Wrecker asked simultaneously.

“And it didn’t feel like when she talked to me before,” he finished, crossing his arms. “It almost felt like- like it was Jaine who was reaching out to me.”

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Thanks for reading! - River

Jari'eyc Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @lokigirlszendaya @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @techs-goggles9902

[lighthouseborn]

  Henry’s relationship with his dreams veered in a similar pattern to his ongoing battle with his impulses. Some days he managed them well, and never so much as flicked a little piece of paper at his friend while they were talking. Others, he jumped into the channel even though there were drifts of snow two feet tall upon the bank. And so, some nights he thought nothing of them. They came as vivid parades of nonsense, and turned to naught but smoke or the vague sense of seeing an old friend when he woke. Others he sank straight to the far edges of pain.

  Agony, maybe, was the better word for it. (If he wasn’t saving that one for something that truly seemed it could get no worse.) All-encompassing for the way it bubbled out of him, pulling out of the very middle of him, where it teetered on the brink of ripping something vital right out. It’s the first and only thing to exist, like it was waiting for him. Then he heard her.

  “Henry! Henry!” dotted with high whines and the patter of paws on the ground. Lektra.

  He discovered himself, then, laying face down on cold, smooth stone. The fabricated kind, devoid of any natural character or merit. It was just hard. Cold. Henry, driven by his dæmon’s anxious fussing, found it I himself to lift his head and open his eyes. The sight forced understanding.

  Steel bars surrounded him, and the heart of his heart was some number of meters away, similarly caged, pacing and whining. Some sort of amphitheater surrounded them, equipped to seat hundreds, though for what purpose he could not imagine. It did not matter at all- he focused on pushing himself up onto his arms. Dragging himself forward. Pressing himself at the gaps between the bars as if there was any hope at all of fitting through them. Even with his shoulder as far out between the bars as he could get it, reaching toward her, they were too far apart. The pain eased only as far as resetting a broken bone put it a millimeter closer to rightness, but did not undo the harm; the idea –the feeling– of a cord pulled nearly to breaking remained.

  Any further from each other and it’d tear.

  “We’re alright,” he said anyhow, voice echoing across the empty void between them, “hey- hey. It’s alright.” Lektra whined again, but stopped pacing. The bars surrounding her were the same as his, as thick around as to squelch all notions of bending them even with the strongest of arms, only lined with a double layer of mesh sealed to the metal, as if expecting the chance of smaller occupants who might slip through the thicker gaps. Henry got the sense that she would have pressed herself against it, fur poking through the little holes, except that would mean she was unable to keep both eyes on him. His eyes welled. He sniffed sharply and reached as far as he could, fingers straining toward her. We’ll be alright.

  From the shadows at the edge of the empty plain stepped a woman. She wore dark robes and darker makeup, her body concealed and her face painted into a mask of sorrow so great it seemed mocking. The eyes were too down turned, the mouth twisted and wild. She approached the middle of everything. Not quickly, but not tarrying. Dutiful, one might say. When she stood just before the imaginary line Henry had reached out along, the one drawing him to Lektra, the woman stopped. She looked at Henry. Her pale eyes were like the stone beneath him. She looked to Lektra. The dæmon ducked down, her head well below her shoulders.

  In a flourish of sleeves rustling and whipping through the air, the woman produced a blade. She held it high aloft, so that the light caught its edge, making it ripple like silver fire. The sight of it alone instilled in Henry a sense of dread so visceral he flinched. Across from him, so far away, Elektryona bared her teeth in a silent snarl. She liked it even less than he did. But why? It was only a little knife, why should they fear it so? But the question did not come to mouth, or reach the air.

  The woman began to speak in a language that had no words. The sounds twisted and danced like hurricane winds, ripping through the air, howling and moaning in shapes that were almost familiar. That Henry almost believed he understood, if he could just listen a little better, but the effort escaped him. Like he’d forgotten how. The woman swayed as she spoke, the long tendrils of her dark hair brushing the ground. Then she stopped. Stopped swaying, stopped speaking. She even seemed to stop breathing. She slowly extended her arm, the knife gripped just-so, and drew the blade down… and down… she stopped at a height roughly around what would be the lowest of Henry's ribs when he was standing. Then, in the air between Henry and Lektra, she made a cutting motion.

  Henry almost laughed. It was such a strange act of pantomime so far from anything flesh and blood, so mundane after the sense of arcane profanity her formless speech and wild swaying brought on. Then he felt it catch.

  So small. Like the barest of misses while learning to cook with his mother, a little too eager at cutting root vegetables for the first time with young, unpracticed hands. So brief. So shallow. And yet this ran all through him in shudder, jarring loose a soft cry of shock and fear. Worst of all was the yelp that sounded in exactly the same moment as Henry’s cry. Their eyes met: soul and body staring in turn at all that belonged to them. Then the woman gestured again, and this time struck true, sawing at the bond stretched thin between them.

  A cry of anguish split the air. Elektryona howled.

  Henry surfaced with the same lack of effort it had taken him to sink. One moment here, the next there; now back again with all due confusion as to where he truly was and how he’d gotten there. The only clear thing, in this new place where he lay on his back instead of his front, was the weight of a wiggly, furry body on his chest, wedging herself under his arms.

  “I tried to wake you.”

  He lifted his arms enough to let her near, paws poking into his shoulder and elbows sharp against his ribs. Her golden fur felt like silk under his hands. No bars or mesh between them.

  “I heard you,” Henry said, “I heard. I just- I didn’t know that’s.. what it was.” The only bit of speaking that had made any sense: Elektryona calling to him. His answer.

  “We’re alright,” she promised, pushing her nose up alongside his cheek. She licked at the tears sliding back across his temples.

  Henry could not respond. He was thinking, still, of silver flame blades and heart-rending howls. It was a noise he’d never heard her make before or since. Perhaps because it matched that and only that feeling.

  Being torn apart.

  He drew her tightly to his chest. Counter-intuitively, the crush made it easier to breathe.

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

Good Morning, Agent Peregrine!

“Good morning, Agent Peregrine.”

Honoré’s eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. White tile decorated above him, decorated the walls, and the floor. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, long brown hair falling into his eyes, it framed his face. The alarm beside him went off, it grated his ears. He sighed, turning and slamming the top of it to silence it.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he narrowed his eyes. He didn’t remember going to bed without socks. He cradled his head, bending forward some amount. He really was out of it. Honoré sighed, tilting his head back again to stretch his neck.

“Agent Peregrine!”

Honoré turned his attention to the screen that spoke to him, tired as he read the weather displayed on it. “You have an email from K.Kaslana, would you like to read it?” Honoré pinched the bridge of his nose, did he? He stood up, hip cracking as he limped towards the large screen. 

“Dismiss, Judah.”

“It has been marked as High Priority!”

His head was pounding, he reached up, releasing the rest of his hair from the ponytail he’d fallen asleep in. Honoré looked up at the screen again, his vision blurred slightly, but he blinked the exhaustion away. He reached up, sliding his fingers across the screen. His emails opened, the computer immediately flipping to Serpent’s email.

“Would you like me to read this to you, Agent Peregrine?”

“No thank you, Judah.”

“Very well!”

Honoré squinted against the light from the screen, eyes scanning the words written out before him. “Malfunctions in the Elysian Realm? Again..?” Green-brown eyes flicked to the date of the email, it was dated from early this morning. 

He groaned.

The young man turned, running a hand through his hair as he walked back to his bedside. “Shall I inform the sire that you’ll be attending your duties?” Judah’s grating computer generated voice made him want to stab his hairpin into his ears.

But Honoré merely grabbed his pin from the bedside table, twisting his hair, he stuck the pin through, securing it. “Yes, Judah.” The agent continued his path to his closet, throwing open the doors. The same outfits lined the hangers, neatly organized, easily within reach. He grabbed one of the hangers.

Honoré tossed the clothing onto the bed, shutting the doors behind him. “Email sent to K.Kaslana!” He stripped himself of his underwear, changing quickly, efficiently. He was consistent, if anything. Consistent. Honoré grimaced, hand gripping his bedside table as pain shot through his skull. 

“Your vitals are faltering, Agent Peregrine. Should I send for-”

“No! I’m fine, Judah.”

Honoré stood straight, he was entrusted with the task of additional maintenance of the Elysian Realm. A bonus of his close relationship with Klein. His duty. The agent carefully pulled his clothing on, clipping his belt, adjusting his jewelry. 

“The Frozen Shard, please.”

A soft hissing sound filled the room as a compartment in the screen began to roll out. His weapon was imprinted into the casing. Honoré wrapped the whiplike bottom around his arm, gripping onto the shaft of the glowing blue scythe. 

Ice formed over his finger guards and spread along the shaft as he stepped back from the screen. “Good luck, Agent Peregrine!” He never needed luck.

The halls were cold and empty, surprisingly barren of any of the others. But Honoré paid the silence no mind. He was far more focused on the task at hand, he had more than enough to do without the maintenance. 

His heels clicked on the tile floors as he turned down another hallway, it was quiet here too. Almost too quiet. Honoré stopped as he reached the stairs down to where the equipment had been set up. Maybe an important mission had been called? But usually he would be sent.

Honoré shook his head as a throbbing pain spread across the back of his neck upwards. He reached out, gripping the railing as his grip tightened on his scythe. His vision spotted pink, the Honkai radiation in his body pulsated with his pain.

“Ugh..” 

He lowered himself down a step, carefully making his way down the stairs. But with every step he took, the pain in his head grew greater, it felt like his skull was splitting. Honoré took shaky breaths as he finally stepped foot on the landing at the base of the stone staircase.

“Huh?” The guards usually stationed outside of the simulation room were gone. “Ram?” He ignored the pain as he picked up the pace, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Eland?” Honoré received no response and he softly cursed under his breath. That wasn’t good at all.

He pushed open the door to the room. 

The sound of metal cutting through air, he felt the wind knocked out of him.

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Resistance Story: Chewtoy AU, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: Connor and Ari have just reached Canada

Reunion [Prev]

They have Ariadne lying on her side, pillows tucked around her body to keep her from rolling over. There’s an oxygen mask over her face and a line in the back of her hand. Her hair is a mess. She’s facing the door and her eyes are open, but it’s not obvious whether she sees Connor come in.

He goes straight to her, ignoring the cluster of doctors and nurses in scrubs at the foot of the bed. Their conversation pauses, then resumes – something about some kind of tests that Connor tries to half listen in on, but can’t really follow.

Ari’s gaze shifts sluggishly as he sits down beside the bed. The creases in her forehead deepen. Thinking of the way she clung to his shirt as they pulled her away from him, Connor takes one limp hand in his.

“I’m here,” he promises. Her lips purse as if to answer, but she doesn’t make a sound.

The bruises ringing her wrist only look darker under the white glare of the hospital lights. The patient ID band round her wrist doesn’t start to cover them up. They’ve put her in papery hospital pajamas, and her arms are bare. Half-healed lines of scabs alternate with scars old and new.

Connor breathes through his nose. No one should be seeing her like this.

“How are you feeling now?” he asks her. Her eyes close, and open again. She hums, a slight hoarseness to the sound. “... bettr,” she ventures at last.

Connor’s lips tighten in concern.

“She’s been sedated,” one of the nurses tells him, “and she’s still confused. Be patient with her.” Connor bites back an angry retort. Ariadne flinches as the nurse leans over her to check her IV, and makes a low wounded sound. Her fingers tighten on Connor’s, and her eyes flick from one person to the next.

Connor takes another careful breath. “There are too many people in this room,” he says, lifting his voice to cut across the murmur of medical chatter – while doing his best to keep it level. “She’s overwhelmed. Can you take your conversation outside.”

Dr. Legare raises an eyebrow, but he meets Connor’s eyes and then looks at the way Ari is clinging weakly to his hand. He nods, and shepherds most of his colleagues out of the room. One nurse stays behind, steadfastly ignoring Connor’s challenging stare as she makes notes on her clipboard.

The inside of Ariadne’s oxygen mask is fogged. Her shoulders rise and fall with rapid, shallow breaths. Connor squeezes her hand again. “You’re alright,” he tells her. “You’re safe here.” He sure hopes she’s safe here.

“Are you still hurting?” Her response isn’t immediate. There’s distrust in the creases of her face, the bleary narrowing of her eyes. “... y’s,” she admits eventually.

“Can you give her more painkillers?” he addresses the nurse. “She’s still in pain.” The nurse nods, and sets the clipboard aside to fiddle with the machine that feeds the IV line. It doesn’t take long for Ariadne’s grip on Connor’s hand to start to loosen.

“Better?” “Mmh,” she hums indistinctly. “‘nk you, Conn’r.” It’s Jack, he nearly corrects her – but she’s not going to understand yet. The nurse is studiously paying them no attention – even though she’s definitely here to keep an eye on Connor. “Try to rest,” he says instead.

Ariadne nods fractionally and closes her eyes. Connor’s stomach turns a little at the thoughtless obedience. 

She’s made no attempt to remove her hand from his, so he doesn’t let go. Her skin is cold, even where it’s been resting against his palm. He scans the room again. 

There’s no obvious security camera on the ceiling, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one in the room. The walls are bare – difficult to hide anything there – but there’s a ton of medical electronics. Machines feeding Ariadne drugs and oxygen, a monitor displaying her vital statistics – most of them only half-familiar to Connor. Any of them could contain a hidden mic or camera.

Not that there’s much he could do about it anyway.

“... sir?” He looks down, and she’s looking up at him again. “-- don’ leave?” “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, shooting a glance at the nurse to dare her to tell him otherwise. “I’m right here. Try to get some sleep, if you can.”

He rubs his thumb back and forth across her knuckles, like he did back at the motel. Her gaze wanders, but she doesn’t close her eyes. “... where are we?” “Canada,” he tells her. “A hospital in Canada.” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Don’t worry about it. Somewhere safe.” “Mmh.”

“Hey,” he gets the nurse’s attention again. “Can you turn the light down.” The nurse murmurs assent, and gets the light. Then, to Connor’s relief, she finally leaves them alone.

The sky outside is turning dark. The sun’s already down, and the room isn’t yet dark with the light off, but it will be soon. Ari closes her eyes again, and this time she sleeps.

Not that they let her sleep in peace. Nurses come in what feels like every fifteen minutes to check the monitors and take Ariadne’s blood pressure and ask her questions and sometimes take her blood.

One takes Connor aside to tell him that they’ve arranged a transfer to a larger hospital in the morning. Another government institution, another chance for them to decide to separate her from Connor. They didn’t even ask first.

She needs more care, they say, than she can get here. Her feet are probably going to need surgery, or a healer, or both.

They also try to convince him to go back to the motel for the night. Suggestions turn to strong recommendations, and Connor is acutely aware of the security guard posted at the door – but they give in when Ariadne speaks up. “Don’t make him go,” she pleads in her thready voice, and they let him stay.

He gets some sleep in brief, uncomfortable stints leaning back in the chair by her bed, and wakes every time the staff come in. It doesn’t matter. Sleep is secondary to keeping Ariadne where he can see her. Where he has a chance to respond if the shit hits the fan.

Eventually they wake her and she doesn’t drop straight back into drugged sleep. Her eyes are a little clearer, and she looks around the room like she’s seeing it for the first time.

“Connor?” “It’s Jack.” He offers her a forced smile, willing her to understand. “You remember, your husband?” It takes her a second, but she gets it. “Jack,” she repeats. “Sorry. ‘Course. Where… are we?” “This is a hospital in Canada. We’re gonna move soon to a different hospital, also in Canada.” “Canada,” she echoes. “Yeah, Canada. You know. Maple syrup, snow and magic fucking everywhere? That Canada.” She blinks. “I know what Canada is,” she retorts, almost put out.

Despite the frustration, Connor practically grins with relief. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you knew what anything was for a while there.” Ariadne winces, and looks away from him. “Was I… very confused?” she asks. “Yeah.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be. You’re very sick.”

He takes her hand, and rotates the ID band on her wrist so that the printed information is facing her. “This is you,” he tells her, pointing to the bold letters reading SARAH MILLER. He watches her frown as her eyes scan it, back and forth. “Yeah,” she agrees. “That’s me.”

[find-the-devil]

V. Wave

All of the ocean’s terror comes from the unknown. The yawn beneath the blue that you can only see with eyes open beneath the surface. Born from the 320 000 or so worldwide drownings each year. It’s that unseen, unheard hand that pulls you by the ankle, the little currents that crawl on sand, sweeps up shell fragments, and small rocks and swells and grows and blooms to steal you away. Those that either keep you among the depths, use your rot to feed or let you float to the topmost waves to be found bloated and sunburned and mutilated. Missing eyes, teeth, skin, hair, fingertips and nails, with innards hanging from a jagged, devoured hole in your abdomen. Whatever seagoer spots you won’t be sure if you’re an errant log in the distance or something once human. He will keep his engine on and leave that mystery with the tides.

What you are now will be at the mercy of the unrelenting strength that ebbs and flows with rhythm and calm. 

Robin never feared the ocean. He’d been one or two times in his late thirties, corralled by the call of bigger things, taller buildings, longer roads, different people, something new. He never learned how to swim. His childhood was spent by the lakeshore. Fishing, canoeing and the like were taught and learned with an intrusive amount of supervision. His grandfather had drowned a week before his birth.

He dipped his feet in the cold water, let the silty sand weave in and out, between his toes, felt the hot sun beat down on his back, accompanied by the pleasant burn that warmed his skin, one that subverted every precaution he took, marked his body with an all encompassing red mark that stung to touch. He’d liked the ocean, for what it’s worth, and the city, with all its vitality and jubilance, but found himself reeled back into the treeline after a few years. 

He hadn’t thought about the beach since he’d left it.

Rob saw waves now in the swaying pines, he watched the rhythm of the breeze on tall-standing leaves and grasses. Bend forward, stand up straight, lean down, snap back up into place, repeat until the wind ceases. There was a movement in the motionless forest and field below, curling eddies of air that flowed through the stalks. Whirlpools disturbed the blades and weeds. That silencing sound, like being told to keep quiet, soothed from afar, without a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you wept. 

He felt water trickling by his feet, soles bare in the soft, damp grass as he stared up into the abyssal sky. He hadn’t wet himself, he’d checked. The water around his ankles was cool, stung his skin as it rose to mid-shin, then fell away, waning into a dark he couldn’t see. The soil on which he stood was not mud, but closer to gritty sand, and the grass seemed to shrink back into the earth from which it grew, shimmying back into whatever seed it had come from. 

He wondered absently for the garden and the house behind him, but watched as the waves lapped at his feet, shimmering like a watery ink under white light. This beacon shone not only in the skies, but smaller, the size of his fist, from a small fishing ship that floated in the ebbing tides on the furthermost edge of the cornfield, just past the forest line, green blades shivering against the metal hull. Its name was written, but unreadable from a distance, faded red paint chipped and illegible. The sound of waves hitting the small boat filled the night, the wind nearly stopped entirely but still a faint, oceanic breeze could be felt against his dewy skin, beads of sweat lining his brow. The corn changed, evolved in front of his wide opened eyes, into some marshland weed growing from the mucky pond floor, water trickling forth from the wall of liquid that seemed to stand of its own volition. 

The tinny boat was unmanned, it creaked and groaned as the tide jostled it, rocking it every which way the waves went, with the gentleness of a cradle rocked by a summer’s warm breeze. It inched closer with the pond’s movements, away from the trees, white light guiding its journey. Rob questioned : what would happen when it reached the edge? Would it fall into the shallow water pooling at his feet, or would it turn back, bouncing off of whatever invisible forcefield kept the pond together?

He felt something move just on top of his feet, a catfish, like those he’d caught as a young boy, perhaps a stray clump of algae. Frigid and slimy, it sent a shiver up his leg that coursed along the length of his spine before fizzling out at the base of his neck and disappearing into his shoulders. An urge flashed through him; swim through the pond weeds, climb inside the boat. The white light in the distance rocked with the wind and waves, hull moaning with the rhythm like that of wheezing breaths.  The floating water’s surface wavered with a breeze, as a quiet hum trembled through the earth, like someone holding a note for as long as their lungs allowed them. It was an all-encompassing song.     

Distantly, a tremendous sound, like an arena shouting and yelling, chanting and urging on their strongest fighter, rang out in the night, from deep within the pines. A noise, like bones breaking and cracking accompanied it, like a fast rattling sound, as if a windchime made of brittle, hollow sticks was shaken by a violent gust of wind.    

The earth trembled and water rippled around his ankles. Vibrations, like that of a struggling diaphragm reverberated through the air as a booming, thunderous noise drew closer with haste and dreadful intent. 

Soon, the moon was obstructed, no longer shining dimly from behind the wispy clouds. Now all he saw came from a small white light that drew nearer. A mountain had erected itself among the trees and it moved like satin in the wind, undulating as one body, encompassing the world, pillaging the woodland in its wake. 

The wave, like a crashing avalanche of liquid rocks and stones, littered with tree columns and carcasses and soil, fell forward as if tripping over itself, with all its might and force, as if lost to its own whim, as powerless to keep itself from hurtling forth as Robin would be to stop it. 

He watched it’s approach with more curiosity than fear, held tightly by something he could not feel but that restricted his every motion, save for breathing and a slight hand tremble as the boat in the distance began to arch with the water, light slowly rising overhead like the mounting sun. 

The wind screamed, a chest-tearing cry, bloody from the vigor of it. The sound reverberated against the titan that swelled and grew and bloomed above. The howl could not cease, it pained Rob’s ears, made them bleed, trickle down his neck into the water rushing at his feet. He fell to his knees, dropping into the knife-like rapids, each successive stream of water cutting coldly at his legs, like blades of ice. 

The wind only carried the sound, it did not make it. The wail erupted from Robin’s throat. His lungs hiccuped in a desperate attempt to stop the carnage wrought upon them by the scream, but he only grew louder, drowning out the wave’s cataclysmic, quaking voice. 

On impact, the cold front split his skin into icy lesions, as every bone in his body fractured, as if shredded by the might of the behemoth that fell upon him. Lungs burst, pierced by his shin gone astray, he cried still, numbed by the chill and inhaling water only to force it out by the insurmountable will of whatever was dying in his chest, his heart perhaps, or his soul that drowned with him, unable to escape the weight of the ocean that had found itself above him. He lied, beaten, crushed and overpowered among the ruined grasses in the inky depths of the sea, with only a white light, the size of his fist, as his bearing. 

**

“That must’ve been something.” spoke Ennis, as Rob awoke without notice, sitting up in the grass, clawing at firm ground as he panted. Seeing the man’s face, he continued “I reckon a bad dream, you were squirming and humming or something, twitching your hand.” 

“Wh-huh?” he replied, barely enough usable breath in his lungs to get the sound out. 

“I don’t know, but hey, you’re good now.” he was kneeling in the grass, tending to the coyote pelt. “After you showered you came out here, you fell asleep about 10 minutes ago, I’m not sure how much you remember, but you look pretty spooked so I thought I’d remind you. Y’know, bearings and all that.” 

“Memory’s fine.” he said somewhat weakly, as if winded. “What time is it?” he finally met the man’s eyes, although he remained otherwise disoriented

“Half past 1:00. Are you sleepin’ alright, on the whole? Don’t want you passing out, fainting from fatigue or any of that.” he asked, with a slight worry to his tone, brow furrowed. He set his blade down into the grass, loosening his grasp on the hide. 

Robin had been sleeping better than he should have. He knew that. Every night he lay one room over from a man who’d killed off a hefty chunk of the town’s limited population. But his rest had been as good as it was at home. He wanted to feel bad, icky, disturbed by the fact that he was doing well, but couldn’t, rather he felt something adjacent : this should bother me a Hell of a lot more than it is.

Robin knew his skin was thicker, more of a crust than a layer. A certain apathy, not learned, not taught, not even enforced, had grafted itself to him sometime in the womb. He’d always been less reactive, less shocked, less outraged in the face of tragedy and horror than those around him. Everyone likened it to a maturity his other actions never manifested. He remained childish into his twenties, and boyish into his forties. Only now, in his fifties, had he finally hit adulthood, in the emotional sense. And yet still he was unoffended by all that is vile. This absence of disdain is what led him to detective work, he found himself engrossed and beguiled by every blood trail. 

He heard crows call in the distance, hidden from view within the pines. 

“I’m sleeping fine.” he replied at last, with a small shrug as he untensed his shoulders, looking over the bone-dry field, feeling the dewy grass on his sock-clad feet. “I guess the food might’ve knocked me out.” 

“Good to know. Old man needs a rest after his meal.” Ennis teased, a hint of a smile in his dark eyes as he continued working the coyote’s fur. 

“Shut up. 10 years and you won’t laugh in the face of a good nap. Oh, and word to the wise : have an alarm. You’re gonna wake up next Tuesday with your head on the wrong way otherwise. ” he answered with no real offence to his teacher-like tone. 

The other man huffed again, muffled slightly from behind the mask that covered his mouth and nose. Pollen drifted in the cloudless sky, bright under the shining sun and lazy, moving in the slow air eddies. The deciduous trees, aspens of some kind, shook and shivered overhead, leaves rustling, sending a pleasant hissing sound into the atmosphere. The breeze blew balmy, hot, like a gust of pure heat. Ennis’ wavy hair clung to the beads of sweat on his forehead as he worked, and Rob felt a wet trail down his spine, seeping into his shirt. He watched the warmth rise.  

“You got anything for lunch?” Robin spoke, rising to his feet with a quiet grunt, brushing off blades of grass from the back of his jeans, smoothing his grey hair with one hand. 

“Whatever you find in the kitchen. The way I see it, my house is your house for as long as you’re here.” Ennis replied, “There’s enough coyote to last for weeks, but there should be some bread, butter, jam, stuff like that.” he wiped the sweat from his head with his forearm. 

“And I’m not gonna find a human head in there?”

“I don't eat people just like I don’t eat fertilizer.” Ennis replied plainly, with a small shrug.

Rob nodded, tilting his head as he considered his point. 

“D’you want anything?” 

“I’m in a bit of a hairy situation.” he answered, lifting his arms, displaying his open palms, covered in coyote fur. 

The position, his knees on the grass, hands open, facing the sky, sun gleaming on his golden hair, a slight haze in the air, the skin of a slain beast across his legs, gave the moment a religious quality, as if the man in his ivory mask had his palms upturned in reverence or prayer. The lonely sound of wind, a deep whistle in the pines gave Rob a sense of solitude in the presence of the other, calming, like the feeling of a moment alone after a tenuous time with unsavory company.  

He caught a glimpse of the new garden, it’s hand riddled with small rodential teeth marks and lesions as he began to bloat. He turned on his heels and headed inside, shutting the door with a small click lest the house’s cool be invaded by the outside’s sweltering heat.

[libraryofruinaofficial]

How to Become Aware of the Physical Body (Without Hating Yourself For It)

As usual, this is mostly aimed at Nonhumans, but this can work for anyone with a different body map on the etheric and astral levels, anyone with physical incarnation issues, and maybe potentially even if it’s just a mental or psychological difference, as well. Please note this does not work for physical body scans or physical healing work, or anything else where the focus is actually the physical body in full.

We’re also gonna come straight out and explain why such a thing is necessary.

The point of many of the exercises and meditations that draw focus to the physical body is to use it as a “jumping-off” point for sensing more-than-physical anatomy on a more detailed level, or sensing something specific in your more-than-physical body/bodies.

If you really want proficiency in a lot of areas (things like more vivid and tactile astral travel or projection, any magic or energy work carried out on other levels of existence besides the physical, increased sensation and “physicality” of astral limbs, any sort of nonphysical healing/surgery, and glamour magic), then being able to tell the minute differences between different layers and levels of your nonphysical anatomy is vital. Like in physical bodies, where one organ may be part of multiple organ systems and/or not fully, clearly separated and defined from an adjacent organ or set of organs, there will be blurred lines and overlap, but it’s still helpful to find any places of definition between them.

Using all that as a baseline, we can modify the whole concept of physical body awareness in a very simple way to avoid invoking discomfort, dysphoria, disassociation, or more severe symptoms. Honestly, it’s possible for it to become more or less of your baseline body map and therefore even alleviate some of those things, partially or totally. (No guarantees, though, and be warned: it’s also possible to have the inverse happen, or have it collapse on you, so if you feel that’s a legitimate risk, just make sure you separate back out afterwards.)

There’s one really simple trick to all this:

You only really need to focus on one part of your physical body as physical. Everything else can be nebulous and vaguely-shaped.

By this we mean if the only thing you’re even vaguely okay with or can cope with in your body is your hair, eyes, upper arms, or even an internal organ like heart or stomach, use that as your focus. Anything internal make you panic? Use the tip of your nose. Is there exactly one birthmark that corresponds to a past/other life injury or mark? There you go, there’s your focus. We don’t care, because the whole goal is to:

Identify the feeling of “purely physical”

Gradually differentiate that into things like “physical lifeforce (the basic “energy” of a conscious being in a biological body that most breath exercises aim to isolate and concentrate on)”, “more-than-physical bodies”, “more-than-physical energy systems”, etc.

Learn to manipulate those things as needed as described by the method/meditation/whatever you’re using.

This is also a stepping stone for more differentiated, precise, and detailed understandings of different types of energies that feel superficially similar. It’s just easy to start with something you tote around all day and therefore are more familiar with, whether or not you prefer it that way.

How To Do It, In-Depth

You’ve already identified your focus point by now. If not, this is the step where you do that! Find just one part of your physical body that you can identify and accept as physical without hating yourself over it.

Now for the hardest part: exploring that physical sensation as physical. How does it feel, physically? Is it cold, or warm, or picking up a slight draft from somewhere? What qualities make it what it is, and what differentiates it from other physical parts of you, conceptually and metaphorically? What’s the “essence” of that physical-ness? What underlies it, both including and beyond the literal physical structures that form it? Really work to identify this as its own thing. This is crucial.

Once you have this “essence of physicality” identified, then you can just apply it to a vague body map that allows only for identification of the physical as physical. This means any parts you actually hate or actually cause you undue distress can be absorbed into a conglomerate of “identified as physical body mass somehow”, and anything you come across that you don’t mind can be ignored or defined as desired and needed.

Past this, guess what? You can mostly ignore the physical, since you’re probably at least partly aware of more-than-physical things at this point. Focus on that, and go into whatever other techniques you’re using or practicing.

Over time, you’ll probably find a method that works better for you, or maybe not! We’ve just never seen any of this addressed before, and suspect it may be part of the reason many Nonhumans struggle with accepting magic and the supernatural, since a lot of the body-focus in many practices may be offputting. Well, hopefully we’ve provided at least a partial solution, or at least get ideas going!

[webotixae]

Is Gluta Drip the Detox Powerhouse You’ve Been Waiting For?

In today's matrix of fleeting health crazes, one detox method is making a lasting impression: the Gluta Drip. Forget your run-of-the-mill detox teas; this powerhouse cleanse is what your body needs. Get ready to learn why your liver will be over the moon with gratitude!

What on Earth is a Gluta Drip?

First things first – what exactly is a Gluta Drip? Imagine a superhero serum for your cells, and you're not far off. The term "Gluta Drip" stands for “ glutathione injection “, an intravenous therapy that administers glutathione, a potent antioxidant your body naturally produces. Glutathione is often dubbed "the master antioxidant" because it turbocharges your body's ability to detoxify itself.

Think of it like a car wash for your insides—a full-service affair where every nook and cranny gets a thorough clean. But instead of soapy water and high-pressure jets, you’re getting a shot of health-boosting antioxidants straight into your bloodstream. Now, that’s what I call an inside job!

The Science Behind the Super Serum

You didn’t think we’d just rave about the Glutathione Drip without some cold, hard facts, did you? Here’s the lowdown on how it works.

When administered intravenously, glutathione goes straight to your bloodstream, bypassing the digestive system. This direct route ensures maximum absorption. Sorry, spinach, but pills and powders just can't compete with a straight IV line to vitality.

Once it’s in your bloodstream, glutathione does what it does best – neutralizes free radicals, enhances liver function, and supports cellular health. Your liver, the body’s primary detox organ, gets a much-needed boost to flush out toxins more effectively. Imagine your liver transforming from a tired office worker to a caffeinated superhero. Yes, that’s what’s happening inside you!

How This IV Therapy Cleanses Your Body

The wellness world is abuzz with the benefits of the Whitening IV Drip, and for good reason. This intravenous (IV) therapy is touted as one of the most effective methods for detoxification. But how exactly does it work? Let's peel back the layers and uncover the science and process behind this body-cleansing marvel.

The Core Component: Glutathione

1. The "Master Antioxidant"

Glutathione, the star player in the Gluta Drip, is a powerful antioxidant naturally produced by your cells. It's composed of three amino acids: glutamine, glycine, and cysteine. This trifecta works together to neutralize free radicals, thus protecting and repairing cells from oxidative stress and damage.

Direct Delivery System

2. Intravenous Administration

Administering glutathione intravenously allows for direct entry into the bloodstream, bypassing the digestive system entirely. This method ensures that nearly 100% of the glutathione is absorbed and utilized by your body. No middlemen, no dilution—just pure, unadulterated detox power.

Detoxification Process

3. Boosting Liver Function

The liver is your body’s primary detox organ, responsible for filtering toxins and waste products from the blood. When glutathione enters your bloodstream, it heads straight to the liver, where it acts as a coenzyme. This supercharges the liver’s ability to break down and excrete harmful substances, ranging from pollutants to heavy metals and metabolic waste.

4. Neutralizing Toxins

Once inside the liver, glutathione converts fat-soluble toxins into water-soluble forms. These water-soluble toxins are easier for the body to excrete through urine or bile. Essentially, glutathione acts like a molecular broom, sweeping out unwanted substances efficiently.

Cellular Rejuvenation

5. Antioxidant Action at the Cellular Level

Free radicals are unstable molecules that cause oxidative damage to cells, accelerating the aging process and contributing to various diseases. Glutathione is highly effective at neutralizing these free radicals. By donating an electron, it stabilizes them, preventing further cellular damage. This action is crucial for maintaining cellular health and supporting the body's natural repair processes.

6. Supporting Mitochondrial Function

Mitochondria, often referred to as the "powerhouses" of cells, are vital for energy production. Glutathione ensures that mitochondria function optimally, producing energy efficiently and reducing the production of harmful by-products. This leads to improved energy levels and overall vitality.

Immune System Enhancement

7. Immune Support

Glutathione plays a significant role in maintaining a robust immune system. It enhances the activity of white blood cells, which are essential for immune response. By bolstering the body's defenses, whitening injection helps protect against infections and illnesses, making you feel healthier and more resilient.

Skin and Aesthetic Benefits

8. Skin Whitening and Brightening

One of the more popular reasons people turn to skin whitening injections is for its skin benefits. Glutathione helps to lighten and brighten the skin by inhibiting melanin production. This can lead to a more even skin tone and a radiant complexion over time.

The Procedure

1. Consultation

Before embarking on Gluta Drip therapy, it’s essential to have a consultation with a healthcare provider to determine if it's suitable for you. They'll assess your health status, discuss your goals, and create a personalized treatment plan.

2. IV Administration

The actual process is relatively straightforward. During a session, which can last anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour, a healthcare professional will insert an IV line into your arm. The glutathione solution is then slowly dripped into your bloodstream. You can relax, read a book, or even snooze during the procedure.

3. Post-Treatment Care

After the session, most people can resume their normal activities immediately. Some might feel a slight uptick in energy levels or notice a gradual improvement in skin texture and overall wellness over subsequent days.

Safety and Considerations

1. Safety

Gluta Drip therapy is generally regarded as safe when administered by trained professionals. Nevertheless, always consult a healthcare provider to ensure it’s the right fit for you, especially if you have underlying health conditions or are pregnant.

2. Side Effects

Side effects are rare but can include mild bruising at the injection site or temporary vein discomfort. It's crucial to have the treatment performed in a reputable clinic to minimize any risk.

Drip Your Way to Wellness

The Gluta Drip isn't just a trendy wellness fad; it's a scientifically backed method for enhancing your body's natural detoxification processes, supporting cellular health, and promoting overall well-being. Whether you're looking to clear out toxins, brighten your skin, or simply give your immune system a boost, this powerful therapy  

Is the Glutathione IV Therapy for Everyone? 

Whoa there, cowboy. As with any health trend, it's important to consider if this therapy aligns with your individual needs. Consulting with a healthcare professional is non-negotiable. While generally considered safe, those with certain health conditions or pregnant women, for instance, should tread carefully.

To Drip or Not to Drip?

If you’re looking for a reliable way to support your detox pathways, enhance your general well-being, and perhaps look a bit younger while you're at it, then a Gluta Drip might be your new best friend.

The world of wellness is yours to explore, and whether you're looking to clear your skin, ramp up your energy, or just give your liver a well-deserved break, the Gluta Drip could be worth considering.

Just remember – the best detox plan in the world can't replace a balanced diet, regular exercise, and good ol’ sleep. But as an exciting addition to a health-conscious lifestyle, Gluta Drip therapy could be the missing piece of your wellness puzzle.

So, go ahead. Make a splash with the Gluta Drip and give your body the detoxifying power-up it’s been screaming for. After all, who doesn’t want to be the hero of their own health story?

[vertanvertan]

Highly Informative Factors About Does Cold Plunge Work

Any time you’ve been in any kind of internet marketing in past times twosome periods, you’re in all probability privy to the recent latest for placing yourself straight to wicked cold chilled drinking water with regard to internal health and fitness benefits. This excellent centuries-old exercise isn't well-liked by pro players, nonetheless has additionally been proven to assist with serious coupled with low-grade discomfort, that could be at the bottom for many innovative illnesses, like coronary heart disease, type 2 diabetes, autoimmune disorders, and more. Considering all the buzz for this frosty concentration treatment solution, many may just be influenced to give it a try for themselves, and yet it’s remember this that not anybody can smartly make it happen in your house. For people who have heart conditions, blood pressure level, or simply a pre-existing issue, seeing a medical expert along with conducting a cold plunge underneath your discipline is vital. At the same time, women that have reactive facial skin may want to refer to the medical doctor initial so all the cold weather won’t lead to infection and be responsible for pimples. Include those with requirements to learn about best cold plunge ice bath and other requirements can seem to be liberated to click here.

Durable guide lines, the following treatment method is shown to suggest to a volume of beneficial perks normally that do the product. One of the most instant perks comprise of reduced stress, a stronger immune system, more energy, improved sleep, in addition to an on the whole an expression well-being. Many other possible perks encompass minimized soreness, multiplied sexual desire, and additionally fat loss. But, a great deal more principals are recommended in these particular says he will confirm his or her's applicability.

With respect to bricks-and-mortar features, the most immediate help which in turn the cold plunge presents is without a doubt expanded muscle recovery after exercise. It is because crashing on cold standard water constricts your arteries and, that reduces soreness with the muscular tissues and even enables them to soak up more breathable oxygen. This cold drinking water likewise numbs pains receptors as well as stimulates the production involving hormones, which you'll find a body’s purely natural anesthetics. Other sorts of cold plunge ice bath benefits can include considerably better post-workout therapeutic, much better plus more dynamic skin tone, developed feelings, together with a suitable nerve fibres. All the different would-be physical and mental benefits to the cold plunge can be so what have elected the item a real popular trend upon social media. One of the most effective attributes of the cold plunge is usually that it’s safer to utilize versus other sorts of cold temperatures exposure to it therapies prefer snowfall baths or alternatively baby showers. You'll don’t want to purchase glaciers and / or wait for standard water to put together cold weather, plus the tool includes a filtration in which may keep the stream neat and clean. Individuals who desire to recognize the cold plunge review, they can go here.

All of the plunge is usually in a good Pro version that could lesser the tank temp by means of hunting for college degrees within the 60 minutes and they have a common & Cold weather substitute which changes the idea straight into a hot spa which includes a temperature all the way to 103 degrees fahrenheit. Both the versions feature a skimmer total that’s previously used to info out there actually leaves, branches, along with other rubble with the moisture, as well as air mattress pump coupled with garden hose designed for using ticket tension. In comparison with different plunges available to buy, all the Plunge is definitely more very affordable and also tinier, making it the right selection for folks who need to do wintry engagement therapies at-home. It’s very simple to build coupled with doesn’t will require water line, meaning you can set it up around your residence and / or place.

[accurateindustries]

Positive aspects of steam generators and portable steam showers

A sauna and a brume shower vacillate essentially in that the last choice uses 100 moistness at a low temperature while the past purposes dry power at a truly high temperature

.

What it does

These skilled workers use direct plans. It is easy to stay aware of and run, and it is generally strong. It has a sizable tank to store the water as well as a freshwater force straight and a brume outlet. The groundwork of the tank contains an electric perspective that warms up the water. The smoke quantum is closed by the power of the electrical unit present under the tank. These creator units should not be close to the Steam Shower Generator as they can be presented a distance away. generally outrageous of these tanks which hold water are made of the sword. These tanks are watertight to enable the strain and smoke to make up. Both hot and cold water can be used in these tanks, but warmed smoke can be made quickly when warmed water is used as opposed to cold. Besides, these generator units go with a water demand that is coupled to a stopcock that could handle the water position.

Through a controlled stopcock, water enters the tank of people who make brume showers, helping with overseeing how much water going into the tank. The warming part that makes the brume moreover warms up the water. As the strain increases, it flows through the line and into the shower or room. These producers can be set up 15 downers under the shower or the room. Yet these devices are quite easy to use and stay aware of, it's vital for attract the organizations of a gifted circuit analyzer or jack of all trades to present the creators unequivocally.

These smaller decorations are genuinely easy to use and clean. Additionally, it is more reasonably assessed than presenting various adornments. It's pressing to keep the head cool and rests for a secured and viable treatment. This helps with additional creating blood course all through the body. According to, only the body requires warm treatment to scour and detoxify. It isn't recommendable to warm the blood in the psyche as it would produce vexation and dazedness in your body.

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[stormyoceans]

losing my mind like. sorry i know i never shut up about dark pete burning the whole mafia world down to save vegas and macau but. i've seriously been losing my mind over it like

give me vegas and macau being late home after vegas went to pick macau up at school on his bike and not answering their phones and pete immediately knowing something is wrong. give me pete calling chay to ask if he saw them actually leave together and then, at chay's affirmative answer, calling arm all business-like: "i need a favor, but you can't tell anyone about it. if you won't help me just say so right away, i don't have time to waste." give me pete asking arm to hack into the security cameras on the way from macau's school to their home and watching all the footages until he spots a van cutting vegas' bike off and then taking vegas and macau away.

give me pete figuring out it's not a ransom situation but a personal vengeance. give me pete manipulating, bribing, maiming, and torturing people, promising them not to kill them if they give him the information he needs and then killing them anyway because whoever was behind this can't know pete is coming and dead men tell no tales. give me kinn and porsche eventually finding out what’s happening and asking pete why he didn’t go to them for help. give me pete answering, cold and detached, ‘frankly, i haven’t ruled out the involvement of the main family in this, yet. nor of the new minor one.’ give me porsche’s indignant ‘ai’pete!’ before trying to stop pete from leaving. give me pete pointing his gun at porsche because yes, porsche is his friend and pete loves him dearly, but that’s pete’s family they’re talking about and no one – NO ONE – is gonna tell pete how he has to go about saving it, if someone was stupid enough to think they could mess with vegas and macau now that they don’t hold the title of heirs of the minor family anymore, well then pete has to show them just how fucking wrong they are and bring them as an example for everyone else.

give me pete finally finding out who’s behind it and where they are keeping vegas and macau and getting ready to bring down an entire building full of people armed only with a gun and a knife. give me pete being smart about it, using stealth and smoke bombs to conceal his attacks, preferring the knife over a gun he would have to reload over and over again, putting into practice his experience as a boxer and all of chan’s teachings: circle around the target rather than move in a straight line; forgo the heart and target the abdominal aorta that sits unguarded at the top of the abdomen at the meeting of the ribs; if the opponent is guarding their vital targets well, strike at less vital areas to make the defender move and then go for the carotid in the neck, the brachial artery in the arm or the radial artery in the forearm, the femoral artery in the leg, the abdomen. give me pete finding macau locked alone in a room and macau not caring about the blood covering pete from head to toes and just hugging him tight because pete really came for them. give me pete handing the gun to macau because there’s no way he’s leaving macau behind and the two of them fighting their way to wherever they’re keeping vegas. give me vegas tied to a chair, half-high with whatever drug they injected in his system to keep him from fighting back, a constellation of cuts and bruises all over his body. give me vegas never seeing something so beautiful as pete, covered in blood and knife in hand, killing the dudes assigned to keep guard to vegas' room and then dropping on his knees in front of vegas to gently cup his face and put their foreheads together.

and the fucker who did this? give me pete dragging him in front of vegas and macau and not killing him right away, but slowly cutting him up and tearing him apart for every wound he can see on the two brothers: a tooth for macau’s split lip, an eye for the bruise blooming on vegas’ cheekbone, all of his fingers for vegas’ broken arm. and then, finally, give me pete bringing vegas and macau home and the three of them piling together in the same bed, holding each other all night, their little family of three that no one is allowed to touch.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Shock Troops Part II: The Drop

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

If there is one thing to be said about the age of interstellar travel it would be that it be impossible without the aid of the space gate network.

The space gates comprised of several hundred ancient machines scattered around the cosmos that formed a three dimensional network allowing near instant travel between star systems normally thousands of light years apart. Many of these machines were often located in empty space at the edges of their local systems, but the one in the Hodun system was situated directly over the planet of Hodun Prime and was considered to be the gate to the inner sphere worlds of the Tempish Ascendancy.

Considered to be one of the mightiest governing bodies of the era, the Tempish Ascendancy was a highly efficiently monarchy protected by a near fanatical well-armed and trained military. Their rise to power is often credited to the fact that the Temp people controlled the only space gate for several neighboring systems. With this level of control the Tempish people expanded, either through diplomatic undertakings or military campaigns, into those other systems and quickly incorporated them into their domain. Within a couple of generations the Tempish population was the dominant species on these worlds firmly placing them under their control. From here they had expanded through the space gate; an expansion that eventually led straight to the doors of humanity.

How the war started has been debated and refuted a dozen times and then again a dozen times more, but the end result always comes to the war that erupted between humanity and the Tempish. Each time humanity felt it was on the cusp of victory the Tempish would flee to Hodun Prime and through the space gate back to their territory to recoup only to reemerge several months later and begin the war anew. This back and forth had continued for over a decade as humanity lacked the needed manpower to secure Hodun Prime and in turn launch an invasion of the inner sphere. This tide of fortune for the Tempish soon turned when humanity made peace with several other factions it had been at war with and finally could turn its full attention to the Tempish Ascendancy.

The space gate in orbit above Hodun Prime was controlled by a secure facility on the planet’s surface. Surrounded by near impregnable walls, shield towers, orbital cannons, and a legion of the best trained soldiers the Tempish military had; the facility was able to deny access to the space gate to any ship that was not Tempish. Furthermore, when humanity had in the past launched raids to secure the facility in the past the facility would send out a distress signal through the space gate to the inner sphere worlds were a waiting support fleet would respond and jump through the gate and arrive over Hodun Prime within the hour. This threat of being assaulted by both ground and space forces had deterred further attempts to secure the facility until only recently when a specialized regiment became available for deployment. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ripja strode into the command chamber and ran a glance along the tactical displays lining the walls. He passed between rows of consoles to either side of him each controlling a vital system to Hodun Prime’s defense; each one now blaring warning sounds and baring red marks of imminent danger. Several of the soldiers stood to salute Ripja but he waved them away. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.

“Report” Ripja asked as he approached the center of the room. There stood a large table displaying a three dimensional hologram of the planet and the orbiting space gate currently surrounded by the high command and their aides. Several icons were scattered around the planet listing military positions, outposts, defense sectors, and more.

His second in command, Kempid, approached and tapped a data wand against the table. A rash of red icons suddenly appeared in orbit of the planet directly above the command facility they now stood in.

“Roughly ten minutes ago three human ships exited the space gate directly over us.”

Before Kempid could provide more information the entire room was filled with warning alarms.

“Enemy bombardment incoming!” one of the console operators called out.

Within moments Ripja could hear a noise reverberating throughout the entire room. It was faint and sounded distant and yet there was no mistaking it.

“Shields are holding.” Another attendant called out.

“Send the signal to the fleet in the inner sphere,” Ripja said to one of the waiting aides, “we need reinforcements now.”

With that they scurried off to the communications bank and transmitted the signal while Ripja took a closer look at the holographic display.

Fiddling with the controls he enhanced the image in orbit and focused in on the human vessels. Two were cruiser class by their ship design and the third was a troop carrier of some kind. The cruisers were using their heavy cannons to lay down a withering barrage of plasma focused directly on the shields surrounding the space gate facility.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Ripja stated, making some of the nearby command staff turn to listen as he began pacing around the table. “They must know two ships can’t breach our shields, and our guns can’t fire so long as our shields are up.” He stopped his pacing and magnified the enemy fleet once again, this time showing a live feed from one of their orbiting stealth satellites.

The two cruisers had positioned the troop carrier between them while the bombardment was ongoing and appeared to have achieved a stable orbit. As he was pondering this defensive nature he noticed through the feed several of the hangar bay doors of the troop ship slowly opening.

In silence several dozen landing craft shot out from the troop ship and began heading towards the surface. To his amazement the landing craft were not arcing away from the orbital bombardment but instead were flying directly through it; their tiny craft veering and swerving in-between the human orbital fire like insects flying through the rain.

“They must be insane!” Kempid said as he came over and saw what had enthralled Ripja.  

“Clever.” Ripja spoke as he motioned another aide over. “They’re using their orbital fire to disable our anti air capabilities while they land their forces.”

As the aide approached Ripja shrunk the hologram to only highlight the main command facility and the space directly above it. Already the red icons of the landing craft were appearing one after another as they raced towards the facility.

“Lower the shields in the south quadrant of the facility and have our orbital guns begin firing on the cruiser on the left.”

“But sir,” the aide spoke hesitantly, “that will leave that quadrant exposed to their fire.”

“They won’t change their target.” Ripja pointed to the central facility currently the focus of the human bombardment. “They need their bombardment to silence our own anti air cannons; if they deviate even for a moment it will give us a window to shoot down their landing craft.”

The aide nodded and moved aside to relay the new order while Ripja motioned Kempid over.

“Deploy all air squadrons and have them engage the human landing craft.” He said as he highlighted the leading ships. “I do not want one of them touching down on our soil unless it is a burning wreck.”

“Our pilots won’t be able to fly thro-“ Kempid began before Ripja grapped him by the throat and pulled him over to the hologram.

“The humans are flying through it!” he softly snarled at Kempid, “Get. Them. In. The. Air.”

“As you wish.” Gasped Kempid as Ripja let him go. “Command to all air wings, deploy and repel enemy landing craft.”

Within minutes a rash of new blue icons from landing fields surrounding the main facility were lighting up as dozens of combat air wings took to the skies. As he watched them take flight he also saw the shield in the south lower and the retaliatory fire commence against the human fleet.

Several cannons fired at once and impacted the left cruiser, its shields flashing bright blue in the cold void. As the retaliation strikes continued Ripja noticed that even though the fire wasn’t piercing the shields it was altering the human bombardment. The angle of the shots was being offset by the Tempish fire moving the cruiser and as a result the landing craft were thrown into a chaotic descent.

If Ripja had to guess the humans had coordinated specific flight paths to navigate the orbital bombardment fire to ensure their craft weren’t hit by friendly fire. Now however the paths were changing and the human landing craft were flying straight into their own bombardment and shattering.

Ripja let a faint smirk cross his lips as he watched the enemy icons slowly blip out one by one. Soon they will be forced to retreat and the day will be ours, he thought to himself. He watched the hologram waiting for the moment, waiting for the first ship to turn tail and flee back to the troop carrier in orbit, waiting for the enemy to flee the system in defeat, waiting for yet another achievement for his military record.

Waiting…..

Waiting….

The smirk vanished from Ripja’s face as he continued to watch in astoundment as the human landing craft did not flee, but instead sped up directly for his command facility.

Even when the Tempish air wings finally swooped in and began picking off the seemingly defenseless landing craft they still kept coming. By the count now the landing craft had suffer 37% casualties and they still had not even reached the planet’s surface.

Ripja watched in horror as even through the orbital strikes, even though the wings of fighter craft picking them off with every pass, even with another 15% of casualties the humans still kept coming until finally the moment Ripja had never thought possible happened.

The humans landed on Hodun Prime.