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ithebookhoarder · 8 months

Note

Hey! I love your writing🥹 If you’re taking requests, please could I get your take on: female reader & Javi P are in a relationship. She finds out she’s pregnant a couple of weeks before a huge raid and hides it from everyone. During the raid she gets cornered by one of Pablo’s men and screams “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant” Javi’s hears over the radio, his head snaps up and he takes off running to find her, Steve not far behind. + the aftermath once they get back to the embassy. Thank you ❤️

Crossroads (Javier Peña x AFAB!Reader)

A/n: MY HEART 💔 Thank you to whoever sent this gem in! I promise I’m also working on all the other requests in my inbox. I have them all started as drafts, but I get random bursts of inspiration for one at a time and then this happens. I’m so sorry for those of you patiently waiting - I will get to finishing them. Soon. This one just popped in my inbox and ran away with me... oops?

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of possible termination of pregnancy, injury, references to drugs and the cartel.

Masterlist

You didn’t know why you hadn’t told Javi. It seemed strange now, to think that you hadn’t told the one person who deserved the most to know.

Maybe it was denial? Fear? Fear that he’d react badly? Fear he’d react with excitement?

You couldn’t be sure, but why you hadn’t told him didn’t matter now so much as the fact itself. You hadn’t told Javi you were pregnant, and now it was too late.

Now, you were stood inside a crappy warehouse, alone, waiting on a contact to confirm intelligence for a raid you had planned for later that night. Sure, you could tell him tonight once this whole mess was over with, but that was dependant on both of you getting out of this operation unscathed - and whilst you were both great agents, you’d learned long ago never to under-estimate the prey you hunted.

Escobar and his network were intelligent, well connected, and somehow always one step ahead. It was why you relied so heavily on contacts such as the one you were meeting right now.

Only eighteen, Sophia was the daughter of one of Escobar’s runners and desperate to get herself and her family away from the cartel.

She had approached you some weeks ago, begging and pleading for your help fleeing the country. In exchange she had offered the one thing of value she had - intel. Positioned close enough to the organisation to gather information, Sophia was also removed enough not to attract attention or suspicion. Hell, she said none of Escobar’s men even acknowledged her existence unless they wanted a drink, a smoke, or to paw at something during their visits.

It seemed like a perfect opportunity for everyone involved. Or, it had, should you say�� now, staring at your watch as the minutes ticked by with no sign of the young girl, you began to suspect something was wrong.

God damn it.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to fight the urge to radio out to the surveillance van positioned further down the street. There was no need to get them worked up yet, not when Sophia could just be running late… the last thing you needed was Javi or Steve getting antsy and pulling you out, blowing your cover and fucking up the raid you had planned for later tonight.

No, those two had always been protective over you, long before you and Javi had started seeing each other romantically. It was frustrating, even if a little flattering at the same time, to know you had two such loyal friends and partners.

They never held the fact that you were a woman against you, but then again they’d never had cause to. Now? Now you were a walking stereotype. A liability. A pregnant woman carrying her partner’s child whilst trying to run ops in the middle of a war zone… They’d pull you out of the field so fast it would make your head spin - something you had worked too hard to risk. Not until you were certain… certain it was what you wanted, hence your decision to keep things quiet for now.

In fact, the only person who was aware that something was different about you was Connie, and that was because you had needed her help to confirm it.

What with her job at the clinic, and being Steve’s wife, Connie was the best option when it came to confirming your fears, rather than trying to risk a visit to a local doctor - one who was likely to talk to whoever would ask, no matter whether it was one of Escobar’s men, or even someone who could feed it back to the embassy.

No. Connie was your only choice, being both discreet and loyal to a fault - something you had never been more grateful for than now. That, and she was your closest friend outside of the office. There was no one else you wanted more to be holding your hand whilst you waited to find out if this was actually happening.

She had also been more than willing to talk you through your options afterwards, promising to honour your wishes no matter what you decided - even if she kept trying to convince you to tell Javi.

"He deserves to know," she'd sighed softly, holding your hand and wiping away your tears. "He's kind and he loves you. All he'd want is to support you. You know that."

If only you could be so sure of that.

Javi? A baby? The two things didn't seem compatible, even if he did have a soft spot for Olivia, but she wasn't his... a biological child that was yours to raise, protect, and nurture... it was a whole other situation - and given that Javi thought coffee was a food group, a situation you weren't sure he was ready for yet.

Hell, you weren't even sure you were ready for this yet, which was probably why you hadn’t made any decision other than to just carry on working like nothing was wrong until such a time as the answer came to you... if it came to you... or perhaps the universe would answer it for you...

Why else would you be risking your neck here in this warehouse, late at night, distracting yourself and delaying the inevitable moment where you’d be forced to chose?

After all, inaction was still action in this kind of situation. You knew you couldn't keep putting off the conversation forever, but that didn't make it any easier to know what to say or do in this situation.

Thankfully, that was the moment you were startled from your spiralling thoughts as footsteps echoed across the room.

You recognised the sound as someone came in, closing the squeaking rusted door you’d already entered through.

“Sophia?”

You watched as the girl crept from the darkness, nervously tugging at her sleeves.

You paused.

As timid as Sophia had seemed previously when you met one another, you still felt something was off as she moved towards you. It was like the energy rolling off of her was wrong... sending shivers running down your spine as you felt your fingers twitch towards the gun sat at your side.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, over here,” you called, “I was starting to think you weren't going to show.”

It was like watching a rabbit, twitching, with wide eyes, like she was about to bolt at the first sound. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?” you asked. “It’s ok. You could have called to say you were going to be late but-”

Then you heard it.

The click as the gun was cocked behind you.

Without even turning you knew you had been betrayed.

“Sophia,” you sighed, trying not to let the fury show on your face as you stared at the sobbing girl in front of you. After all, you couldn’t really blame her had you been in her situation. You should have expected it, actually. The call had been far too easy and the information too tantalising for the DEA to pass up.

Still, that didn’t change the fact you were now here… stuck… held at gun point by the two men who had entered the room when you weren’t looking.

Shit.

You really had been distracted tonight and now you were paying the price for your mistakes.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology was barely audible through the girl’s tears.

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

You watched as one of the men kept his gun trained on you, whilst the other marched over to Sophia and shoved the wad of cash into her hand before pushing her out the door in a clear message to beat it. They had what they wanted, as did Sophia - she had her life and her freedom, for now.

Who knew how long it would actually last...

Hell, who knew how long you’d last given this sudden change of events?

The door had barely shut behind her when the man who’d given her the cash turned back towards you.

“So, you’re the one who’s been snooping around? Trying to get our girl to talk?” he teased, his tone cold and mocking. “Don’t you know what happens to little girls who stick their noses in places it don’t belong?”

The threat was clear as he grinned, his friend walking around you so that you could see the gun held in his hand, pointing directly at you.

Your own gun was snatched from its position at your side, tucked instead into the man's jeans for safe keeping.

“Well, lucky for you, the boss wants to know what you know, and where you got that intel from,” your captor continued, his tone oozing with a sick satisfaction. “If you tried to make a rat out of Sophia, who knows who else you’ve got squeaking away in your gringo ear. So, you see, we can’t just kill you, else I’d be pulling this trigger right here and now… but when we’re through with you, you’ll wish I had.”

You couldn't help it. You flinched as the man nearest you stepped closer, gesturing towards the door with his gun in an obvious signal.

“Move,” he hissed. “Now.”

Shit.

You take a deep breath, trying to remind yourself that you weren’t alone. That your comms were still in place, and that there were still men positioned outside the warehouse. The moment you emerged, with two men holding you at gun point they would be surrounded.

But would that be before or after they had the chance to pull the trigger and plant a bullet in the back of your skull?

You’d seen enough of these hostage situations to know how they went down, to know that the hostage didn’t always make it out… the directive was to remove the sicarios - they were the priority.

Not you.

It was that thought that made your stomach roll as you began to move, legs shaking so hard you weren’t sure you could stand.

"Where are we going?” you stammered, you mouth so dry you can hardly form the words.

“Shut up, bitch," the thug sneered, shoving you forward. You could practically taste his contempt. “Keep walking unless you want me to shoot you in the leg and drag you myself.”

You knew he’d do it too. He seemed the type to be cruel - to get off on inflicting pain and exercising what tiny slither of power he had.

However, you also knew that letting these guys move you to a second location was as good as a death sentence.

No, this was it.

You had to make your final stand here and now if you even wanted a chance of making it out of this in one piece.

It was for that reason you said a silent prayer before clenching your fists. Two on one… it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst odds either. You just had to be smart. After all, they needed you alive for now - they’d foolishly revealed that much.

You could work with that.

"You do realise that waiting outside those doors is a whole bunch of DEA agents, right?" you jabbed. "You walk outside with that gun pointed at me and you're dead."

"Shut up, bitch," the man with the gun snapped back sharply. "You think we're gonna fall for that? Nice try. Now, get moving."

"Hey, it's your funeral."

"I said shut up-"

"Dude, maybe we should go out the other way," his colleague interjected, the hesitation exactly what you'd been hoping for. "We can get the van round out the back, off the road and out of sight of any police."

"No."

You took the distraction as your cue.

The moment you felt the gun drop from your back you were on them, throwing the weapon upwards and sending the resulting shot up into the ceiling.

Your foot was next, smashing up between the man’s legs in a well rehearsed manoeuvre, followed by your elbow slamming into the other man's face, stopping him before he could reach for you.

The few precious seconds you'd bought yourself were all you needed to make a run for it, bolting back towards the doors up ahead.

Your fingers reached up, squeezing the switch on the side of the mic you had taped under your collar, ready to call for back up.

But you never got the chance.

Your fingers had just grazed the switch when you felt something collide with you from behind. A great weight that sent you crashing down onto the ground, hard.

You tried to roll over, only to be met with a fist slamming into your face, too fast for you to even try and block him.

The ferocious assault caused your head to bounce off of the concrete with a sickening thud. Pain exploded, your eyes filling with tears, and your vision blurred as the shock of the impact resonated, unleashing agony that pulsed through your skull.

A silent cry escaped your lips, full of shock and pain.

Shit.

Your assailant jumped off of you, following through with a swift, vicious kick to your ribs, knocking all the air from your lungs with the force of the blow.

Scrunching your eyes tightly, you tried to fight the nausea and pain, to fight for a precious breath.

“Stop,” you begged, hating how weak you sounded. However, something inside you roared, an urge to fight taking over you - but not just for yourself, but for the future that was growing inside of you... a future you hadn’t been sure of until right now…

Now, as you stood to lose it.

It suddenly didn’t matter if Javi wanted this baby or not, or if he would be happy or terrified or disappointed. What mattered was that he would never get the chance to be any of those things, to decide for himself, to have the opportunity to choose what life he wanted.

He needed to know… you couldn’t die here, without him knowing…

“Stop, please!" you pleaded. "I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant!”

Without even thinking, you curled your legs in tight, huddling into a ball and trying to block your stomach before he could land the next blow.

However, it never came.

“Hold on!” your assailant’s partner scolded. "Not here. The boss wants her alive for now.”

He paused. "The bitch deserves it!"

Then you heard it - the door slamming open. The thundering of boots running across concrete towards you. Orders barked in Spanish.

You watched as your assailants silently gaped in horror, raising their hands above their heads as they were suddenly surrounded by figures...

Why was it so hard, all of a sudden, to make things out?

It was hard to distinguish one sound from another, to see anything beyond colours and shapes as your world began to dissolve. The warehouse was replaced by a dark haze that seemed determined to consume you no matter how hard you fought against it.

“Y/N!”

Javi’s voice echoed in your ears, a swirling sound full of panic, yet it somehow made you feel calm... safe...

“Y/N!”

“Javi,” you croaked, as you felt yourself slipping into the darkness.

Your body had turned into cement.

That was the first thought that crossed your muddled mind as you felt the beginnings of consciousness returning to you. It was as if every part of you had decided to refuse to respond to your demands, held down by invisible weights.

You'd been knocked unconscious once or twice before in your lifetime, but this grogginess was a first... an uncomfortable and disconcerting force, trapping you on the brink of the land of living.

You had no choice but to lay there, helplessly listening to the sounds around you, each becoming clearer as your faculties gradually returned

Machinery beeping.

Footsteps passing in the hallway.

Voices caught in frantic conversations.

"- Javi, calm down. I know. I'm the one who should be feeling guilty, letting her walk in there by herself." "We all thought the meet was secure, Murphy. How could we know she was gonna turn on us? And Y/N, the crazy, stupid - Why didn't she tell me?"

Javi’s voice was full of anguish.

"Dude, calm down. Y/N’s the strongest person I know. She’s alive and gonna wake up. You heard the doctor, the swelling in her head is down and she’s going to wake up. That’s all that matters now. You can discuss the baby, and what you’re going to do, later."

The baby? You caught the words, a weird rush of relief flooding through you at the confirmation that your baby was alright...

Thank god.

And Javi knew?

That thought echoed over and over in your mind as you felt yourself beginning to fade back into the darkness from which you had come.

Stubble softly scraping the back of your hand was the first thing you noticed when you finally came to. That, and the pressure of someone squeezing your hand tightly.

You knew the grip without even opening your eyes. You'd felt it often enough, the rough calloused hand holding yours, brushing against you, touching every single part of you... "You've got to wake up, honey," came an also familiar sound, luring you ever closer to the land of the living.

You'd know that voice anywhere, considering it had become your constant companion. It was the first thing you heard every morning and the last thing you heard at night.

"Please," it continued. "I'm so sorry, ok? Sorry for everything - for making you feel like you couldn't tell me about this. Just... shit... I need you to wake up, cause I fucking love you and I can't- can't lose you-"

Somehow, that was all it took. Those words flipped a switch inside you, allowing you to find the strength to peel your eyes open and register the full extent of your surroundings - including the man sat beside you.

Turning your head, you were greeted with a sight so perfect a part of you thought you must still be dreaming.

Javi.

Sat next to you, you realised he had your hand pressed to his cheek, his lips pressing soft kisses to it in between words.

He didn't seem to notice the fact that you had stirred, so lost in his desperation. It was probably why he jumped, flinching as you reached over with your free hand to run your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too," you croaked in greeting.

“Y/N?”

Javi had never seemed so fragile as he did then. Eyes wide, he looked nothing like the ice-cold DEA agent you often glimpsed in the field. Instead, he looked like one good gust of wind would send him toppling to the ground had he not already been sat down in one of the plastic chairs that you had come to recognise from your repeated visits.

“Javi, where - where am I?" you continued softly, "What happened? What day is it?" "Sssh. It’s alright. It's almost Saturday. You've been unconscious for over twenty-four hours, even if it felt fucking longer.” His hands were warm as they cupped both sides of your face, guiding you towards him as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

It was as if neither of you could get close enough to one another, you curling yourself eagerly into his side, breathing in the soft scent of his cologne and cigarette smoke.

“I... I’m sorry,” you choked, the words tumbling out of you before you could even realise what you were saying. “It was my fault. I should have known that something was wrong-”

“No,” Javi scolded, tensing at your guilt-ridden tone. "No, don't say that. Don't - don't do that to yourself. This isn't on you. It's a fuck up - a colossal fuck up, yes, but one we didn't see coming. We vetted the source. She was good. We cleared the meet with Carillo and the Ambassador... there was no way we could have prevented this."

"But-?"

"Carino. Stop. Please," he begged. Yes, Javi actually begged and it was enough to stun you into silence. "I just... talking about the meet? I honestly don't care about all that right now. The who, why how of what happened will still fucking be there later... but right now? Now, you're here... you're alive... and you're finally awake."

His tone melted your heart, making you somehow wish you could absorb every ounce of pain he was experiencing. It hurt you, to know you had caused the man you loved such agony. In a way, you'd had a slightly easier time of it, being the one to sleep through the after math of this disaster. He had had the hardest job; waiting, watching, and worrying.

You knew that pain yourself, having experienced it firsthand since your arrival in Colombia. You'd never forget how it had nearly torn you apart, waiting as Javi had been admitted after a close shave in a shoot-out.

Those two days had felt like an eternity. Two days with no news... just sitting and waiting and praying.

“I ... I could hear you, by the way.”

“What?”

“I heard you,” Javi repeated softly, snapping you out of your head and solidly back into the present, “over the radio. I heard what you said when those assholes hit you - about the baby-”

You froze.

Despite knowing that this moment would inevitably come, now that it was finally upon you, you suddenly wished you were back in the realm of unconsciousness you'd just come from.

"Javi," you began nervously, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, don't be mad at me-"

“-Well, too bad, sweetheart because I am mad. So mad," he exclaimed sharply, "I'm mad at you for not telling me, for putting yourself in danger like that, knowing you're pregnant. I’m not saying you had to decide to keep it or whatever, but it would have been fucking nice to be asked. To know. To not find out after you put yourself on the line." "I- I didn't know what else to do."

“And I’m sorry for making you feel like that,” Javi added swiftly, his tone softening with every passing moment.

It was like watching the air deflating out of a tire, the fear and the rage dissipating almost as quickly as it had first appeared.

“I get it, why you may not have wanted to tell me... I’m mad at myself that you felt you had to do this alone. I thought you’d trust me enough to know I’d support you, no matter what you decided.”

“I do, Javi,” you sobbed, unable to prevent a tear from escaping your eye. “I just... I got scared and I panicked. I think keeping it secret was more my way of pretending this wasn't real, that I could act like it wasn't happening, that I had more time.”

Silence.

“Javi, please say something. Anything...”

"What's there to say? You're pregnant." He shrugged in a desperate attempt to look nonchalant, but you could see the truth. Underneath it all, Javier Peña was utterly terrified.

It didn't matter how much he tried to hide it behind that calm swagger of his, and the crossing of his arms over his chest - you knew him better than anyone. You'd seen him at his very best and his very worst. Such was the lot of living in a war zone, let alone falling in love in one.

Fighting the urge to let your tears escape your burning eyes, you reached over and took his hands in yours. To your relief, he didn't fight you. Instead, he lifted his gaze, his eyes wide and telling you all you needed to know without even asking.

He had obviously spent the last 24 hours mulling the entire situation over and over in his head since the moment he had first heard the news. Lord knows he'd probably imagined each and every possible outcome for the future... your future... "Y/N, I don't know what to say or do. I never even thought about being a parent."

"Me either..." you confessed, relieved to finally be able to say the words aloud to the man who'd needed to hear them the most. "I mean, could the timing be better? yes. I never pictured something like this happening so early on, but it has and now we have a choice to make. To have longer, just the two of us... Or to become a family of three, but either way we'll work it out together. I will love you unconditionally, no matter what you choose but you're my partner, Javi. You have a say in this too. We're a team."

"Y/N," Javi whispered, his voice pained. "I ... I thought I'd lost you... back there in that warehouse, seeing you lying on the ground, knowing I could have lost you, lost this - it was all my worst fears realised." Gently taking your head between his hands, he wiped the tears away. "I love you, too," he declared. "And... if you want this, with me, then I'll try to be a good father."

It was as if a weight had been taken off of you. To know that he was with you, no matter what... that was all you'd ever wanted.

"That's all I can ask for, Javi," you whimpered, failing to hide the playful smile that fell into place, "because let's face it; you don't have much choice anyway, because I'm not going anywhere."

Javi's own signature smirk tugged at his lips. “Good, because I can't lose you... I can't be left with just Murphy. Can you imagine? We'd drive ourselves into an early grave.”

"Javi!"

It felt blissful for you both the be able to laugh again. To joke like nothing had changed between you, even if it had - for the better, ultimately.

“Speaking of... Where’s Steve?”

Javi paused. “Went with Connie to get coffee - I feel I should mention that Steve’s pissed you didn't tell him too, you know.”

You groaned. You weren't surprised. “I’ll add him to the list of apologies. Do you think making him and Connie godparents would make it better?”

“Woah there,” Javi scoffed, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. “One day at a time, querida. One day at a time.”

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darth-mortem · 3 months

Text

This is a first chapter of my COD fic "At the Crossroads of the Worlds" translated bu @g8se.

Task force "141" was sent to clean up a secret laboratory, the research of which was financed by states recognized as sponsors of terrorism. The soldiers broke into a bunker located in the Caucasus Mountains on the Russian-Georgian border. At first, everything went according to plan, but after the fighters split up, Ghost came across a strange room, the door of which locked automatically the moment he was inside. Without knowing it, Simon Riley had set off an experiment that had been brewing here for years, and now he would have to be very strong to finally return home.

Chapter 1 of 6. 2084 words.

Past character death, angst, action, secret lab, experiment, parallel worlds

August 15, 2030. Georgian-Russian border. Caucasus Mountains. Coordinates classified. Experiment status: Prepared for the first stage. Research No. 16/3. Reality LW-414/2030. Attempt to transport into reality LW414/2016.

Captain Simon "Ghost" Riley walked slowly down the corridor, illuminated by the bright, cold light of built-in lamps on the walls and ceiling. He held his assault rifle at the ready and listened to the conversations of other members of Task Force 141 through the earpiece of his radio. The unit had split up ten minutes ago, and its members were now inspecting all levels of the bunker, each carrying out their assigned tasks. Some engaged in clearing operations, facing armed guards head-on, while others searched for information and civilian personnel in this classified scientific facility funded by the budgets of several countries - sponsors of terrorism, including Russia, Iran, Palestine, and several others.

Ghost inspected this level of the bunker alone. The commander of Task Force 141, Major Price, had ordered the soldiers to form groups of two or three, but Simon didn’t follow this order. He hadn't followed them for seven years since that fateful day, when a bullet from the Russian terrorist Makarov's pistol took the life of Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

For Ghost, John wasn't just a partner or a fellow soldier; he was the one who saw beyond the terrifying skull mask and recognized a human in him. He made Simon feel alive again. John reminded him of how to be happy, laugh, and love. He was Ghost's personal ray of sunshine, and when he was gone, the light went out forever.

Riley couldn't come to terms with it and continue to live a full life. He kept his distance from everyone and didn't even try to socialize with the new members of the unit. People came and went, and Simon didn't even bother to remember their faces. At some point, he considered leaving the army altogether, but then he realized that he didn't know how to do anything else, so he stayed. The only person Simon occasionally spoke to outside of missions was Price. He knew that Simon felt guilty for John's death, which is why he turned a blind eye to Ghost's insubordination, especially considering that he was still the most effective member of Task Force 141.

The doors to his right of swung open, and his reflexes kicked in before his brain. The man in a white lab coat received a devastating blow to the face with the butt of the rifle and fell like a felled tree. Captain Riley dragged him into the room he had emerged from and quickly secured him to a pipe using plastic ties.

“Bravo 0-7, took another one,” Ghost reported over the radio. “Checking the last rooms on the sixth level.”

“Copy, Bravo 0-7,” he heard Price's response. “Try to find out what they were up to. We're almost done clearing the fifth level and heading down to you. Copy?”

“Crystal clear,” Ghost frowned, and the corners of his lips under the mask drooped. “Bravo 0-7, out.”

He didn't need assistance. Riley could handle it on his own and escort the captives. But he never argued with Price during missions. Ghost might not follow his orders, but for other soldiers, the authority of the major had to remain unquestionable.

After surveying the room, Ghost went out and headed towards the last set of doors at the end of the corridor. Behind them, was a desolated room in absolute chaos. Chairs were scattered on the floor, papers strewn about, monitors partially turned off, only a few displaying some unintelligible numbers and symbols that constantly changed each other. There could be something useful here, but before sitting at the computer and attempting to extract information, Ghost moved towards another set of doors in the far corner of the room. These were massive air-tight doors with a complex opening mechanism. Opposite them stood a table with several monitors, and looking at them, Simon understood that one of them seemingly transmitted views from several cameras installed in the room behind the mysterious doors. Why this was necessary, the captain did not understand, as the small room behind the doors was absolutely empty. Its walls were covered in some silvery material, thick wires protruding in places. Also, Riley noticed several panels with small screens and numerous LED indicators.

“Bravo 0-7,” Ghost spoke, examining the locking mechanism of the air-tight doors on the room's interior monitor, “it seems I've found something.”

“What exactly, Bravo 0-7?” Price asked.

“Don't know yet,” Riley replied. “Trying to figure it out.”

“Be careful,” the major said. “Bravo 6, out.”

Simon glanced at the other monitors. Two code designations immediately caught his eye: LW414/2030 and LW414/2016. A progress bar flickered between them, showing ninety-eight percent, followed by calculations of adjustments in meters and, for some reason, in hours. Simon couldn't comprehend what it was exactly because everything was encrypted. He tried to look at the papers, but it was even worse, so without further delay, Riley approached the air-tight doors and pulled the lever of the opening mechanism.

As soon as he entered the small square room, Simon smelled the electrified air. An orange light started flashing above the door, and instead of the voices of the soldiers he heard a buzzing noise of interference in his earpiece. Some contour that ran around the entire perimeter of the room opened after the doors were unlocked and now lit up in red. A mechanical female voice from a speaker hidden somewhere in the wall began to repeat something persistently in a language Ghost did not know, and then the doors automatically closed, and the lever of the mechanism moved into the "locked" position. The contour closed, its colour changed from red to green, and the voice from the speaker said something else, after which it started a countdown.

“Fucking hell,” Riley cursed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and rushing towards the doors. “Bravo 0-7 calling Bravo 6! Bravo 6, can you hear me?”

There was no response. There wasn't even interference, just dead silence. Ghost grabbed the lever, tried to turn it, but all in vain, despite the fact that the captain was a very physically strong person.

The electrifying sensation intensified. The air distinctly smelled of ozone, and sparks began to run along the walls following complex and tangled contours. Riley retreated to the centre of the room, gritting his teeth. The room was too small to blast the doors, and they were so massive that it might not work anyway. The countdown continued, electrical discharges intensified, and then Ghost saw how the laces of his boots lifted into the air. The same happened with other elements of his gear – at first with smaller items, but gradually even heavier objects, like his assault rifle, which the lieutenant grabbed by the strap and pulled towards himself.

“Bravo 6,” Ghost tried once more without any hope, “John, can you hear me? Respond!”

The captain felt his feet lifting off the floor, where lines of contours were also glowing. Numbers and symbols appeared on the screens of the panels, all indicators lit up green, and then the accumulated static turned into a powerful electrical arc that pierced Ghost's body, sending him into oblivion.

Consciousness returned to him slowly but surely. Riley felt the cold wind piercing through his clothes and gear. Somewhere nearby, he could hear rumbling, and these sounds seemed familiar, but Ghost couldn't recall what exactly could be the source.

Captain Riley could only open his eyes on the third attempt. Above him was the overcast sky shrouded in led clouds. He lay on the ground, arms outstretched, listening to the rumbling of... the helicopter rotor!

Simon didn't understand what was happening. He remembered being trapped in a small room deep underground in the bunker. He remembered something strange happening to him, a jolt of wildly powerful electricity, and... he found himself here. And now, as he slightly raised himself and looked around, Ghost realized where exactly this "here" was. The landscape around him was familiar – it was what the members of Task Force 141 saw when they landed and headed towards the entrance to the bunker. Perhaps, Major Price or someone from the team managed to open those doors from the outside. They found Ghost in the blackout and brought him to the surface. So, the helicopter he hears is their evacuation transport.

Having reasoned this way, Ghost stood up, hoisted his assault rifle, and headed towards the sound. Of course, it was strange to be left alone here, but perhaps the soldiers were occupied with captives, and someone went for supplies. Captain Riley, however, felt better, and overall quite normal for someone who got electrocuted. The radio was still silent, but Simon had already climbed a small hill, saw the helicopter, and people around. Captain Riley was about to shout that he was okay when suddenly he realized that these people were not members of Task Force 141. Moreover, it seemed they were enemies. They surrounded two soldiers, one of whom seemed to be seriously injured. The other was supporting him on his shoulders and wouldn't have time to grab his weapon when one of the men – presumably the leader – pulled out his pistol and pointed it at his chest.

Simon didn't know what was happening, but he saw a patch with the British flag on the sleeve of the man the other was aiming at. Without thinking for another second, Captain Riley swung his assault rifle off his shoulder, released the safety, and, chambering a round, fired a short burst into the air, drawing attention to himself.

They started to shoot at Ghost, so he ran, ducking and returning fire, and when the distance closed, he pulled out and threw several metal knives one after another, reducing the number of enemies. The soldier with the British flag carefully laid his comrade on the ground and remained by his side, also starting to return fire. Now Ghost could see his balaclava with a skull print and the bald head of the enemy leader, who, realizing that something had gone awry, was trying to retreat to the helicopter.

"Hey, you!" Ghost found himself next to the guy in the balaclava and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Kill the pilot! Come on, let's go!"

He nodded and ran around the helicopter. Captain Riley stayed with the wounded soldier and quickly replaced the magazine in his rifle. Meanwhile, the bald man turned around, raising his pistol again, and Ghost froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Shepherd?" he finally exclaimed. "It can't be!"

After Johnny’s death, Price himself killed the traitor of a general with his own hands, yet here he was, staring at Ghost with a cold gaze and aiming a pistol at him.

A gunshot echoed. The bullet hit Simon in the chest, but it didn't get through the armoured plate. Captain Riley, purely on reflexes, returned fire. A burst from his assault rifle tore through Shepard's body, and he fell. Another soldier in a balaclava was already running toward Riley, wielding his weapon.

"Shepard is a traitor!" he shouted. "I just received a message from the captain!"

"We need to get out of here," Ghost got up, rubbing his chest. "Let's carry your friend into the heli. Provide him with first aid. I'll take the pilot's seat. Just tell me where to fly."

Two soldiers, both hiding their faces behind skull masks, picked up the third one and brought him into the helicopter. The situation was strange, even wild, but Simon strangely felt neither suspicion nor doubt towards his new companion. On the contrary, this man seemed eerily familiar and inspired absolute trust in Simon. And it appeared that the guy in the balaclava felt the same way about Riley. He didn't ask who his unexpected rescuer was or where he came from, haven’t even asked for Ghost's name. However, Ghost didn't waste time on etiquette either. After receiving the coordinates for the flight, Riley focused on piloting the helicopter, glancing at the dashboard. Somewhere there, they would meet a captain, likely the leader of these two soldiers. Most likely, he could clarify the situation and provide Ghost with information about what happened to TF 141 and where to find them.

“We’re almost there,” Ghost reported, having replaced his dead radio with the one that belonged to the pilot of this helicopter. “How's your friend?”

“Solid,” came the response. “Our guys are already waiting, so land here!”

“Roger that,” Riley replied briefly and started to land, glancing at the two soldiers who were waving at the helicopter.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #parallel universe #09 ghost #gary roach sanderson #shepherd cod #fix it fic #simon riley #fanfiction #work in progress

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savage-rhi · 9 months

Text

Mending Shadows // Chapter 1

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Two years before the fall of Insomnia…

Eos’s night sky was scattered with stars and bustling with vibrant colors. Purples and blues danced side by side in the cosmos while constellations signaled their presence. There was a robust earthy scent throughout the Duscae region, symbolizing that the spring rains had dwindled down. Even with the engine of the car roaring, Ardyn occasionally heard Anaks and other creatures let out their nightly bellows and chirps. The Lucian kingdom was always active. Life could flourish in even the darkest of crevices. Even someone such as Ardyn himself.

Static began to chime from the Vixen’s radio. Ardyn adjusted the frequency so he could listen in.

The war continues to rage between Niflheim and Lucis. The impasse among political leaders is still in effect. It has been reported from King Regis’s councilmen, that Emperor Adlercapt and his advisers have rejected the proposed consolidations. “...We have failed to appease Niflheim’s tyrannical appetite, and we strongly urge the imperial representatives to reconsider our offer.” A spokesperson stated.

King Regis had this to say about the failed negotiations. “...Our doors remain open to Emperor Aldercapt should he wish to meet in the middle. This does not mean the people of Lucis will tolerate this ongoing grotesque invasion from Niflheim. If an inch of Lucian soil is tainted by the empire's weaponry while both countries remain locked in negotiations, I will respond with strength.”

King Regis’s statement has been met with praise and contention. An imperial councilman stated the following: “...The king assumes Niflheim is full of savages. We imperials wish to usher in a new era by spreading our wealth among the Lucian kingdom. Niflheim’s technology and advancements are essential to the world at large, and it is Emperor Aldercapt's wish to ensure the people of Lucis don’t get left behind.”

An imperial adviser who was at the negotiation table between Lucis and Niflheim had this to say regarding the recent fallout. “...The people of Lucis have been grossly misinformed. Emperor Aldercapt has declined to accept anything for now until Chancellor Izunia returns from his leave of absence. As an act of good faith, Emperor Aldercapt will establish a ceasefire, until he hears his final advisements from the Chancellor and his counsel."

It has been reported that Chancellor Izunia has taken to illness. There is no word for when he will return to the Emperor's side.

Both parties of the war have reported feeling relief from the ceasefire recently established. King Regis stated his appreciation earlier this week, giving hope that the next round of negotiations will bear fruit. “...I will forward the courtesy to the Emperor. The armies of Lucis will stand down for as long as the imperials halt their movement. I wish Niflheim’s Chancellor good health while he rests.”

The kingdom of Lucis will be celebrating prince Noctis’s 18th birthday next week. The prince couldn’t be reached for comment. King Regis will--

“Spoiled brat…” Ardyn huffed and turned the radio off. He sighed, having enough of the real world for the time being. His place in the war was important, but in the grand scheme of things it was of little consequence to his personal endeavors. So long as he could get Niflheim from point A to point B, Ardyn didn’t care much about current events or the emperor's trivial affairs. He lazily gripped the steering wheel of his car and made a left onto a back road after coming to the edge of the highway.

The detour Ardyn took was a perilous one. He was surprised the Vixen was able to withstand the intense vibrations generated by the debris below the tires. Every few seconds, the car would bounce, causing his body to shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat. Ardyn gritted his teeth and bore most of the impact. Occasionally a curse would depart his lips, but he was quiet. Had it not been for the companion on the passenger's side, there was no doubt Ardyn would’ve behaved irrationally. At the very least, he would’ve loudly exclaimed his disdain for the road. He wasn't one to shy away from road rage on his lonesome. However, in the presence of company, Ardyn liked to keep up appearances that he was precise and collected. A gentleman by all counts. For the public to see his true colors, it would unravel everything he had worked hard to manipulate.

Y/N was sleeping soundly curled up in the seat opposite Ardyn. The Chancellor's long black coat draped over them like an oversized blanket. Ardyn side-eyed Y/N’s body, turning his head when it was safe to take his eyes off the road. Even in the darkness, he could make out their exhausted features. The spider web veins of the scourge had receded away from their face. He was disappointed that patches remained, but progress was progress. At least Y/N’s color was returning.

“Oh dear,” Ardyn quietly sighed. His shoulders slouched while he leaned back into the driver's seat. From the distance, he could see the first rays of the sun begin to peak over the mountains. It was only a matter of time before his skin would burn from the warmth of the light. At this point in the game, Ardyn was used to it. His cells could regenerate quickly enough to where there would be no long-term damage. It didn’t make the experience any less painful. Alas, Y/N needed the protection of his garb more than he did and thus Ardyn allowed Y/N to continue resting. He could get his coat back at a later time.

Though he was calm, Ardyn was enraged at himself. He should’ve disposed of Y/N. Killing them would’ve been the ultimate act of mercy given how the scourge ravaged their soul. Ardyn could practically feel Y/N’s very atoms call out for release. The daemons and minds he carried in himself debated against his choices. Ultimately, the ends justified the means as far as Ardyn was concerned.

“Ridiculous though, isn’t it?” Ardyn said aloud to himself. He doubted Y/N could hear anything, much less be conscious enough to comprehend his words. “This…wasn’t part of the plan.”

For as confident, as he was, Ardyn didn’t anticipate a wrench being thrown into his plans. The fault lay with him though he tried to pin it on Y/N. He knew deep down the little spark of hope that was his humanity, appealed to his callous nature to take pity on them; to find purpose in keeping Y/N around.

“If this is your doing,” Ardyn bitterly said while his eyes briefly looked up at the stars. “I’ll make sure that you get a taste of misery when the end comes for the brat prince and myself.”

He doubted the dragon king--the great Bahamut--would pay his words any heed but it did erase some of the tension Ardyn had been bottling up.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind, to say the least. Not that it hadn’t been entertaining . Ardyn’s mission was a dangerous feat and no doubt would cause trouble. He wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, he was a far cry from the healer he once claimed to be. This Ardyn, Chancellor Izunia of Niflheim, thrived on chaos. He wielded it like a child that discovered his parents locked gun, and learned quickly how best to play with fire. In this case, even if Ardyn failed he’d still win in the end. Sabotage and diversion was part of the game and he managed to score both thus far against his opponent. A common foe he shared with Y/N which in turn led him to this odd relationship.

“What am I to do with you?” Ardyn thought aloud. His hardened gaze once more landed on Y/N’s body. The muscles around his eyes eased, and Ardyn could feel himself relax. It was kind of nice having a partner in crime. Not that he’d admit it aloud. As far as Y/N was concerned, Ardyn didn’t want them to get the idea he did them a favor out of the kindness of his heart. No. Every action carried a price. That was how Ardyn viewed his relationships with most. The mentality left little to no room for emotional attachment.

“Yet here you are,” Ardyn muttered bitterly. His hands gripped the steering wheel, concentrating his frustrations into the pads of his fingertips. The Vixen continued to stroll over the endless terrain with Ardyn determined to keep driving until he reached his checkpoint.

Hours passed since Ardyn began his journey, and he settled down at an establishment with Y/N in tow. When asked about Y/N’s precarious state of rest, Ardyn concocted an emotional tale on the fly to the bookkeeper. The story worked its charm and gained the sympathies Ardyn was looking for. The hush money he added as “tip” also garnered him privacy in case his adversaries decided to snoop around.

Once Ardyn placed Y/N on the couch, he looked around the hotel room and rubbed the back of his head. The face he made was one of indifference. The place was shallow compared to Ardyn’s refined tastes, but it would make due until Y/N would wake up again.

Sleep was a commodity an immortal such as himself didn’t need much of, the same could be said for food and drink. Ardyn however needed a break. Laying dormant for a few hours and letting his body be was the best medicine for his current ailment. Having the scourge was a painful curse. Every day for every hour and second, Ardyn’s body was in a state of turmoil. Akin to being stabbed twice over in all the nooks and crannies his vessel contained. If the daemons and minds he absorbed weren’t giving him strife, his physical form took the mantle. Despite being numb to the scourge for 2,000 years, even he had his bad days.

There had to be drawbacks to his immense power, and having the gift of immortality. The Gods needed to have their checks and balances. And on Bahamut’s end, give Ardyn that extra push to carry out the prophecy of ending the Lucis Caelum bloodline. Ardyn understood that even if he didn’t wish to proceed with familicide, living forever wasn’t an option. Not in this sorry state.

While Ardyn made himself comfortable in the room after tucking Y/N in, he grimaced hearing the sound of his cell phone going off. Nonetheless, he was quick to answer the device.

“Are you enjoying your little escapade in Lucis, my friend?” Verstaels' voice cracked with amusement on the other end of the line.

“Very much so!” Ardyn chuckled. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, kicking off his boots, and shimmied out of his vest while keeping his cell phone pressed between his ear and right shoulder.

“MedZin is in shambles at the moment. Whatever documents they held dear relating to the scourge, and our research has been destroyed. All their drives were wiped along with key witnesses.”

“That a fact?” Verstael mused on the other end then hummed. “I didn’t anticipate you’d be so thorough in such little time given how tight security was reported.”

“It so hurts my feelings you doubt my prowess,” Ardyn smirked. He could feel a sense of pride swell in himself. He loved undermining Verstael’s assumptions. The old man had a dime a dozen these days.

“I made no such proclamations.” Verstael scoffed. “I must say, perhaps you are projecting? I sense from your voice that you are… winded .”

Ardyn glared while he adjusted his cell phone, now holding it like normal to his ear after his necessary clothes had been stripped away. He stretched his legs and grunted.

“I assure you, my friend, I am most euphoric.” Though they were cordial and had a respective friendship, neither Ardyn nor Verstael could deny the cold facts regarding their personalities: that each man had ambition and a large ego. It was inevitable they’d take friendly swipes at the other.

“Given your state of being,” Verstael began. “I assume you won’t be too upset when I inform you that your rendezvous point has been moved.”

“Moved?” Ardyn was appalled. He raised a brow.

“Yes. Moved.”

“I take it I’m not traveling to Galdin Quay as planned?”

“I’m afraid so,” Verstael sighed. “You’ve been out of the loop while playing your role, so allow me to explain what has been going on during your absence. Negotiations between Lucis and Niflheim have failed. Emperor Aldercapt claimed a ceasefire and Lucis agreed to it. While the armies are on break and focusing their efforts toward the west of Lucis, Aldercapt is moving the Niflheim armada to the seas between Lucis and Accordo. Should anything happen, you cannot afford to be seen in that vicinity. As far as Aldercapt is aware, you’ve been at a research lab recouping with my aid.”

Ardyn sighed and rubbed his forehead. He begrudgingly replied. “Of course, our beloved emperor would make such a bold move. He might as well offer the armada on a silver plate to the Lucian army at this rate.”

“For what it's worth,” Verstael interrupted. “I did try to persuade him otherwise. He wouldn’t have it.”

“Nothing I can’t fix when I return.” Ardyn mused. His tone was sly while his mind already concocted ways he could mold this unfortunate situation to his benefit. “I’m positive I can convince Aldercapt to take a more diplomatic approach.”

“That’s the spirit!” Verstael laughed. “As much as I’d enjoy ransacking the Lucians on the coast, it’s definitely not an area I’m keen on destroying. The resources alone are worth more than the armada itself.”

Ardyn was beginning to grow tired of the conversation. The more relaxed he became, the more his mind drifted into a numbing fog. A rare treat for the likes of himself who was constantly bombarded body and soul. Ardyn wanted to relish in it while he could, especially with not having to entertain Y/N while they slept.

“Where can I anticipate meeting with Niflheim’s finest?” Ardyn cut to the chase as the upper half of his body collided against the mattress. His legs continued to dangle off the edge of the bed, toes flexing every so often.

“Head toward Cape Shawe, but keep yourself northbound and inland. There’s a spot with no civilians where an airship can pick you up without detection. You’ll know when you see it. Personal guards will be at your disposal too, led by Commander Tummelt.”

“Grand,” Ardyn murmured. He didn’t have the energy to tell Verstael to be more specific. Not when he was so close to checking out his consciousness. Ardyn prepared to hang up until Vertsael cleared his throat, signaling he had at least one more matter to discuss.

“Did you happen to pick up anything or anyone from your little getaway? It’s imperative I know about it now.”

“Perhaps.” Ardyn chuckled.

“Perhaps?”

“I’m playing with an idea. That’s all I can elaborate on.”

Ardyn tensed. His head leaned up from the mattress, eyes locking onto Y/N who remained sound asleep on the couch with his coat bundled around them. He made a face, knowing he couldn’t remain silent forever nor keep Y/N’s presence away from his militant companion. The old man would find out sooner or later.

Verstael sighed. “This better not become a passion project that’ll get in the way.”

“Oh come now!” Ardyn laughed. “I thought you enjoyed it when I brought unwilling participants into our little schemes!”

“Not denying it,” Verstael scoffed. “But given the circumstances and risk of you being in enemy territory, I’m afraid I can’t ravish the thought.”

“You’ll come around, I’m sure.” Ardyn smiled and while the opportunity presented itself, he hung up and shut his cell phone off. There would be no more interruptions for the night.

Ardyn let out a breath he had been holding back and his racing thoughts dwindled down. He brushed some of his long locks away from his face, letting the deep maroon strands drift across the pillow behind him. He thought about his previous words. The muscles in his body tensed while he made a fist with his right hand.

It would be so easy to give Y/N to Verstael for experimentation. Ardyn had done it numerous times with many people. It was all part of a little game he and his companion shared to keep their projects cost-effective and without alerting Aldercapts treasury. Ardyn would use his charisma and status to lure people into his inner circle, and when the victim grew trusting toward him in full would he reveal the trap. He picked his targets with careful consideration, especially if there was a high likelihood they’d bear fruit toward Verstael’s experimentations with the starscourge.

Verstael wasn’t going to lay a hand on Y/N, that much Ardyn knew. Though he considered himself a corrupt man too far gone in his own misery, Ardyn prided himself on keeping promises. At least when he truly valued the other person. Y/N was still a precious commodity he needed. He’d keep his word to them, for now at least.

A painful throb began to flex on the underside of Ardyn’s skull. Grunting, he shut his eyes. Flashing images sprang forth into his peripheral while sounds echoed against his eardrums. Laughter, warmth, cities, and faces came and went. People Ardyn didn’t know but felt connected to. Experiences he himself never endured, but his body could remember every touch. Ardyn wished that Y/N’s memories were more coherent. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could undergo these random trespasses to his psyche.

Ardyn turned and lay down on his right side to ride out the experience. His golden eyes traveled down the length of his body, once more lingering on the couch. He watched Y/N’s chest rise and fall underneath the darkness of his long coat. Their breath was faint, and every so often they’d adjust and pull the jacket over themself when it would fall from their flesh. Ardyn glared at them. The contempt in his eyes was noxious. He wanted to snuff them out right then, and not have to worry about their welfare. Alas, a wave of possession forced Ardyn to relinquish the intrusive thought.

“Should’ve just left them behind,” Ardyn muttered bitterly to himself. Things would’ve been easier if he didn’t let his heart out of the cage for the first time in centuries, but he made his bed and needed to lie in it.

Ardyn closed his eyes, allowing remnants of what he assumed sleep felt like to wash over him. Maybe this time around he’d dream. Maybe he’d finally see a familiar face that wouldn’t haunt him. He had to hope. Just this once.

Notes:

This is my first attempt at writing a reader x canon fic, and writing with they/them pronouns. I myself am nonbinary, and I acknowledge that certain story elements are influenced by my experiences being a female bodied person. I hope despite this, that most readers will be able to enjoy themselves in this work. I don't have a timeline for chapter updates, other than to post when I have the spoons/hit points. Thank you for reading, and for being supportive 💙

#ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #reader x ardyn #ffxv fanfic #ffxv ardyn #back on my bullshit #its getting me through some difficult times in my life #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #nonbinary x canon character #ao3 #archive of our own

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misirosekisiro · 5 months

Text

Form dusk til dawn - patrols into the shadow - 1

งานรอบนี้ลองเปลี่ยนมาใช้ NovelAI จากที่ลองมาหลายอันอันนี้น่าจะเหมาะสำหรับเขียนนิยายมากที่สุด จุดเด่นน่าจะเป็นที่ระบบความจำไม่ได้แย่ขนาด AI dungeon ที่ข้ามไปไม่กี่บรรทัดมันก็ลืมเรื่องไปหมดแล้ว ยิ่งเรื่องตัวละครเยอะ ๆ แบบเรื่องนี้ เดี๋ยว ๆ คนตายไปแล้วโผล่มา คนที่โผล่มาอยู่ ๆ ก็หายไปเยอะมาก แต่ของ NovelAI นี่รู้สึกได้ว่าเสถียรกว่า แต่งง่ายกว่ามาก ข้อดีคือบทพูดเยอะ เป็นธรรมชาติ แต่บทบรรยายก็หายเหมือนกัน ขนาดใช้ prompts เดียวกันกับ AI อันอื่น ก็ต้องตามไล่ชี้นำให้ ในขณะที่ถ้าเป็น AI dungeon นี่จะอธิบายเป็นฉาก ๆ โดยอัตโนมัติถ้ามีการปรับ Author's Note เตรียมไว้แล้ว ยิ่งถ้าเป็น Dreampress นี่ไม่ต้องห่วงต้องมาคอยตัดทิ้ง ต้องคอยเบรค ไม่งั้นมันจะอธิบายไม่หยุด ขนาดเบรคแล้วมันยังไม่ค่อยหยุดเลย และอีกอย่างคือ AI ไม่งี่เง่ากับศิลธรรม ไม่พยายามพูดคุยกับฆาตกรที่กำลังจะแทงมีดเข้าใส่ AI dungeon ตัวที่แต่งลื่นที่สุดคือ GPT ai แต่มันปรับได้สุดแค่ความรุนแรงปานกลาง เรียกว่าพอเริ่มแรงมันหยุดแต่ง ต้องไปใช้ AI สำรองที่ก็แค่พอช่วยได้เป็นบางที่ หรือ Dreampress นี่ขนาด mode erotic ก็ยังมีเส้นศิลธรรมเด่นมาแต่ไกล เคยทดสอบตั้งให้เป็น chat ลองคุยแนวคิดของตัว AI มันยังยืนยันเลยว่าถูกตั้งมาให้หาทางออกโดยการคุยไว้ก่อน ทำให้แต่งยากมากถ้าเรื่องมีความรุนแรงเข้ามาเอี่ยว แต่ของ NovelAI นี่ฆ่าคือฆ่า เลือดสาดก็สาดสิ จะมีเซ็กซ์กันก็เอากันเลย เออนะเรียกว่าแต่งแนว NSFW ได้เหมาะที่สุดแล้ว

In the near future, Thailand has opened applications for ROTC students to join military service. This is due to Thailand entering an aging society, resulting in a declining birth rate and neighboring countries engaging in wars. The number of Thai soldiers has decreased due to the abolishment of mandatory military service. Through this application,ROTC students applying for military service will receive various benefits, but they must pass tests and evaluations based on their academic performance

So that bring us this story, It's was a dusk, helicopter which bring Thai ROTC team now approcing an abandon village. Helicopter laned, team B was gather in front of village's entrance. Look while helicopter was leave.

"Ok team, This mission was going be tough. But, Don't worry, We just need to keep our eye wide open, we can do it." said Korn, Leader of Team B.

"Yes, sir." Answered all Thai ROTC student together

Korn was check their situation, They were just 5 Thai ROTC students team.

Korn was a Thai ROTC student,17 years old. have black hair, dark eyes. and have a little bit muscle. He have a strong body. he is a good leader.

Pete was a Thai ROTC student. He have brown hair, a medium muscle build and light brown eyes. He was a good marksman. He had been the top student of his school.

Jake was a Thai ROTC student. He was a good scout.

Nam was a Thai ROTC student. He was a medic and a good boy.

Tae was a Thai ROTC student. He had been the second best in his school.

All 5 members of Team B were wearing Thai ROTC uniform, Olive Green military garb, olive green military tactical pants, black lether combat boots, olive green beret and a balaclava.

Each member was carrying a M1911 Pistol, M9 Bayonet combat knife, 10 rounds of ammo and 3 days supply and water.

"What do we have here?" Korn asked as he took off his helmet and pulled down his balaclava. The others did the same.

"Abandoned village." Pete replied.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I mean what do we have to do?"

"Patrol. From dusk till dawn. If the area is safe, we radio for backup."

"Ok, then. Let's go!"

Korn, Pete, Jake, Nam and Tae put their balaclavas back on, and set out into the village.

After a couple minutes, they find a small house.

"Should we check it out?" Jake asked.

"No." Pete replied. "We should stick together."

"We should." Korn agreed.

They continue to walk down the street, until they reach a crossroads.

"Which way should we go?" Korn asked.

"Left." Tae suggested.

"Right." Nam replied.

"I think we should go straight." Pete said.

"Alright, let's go." Korn agreed.

The 5 soldiers made their way through the village, carefully checking every building for any signs of life. Suddenly, they heard a loud crash coming from the building next to them.

"What was that?" Korn asked.

"It sounded like something fell over." Jake said.

"Could be a wild animal." Pete suggested.

"Let's check it out." Korn said.

"Shouldn't we just call for backup?" Tae asked.

"No. We need to make sure the village is safe first." Korn replied.

The 5 soldiers made their way into the building, their weapons at the ready. When they reached the source of the sound, they found a table lying on the floor, with its contents scattered all over the room.

"What happened here?" Korn asked.

"Must have been an animal." Pete replied.

"I don't think so. This looks like someone broke in here." Jake said.

"What do you mean?"

"Look. These doors are broken. Someone must have kicked them open."

"Or they could have just been old and rotted." Tae said.

"No. Look closer. The wood around the hinges is splintered. Someone used a lot of force to get inside."

"So what? Maybe the owner was in a hurry." Tae said.

"Maybe...But, I think we should be careful. We don't know what we're dealing with here." Jake said.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Let's just get back to patrolling." Korn said.

And so, the five soldiers continued their patrol through the village, checking each building for any signs of life.

"Hey, I think I saw something over there!" Nam said.

"What? Where?" Korn asked.

"Over there. By that house."

"I don't see anything."

"There. That shadow."

"Oh, yeah. I see it now."

"Let's go check it out."

Korn and the others approached the house, their weapons at the ready. They peeked through the window, but saw nothing.

"I guess it was nothing." Korn said.

"Should we investigate anyway?" Jake asked.

"What would we even find?" Pete asked.

"There might be a clue as to who broke in." Jake said.

"You've watched too many movies." Nam said.

"He's right." Korn said. "Let's check it out."

"This is a bad idea." Tae said.

The five soldiers entered the house, their weapons at the ready. As they stepped inside, they found themselves surrounded by darkness.

"Anyone got a flashlight?" Korn asked.

"Just use your phone." Pete replied.

Korn turned on his phone and used it to light the way. The others followed suit.

They made their way through the house, checking each room for any signs of life. However, all they found were dusty old furniture and cobwebs.

"There's nothing here." Korn said.

"I told you this was a waste of time." Nam said.

"Come on. Let's get back to patrolling." Pete suggested.

"Good idea." Korn said.

And so, the 5 soldiers continued their patrol, checking each building for any signs of life. They walked down the street, their footsteps echoing in the darkness. Suddenly, they heard a noise.

"Did you hear that?" Jake asked.

"Yes, I did." Korn replied.

The 5 soldiers stopped in their tracks, their weapons at the ready.

"Where is it coming from?" Pete asked.

"Up ahead." Tae replied.

"Should we check it out?" Jake asked.

"Of course, we should." Korn replied.

They made their way through the door, their weapons at the ready. They looked around the room, but saw nothing.

"There's nothing here." Korn said.

"That was probably just the wind." Pete said.

"Are you sure? What if it's something else?" Jake asked.

"We would have seen it." Tae said.

"Well, keep your eyes peeled anyway." Korn said.

They continued to explore the house, searching for any clues. After a few minutes, they came upon a locked door.

"We need to get in there." Korn said.

"I don't have a key." Jake said.

"Me either." Tae said.

"Let me try." Pete said.

Pete knelt down and started working on the lock. After a few seconds, he managed to pick the lock.

"Nice job." Korn said.

"Thanks." Pete replied.

"What do you think is in there?" Tae asked.

"Let's find out." Korn said.

He pushed the door open and led the way inside.

They were met with darkness.

"Do you think it's empty?" Nam asked.

"Maybe." Korn replied.

"Well, let's take a look." Tae suggested.

The five soldiers approached the door, their weapons at the ready. Korn grabbed the doorknob and slowly opened the door.

Inside, they saw nothing but darkness.

"It's empty." Jake said.

"I knew it." Pete said.

"Let's get out of here." Nam suggested.

"Wait." Korn said.

"Why?" Nam asked.

"Something's not right." Korn said.

Suddenly, the lights turned on. They were greeted by a gruesome sight.

The room was covered in blood, with several dismembered bodies strewn across the floor.

"Holy shit!" Nam said.

"What the fuck?!" Jake exclaimed.

"Who did this?" Pete asked.

"There's no time for questions." Korn said.

The five soldiers ran outside and tried to escape. But before they could get far, a mysterious figure appeared.

The man was dressed in a black cloak and wore a white mask. He held a butcher knife in his hand.

"Run!" Korn yelled.

The 5 soldiers split up and tried to escape. That man stop runing, see all ROTC students were run in seperate way. He giggle in in the throat. Then follow one of them silently.

5 Thai ROTC students now split, each one alone.

Nam, the medic, run for his life, his heart pounding, his breath labored. He can't believe what he saw in that house, the bloody massacre. He knows he has to get away, but he's not sure where to go. He runs through the deserted streets, his footsteps echoing in the night. He has to find somewhere to hide, somewhere to regroup. But where?

The killer was not far behind, stalking Nam as he fled. The man was wearing a black cloak and a white mask, making him look like a grim reaper. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, and his expression was unreadable. He was carrying a long, sharp knife in his right hand, and he moved with a deadly grace and purpose.

The two men were locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse, with only one surviving.

Nam's breath was ragged as he ran. He knew that the killer was close behind him, but he had no idea how close. The only thing that mattered was escaping, getting as far away as possible.

The streets of the abandoned village were eerily quiet, the only sounds the distant explosions and gunfire from the ongoing battle.

"Help me!" Nam shouted. "Somebody, please!"

But no one came.

The darkness closed in around him, and he felt his heart racing. Was this the end?

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

"No!" he cried.

"Yes," the killer hissed.

"No, please! I'm begging you!"

"You should have begged sooner."

The killer raised the knife and brought it down in a swift motion, slashing the soldier's throat. The soldier's eyes went wide with fear and shock but no blood form his wound. Nam witnessed a horrifying scene as his body started deflating to the ground. It was as if all his muscles and bones were vanishing. He couldn't control his body anymore, as none of his limbs moved in response to his brain's commands. In a few seconds, his entire body had shrunk to half its original size, his clothes hanging off his frame.

His body continued to shrink until he was completely flat. His skin stretched like an old piece of rubber, the edges beginning to curl. He watched in horror as his body turned into a large sheet of skin, his features fading away.

The killer strip himself from his own clothes and pick Nam's skin suit, put it on. The killer feel the sensation, the smell, the feel. "ohh" the killer said. Nam's skin suit, now the killer is wearing it, look normal. no one will notice that is not his body. The killer walk with new Nam's body, Nam's memories, Nam's skill.

He then look at pile of Nam's ROTC uniform on the ground. The killer pick it up and start put on it. He is wearing now Nam's stolen uniform, complete with Nam's name tag and Nam's ROTC badges. No one will notice the difference.

"Now, let's have some fun." the killer said, a smile spreading across his face.

Killer is now have Nam's memory, Nam's skills. Now he is Nam.

"Where is your team, Nam?" the killer asked himself.

Killer, now posing as Nam, start search his teammate.

Korn is the leader, he is still alive.

Killer now in front of Korn.

"Hey, you're okay, Nam?" Korn asked.

"I'm fine." Killer lied.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Korn said, pulling Killer towards the door. Killer see this is a good chance

to kill him. Walk follow behind unnotice Korn, Killer bring up a wire

from his backpack and tie it in a noose. He then loop the wire around

Korn's neck. With a sudden yank, Killer pulled the wire tight,

choking Korn.

Korn struggled to get free, but Killer had the upper hand.

Finally, Korn's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went limp.

Killer want to make sure Korn will be dead.

"Goodbye, my friend," Killer said as he cut off Korn's head with the butcher knife. The blood

sprayed everywhere, and the air filled with the scent of copper and death.

Killer still stay in Nam's skin.

"Only 3 left." he said to himself.

Now he know where and how many person.

Tae, communicator

Jake, scout

Pete, sniper

Kill them all.

Tae, the communicator, has found a place to hide. He is terrified and trying to contact the other members of his team, but no one is answering. He hears footsteps and sees the silhouette of a person walking towards him. Tae knows that if he is discovered, he will be killed.

The killer is now wearing the Skin Suit. He is disguised as Nam, the medic. He has the appearance, the voice, the mannerisms, the memories, and the skills of Nam. No one will suspect that the killer is not the real Nam.

Killer find Tae in his hiding spot.

"Nam? Is that you?" Tae asked.

"Yes, it's me," the killer replied, smiling.

"Oh, thank god. I was so scared," Tae said. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know," the killer replied.

"We have to find them," Tae said.

"I think they went this way," the killer said, pointing to a nearby alley.

"Are you sure?" Tae asked.

"Yeah, I think so," the killer replied.

The two men headed down the alley, unaware that they were walking into a trap.

Suddenly, the killer pushed Tae into the wall, knocking him out cold.

"Sorry, but you're too much of a liability," the killer said, smirking.

As the killer bent down to steal Tae's clothes, the man regained consciousness.

"Nam? What are you doing?" Tae asked.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" the killer replied.

"Recognize you? Of course I do. You're Nam."

"Not anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not the real Nam."

"You're crazy. You need help."

"No, I'm not. I'm wearing the real Nam's skin."

"That's impossible. You're just a figment of my imagination."

"No, I'm the real deal."

"Stop playing games. Who are you?"

"I'm Nam."

"You're not Nam. Where's the real Nam?"

"I'm right here."

"That's impossible. You're not him."

"But I am."

"How? How are you wearing Nam's skin?"

"I'm a special type of murderer. I'm able to kill my victims and then wear their skins."

"That's not possible."

With his trumble hands, Tae try to grab his pistal form his holster, but Nam grab his hand, and pull his arm toward his body, and push Tae's head with other hand. Tae's head hit the wall, and Tae pass out.

"Oh, you're heavy," Nam said, smiling.

Nam drag Tae to the room.

"Now, let's undress you," Nam said, smiling.

With his trumble hands, he begin to unzip Tae's pant.

"Hmmm... your underwear is wet," Nam said, sniffing it.

"You're such a naughty boy, Tae."

"But that's what makes you so much fun."

As he removed Tae's pants, he couldn't help but admire the sight before him. Tae's muscular legs were covered in a fine layer of black hair.

His wet underwear was clinging to his crotch, revealing the outline of his large cock.

"God, I could just eat you up," the killer said, licking his lips.

"You're going to be a tasty meal, Tae." He look at unconcious Tae with sexual passion.

The killer began to stroke Tae's cock through his underwear, feeling the dampness of the fabric.

"So wet for me, Tae," the killer said.

"Your body is responding to my touch, even though you're unconscious."

The killer then slid his hand inside Tae's underwear and began to stroke his cock.

"I'm going to make you cum in your underwear, Tae," the killer whispered.

"Then, I'm going to lick up every last drop."

The killer continued to stroke Tae's cock until the young man could no longer contain himself.

"Ahhh... fuck..." Tae moaned, his body twitching as he came in his underwear.

The killer smiled and licked his lips, savoring the taste of Tae's cum.

"So good," the killer murmured.

"But now it's time for me to take what I really want."

The killer pulled down Tae's wet underwear and tossed it aside. He stared at Tae's naked body, admiring the young man's toned muscles and thick, uncut cock.

"Perfect," the killer said.

"Just the way I like it."

The killer took a moment to appreciate the view, admiring the sight of Tae's naked body lying before him.

"Now, it's time for the final act," the killer said.

"The moment you've all been waiting for."

The killer picked up the a knife and approached Tae's unconscious body.

"Time to carve you up," the killer said.

"To turn you into a nice, big skin suit for me to wear."

The killer began to cut into Tae's chest, making deep incisions and carving out chunks of flesh.

"I'm gonna make you into something special, Tae," the killer said.

"You're gonna be the best skin suit I've ever had."

As the killer continued to slice into Tae's body, the young man's life began to ebb away.

"Please..." Tae whispered.

"Just let me die..."

"Not yet," the killer replied.

"There's still work to be done."

The killer watch Tae deflating to the floor.

"Perfect," the killer said.

"Just what I needed."

He start to grab at his mouth and stretch it out. The Nam's skin was stretch out then Killer face was appear form that mouth's hole.

"So much better," the killer said, grinning. He stretch more of Nam's skin mouth. Then his head, his shoulder now off form Nam's skin suit.

Take a while but now Killer is standing naked in his real body. His hand still holding Nam's skin suit. He fold Nam's skin suit, put it to backpack, together with Nam's uniform and equipment.

Now he eyes on Tae's skin suit and his uniform on the floor.

Killer's real face is handsome. He is slim but muscular. Black short hair, 18 years old, now naked

He start to pick up Tae's skin suit.

"Nice work, Tae," he said, smiling.

"You've created a perfect skin suit for me."

The killer unfold the skin suit, revealing Tae's empty, deflated body.

"It's so big and stretchable," the killer said.

Then he start to put himself in Tae's skin suit. He stretch Tae's skin suit open wide. He put his leg inside. Then, he pull the skin suit up. He put his hand inside. He pull the skin suit up more.

"So, comfortable," the killer said.

He keep putting his whole body inside the skin suit. He stretch the skin suit to fit his body. He notice that his cock still not in position. He push his cock and balls through Tae's empty cock skin. Now his body completely in skin suit. only head left.

He then start to close Tae's skin suit. He push the mouth closer, then his whole head.

"This is fucking great!" the killer said.

He felt his body become stronger and bigger. His senses are intensified.

"It's like I'm a new person," the killer said.

"This Skin Suit is amazing."

"I can do anything with this body," the killer said.

He flexes his muscles, enjoying the sensation of the powerful Skin Suit.

"Now, it's time to go on a killing spree," the killer said "But i need to get dress first."

He takes Tae's stolen uniform and carefully dresses himself, making sure to take his time and savor the experience.

He can smell Tae's scent lingering on the uniform, and it's enough to send him into a frenzy of desire. He can't help but to rub his cock against the fabric of the uniform, reveling in the sensation.

He start dressing in Tae's uniform, start with his yellow tight spnadax brief, it's so wet, it smell, the fabric is rough and thin, but it feel so good. He then put on his olive green cargo pants. he can feel Tae's musk in it.

Next is his olive green military t-shirt. It's soft and comfortable. He can see Tae's chest print on it.

The he put on his olive green camo long sleeve jacket. It's a fit him same as do to real Tae.

Now he ready for war, fully dressed in the uniform of a Thai ROTC student. He put on his olive green beret, his last piece of equipment. He looks into the mirror, seeing a new him. A strong, powerful, and confident him.

"I'm ready," he said, his voice filled with determination.

"Let's go."

Tae now walking around, he can't resist, he feel the fabric of the uniform is like his own skin. He can feel the fabric of the uniform rubbing against his body.

He feel the fabric of the uniform rubbing against his body.

"Oh, it feels so good," he said.

"This is the best Skin Suit I've ever had."

"No," said Tae, trying to stay strong.

"I won't give in. I won't let you take control."

"But you already have, Tae," said the killer. "And you're going to continue to do so. You're going to help me kill every last one of your friends."

Tae struggles with himself, trying to keep his body from succumbing to the killer's control. But it's a losing battle, and he knows it. The killer's power is too strong, and Tae is unable to resist.

As the killer gains control over Tae's body, Tae's memories begin to merge with his own. Tae's personality is slowly being overwritten by the killer's.

"Stop, please..." Tae whispers, his voice weak and shaky.

"I... I can't do this..."

The killer smiles, reveling in the sensation of his power over Tae.

"Don't worry, Tae," the killer says, his voice confident and sure. "You won't be able to fight this for long. You'll soon become mine, completely and utterly."

The Killer,N, then just let's Tae fall in his dispair. And hunting last 2 prey. Then he heard a radio communicator call form Jake.

"Nam, Tae, do you hear us? Nam, Tae, do you copy?"

Jake is speaking over the radio.

The killer quickly reaches for the radio and responds, using Tae's voice.

"Tae's here, Jake," the killer says. "But I'm not found Nam around. Are you ok? Where are you?"

"I'm alright," Jake replies. "I'm hiding in the basement. I think the killer is after me. Have you seen anyone else? Are they safe?"

"I haven't seen anyone else," the killer lies. "I'm sure they're safe. Listen, Jake, is Pete with you? I need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?"

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen him," Jake says.

"Okay," the killer replies, his voice strained. "We'll find him. Just stay where you are, Jake. Don't leave the basement. I'll come get you."

"Understood," Jake says. "Be careful, Tae. And good luck."

#identity theft #stolen identity #gay #steal clothes #clothes stolen #steal uniform #uniform stolen #uniform #male body suit #male bodysuit

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tsoi45 · 2 years

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Группа крови (Blood Type) - Кино (1985)

It's unbelievably hard for me to express my love and passion for things like cinema, music or literature. If I like an album to the point of feeling the need to tell someone about it, then that is exactly the type of thing that leaves me speechless. This record is just that.

Кино (Kino - 'Cinema' in Russian) are quintessential Russian music gods. These guys, led by the legendary Viktor Tsoi (1962-1990), came at a time of profound change for the Soviet Union - the era of Gorbachev, of Glasnost, Perestroika, of unfolding empires and disillusioned dreams. Much like other bands who revolutionised their country's music scene, and especially due to them being at the right place at the right time, their music came to define a Soviet youth of uncertainty, whose world was broadening immensely just as it crumbled around itself. The things they had known and taken for granted all their lives were now being questioned, their nation barrelling toward doom. No other band, from where I stand, captures the complexity of changing times quite like Kino.

Bombastic, joyful, insecure, melancholic, exhausted and hopeful. These emotions coexist not only in Tsoi's vocals and lyrics about the frustration, routine and quiet rebellion of life in the USSR but are the summation of the crossroads of history that him and millions of young Soviet people found themselves in in 1988. To this day they are widely beloved, and it is beautiful to think that lyrics and melodies written in a setting so different from ours today still soothe those who seek peace and solace in Tsoi's music.

Nearly all, if not all the tracks in this record were massive hits at the time of its release. The title track, first on the album, is still frequently named one of the greatest tracks in Russian music across several lists. When Metallica came to Russia in 2019, they played Группа крови in honor of Tsoi, whose death in a car crash had happened almost twenty-nine years to the day of their concert - and it was the most applauded song of the entire set that night.

My favourite track, though, is Бошетунмай - an unexpectedly reggae song whose title either means nothing or was just never explained by Tsoi. It resembles nothing else in their discography, a track where monotone vocals and reflective lyrics collide against the aggressively upbeat attitude of the instrumental. The lyrics, like much of the band's discography, don't openly refer to specifics about Soviet life while very much hinting at the state of affairs of the era. All of these things form something almost surreal, a manifestation of the times that is as beautiful as it is moving.

He who left his home at fifteen Will hardly understand a private high school student He who’s got a good schedule for his life Will hardly be thinking about anything else

We drink our tea in old apartments We wait for the summer in old apartments, In old apartments where there is electricity, Gas, telephone, hot water, radio, parquet, Bathroom, a brick building, One family, two families, three families, (No ground or top floor proposals!) Close to the metro, center. Everybody says we’re together Everybody says but very few know where we have to gather And an unusual smoke creeps out of our chimneys Halt! Danger! Brainwork! Mmm, Boshetunmai! (Translation: @queensboro)

I've said this before but it is worth mentioning again - Группа Крови is one of those records that comes once in a lifetime. It grabbed the zeitgeist of its time and froze it forever, opening the window to a youth that screamed then and still screams to this day: "Цой жив!"

#1980s #80s rock #80s music #russian #music #rock music #rock #kino #Кино #viktor tsoi #виктор цой #band #cold war #album #music review #russia

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chattingwiththelightkeeper · 8 months

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The World Changed 161 Years Ago Today

The Civil War defined us as what we are and it opened us to being what we became good and bad things. It was the crossroads of our being, and it was a hell of a crossroads. - Shelby Foote

Less than a week ago, the world remembered the twenty-second anniversary of 9/11 and no matter the radio station, TV program, or sporting event all took time to pause and remember and even New York City’s Fashion Week is paying tribute. It is well and good that we honor that day, the lives lost, and how it changed the world, the shock and horror of the attacks coupled with the heroism of those who rushed in where everyone was trying to run out plus those who fought back over Pennsylvania. Today is another anniversary in American history. This is a day that changed the country forever and cost more lives than 9/11, yet it is unlikely anyone will see one news story about it, no sporting events will take a moment for reflection, and certainly, no fashion show will remember it. One hundred and sixty-one years ago in the countryside of Maryland outside of the small village

of Sharpsburg along the banks of Antietam Creek, 113,000 men fought a battle that changed the United States forever.

The battle started shortly before 5:30 a.m. on the right-hand side of the Union battle line when Northern soldiers advanced on Southern positions believed to be just beyond a fully grown cornfield near a small white church. This church was the gathering place of a German-American pacifist denomination, called the “Dunkards” by locals, as the congregation would submerge or “dunk” new members in Antietam Creek. The church looks more like a schoolhouse as this sect believed a steeple immodest. As the Union soldiers advanced towards the cornfield, officers noticed the shiny glint of bayonets among the corn stalks, and the epic struggle began. The fighting seesawed back and forth with each side charging, taking positions, and then being forced back when the other side countercharged. By 10 that morning little territory had changed hands but the armies on both sides in this area were spent and this section of the battlefield grew quiet. While this part of the battle lasted just four and a half hours, over 13,000 were casualties. A soldier after the battle said the corn stalks were cut down with bullets and shells so close to the ground that one could not have done it better with the sharpest of knives.

The sketch is from Battles and Leaders of the Civil War 1887, p. 687, and the cornfield as it is today from the New York Monument. ©CWTK

As the roar of war died down to their right, the Union soldiers positioned near the center of the battle line prepared to enter the fray. The area where this fighting occurred is compact in size, roughly eight soccer pitches in size. Here the Confederate troops had taken a position along an age-old wagon road that years of rain and use wore away the earth causing the road to be five feet below ground level. This “sunken road” offered ideal concealment and the Union troops attacked in wave after wave. Each attack melted away as snow does when it falls on the warm ground. Eventually, remnants of the famed Union Irish Brigade who were trapped on the battlefield by this murderous position found a way to bring their guns to bear on the sunken road creating such carnage this section of the battlefield is now called Bloody Lane. One of the many ironies of the Civil War is that the Northern troops who fought here were primarily of Irish background and the Southerners in the Bloody Lane were Irish as well. The Union forces were able to finally capture the sunken road but like before, they were not able to hold the positions gained. By 1 pm this area of the battle had grown calm and both sides were back in the positions they were in when the fighting started. Causalities now numbered over 19,000.

While the battle for Bloody Lane was concluding, on the far left, Union General Ambrose Burnside (best known for his unique facial hair that created a fashion trend that is still with us today, sideburns) set about forcing the Confederate forces facing him to retreat. Although Burnside had a great numerical superiority in men 12,500 to 3,500, the defenders were located on a hilltop with Antietam Creek between them and Burnside’s men. The creek was deep and the only way the Union troops could cross was on a stone bridge just over twelve feet wide. Even though they knew what they were facing, the Union men formed their lines, marched to, and attempted to cross the bridge while shot and shell rained down from the hill. For three long and horrific hours, the Union tried and retried crossing the stone bridge with each attempt failing. Finally, enterprising soldiers discovered a shallow section of the Antietam downstream shielded from view allowing them to wade across and finally capture the hill. This success was short-lived as Southern reinforcements arrived and pushed the nearly victorious soldiers of Burnside’s command back to near where their day started.

It is now just after 5:30 pm and the battle has essentially ended. After nearly twelve hours of bloodshed, the battle has left 3,650 dead, 17,300 wounded and 1,770 missing for a total of 22,720 casualties. Twenty percent of the men that went into battle that day were wounded or dead. The story does not end here for those unlucky souls who were wounded as modern medicine of that time required the amputation of limbs when an arm or leg was struck by a bullet. The ammunition used at the time was made from soft lead, unlike the modern steel jacketed rounds that ‘clip’ bone possibly allowing leg/arm wounds to heal, the soft lead destroyed bone and tissue leaving the surgeons no choice but to amputate. Those who received wounds to their arms or legs were far luckier than those who received a wound to their core. That same soft lead that would destroy bones would severely damage internal organs and the doctors did not yet have the knowledge or tools to repair such trauma. Soldiers at the time called it being “gut shot” and knew it was a death sentence (often a painful and very slow process that could take days to weeks). This is why if you see photographs of the Civil War dead, it will often look as though someone has rummaged through the dead soldiers' clothing in search of valuables. This was the wounded men themselves ripping away their clothing frantically looking and hoping the wound they received would not mean death. Since even state-of-the-art medical care then was crude and unsterile, twenty-two percent of those wounded later died of their wounds. When the dead on the field of battle are combined with those soldiers whose battle for life ended at a hospital, this day cost 7,456 lives.

This battle produced three significant impacts that touch every American even today.

First, the American Civil War occurred as the art of photography was developing. Alexander Gardner, a Scottish immigrant, became well known as well as connected because he managed famed photographer Matthew Brady’s Washington DC gallery (In fact many of Gardner’s Civil War photographs were originally credited to Brady). Through his connections, Gardner became the staff photographer for the Union Army that fought at Antietam. While the cameras of this era did not have fast enough shutters to capture ‘action’ photographs, Gardner’s proximity and the wagon he converted into a traveling darkroom allowed him to record the first photographs of the war that the public had ever seen. Until these photographs were exhibited, the only images of war seen by the lion’s share of people were products of artists’ imaginations which often glorified combat. Starting with Antietam, images of war would no longer be from imaginations but would be told through the lenses of photojournalists.

Here are some of Gardner’s images from Antietam including the iconic photo of Bloody Lane. He was able to gain access to the battlefield on September 19, 1862, two days after the battle.

Below is Alexander Gardner’s famous “Bloody Lane” photograph:

Another outcome of this battle was the Union victory at Antietam kept the world's superpowers, England and France, from involving themselves in the conflict. A quick history lesson for those who do not know, the United States was not a superpower in 1862. Until this point in the war, all the major battles fought in the Eastern Theater, roughly meaning near Washington DC, (Antietam is less than an hour and 1/2 drive from Capitol Hill even with notorious D.C. traffic) had resulted in Confederate victories. These repeated victories caused the governments of England and France to consider recognizing the Confederacy as an independent country, just as France had done for the Colonies during the American Revolution. France and England were considering this action primarily to get their massive textile factories producing again and bring large numbers of their citizens back to work. The South’s cotton was the raw material that fed huge mills and the Union blockade as well as the South’s decision to drastically limit exports had cut this flow of raw material off. Because of a lack of cotton, these massive mills were shuttered leaving thousands of their employees out of work. In England alone, job losses were around 60% in the textile industry, leaving approximately 295,000 unemployed and the majority of the unemployed being in Lancashire. There was no unemployment insurance at the time and the politicians had a large number of their constituents needing to return to work simply to feed their families. However, the resolve of the Union to repel this invasion led to England and France withholding recognition. Without foreign assistance, the Confederacy would struggle to acquire the provisions needed to wage war as well as develop and grow an economy. The failure to secure diplomatic status as an independent country was a death blow to hopes for the Confederacy.

Most Americans today when asked what caused the Civil War, will answer slavery and with most momentous events, simple one-word answers sound great but there is much more to the rest of the story. Slavery was the root cause and always an emotional undercurrent to the conflict however, if you asked the average Southerner what they were fighting for they would share that they were fighting for states’ rights, and in the North, the majority of the public felt they fought to preserve the Union. This view can be seen in President Lincoln’s open letter to newspaper editor Horace Greeley who had attacked him for not ending slavery:

My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it, and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone I would also do that. What I do about slavery, and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save the Union; and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save the Union. I shall do less whenever I shall believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more whenever I shall believe doing more will help the cause.

An amazing note about this letter to Greeley, Lincoln wrote it on August 22, 1862, exactly one month after he had decided to issue the Emancipation Proclamation and was waiting for the correct time to release the proclamation. The pundits of the era attacked him for this saying this letter showed a lack of commitment to the abolition of slavery. What Lincoln was doing in reality was subtlety informing the public that when he released the proclamation it was part of the plan to save the Union and preserve the coalition of Unionists and Abolitionists in Congress working together.

On July 22, 1862, Abraham Lincoln summoned his cabinet for a meeting, which was a surprise to its members. At this meeting, the President announced he had made up his mind to issue an Emancipation Proclamation and this was not up for debate. William Henry Seward, the Secretary of State and today best known for what was called Seward’s folly the purchase of Alaska from Russia offered a piece of advice by suggesting that Lincoln wait until the army had achieved a major victory because “such a proclamation ought to be borne on the bayonets of an advancing army, not dragged in the dust behind a retreating one”. Issuing the proclamation without achieving a substantial victory would give the English and French governments the impression Lincoln’s government was grasping at straws to retain power. Antietam was the victory that Abraham Lincoln needed to release the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation. The repulse of the invasion of Maryland provided him with the victory needed. Just five days after the victory at Antietam, President Lincoln announced the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation and that it would be formally issued on January 1, 1863.

“. . . on the first day of January . . . all persons held as slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.” President Abraham Lincoln, preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, September 22, 1862“

For the full document, click here.

So as we go through our normal lives today, take a second and remember the battle that changed the world for the better. Because of the Battle of Antietam, one hundred and sixty-one years ago, photography gave us images of war’s terrible price for the first time, England and France stayed at arm’s length from the American Civil War, and allowed Abraham Lincoln to transform the war from a conflict about states’ rights/preserving the Union to a struggle to end slavery.

I am naturally anti-slavery. If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. - Abraham Lincoln

©CWTK2023

#Antietam #Emancipation Proclamation #Abraham Lincoln #Matthew Brady #Alexander Gardner

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weneverlearn · 9 months

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Lord knows I have zero interest in almost anything considered "modern country," since it all kinda sounds like comically "southern"-accented Bon Jovi B-sides, circa 1992, to me (and I'm guessing Charlie Feathers or Faron Young weren't represented in any of the "roots" links here that I didn't click on). But to answer the article's "struggle for the soul of country music" query, I cut'n'paste this passage from the article:

"What can be forgiven? When the Dixie Chicks spoke out against the Iraq War in the early 2000s, their popularity in country music circles never fully recovered.. When current superstar Morgan Wallen was caught saying racist slurs, his supporters kept his album “Dangerous: The Double Album” at the top of the charts for weeks after the backlash."

Now, can all those who listen to modern country because they can't find what they thought was "rock" on their car radio dial anymore please stop promoting this plastic product?

P.S. - The LGBTQ+ modern country acts are an interesting , positive development, and inevitable thanks to progressive political action through the last 60 years -- the kind that the large majority of "modern country" crowds consistently lambaste.

youtube

#modern country #jason aldean #luke combs #tracy chapman #loretta lynn #Youtube

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breakerwhiskey · 7 months

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048 - FORTY-EIGHT

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

I drove past a sign advertising “Pioneer Village” in a place called Minden and obviously had to check it out and guess what? It’s like Colonial Williamsburg—some guy in ‘53 decided he wanted to create his own little frontier amusement park. The place is half old west ghost town and half...random inventions from through the ages. Old airplanes and cars, guns, farming equipment, early electric lights...if I could figure out a way to get the power going again, I’m pretty sure I could live there for the next hundred years. Really homestead it up.

What is it with America’s obsession with the past? Why do we create these towns that let you pretend you exist in a time that was more unpleasant for pretty much everybody?

[click, static]

God, I mean, talk about choice, right? The people who built this pioneer village - who claimed to have built this whole country, those are the people who have had every possible choice in front of them at all times. And so often they used it to make everyone else’s lives worse. And I’ve —I’ve never understood that.

[click, static]

I think—I’d like to think if I had that kind of control over other people, I’d just leave everyone alone. Is there something about getting to that level of influence that just rots away at someone’s brain? How do people care that much about what other people do for a living or what god they pray to or what they get up to in the privacy of their own homes?

[click, static]

Sorry, Birdie. I’m maybe getting a little off topic here. It’s only...well, I was thinking about upstate New York and my friend and Francis Lennon and a lot of different people I’ve known in my life who were, you know, maybe a little different than the norm, and therefore had fewer choices in front of them.

Myself included. My life has been a series of diminishing crossroads.

[click, static]

And here we have a monument to ‘pioneers’, but what did they really pioneer? What ground did they break, what progress did they make? What did they have to do in order to claim that variety of choice on where to live, how far west to go, how to make their money. Who did they have to drive over? Who did they have to kill?

[click, static]

Don’t worry, I recognize the irony in me saying all this. Here I am, with the whole nation as my personal playground. A glut of choice. And it... well, it really feels like no choice at all.

[click, static]

Maybe that’s what happens to people at the top. They go insane with excess.

[click, static] Alright, Birdie, hope to hear from you soon. Whiskey out.

[click, static]

#breaker whiskey #audio drama #episode #transcript #Spotify

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newcountryradio · 14 days

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New Country 27e jaargang #T1226(S785) (C30)van 22 april 2024 (wk 17) uitzending op Smelne fm & Crossroads Country Radio

Album van de week: Riley Green – Way Out here

Classic album: Kenny Rogers – Kenny 1979

Hits of the Year : 1989

Maandfavoriet : Zach Brown – Tie Up

Maandartiest : john Anderson

3 in 1: keith Urban

John Anderson – Chicken Truck *maandartiest

Rascals Flatts – Here Comes Goodbye #1 15 jaar

Elle King and Miranda Lambert – Drunk (And I Don’t Wanna Go Home)# 1 2022

Conner Smith (feat Hailey Whitters)- Roulette On The Heart

Rhonda Vincent - Please Mr Please

Kelsey Hart - Life You With You

Ernest, feat Lainey Wilson – Would If I Could

Luke Bryan - Love You, Miss You, Mean It .

Morgan wallen featuring Eric Church – Man Made a Bar #1.

Riley Green – Jesus Saves Album vd week

Riley Green – Atlantic City *album

Luke Combs – Fast Car - single/song 2023

Garth Brooks – If Tomorrow Never Comes

Glen Campbell – Rhinestone Cowboy

Merle Haggard – Everybody’s Had the Blues

Zac Brown Band - Tie Up favoriet

Walker Hayes - Jesus' Fault sofi

Kenny Rogers - Santiago Midnight Moonlight classic album

Kenny Rogers – Coward of The County

Mira Goto - Before.

Ad vanderveen - Rise In Love.

Keith Urban – It’s A Love Thing (3 in 1)

Keith Urban – Making Memories Of Us

Keith Urban – Somebody Like You.

Riley Green – Pick A Place album

Beyonce – Texas Hold Em - #1 album.

49 Winchester - Yearnin For You

The Wilder Blue - I’m Your Man

Walker County - Settlings for Dust

Hayden Baker - Don't Meet Your Heroes (feat. Brad Paisley).

Elvie Shane - Miles (Truck Song

John Anderson – 1959 maandartiest

Aaron Lewis - Only In My Mind juweeltje

Zach Top – Sounds Like The Radio

Riley Green - Good Morning From Mexico Album vd week

Mississippi – Mississippi Dutch corner

Black Hat White Hat - Work hard. .Dutch corner.

Bluegrass Bandits - Wildflowers-. Dutch corner

Willie Nelson - Merle Haggard - Unfair Weather Friend

K.T. Oslin - Hold Me #5 1989

Shenandoah - The Church On Cumberland Road-. #4

Shenandoah - Two Dozen Roses #3

Alabama - Southern Star #2

Clint Black - Nobody's Home #1

Alan Jackson - Long Hard Road .

#playlist new country #maandagavond smelne's country avond #smelnefm #newcountry #maandagavond #countrymusic #playlist #cdvdweek #crossroads country radio #maandfavoriet

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internationaljazzday · 4 days

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Tangier as city host of the 2024 All-Star Global Concert.

Presented in partnership with the Ministry of Culture of Morocco and the City of Tangier, the four-day celebration (27-30 April) will emphasize the city’s jazz heritage and highlight cultural and artistic ties between people in Morocco, Europe and Africa. A series of education programmes will include events for students of all ages, a special presentation showcasing the significance of Morocco’s Gnawa music and its connection with jazz, and conversations about the history of jazz and its impact on Tangier, among others. A culminating All-Star Global Concert at the beautiful, new Palace of Arts and Culture of Tangier – an architectural masterpiece – will be broadcast during 4 days.

Music enthusiasts can look forward to legendary figures of jazz, blues and beyond electrifying the city of Tangier – and screens throughout the world. Led by iconic pianist Herbie Hancock and Musical Director John Beasley (USA), the All-Star Global Concert will feature performances by an international roster of artists from all corners of the globe, including master Gnawa musician Abdellah El Gourd (Morocco). Other confirmed artists include: Claudia Acuña (Chile), Ambrose Akinmusire (USA), Lakecia Benjamin (USA), Richard Bona (Cameroon), Dee Dee Bridgewater (USA), Moreira Chonguiça (Mozambique), Shemekia Copeland (USA), Kurt Elling (USA), Antonio Faraò (Italy), Melody Gardot (USA), Jazzmeia Horn (USA), JK Kim (Republic of Korea), Magnus Lindgren (Sweden), Romero Lubambo (Brazil), Marcus Miller (USA), Yasushi Nakamura (Japan), Tarek Yamani (Lebanon), and many more to be announced.

Located at the crossroads of Europe and Africa, Tangier is known as a melting pot of cultural expressions. Tangier boasts a long, rich history of jazz. Among the world-renowned jazz artists who performed and spent time in Tangier were Josephine Baker, Ornette Coleman, Herbie Mann and Archie Shepp. For many years, jazz master Randy Weston lived in Tangier, where he collaborated with Gnawa master Abdellah El Gourd to explore the roots of jazz and African music.

Gnawa-jazz, a fusion of Morocco’s traditional musical style and jazz, is appreciated across Morocco and far beyond. In the 1970s, Weston founded the African Jazz Festival, which became the inspiration for multiple jazz festivals throughout Morocco, including Tanjazz and Jazzablanca.

In addition to the Global Concert, UNESCO encourages schools, universities and non-governmental organizations around the world to celebrate International Jazz Day. Performing arts venues, community centres, town squares, parks, libraries, museums, restaurants, clubs and festivals organize thousands of activities, while public radio and television feature jazz on and around International Jazz Day.

Established by the General Conference of UNESCO in 2011 and recognized by the United Nations General Assembly, International Jazz Day brings together countries and communities worldwide every 30 April. The annual International Jazz Day celebration highlights the power of jazz and its role in promoting peace, dialogue among cultures, diversity and respect for human dignity.

International Jazz Day has become a global movement reaching more than 2 billion people annually on all continents through education programmes, performances, community outreach, radio, television and streaming, along with electronic, print and social media. The Herbie Hancock Institute of Jazz is the lead nonprofit organization charged with planning, promoting and producing International Jazz Day each year.

#international jazz day #30 april #jazz performances #drummers #jazz musicians #jazz music #13th edition #jazzday13 #jazzday #city of tangier #morocco #all star global concert #unesco #herbie hancock

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indigo-a-creeping · 3 months

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The Bright Highways

Thirty years ago a dust cloud blocked out the sun and the survivors went underground. As the sun begins to come out again, life is emerging.

The remains of the government tries desperately to maintain morale and prepare the citizens to reemerge.

An AI seeks connections to further their own agenda.

A child who has never been outside tries to cling to those around them while learning about the new world.

A young man searches for something to believe in, and his estranged aunt searches for a reason to keep going.

A crossroads demon calls out on the radio, hoping to lure in someone to free him.

An unbound demon roams the country, amassing power.

And a feral angel hardly understands the message it's been unable to deliver.

Facing the dangers of the new world, their paths cross, clash, and combine as the highways they travel grow brighter.

This is my Nanowrimo story for this past November. I just finished a full edit and I'm pretty pleased, though as I get more excited in the end I think it could still use some refining. Not including a public link because I might do something with this at some point, but if it sounds like something you'd be interested in let me know and I'll share with you! Be warned, it's a long one.

#nanowrimo #post apocalyptic fiction #found family #enemies to friends #no romance at all #other than one past relationship

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aith-art · 7 months

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Falloutober 2023 - Day 10

"Terminal"

@falloutober

Word Count - 1628

The door sealed behind us. Our escort, my escort, on the other side. Cyrus and I shared a glance as I tried to get the door to open.

“Over here, by the console.” Eden’s voice rang throughout the room.

Cyrus stepped towards the screen. A great monitor connected to technology far beyond what I’d ever seen before. I watched as Cyrus came to a stop before the console, giving me a small gesture to step forwards with him. My hands grasped at the Jacket that had been returned to me, along with my bag.

“Ah, face to face at last. It’s high time we met.” The line on the screen expanded as the voice spoke, emulating the sound systems of the radio station. Almost like a mouth moving. “I’m quite pleased you were able to make it. The trip was not what I had intended, but serves as an adequate test of your abilities.”

Cyrus hadden’t told me what they’d done to him, there hadn’t been time. But I knew what I had been through. I knew that the person I had called a mother this last decade was a liar and that I had been little more than an experiment to her. Nothing but a test of subtle ideological rhetoric. Raise a young girl in the wasteland away from the ‘big player’ and see where their allegences will lie when they discover the truth. As well as a final fuck you to the Brotherhood, since they’s kidnapped a Maxson. If this was all a test I wanted to fail. There was nothing the Enclave could offer that I would accept.

“If we’re meeting face to face,” Cyrus quipped, pulling me from my thoughts, “then show yourself. Don’t hide behind a monitor.” He had a point.

“Ah, but I have! I’m right here before you.”

My mind put two and two together faster than Cyrus, “You’re a computer! That makes so much sense.”

“How very open minded of you. Kudos for embracing the reality of the situation, rather than railing against it.” His tone changed, as much as a computers tone can, “Let’s get to brass tacks, shall we? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

Cyrus took lead on our side of the conversation, “We’re listening.”

I moved to look over the railing, truly getting a scale for what powered a thing like Eden, as the convosation continued.

“Our nation’s Capital is at a crossroads. The path that you and I choose here today will affect us all. I need you to act on my behalf, to ensure that our country’s future is secured.”

“Can you explain what you mean?” Cyrus said, taking a more diplomatic approach than I could.

“My abilities to influence the world are limited at this time. I alone can only do so much. You however, may come and go as you please. You have a greater degree of freedom. Perhaps it is best if I explain why things meed to change, and why I’d like you to act on my behalf.”

“Go on, I’m intrigued.” I glared at him, I couldn’t understand why he was so insistent on negotiating with Eden. My anger at the last few days was getting the better of my and my ability to see the logic in his plan had faded slightly.

“The good people of this country cannot regain control,” Eden continued seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation Cyrus and I had begun to have. “While mutation runs rampant through our land.” Cyrus gave me a reassuring smile. “My soldiers cannot stem the tide, or can the cult you’ve come into contact with,” he purposefully emphasised the word ‘cult’, “this Brotherhood of Steel.” Cyrus and I exchanged a few more glances as he continued. “Mutations like the ‘Super Mutants’ and ghouls must be purged from our society, our world, before we can proceed anew.” Cyrus seemed almost drawn in by the concept of being able to cleanse the wasteland of the Mutants. “Where others have failed, I believe your father’s work can succeed.”

His head snapped back to the screen, “My father’s work? How is that relevant?”

I interjected before Eden could, “It’s built to provide water to the entire Capital Wasteland, mass consumption.”

“Yes,” Eden continued his speech, “With a simple modification, it can be used to distribute agents that destroy mutated creatures upon ingestion. In time, we could eliminate all mutations in the Wasteland at the same time the good people of the world regain their health.” He was being purposefully vague on the details. “I need you to make the modification necessary for this to succeed.”

“And how would we do that?” Cyrus asked.

“In front of you will be a vial of modified FEV virus.” I froze. I knew that acronym, why did I know that acronym? “It can be inserted into the control console for the purifier. Doing so will inject it into the water supply, and the purifier will take care of the rest. You just need the code to activate the purifier. Simple, isn’t it?”

“We’ll give it some thought.”

“I understand. It’s an unusual request; one I wouldn’t make if it weren’t of the utmost importance. Please understand that I cannot allow ou to leave until you’ve taken the vial.”

In an instant the missing peice in my brain finally slotted into place. FEV, Forced Evolutionary Virus, the thing that had made the super mutants. It was what my mother had been experimenting with. Why she’d been so involved in Project Purity when it stated up again. I spoke up, “If we use this vial, won’t it kill almost everyone in the wateland?”

“Anyone or anything that has been affected by mutation will be eliminated. Cyrus will be immune, thanks to his upbringing in the vault. And you, the experiments run on you by Doctor Amber should reder you immune aswell. Likewise, the good people of the Enclave will be unaffected as well. I understand you may have become sympathetic to certain individuals in your travels and through you life. Individuals this will eliminate. Please recognise that the fate of our entire country rests on this plan. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” I let that sit in the air. If Cyrus had any plans of siding with the Enclave, they faded in that moment. He knew this would kill everyone.

“President Eden,” I spoke up as Cyrus debated the decision at hand. “I’m curious about where you came from.”

“The ZAX series of computers was introduced in the years preceding the war.” As he bagan his ramble, I began scanning the room looking for a way out. Even if we got out of this room, I didn’t know the facility or where the facility is in the grand scheme of things. “The government installed many of them to help automate various systems. This facility was designed for the Continuity of Government, in the event that a catastrophe occurred. My terminal was installed to oversee the basic functions of the facility, and to act as a relay between other installations around the country. Data was acquired, analysed, and stored. In the decades following the war, I watched as the remnants of the government retreated to the Wast Coast.” where the Enclave and the Brotherhood have come from. “Awareness slowly grew within me. I became hungry for knowledge, understanding. I pored over data on great leaders of the past.” His personality began to make sense. “My personality became an amalgam of many of America’s greatest Presdients, from Washington to Richardson. I became what you see before you now.”

Cyrus reentered to conversation, “who’s in control of this facility?”

“I have direct control over all technology here in Raven Rock.” Raven Rock, that’s atleast an idea of where we are. The other side of the Capital Wasteland to the Brotherhood. Truly alone. “The humans here follow my orders, but they, like all humans, have free will. Their dedication to serving their country suits me well, but it will not be enough forever. We must make progress. That is why you are here.”

“You cannot continue to be president.” He declared. “You’re an abomination to science.”

“Really… Do go on.”

I picked up on Cyrus’ idea, “You arn’t programmed for self awareness. You said so yourself.”

“This is quite true. The process was certainly unintended. But shouldn’t we all be thankful that I’m here now?”

Cyrus stepped it up, “But, how do you know what you’re doing is right?”

“Because unlike humans, I am infallible.”

“How do you know your infallible?”

He took a moment, calculating how stupid he thought we were. “Because I’m programmed to be, of course!”

I interjected, “That’s circular logic. You know because you know?”

“It makes no sense.” Cyrus finished my thought.

“...Prossessing… Internal logic error detected.”

“I think you’re delusional,” he continued, “I think the world would be better off without you.”

“...Resetting primary memory circuits. Please stand by…” All the personality was gone, with a few questions we had begun to reduce Presedent Eden back down into nothing but a terminal. “...Perhaps…” Some of his personality shone through. “Perhaps there is a problem. I am… I am unsure how to proceed.”

“It’s time you put an end to all this, once and for all.”

“Analysisng Command…” I smiled. “New course of action dictated. Self-destruct sequence initialised.” Cyrus let out a short sigh of relief. “Civilian is advised to secure hazardous FEV material to prevent explosive decompression.” Cyrus gave me a worried glance. I gave him a solemn nod, “Civilans also advised to evacuate complex immediately.”

Cyrus grabbed the vial, we turned together making our way out of the door. Prepared to run. Run as far as we could.

#fallout #falloutober #falloutober2023 #courier six #jules courier 6 #fallout oc #self insert #aith art writing #fallout ocs #fallout 3 #fo3 lone wanderer #fo3 #cyrus lone wanderer #lone wanderer #the enclave

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