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passionate-reply · 3 years

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Great Albums is back for a third time! This week, we discuss Dazzle Ships, the avant-garde masterpiece that was so infamously weird, it almost “sank” the pop career of Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. Or did it? As usual, you can find a full transcript of the video under the break, if you’d like to read it instead.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums. Today, I’ll be talking about an album that many would consider OMD’s best, and many would consider the last great album they ever made: 1983’s Dazzle Ships, their fourth studio LP. It has a reputation that precedes it, as a strange, experimental, and avant-garde album. And I can’t argue with that too much, when it has tracks that sound like "ABC Auto-Industry."

The most obvious thing one can say about Dazzle Ships is that it’s dense and rich with samples. You’ll hear found sounds ranging from a “Speak and Spell” toy to a radio broadcast from Czechoslovakia. It’s a magpie’s nest constructed of garbage and baubles, collage-like and conscientiously artificial. And OMD’s Paul Humphreys and Andy McCluskey managed to make it before sampling became easier and hence more widespread later in the 1980s, thanks to advancements in digital technology. In its own day, it was, famously, a huge flop, baffling even the critics, which makes it tempting to argue that the world simply wasn’t ready for it. Popular legend says that Humphreys and McCluskey were essentially forced to make increasingly soft, pop-oriented music for years afterward, usually at the hands of their label’s higher-ups.

Is that story really true? Well, I don’t know, and I’m not sure if anybody really does. But I think it’s important that we entertain some doubt. Regardless of its actual veracity, this legend is offering us a simplistic narrative of art and capital butting heads, and one that we see repeated all too often in music journalism. It’s a story that expects us to believe that experimental music is good by default, and the natural goal of music and all the people who make it--and, conversely, that accessible music is bad, and anyone who writes a song you can dance to is always after profit, never craft.

Ultimately, though, the most important reason why I’m asking you to leave this question at the gate is that it’s simply a less interesting way to think about art. What I think is truly ingenious about OMD is their ability to combine a pop sensibility with that bleeding-edge experimentation, and vice versa. I don’t think of Dazzle Ships as just an inscrutable, esoteric musical ready-made, but rather something capable of animating and enriching a bunch of otherwise mundane sounds. A word I might use for it is "challenging," because it isn't simply off-putting--it has a certain charm that invites you to stick around and work through it, and you don't feel like it's a waste of your time. I think the underlying pop DNA offered by Dazzle Ships is a big part of that.

In “Genetic Engineering,” the samples from that Speak & Spell are contrasted with a more traditional chorus, which rises above the chaos, stirring and anthemic. It’s a song full of friction, not only between these musical ideas, but in ideas about technology and our future. Like many great works of electronic music, especially earlier in its history, Dazzle Ships is deeply concerned with science and technology, and the ways they’ve structured our world. These guys wrote “Enola Gay” a few years earlier, sure, but there’s much more than Luddite, dystopian thinking here! Dazzle Ships walks a tightrope between romantic adoration of the promise of a better tomorrow, and the tempered uncertainty we’re forced to develop, when we witness the devastation our most horrifying inventions have wrought already. Something that helps sell the former is the motif of childhood: in addition to the Speak & Spell, “Genetic Engineering” also features a children’s toy piano, and prominently references “children” in its lyrics. And “Telegraph,” the album’s other single, sees fit to reference “Daddy.”

Touches like these, and the centering of not-so-new technologies like telegraphy and radio, carry us backward in time. Dazzle Ships has a sense of nostalgia for the technological explosion of the Midcentury, when household technologies were improving in ways that saved time and labour, and faith in “better living through science” was high. It’s not a wistful or introspective nostalgia, but rather one that taps into the bustling excitement of living through that era. That retro styling helps us situate ourselves in a childlike mindset: optimistic, but somewhat naive. Children are highly imaginative, and become enthralled with possibility, but don’t always understand every implication their actions have.

But, as I said, “Telegraph” and “Genetic Engineering” were the album’s singles; the typical track on *Dazzle Ships* sounds more like “ABC Auto-Industry.” The track listing is structured such that these more conventional songs are surrounded by briefer, and more abrasive, intrusions. They become signals in the noise, as though we’re listening to them on the radio--or ships, rising above some stormy seas. Several tracks, such as “International,” also feature a more dissonant intro, on top of that, crowding their main melodies inward.

Over the years, many critics have been quick to contrast Dazzle Ships with OMD’s other albums, but I actually think it has a lot in common with their preceding LP, 1981’s Architecture & Morality, and seems to me to flow naturally from the direction the band had already been going in. Architecture & Morality is a lively mix, with moody instrumentals like “Sealand,” guitar-driven numbers like “The New Stone Age,” and catchy, intuitive pop songs like “Souvenir.” Architecture and Morality proved to be their most successful album, when its title track sounds like this. I fail to see how it’s tremendously different than the title track of Dazzle Ships, which leads us on a harrowing sea chase, with radar pings quickly closing in.

That nautical theme is a great segue to discuss the album’s visual motif. Like all of OMD's first five albums, its sleeve was designed by Peter Saville, most famous for his stunning work for New Order. The cover and title were inspired by a painting Saville had seen, Edward Wadsworth’s *Dazzle Ships in Drydock at Liverpool,* which portrays WWI warships painted in striking, zebra-like geometric patterns. These sharply contrasting “razzle dazzle” designs weren’t “camouflage,” but rather served to confuse enemy forces’ attempts to track them, and predict their motions. Dazzle ships were killing machines that fought dirty...and they were also beautiful. It’s a potent, complex symbol, and it’s a natural fit for an album that’s also capricious, perplexing, and captivating in its uniquely modern terror. Saville’s sleeve design features both a die-cut design as well as a gatefold; peeking through the cover’s “portholes” reveals the interior, where we find a map of the world, divided by time zones. It’s yet another reminder of how technology has reshaped the planet, connecting the human race while also creating divisions.

Earlier, I argued that Dazzle Ships isn’t that different from OMD’s preceding LP, and I’d also suggest that their follow-ups to it aren’t all that different, either. It’s easy to see the influence of Dazzle Ships on their most recent work, made after reforming the group in the late 00s, and informed by the critical re-evaluation and cult acclaim of their alleged masterpiece. But even in the 80s, they basically continued the pattern of layering easy to love, “obvious single choice” tracks alongside more experimental, sample-heavy ones. Compare the title track of their sixth LP, 1985's *Crush.*

Even the greatest of pop hitmakers can't maintain a streak in the charts forever--it's not the nature of mainstream pop charts. Not even in the 1980s, when you could get away with quite a lot of electronic weirdness...at least for a while. Looking back and listening to "Maid of Orleans," it's almost hard to believe it was one of OMD's biggest hits. Is it really less weird than something like "Telegraph"? Perhaps they had simply reached the end of their imperial phase...whether they really had that stern talking-to or not.

It's not so much that Dazzle Ships isn't weird, so much as it is foreseeable that a nerdy, left-of-center band like OMD would have come up with it. Dazzle Ships IS excellent--it’s a Great Album! But it's good enough that I think it deserves to be heard and valued on its own terms. The album is too goddamn good--too compelling, too spell-binding--to be reduced to "that one album the plebs were too dumb to really get." I'm not clearing the air because I think this album is overrated, but because I think it deserves better, deeper discourse than it gets. A truly great album is great whether it sells or it doesn't, right? My advice is to never let art intimidate you, no matter how obtuse people say it is. Send your ship on that plunge into the dark waters of the unknown--you might find something beautiful.

That said...my favourite track overall is “Radio Waves,” an irresistibly fun cut that could easily have become a third single. Since “Genetic Engineering” and “Telegraph” live on side one of the record, “Radio Waves” is really the only “reprieve” we get on side two, smack in its middle. It really stands out, in context--almost like the opposite of how a more conventional album might have one out-there track that catches you off guard. Aside from all of that, though, the song also stands perfectly well alone. I have a real soft spot for music about music, how it’s made and transmitted, and “Radio Waves” is simply one hell of a ride.

Thanks for reading!

#great albums #music #omd #orchestral manoeuvres in the dark #album review #album reviews #dazzle ships #peter saville

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 4 years

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Taking a Measure of Sea Level Rise: Ocean Altimetry From a ship, a plane, or the beach, the oceans can look pretty flat and uniform. But in reality, the water in the ocean piles up in peaks and valleys. It stands higher on some shores than on others. It can slosh around in ocean basins like the water in a bathtub. The surface of the ocean rises and falls naturally, varying as much as 2 to 3 meters (6 to 10 feet) in places. Scientists also know that the overall level of the sea has been rising around the world, and more in some places than others. They estimate that over the past 140 years, global mean sea level has risen 21 to 24 centimeters (8 to 9 inches). There are many reasons why the ocean surface is lumpy. The friction between winds and water causes waves to build up. The tug of gravity from the Moon and Sun causes tides to rise and fall. The rotation of Earth (Coriolis effects) and the flow of currents also amass water in vast streams. Atmospheric pressure pushes and pulls on the water surface. Continents, islands, and even underwater seamounts exert a gravitational tug that draws water up around them. We also know that seawater of different temperatures and salinities (salt content) can be more or less dense, filling more or less volume. For instance, scientists have known for decades that sea level is generally higher in the Pacific than in the Atlantic—about 20 centimeters (8 inches)—because Pacific waters are usually warmer, fresher, and less dense. We know these things because we can measure them. For more than four decades, scientists have used satellite-based instruments known as radar altimeters to monitor ocean surface topography—the shape and height of the ocean’s peaks and valleys. Radar altimeters continually send out pulses of radio waves (microwaves) that bounce off the surface of the ocean and reflect back toward the satellite. The instrument calculates the time it takes for the signal to return, while also tracking the precise location of the satellite in space. From this, scientists can derive the height of the sea surface directly underneath the satellite. Long before there were satellites, scientists measured the height of the sea with tide gauges mounted in coastal bays and harbors. Collected in some places since the early 19th century, these records have provided one way to detect changes in the coastal ocean. But since landmasses and islands are unevenly distributed among the world, and tide gauges tend to be clustered on the shores of wealthier countries, the view has been limited. Still, there is value in long-term records, and readings from more than 1500 tide gauges have been compiled and analyzed by research groups like the Permanent Service for Mean Sea Level. Their data help corroborate what satellites observe. In the Space Age, altimetry satellites have been building upon the tide gauge records. Since 1992, four missions have used very similar instruments and have repeated the same orbit every ten days: TOPEX/Poseidon (1992-2006), Jason-1 (2001-2013), Ocean Surface Topography Mission/Jason-2 (2008-2019), and Jason-3 (2016 to present). The missions were built through various partnerships between NASA, France’s Centre National d'Etudes Spatiales (CNES), the European Organisation for the Exploitation of Meteorological Satellites (EUMETSAT), the European Space Agency, and the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). Known to the science community as the “reference missions,” these altimetry satellites have been making standardized measurements of the fluctuations of sea level near and far. They provide a unified ocean topography record and the equivalent coverage of a half-million tide gauges. (Other altimetry missions employ different approaches and orbits to study ocean topography and further complement this record.) Two more successor satellites have been built to extend this reference record for another decade; the first of these, Sentinel-6 Michael Freilich, is scheduled to be launched in late 2020. The map at the top of this page shows global trends in sea level around the world as observed from 1993 to 2018 by TOPEX-Poseidon and the three Jason altimetry missions. There are spatial variations in the rate of sea level rise, with some parts of the ocean rising faster (depicted in red and deep orange) than the global rate. Spotting a few millimeters of change amid the dynamic churning of the ocean is a challenge. The satellite has to look down through 1300 kilometers (800 miles) of atmosphere. While clouds are no trouble for radar—which penetrates cloud cover—the amount of moisture in the air slows down the radio signal and can make the ocean appear higher or lower than it actually is. To compensate for this, engineers have built instruments into the satellites to measure water vapor and account for its effects. Another challenge is knowing the exact height of the satellite—researchers call it “precise orbit determination.” Each altimetry satellite has reflectors that can bounce laser signals from ground stations to measure altitude. The satellites also have Doppler and Global Positioning System receivers to further pinpoint location. The goal is to know exactly how far the satellite is from the center of the Earth at any moment. Finally, the orbital pattern takes the satellites directly over tide gauge stations on the French island of Corsica and an oil rig off of California to simultaneously measure sea level from above and at the surface every ten days. Even when scientists account for all of the variables in measuring sea level, the planet offers more complications: sea surface patterns and rhythms that can span years and decades. Climate patterns such as El Niño and La Niña, the Pacific Decadal Oscillation, the North Atlantic Oscillation, and the Indian Ocean Dipole all cause water to warm or cool, rise and fall, and slosh around the ocean basins. Even major current systems can speed up or slow down. Scientists have accounted for that, too. By analyzing sea surface data over long periods and noting the occurrence of major events like El Niño, they can identify and remove the natural cycles to spot the comparatively small changes in overall sea level. This is why radar altimeters are now in their fifth generation: they have collectively accumulated a data record that is longer than the seasonal, yearly, and even decadal cycles. What scientists have found after all of that data gathering and cross-checking is that global mean sea level has risen a total of 95 millimeters (3.7 inches) since TOPEX-Poseidon first started flying in 1992. And the rate is accelerating. Over the course of the 20th Century, sea level rose at about 1.5 mm per year; in the early 1990s, the rate was about 2.5 mm per year. Over the past 30 years, the average rate has increased to 3.4 millimeters (0.13 inches) per year. That total rise in seal level is a global average, and the numbers can be significantly higher in some places. (See the map at the top of the page.) For instance, researchers have observed that sea level along much of the East Coast of North America has been rising faster than the global average. While a few millimeters of higher water may seem small, scientists estimate that every 25 millimeters (1 inch) of sea level rise translates into 2.5 meters (8.5 feet) of lost beach along our coasts. It also means that high tides and storm surges can rise even higher, bringing more coastal flooding, even on sunny days. Some estimates suggest seas could rise another 650 millimeters (26 inches) by the year 2100 if Earth’s ice sheets and glaciers keep melting and its waters keep warming. Ocean altimeters alone cannot tell us why seas are rising; other instruments and data sets are needed to tell us that. But together with tide gauges, these satellites tell us clearly that our planet is changing. And they help us see more clearly where that is happening. Find more stories about our changing oceans and coasts in Earth Observatory’s sea level rise collection. Explore other stories of sea level by our NASA colleagues in Rising Waters. Looking for data related to sea level rise? The Sea Level Change Data Pathfinder on NASA’s Earthdata site highlights tools used by researchers to study ocean altimetry, including the Integrated Multi-Mission Ocean Altimeter Data for Climate Research. NASA Earth Observatory images by Joshua Stevens, using TOPEX/Poseidon, Jason-1, Jason-2, and Jason-3 data courtesy of Ben Hamlington, NASA/JPL-Caltech, and tide gauge data from Permanent Service for Mean Sea Level (PSMSL). Video by NASA/JPL-Caltech. Story by Michael Carlowicz, with science interpretation by Ben Hamlington/NASA JPL, Richard Ray/NASA Goddard, and Josh Willis, NASA JPL.

#space #science #earth observatory #nasa #news

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moonb-eam · 5 years

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skater boy au part i

i deleted this by accident!! trying to figure out how to fix it when the “keep reading” function wasn’t working!!

but this was a prompt fill for an anon, for number 40 on the ship starters!

(i saw that video of max riding around the streets of paris on a skateboard and i thought.....interesting.....eliott on a skateboard.....you might say.....he was a skater boy....)

that was where the inspo for this prompt fill came from asdfjk

i hope you like it, anon!!!

no. 40 “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?”

Lucas has his headphones in, volume high, and he’s sitting on a set of concrete steps, eyes glaring into the back of Yann’s head.

Glaring because Yann is taking forever, even though he was the one who suggested that Lucas meet him at the skatepark before they grabbed lunch. But when Lucas arrived, he’d just waved, and skated away. Now Yann is rolling back on forth on his board, casual as you please, talking like he’s got all day.

And while the June sunshine is warm and pleasant on Lucas’s face, it’s been almost fifteen minutes and Lucas is hungry. He’s about five seconds away from marching over to Yann and forcibly removing him from the park.

Because Lucas is hungry. And he’s bored. It has nothing to do with the fact that Yann is talking to Eliott fucking Demaury.

Lucas watches with narrowed eyes as Yann says something that makes Eliott laugh, ducking his head down towards his chest. He’s wearing a snapback, leaning against his upright board in a way that makes the muscles on his arms stand out. Lucas can’t be sure but it looks like he has a new tattoo. Something that might be music notes. He’s so perfect it physically hurts.

Fuck’s sake.

What is your problem with Eliott, Yann had asked him a few weeks ago. Why do you hate him?

I don’t hate him, Lucas had responded, which was true, despite how Lucas was always insulting Eliott about something, always making fun of him.

It’s not hate. It’s so completely the opposite of that, so far into another galaxy, but Lucas also doesn’t trust him. Someone who is as good-looking, charming, and popular as Eliott Demaury must be an asshole. There must be something up with him, at least some sort of unbearable entitlement that comes from the whole world being in love with you. Lucas sees it all the time; in the way teachers give Eliott homework extensions without any fuss, in the way the cafeteria workers always give Eliott extra noodles at lunch, in the way a legion of fans follow Eliott around the school, sighing at his every step. He gets treated like a fucking prince.

And Lucas won’t be another face in the sea of Eliott’s admirers. He won’t. He can’t.

So it’s up to Lucas to keep reminding Eliott that, actually, he ain’t shit, because clearly no one else is going to do it. And if Lucas is able to hide himself, hide his eyes and his laugh and his blush and how he can barely control those things around Eliott, then all the better.

It would just be so much easier if Yann wasn’t friends with him.

As if they can hear this thoughts, both Yann and Eliott turn to look at Lucas, Yann grinning in a way that makes Lucas nervous.

What? He mouths, frowning at them.

Yann turns to say something to Eliott, head bent low, and Lucas watches as Eliott’s brow furrows, his fingers tapping at his lips in a nervous gesture Lucas has become all too familiar with.

Not that he’s been looking. Lucas is just observant. Very observant.

Eliott glances back at Lucas. His hand is back at his side, but his eyebrows are still furrowed, eyes so focused they make Lucas shift awkwardly on the spot. He’s never been the centre of Eliott’s attention like this, has never had those infamous eyes so focused on himself. It makes his chest feel too tight for his lungs.

For no reason at all, Lucas flips him off.

Eliott grins, wide and crooked, as sudden and sharp as lightning.

He drops his board back down to the ground, he’s stepping onto it, Yann calls something after him, and Lucas realizes he’s coming over; Eliott is skating over to where Lucas is sitting, wide grin still in place.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Lucas pauses his music and takes his headphones out.

“Hi,” Eliott says, coming to a stop in front of him. He kicks his board up and catches it with one hand, leaning it back against his leg.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Eliott laughs and shrugs at the same time, a combination of gestures so at odds with Eliott’s outward appearance, with the black clothes and tattoos and intimidating model-esque height. “Yann said you looked bored.”

“I am bored.” Lucas winds his headphones into a ball and stuffs them into his pocket. “I want to go eat, but apparently Yann needs another fucking hour to roll around on a wooden plank.”

Eliott throws a hand out to the park. “You mean this isn’t exciting for you? Your standards are so high, Lallemant. Would you rather be at an opera?”

“I would just rather not spend my time watching stupid boys fall onto the pavement, thanks.”

“That’s funny. I thought you’d be used to it now.” At Lucas’s frown, Eliott adds, “Having boys fall for you.”

Lucas bites down on his cheek. Hard. “Is that supposed to be a compliment of some sort?” Lucas leans back onto his hands. “If it is, I think everyone might seriously be overselling your charm.”

“Oh, everyone? Everyone talks about how charming I am?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. He’s getting his bearings back, taking shallow breaths so Eliott doesn’t notice, but he’s thrown off—he’s not as quick as he usually is. “As if you don’t know.”

Eliott’s shrugs again, and his shoulders stay rounded forwards, his whole body hunching. “Yeah, I hear some things. I don’t know why…” Eliott huffs and runs one hand through his hair. The motion makes his bicep bunch up in a terribly appealing way, but Lucas barely notices, too busy watching Eliott’s face, watching a complicated series of expressions pass over it.

It makes him wonder.

“Maybe you’re right.” Eliott says. “I’m not that charming. Or at least, not charming to the right people.”

Lucas blinks. He’s not even completely sure what they’re talking about anymore. “Who are the right people?”

“Arnaud, obviously.”

Arnaud. The middle-aged security guard at their school with the perpetual scowl on his face, who seems to hate teenagers more than anything else in the world.

Lucas bites down on his cheek again, but he’s too late, there’s a runaway smile he can’t catch.

Eliott notices.

“Oh my god.” His eyes widen dramatically. His hands fly up to his chest and his board clatters down to the ground. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile at me?”

Lucas is fighting himself and he is losing. He can feel the way his mouth is twitching at the corners. He tilts his face up towards the blue sky, shaking his head. “Must be an alternate universe.”

“Well.” Eliott’s voice is quiet, his next words coming out in a rush. “Is this an alternate universe where you’ll agree to go on a date with me?”

Lucas snaps his head back down, so quickly a sharp pain shoots up his neck.

What.

Eliott has his hands in his pockets, eyes moving from the ground, up to Lucas, and back down.

“What.” Lucas says with absolutely no inflection. His chest is about to split open. He might faint. “Eliott, what are you—”

“So, yeah.” Eliott interrupts him, clearing his throat, moving his hands out from his pockets, then immediately stuffing them back in. “I, uh. I was wondering if you…maybe, uh, wanted to go on a date.” There’s a pause. “Together. If that wasn’t obvious.”

Lucas’s entire world has just been turned on its axis and he’s sure his mouth is hanging open, because what the hell is going on? He and Eliott don’t even, they don’t—

“But we hate each other,” Lucas blurts out. Eliott frowns at that, and Lucas’s voice rises an octave. “Don’t we?”

“No. At least, I don’t.” Eliott’s board is slowly rolling away from him, rattling towards a downward ramp, but neither of them notice. “I always thought it was—” A self-conscious cough. “I always thought that was flirting? Like, this whole time I thought we were flirting. Were we not flirting?”

Flirting. Christ on a cross, maybe Lucas has slipped into another dimension by accident, because surely this isn’t happening to him.

They stare at each other, incomprehension hanging between them; Lucas still in shock, Eliott looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“If you’re not interested,” Eliott starts, voice resigned, shoulders drooping, and no, Lucas doesn’t like that, he’s not totally sure what’s happening, but he doesn’t like that, “then that’s fine, obviously, I wouldn’t expect you to—”

“Oh my god.” Lucas interrupts him loudly, hands stretched out in front of him. “Eliott what the fuck, I’m not going to say no.”

Eliott stops. Blinks. “No?”

“No. Fucking hell. You—why would I say no?”

Eliott’s hands fly out to his sides, “I don’t know! Because you don’t like me! Because you thought we were actually arguing? That we hated each other?”

Lucas groans. “Oh, no. Eliott.” He drops his face into his hands. He doesn’t want to say this, but he thinks he might have to. “Eliott.” There’s an uncontrollable giggle bubbling out of his chest, like the pressure there is starting to lessen, pieces of painful longing being released with giddy breaths. “I’ve had a crush on you for months.” Lucas says helplessly into his palms, as if the words can be caught there, kept secret in the creases of his skin rather than reaching Eliott’s ears.

Eliott’s voice is quiet when he says, “Months?”

“Almost a year,” Lucas says, because dignity is something other people have. “Me and literally everyone else on the planet. So.”

“I don’t care about everyone else.”

Lucas scoffs, lifting his head from his hands. “Please.”

“I’m serious.” Eliott’s eyes are intense on him; shards of icy blue that Lucas can feel under his skin. How many times has Lucas thought about those eyes, and then immediately beat himself up for thinking about those eyes? “I’m asking you out, Lucas. Because I like you. I really do.”

“What the fuck.”

Eliott frowns. “Okay, you just said you’re not saying no but I have to say this doesn’t really feel like a yes.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

“See? You’re still being mean to me.”

Lucas abruptly stands from his perch, clambers down the few stairs separating him from Eliott until he’s right in front of him. Eliott’s hands are rising like he’s worried Lucas is about to tackle him.

Lucas is considering it, he won’t lie, but he needs to—

He needs this moment to happen again. He needs to say it because it’s Eliott and Lucas has been pretending that he’s not in love with Eliott for so long.

In love—

“Ask me again.” He demands, eyes boring into Eliott’s, cheeks flushing, hands practically shaking at his sides. “Eliott. Ask me again.”

Eliott nods once. Twice. “Okay.” His hands lower, hanging limply at his sides. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes.” Lucas says evenly. Clearly.

A wide, pleased smile blooms across Eliott’s face. “That’s good,” he says in a small voice, and Lucas realizes Eliott is reaching for him, fingertips seconds away from touching Lucas’s t-shirt and he knows he will absolutely combust if Eliott touches him—it’s all too overwhelming already, Lucas is a shooting star afire with impossibility and he is burning—so he slips away, dancing past Eliott towards the rest of the park.

Eliott is staring after him, hands frozen in the air, fingers extended out.

A shiver wracks Lucas’s entire body when he thinks about those hands touching him, those fingers dancing across his skin. Not now. Oh god, not now. But maybe…

“When do you want to go on a date?” He asks, slowly walking backwards.

“Tonight.” Eliott says immediately and Lucas laughs, his chest cracked wide open, breaths caught on the breeze. “Are you free tonight?”

Lucas is not free tonight. He and Yann were going to play video games but really, he and Yann play videos games every Saturday, so.

“I might be.” He replies easily, adopting Eliott’s shrug for himself, acting like he’s not burning from the inside out, like Eliott’s gaze isn’t an ice cube sliding across his heated skin, melted drops trailing down his back.

“I’ll message you.” Eliott calls out, and Lucas flips him off, just because he can, before he turns his back on Eliott, half-running over to where he can see Yann, leaning against a railing with his arms crossed and a smug expression on his face.

“I knew you liked him,” Yann croons when Lucas gets close enough.

“Whatever.”

He and Yann have barely made it out of the skatepark, Lucas bitching at Yann about how hungry he is, about how Yann definitely has to pay for his lunch now, when his phone buzzes with a DM from Instagram.

Lucas opens it.

srodluv: hi

srodluv: do you still want to go on a date with me?

srodluv: how does 8 p.m. sound? i’ll pick you up?

lucallemant: yeah no thanks i changed my mind

srodluv: D:

lucallemant: ew don’t use the capital D face

srodluv: D: D: D:

lucallemant: 8 is fine

lucallemant: i’m so excited

lucallemant: when you say pick me up

lucallemant: you better mean a car

lucallemant: or walking

lucallemant: not a skateboard

srodluv: :D

lucallemant: eliott

srodluv: :D :D :D

#prompts #anon #elu fic #fic tag #i really hope you like it!!#because i kinda want to write a second part #👀👀👀

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meetthetank · 4 years

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Peccatum Chapter 16: Child of the Sea

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War, Chapter 13 is rated E

A thick fog rolls into the harbor as White and her army silently load onto the seven ships resting in the harbor. The sun barely cresting over the horizon provides little light for 9S, 2B, and the others as they file on. 9S expected an excited fanfare of grateful townsfolk praying for their success, but only silence fills the air where their cheers would have been. Occasionally White or Jackass bark orders, their harsh voices cutting through the fog and echoing into the darkness followed by a short “Yes M’am!” moments later.

9S shudders at the salty, deathly still air. They’re on a waterfront, waterfronts are supposed to be windy. Now the only wind comes from the bodies of other soldiers brushing past him. Not even their flags or sails flutter. He doesn’t claim to be a superstitious sailor but he can’t imagine a windless morning is anything but an ill omen.

His gaze turns to 2B, who for the first time looks confused and uncertain. He wants nothing more than to go to her and tell her it will all be okay, but she’d simply see right through his empty platitudes. She sits on a barrel as everyone rushes around her, her shoulders tense and eyes watching the sea as if it holds an unseen truth.

All of a sudden, 2B meets 9S’ eyes with a shocked expression and hastily beckons him over.

“What?” he asks in a quiet voice so as not to disturb the silence, “What’s wrong?”

2B points to the water’s surface, “Look…”

Looking at the water, at first all he sees is the murky depths and the first rays of light reflecting off. However, something disrupts the gentle waves. A fish floating on its side with its milky eye staring into oblivion bobs along with the waves. Confusion makes him look back at 2B with a raised eyebrow. A dead fish is nothing new. It’s a harbor, of course: there will be a dead fish every now and then.

Then, upon returning his gaze to the water, he sees a second fish, this one having a distinctly paler color than the other.

And then another with steam rising off of it.

Suddenly he realizes the water is full of them. An entire pile of them bunched up against the docks and the ships, and more floating in from out at sea. And it’s not just the quantity, but the fact that the ones being carried inland by the currents look as if they’ve been cooked.

“What in the gods’ names…”

“Oi!” Jackass’ voice jolts him and everyone within earshot out of their nervous musings. The Lieutenant standing on the brace of her massive cannon, “File in, all of you!”

Every soldier and scout (and 2B) dutifully line up in front of Jackass who hops down to the docks to speak to her charges.

“Listen…” she says, an uncharacteristic heaviness in her voice, “I’m not going to sugarcoat this...Some of us are going to die...A lot of us are going to die.”

9S didn’t think that it could get any quieter, but as everyone casts their eyes down and reflects on their mortality the world falls still.

“I know a number of you don’t think this is going to work. A lot of you think it’s a crapshoot idea, and you’d be right. But…” Jackass levels her gaze at the dejected soldiers, “Regardless of what plan we come up with, we would only have one shot to kill this thing or send it running with its tail between its legs. I expect each of you to perform as if this plan has a hundred percent chance of success. Am I clear?”

“Yes ma'am,” the soldiers respond in unison, but barely above a whisper.

Her dour tone shocks 9S. Normally, Jackass would demand they shout their affirmations loud enough to wake the gods themselves, but this time she simply grimaces and returns to her final check on her weapon.

Despite the chill in the air, 9S begins to sweat. Perhaps it’s just the fog and the high humidity but he can’t help attributing it to his nerves. He stills his shivering body by wrapping his arms around himself and takes deep even breaths.

11S suddenly claps him on the shoulder, “Come on, let’s get to our stations.”

9S jumps a little, jolted out of his musings by his friend, “Right...yeah,” he mutters and follows after his friend onto one of the two attack ships.

There’s hesitation in his steps. All of the ships are dangerous to be on, 9S knows that, but he’s keenly aware of the unique dangers the guarding ships face. They’re the front lines: they’ll encounter Grun and whatever else may lurk nearby. They have harpoons, archers, even catapults loaded with heavy iron slugs and barrels of flammable oil, but there’s a real chance that it’s all for nothing. If these weapons don’t work, if the cannon doesn’t work, then they’ll be the first to die. He can’t help but resent the scouts that got assigned to the cannon ships, but even then there’s the chance that something goes wrong with the cannon itself. Just the thought of something going wrong with a weapon that big and that volatile makes him worry for 2B, who was assigned to the cannon ships.

White’s voice cuts through the fog, commanding the sails and anchors to be raised. It was time, whether they were ready or not.

The ship 9S stands on is the first one to leave the harbor, followed closely by the other. Both are almost completely silent. The soldiers look at each other with grim, fearful expressions as they disappear into the fog. A mage tasked with casting a basic wind spell grumbles about being stuck on a “fodder ship” because of the weather. 9S shudders at the thought of being stuck on a boat meant to sink, but he pushes that line of thought aside for his own sanity.

As the ship glides through the water, every creak and groan makes 9S jump as every noise brings the terror of what might have caused it. Of course, it’s always the shifting of the wood or the waves. He tries to busy himself by prepping the harpoon lines and checking catapults, but more often than not he finds himself gazing back into the fog and wondering what 2B is doing. At least on a cannon ship, she’s in a much safer position than him. Probably.

Having little to no nautical experience, 9S is unsure how far they’ve sailed. It must be a ways from shore, since the waves have gotten more intense. Each one makes the bow of the ship keel upward before it plunges back down. The constant shifting of the floor beneath him makes his stomach churn in time with the sea. If he focuses on the stagnant clouds that hang overhead it lessens the nausea, as does counting the shadows of seabirds that fly overhead.

...There’s a lot of seabirds…

A massive flock of what looks like hundreds of them swarms over something in the ocean not too far off. It’s difficult to see through the fog, but he can make out a large white shape bobbing in the waves. A bird sometimes swoops down to the object and back again, like they do when feeding.

“Must be picking off the dead fish…,” 9S mutters to himself. Or maybe the demon had already died.

If only they were so lucky.

A geyser of steam erupts from the center of the mass, scattering the birds in every direction. A large number of them flew over the ships, scattering stray feathers and screeching as they did. What concerned 9S, and others nearby, were the larger birds that clustered together near the mass. They flew in a regimented, circular formation similar to vultures. The way they flew was different than seabirds as well; they almost looked like bats with how rapidly they beat their wings. Several archers nock arrows and take aim at the flying creatures as a precaution.

“I don’t think they see us yet…” an archer whispers.

9S can feel his heart beating so fast he almost thought it had stopped. Even though he doesn’t have a bow in his hands, his arms shake as if he’s holding an arrow at the ready. Each breath trembles in his throat, and he’s painfully aware of every twitch he makes. He swears he can even feel his bones grinding against each other. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek and it feels like a torrential downpour. He swallows the lump in his throat and tightens his hold on his harpoon, as if that would do any good. Tremors run through his legs so he widens his stance just a bit to accommodate for his shakey balance.

And then he realizes…

His legs weren’t shaking. The ship was.

The ocean explodes in front of the other attack ship. Steam and fog obscure the ensuing carnage from 9S’ sight, but he still hears the horrible shrieking of wood being torn to pieces. Through the seafoam, he sees soldiers being thrown, or perhaps leaping, from the wreckage. Two curved tusks as long as the ship itself pierce through the hull and out of the deck. Deep blue lights alight the sea and cast a shadow of a creature far larger than he could possibly imagine.

9S can only stare, mouth agape, as the sea demon’s form rises from the churning sea. The ship, which looks more like a child’s toy rather than a vessel of war, clings to the demon’s tusks as it is lifted out of the water. Pieces of wood and metal fall to the waters below, along with the soldiers that leap to their doom. Some of them cling to the planks of wood while others struggle to keep their heads above water. A low rumble shakes 9S to his core, a sound so deep and deafening that it could have only come from Grun. A webbed paw rises from the churning ocean and scrapes the crumbling ship from its tusks. In a matter of seconds, the massive warship is reduced to piles of driftwood and canvas floating in a roiling ocean.

9S can only stand and watch as the soldiers around him snap out of their dazes to loose their arrows and throw harpoons at the monster, only for them to bounce harmlessly off of Grun’s thick hide. Some crewmen throw lines of rope out to the drowning soldiers. A few manage to be pulled on deck, but their rescuers recoil back at the sight of their blistering skin. What isn’t seared red is bubbling with horrific burns and boils, only worsened by the soldiers clawing at their skin. Their fingernails tear open their flesh, which doesn’t bleed but sloughs off in molten chunks. Bile burns at the back of 9S’ throat, and it takes all his willpower to not vomit...

“...S! Hey, snap out of it!!”

32S’ voice snaps 9S out of his stupor, along with a firm grip shaking his shoulders.

“Come on!” 32S shouts, shoving a bow and a quiver of arrows into 9S’ hands.

In the back of his mind, 9S can’t help but see the futility of this. There’s no way their arrows can pierce Grun’s hide, not even from their strongest archers. They fire anyway, and just as expected the arrows bounce harmlessly off the demon’s thick plated hide. Some arrows find purchase in softer parts of its body, but they barely elicit a wince from Grun. Still, it appears to be enough to irritate the demon. It lets out a horrible grunting sound and begins to wade towards their ship. As horrifying as that is, it’s just according to plan. All they have to do is keep Grun’s attention and draw it into position.

Chaos surrounds 9S like a raging storm. The sky is filled with small demons, the ones that 9S mistook for seabirds, that swoop down on thin, leathery wings to slash at the soldiers with the razor blades on the end of their wings. They fall to the deck with arrows lodged in their tiny bodies, their multiple blood red eyes fading to black, but an equal number of soldiers clutch their throats and eyes in agony, blood seeping through their fingers. Larger demons with the blob like shape of jellyfish and a faint yellow aura hover in the air just above the hoard of razorwings. Tentacles tipped with barbs that drip a golden venom descend into the bedlam below, and into the ocean as well, and sting the distracted soldiers. Their bodies seize immediately, leaving them helpless to stop the tentacles from wrapping around them and lifting them up to the demon’s amorphous bodies.

With his bow, 9S shoots frantically at the razorwing demons, and with his sword he slashes the tentacles apart as he sees them descend. He’s dimly aware of Grun releasing a geyser of boiling seawater from its nostrils as its deep blue eyes focus on the ship beside it. Dread pulls at his stomach as he watches Grun ponderously turn its head towards their ship.

9S races towards the helmsman who desperately tries to defend himself from the demonic assault, “It’s coming!” he shouts, but his voice is drowned out by the screams, “We need to move!”

But no sooner did the helmsman spare a glance at 9S did the spear of an amorphous demon pierce through his back and burst from his chest. Blood trickles out of his mouth as he quietly gasps for air, but the powerful venom prevents him from even crying for help. Another tentacle descends from the floating demon and coils around the helmsman’s neck and begins to pull him upwards.

Panic surges through 9S’ veins. He lunges forward, drawing the shortsword strapped to his waist and clumsily slashing at the demon’s tentacles, but each strike fails to connect with the fleshy tendril. The demon draws its prey higher and higher into the air, and 9S can only look on in horror as the helmsman’s face is frozen in twisted agony as he disappears into the gelatinous body of the floating demon. 9S fumbles for his bow but by the time he sloppily notches an arrow the demon vanishes into the thick overcast clouds.

“Nines! Get down!!”

Something slams into 9S’ back and knocks him to the deck, then suddenly is lifted away. He scrambles across the wood and spins around to see 32S struggling against a barbed tentacle. It writhes against 32S’ efforts to hold it back mere inches from his throat.

“Get...Off!!” he grunts as he fights a losing battle, “9S, help!”

Sword in hand, 9S leaps to his feet. With one powerful strike the blade severs the venom tipped barb from the tendril in a splash of thick, pale blood. 32S looks shaken for a moment but quickly recovers from his brush with death.

“You okay?!” 9S shouts over the chaos. He puts a clammy hand on 32S’ shoulder to help steady him.

“Yeah!” 32S shouts, breathing heavily, “I don’t think it got me, but don’t worry about that now! We’re gonna get torn to pieces if Grun hits us!”

“But the helmsman got-”

A deafening bellow nearly splits 9S’ head in two. The hot, rancid breath of Grun rushes over the ship as it roars. Globs of its boiling saliva slam into the ship with the force of a hurricane, searing those unfortunate enough to be hit. More of the flying demons descend into the chaos. The bat-like ones distract the soldiers while the floating ones silently paralyze and abduct their victims.

Soldiers slam into 9S over and over as they clamor to obtain more weapons and avoid the demon’s attacks. The shouting of men and shrieking of demons meld together into one awful sound that makes his chest tighten.

Z….Y…..X…..Fuck Fuck Fuck We’re going to die…

His feet catch on the paralyzed body of an archer and he falls to the deck, knocking the breath out of his chest. He flails his limbs as he tries to right himself, but all he manages to do is drag himself across the deck. A number of soldiers trample his back and legs as they step on him to escape whatever pursues them. He struggles to take in enough air to even scream out in pain.

“9S!”

A thin pair of hands pull him up by the shoulders far too fast. 9S’ world spins sickeningly and it’s all he can do to keep the bile in his throat from rising too much.

“Th-....32S?” 9S mutters, barely recognizing the boy next to him.

“We gotta move! We can’t stay still for- Augh!!”

Suddenly the boy next to him stiffens and goes silent, save for a long, raspy breath. Twisting himself around, 9S comes face to face with the frozen body of 32S. A large barbed tentacle sinks into the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a wound that seeps blood and venom.

“No!! Get off of him!!”

He reaches for 32S only to be knocked to the ground by a panicked soldier. With a surge of panicked energy he pushes himself up, his arms flailing out to balance himself. Just as 9S finds his feet and draws his sword once more, 32S’ body is lifted into the air. Several tendrils coil around his neck and under his arms. 9S slashes a tentacle away, only for it to be replaced moments later. Through the tears rapidly clouding his vision, he stares helplessly into the frozen, but still panic-stricken eyes of 32S.

“Help...HELP! SOMEONE!” 9S’ voice breaks through the chaos, “SOMEONE HELP HIM!”

But nobody came.

More and more soldiers slam into him one after the other, knocking him around the ship in a daze. Occasionally he looks back to the sky, searching for 32S, but it’s impossible to tell which of the poor unfortunates being carried into the clouds is his friend.

His desperation quickly festers into rage. 9S rips a bow and quiver of arrows out of a paralyzed archer’s hands. He aims and fires at anything that looks demon-like, shouting curses and challenges at whatever flies past him.

“COME ON! FIGHT ME, YOU HELLSPAWN!” he roars, throwing the empty quiver skyward before darting away to find more ammunition.

But no sooner does his attention shift to one of the countless bodies littering the deck does a deafening bellow rock his body with such force that he flies backward, slamming into the wooden floor. A sharp pain splits across his chest and warm liquid seeps through his undershirt.

9S hisses through clenched teeth, trying to make sense of his world through his pain-addled mind. Just as he starts to find his balance and rise to his feet, a great ivory tusk ruptures the deck from below, splitting the entire ship in two.

9S desperately digs his fingers into the splintering wood as the deck rises unnaturally with the demon. Grun lifts its massive head out of the water with both halves of the ship impaled on the end of its tusks. As the broken ship is hoisted above the ocean, 9S’ fingers scramble against the deck for purchase, but he slides down further and further the more he struggles. Sparing a glance down, he watches in horror at the boiling ocean that swallows those unfortunate enough to fall beneath the waves. He kicks his feet beneath him, trying to slow his descent but to no avail. His fingernails peel away from his skin as his grip falters, the stinging pain becomes too much to bear. Exhaustion compels him to let go, but his primal survival instinct keeps his grip locked onto the wood.

The ship, along with 9S, is lifted further and further into the air. The only thing between 9S and the churning, boiling sea is a dizzying free fall. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds on as tight as he can as the baleful blue light of Grun’s eyes intensifies.

Wind and sea spray whips around him, side-effects of the great demon shaking its massive head to dislodge pieces of the ship from its tusks. Despite his efforts, his body slams against the piece of wood he clings to. Each impact loosens his grip further and further.

No no no no!!!

Hot tears prick the corners of his eyes, his entire body weight now supported by only the tips of his fingers. His muscles ache, his split stitching burns in the salty air. The screams of soldiers boiling alive below him somehow are more deafening than the splintering wood and the roaring sea.

It all seems so hopeless...If he pulls himself up somehow he’s still dangerously close to Grun. If he lets himself go, then…

At least it would end quickly. From this height, if he fell head first, his neck would snap on impact with the water, killing him instantly. A dark thought creeps into the forefront of his mind. He failed his friends...He failed his Commander...He deserves to fall with them.

9S takes a deep, shuddering breath, and let’s go…

Though he shuts his eyes as tight as he can, the same primal fear that kept him locked to that piece of wood now makes his eyes fly open as he tumbles through the air. Fear pulls a scream from his lungs and his limbs flail wildly, trying to grab onto something to stop his descent. Fear is no stranger to him, but the sheer hopeless terror he feels as he plummets to his death far outweighs any of them.

Time seems to slow around him, despite the speed at which he falls. Visions of his past are dredged from his mind in a baffling trip through his childhood and early adulthood. He sees brief glimpses of his biological parents, his mother’s kindly yet stern smile and his father’s great sweeping antlers. He sees 21O and the first time he saw Jackass and White when he was very young. He sees the first time he held a sword, rode a horse, the times where 21O, White, Jackass, and himself had moments like a normal family would. And then, suddenly, he sees 2B. Her feathers and hair as white as snow, her sharp blue eyes, and her hidden kindness. She takes up his entire mind, and all he can do is lament that he didn’t get to say goodbye.

Suddenly, a great streak of white rushes at 9S and something grabs him right out of the sky. The great force slamming into and digging multiple sharp things into his skin knocks the wind out of him and rattles his head.

“NO!! Let go of me!!” he screams and thrashes his arms around.

A familiar squawk precedes his captor faltering in its flight, quickly readjusting its grip. Craning his neck to an uncomfortable degree, he sees thick grey belly plating jutting out of a mess of white feathers. A pitch-black eye glances down for a split second before looking ahead. Its wings struggle to hold both of them aloft, beating furiously against the wind to keep them in the air.

“2B!” 9S sobs, clinging to her scaled legs with what little strength he has left. She spares a quick chirp but no more, as she’s more focused on not plummeting to their doom.

Though 2B seems somewhat more comfortable flying on the ocean air currents, she’s still noticeably unsteady due to 9S’ added weight. She struggles to keep herself at a steady level between carrying him, the lack of wind, and avoiding the demons that rush to other ships. Several plumes of colored smoke arise from the three ships that guard the one that holds Jackass’ massive weapon, drawing the flying demons away from the wreckages.

Just as the cannon ships come into view, 2B’s talons release their grip on his body, letting him fall at the feet of several soldiers. As his body hits the deck that same sharp pain from before rips across his chest.

“Sit him up!” a female voice commands the soldiers surrounding him.

Before 9S can even regain his thoughts, several hands force him to sit upright, putting further strain on his broken stitching. 6O’s blonde hair and glowing green tattoos are the only things he can make out while he tries to reorient himself. Soon, a warm sensation spreads across his chest as his wounds quickly pull themselves together. They still ache and burn, but they’re closed and that’s about all he can ask for, given the circumstances.

“Can you stand?” 6O asks, but doesn’t wait for 9S’ response before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

A great gust of wind signals 2B’s return to the deck of the ship, landing next to 9S. Thick dark blood coats her beak and stains her feathers. She tosses the fleshy corpse of a tentacled demon onto the deck and shakes her body, scattering blood and seawater onto those nearby.

“9S! Get up here, now!” Jackass shouts, a twinge of furious desperation in her voice.

Obediently, 9S scrambles up to his superior officer, who barks orders at 801S and 11S. They dutifully recite the status of the great weapon, which, barring the actual ignition, is ready to fire its almost two-ton payload.

“What the fuck happened?!” she bellows the moment 9S is within arm’s length.

“I don’t know!” 9S shouts, “Did we know about the demon swarms?!”

“Of course not! How the fuck could we have known?! We couldn’t get out to sea to do any fucking recon!”

Jackass shoves a cannon mechanism into place with a metallic thud in an impressive show of strength, “Keep the gods damned fuse dry, 11S!” she shouts, slamming something else into place shortly after.

“YESSIR!”

9S begins to offer his assistance to his Lieutenant, but Grun’s mournful screams echo across the sea, making him and Jackass double over in pain. Something rattles around in his head, a single word slamming into his skull over and over till it feels like his head will burst.

“Fuck!” Jackass swears through gritted teeth.

“M…” 9S mutters, the word in his head forcing its way out, “Mot...Mother…”

The language is not his own, but it comes to him so naturally to him that for a moment he wonders if he learned it first. He feels everyone’s eyes on him, he can feel their horror at the strange language he used. Jackass holds something of recognition in her eyes, but it is hidden behind a strange glint. 2B’s feathers stand on end, making her seem much larger than she is. A low hiss emanates from her throat as her cold black eyes bore into him.

“Mother...It’s calling for its mother.” 9S clarifies.

No one, not even himself knows what he’s talking about. Grun is a demon, why would it be calling for a mother? Demons don’t have mothers...Do they?

Before anyone can ask what 9S means (though Jackass looks down at him with quiet understanding) Grun raises one of its arms and slams it down onto the bow of the nearest ship. Just like the two before, the ship crumples like a piece of brittle parchment under the mighty weight of the demon. Soldiers whose faces he can’t make out from this distance are launched into the ocean to be boiled alive, while the lucky ones cling to whatever bits of wood they can reach.

“FUCK!” Jackass bellows, slamming her fist into the side of the cannon, “We need to fucking improvise now! We need to-...”

Something in the sky catches her eye. 9S can almost hear the gears in her head turning as something in her expression changes. There’s the tiniest twinge of hope in her electric blue eyes.

Jackass raises a finger, pointed to something in the air just behind 9S, “Call her down.”

9S’ head immediately whips around to where she was pointing to see 2B sink her talons into the soft flesh of an amorphous demon that flew too close to the ship. Its soft, jelly-like body falls to the deck with a sickening splat, spilling dark blood across the wood. Whatever Jackass’ plan is, it involves 2B, and 9S hesitates. Not because he’s suddenly feeling rebellious, but because if he does then that means 2B would be the guinea pig in whatever Jackass has cooked up. The last thing he wants to do is put 2B in danger, but…

He could always tell her to run, but knowing her hard-headedness, she would refuse. He whistles, loud and sharp, then waves his arms above his head to get 2B’s attention. She descends back to the ship like a clumsy sea bird with yet another demon in her beak which she discards in the same way as before.

“You can carry him, right?” Jackass says to 2B, not caring about whether or not she can actually respond.

2B’s dark eyes glance down at 9S, quietly sizing him up, then dips her head in a nod.

“What are you-” 9S tries to ask what in the world Jackass could be planning but shuts up the moment the Lieutenant shoves a bundle of barbed javelins into his arms.

“You’re gonna ride her.”

“I’m gonna WHAT?!” 9S shouts. Even 2B looks shocked. She rears her head back and lets out a low hiss. Even her feathers seem to puff out in indignation.

“You’re gonna take those harpoons, ride on her back up to Grun, and stick them in its eyes. Get it to chase you. Then, you’re gonna lead it right into the cannon, and we’re gonna put two tons of white-hot metal down its gullet.”

“You…” 9S stares at her, mouth agape, “You can’t be serious!!”

“If you’ve got a better idea, I’m all ears!”

9S has seen and been subjected to many of Jackass’ insane plans over the years, some more dangerous than others, but this puts all of those schemes to shame. The more he focuses on one incredibly risky part, the more horrifically dangerous possibilities surface. 2B isn’t as graceful over the ocean as she is over land even without his extra weight and the weight of the harpoons, there’s no guarantee Grun would chase them even if they did manage to get close to it. Not to mention the slim chance Jackass’ cannon would even work! Everything about this plan is insane and they would be insane to even consider going through with it.

And yet 9S can’t think of a better idea.

“...2B, can-...Is this okay?” he asks the dragon beside him.

She regards 9S with those obsidian eyes that betray no emotion he can comprehend. Slowly, 2B bows her head and presses her beak to 9S’ chest in a strange display of affection. He places his hand on her snout, running his fingers gently through the small feathers there. As simple as the gesture is, it relaxes him. It’s as if he’s holding her hand and she squeezes it in return. Somehow, it bolsters his courage. Together, they can see this through.

“Alright, let’s go.”

While Jackass leaps up to the steering and begins forcing both ships into position at once, 9S awkwardly straddles 2B. He sits himself just behind her shoulders, his thighs clamped around her back and hands gripping the feathers of her neck. 2B shifts beneath him as she adjusts to his weight, stretching her wings out once he finds a somewhat comfortable spot.

“I’ll give you a signal when the shot is lined up. The moment you see it, you fly straight up. Or bank to the side. I don’t really care,” Jackass grunts, “Just so long as you’re out of the way of the cannon.”

2B beats her wings a few times, her eyes focused on the sky above while 9S counts the thundering beats of his heart. She takes a few hesitant steps to test how she carries 9S’ weight, then all of a sudden 2B breaks into a run across the deck of the ship. 9S yelps and wraps his arms around her neck, pulling on her feathers. With a few furious beats of her wings, 2B takes to the skies, albeit clumsily. A scream of terror and elated yelps bubble in his throat, especially when 2B wavers and has to correct herself, making 9S shake even more than he already was. How the hell was he supposed to throw a javelin if he couldn’t let go of 2B’s feathers?!

The baleful blue lights of Grun’s eyes illuminate 2B’s stark white feathers, and one seems to follow them as they rapidly approach. A few flying demons try to impede their progress, but 2B avoids them with sickening dips and ascents. 9S watches in horror as Grun turns its head to the sky, all of its numerous eyes focusing on 2B as she circles above it. A trembling hand reaches for one of his harpoons. He doesn’t want to let go of his death grip on her feathers, but the panic and fear drive him to act without thinking.

Grun’s eyes alone dwarf him and 2B, and staring into them is like staring into an orb of pure energy. 9S launches a harpoon directly at one of them, only for it to fall far short of its target and splash harmlessly into the water below. A puff of scalding gas rushes at them from Grun’s nostrils, or at least what 9S assumes to be its nostrils, which 2B narrowly avoids by folding her wings and diving straight down. He throws himself flat onto her back, fingers scrabbling to hook into her scales.

Just before they hit the water, 2B pulls up and begins furiously beating her wings once more to take back their altitude. Again, 9S’ stomach drops as they return to dizzying heights and he has to fight not to vomit. Once 2B levels out near its eyes again, 9S grabs another harpoon and launches it without hesitation. This time it makes contact, piercing through the thin membrane separating the swirling energy from the outside world. A bit of blue smoke surges out of the breach, but then trickles to a slow, steady stream within moments.

“2B!” 9S yells over the wind, “There!”

He points to the eye he punctured and slaps her neck in the same direction. With a high pitched squawk, she banks hard to the right and dives straight at Grun’s wounded eye. 9S doesn’t have time to reach for another harpoon, 2B sinks her talons and beak into the soft membrane. 9S has to hold on for dear life, both from the awkward angle at which 2B clings and from the pained howls of Grun shaking its whole body. 2B tears through the eye like the skin of a grape, and the more she rips apart, the more of the blue energy seeps out, until there is nothing left but an empty socket and tattered flesh.

2B soars back into the sky and begins another circuit around Grun, who reels in pain and wildly swings its huge arms to swat at its assailant. All the while, 9S launches harpoon after harpoon into the countless pools of energy that serve as Grun’s eyes. Some of them hit their mark, but most fall into the ocean or bounce off of its thick hide. As they pass one of the large eyes at the center of its head, 9S readies his last harpoon.

Something surges through him as he throws the harpoon, a strange, unearthly energy. It courses through his muscles as they coil and release, and the moment he lets go of the harpoon his vision flashes a bright golden light. Like a bolt of lightning, the harpoon slams into Grun’s eye, and it recoils backward as if it had been hit with a mountain. It roars and swats at 2B, the wind alone almost sending her spiraling into the ocean. 9S clutches onto her, but even as he looks certain death in the eye for the briefest of moments, a crazed smile spreads across his face.

“I think we made him mad!” 9S yelps once 2B steadies herself.

For good measure, 2B flies just out of Grun’s reach once more. With another bellow, the demon lowers itself into the ocean. Only the top of its head and a number of tentacles on its back are above the water as it begins to chase 2B at an alarming speed. 9S presses his whole body down against her back, both to reduce the wind on his face and to better hold on. 2B races just out of Grun’s grasp, barely above the surface of the water. With his head pressed against her neck, 9S can hear the thundering of her heart and realizes just how hard she’s exerting herself to keep up the speed and keep herself from touching the ocean. She weaves in between the razor-winged demons that try to stop them with such precise movements that it feels as if she hardly moves.

9S cracks his eyes open to watch the rapidly approaching silhouette of the two cannon ships. Somehow, he has no idea how, Jackass managed to steer both ships by herself into position. He thinks he sees them bob and waver in a concerning way, but despite his better judgment he trusts Jackass to make it work. If it doesn’t…

If it doesn’t work, Grun will destroy both ships and that would be the end of that…

The ship draws closer and closer. 9S can make out the shape of the cannon and even the onlooking soldiers. Yet still no signal from Jackass. He has no idea what he’s supposed to be looking for, but knowing his Lieutenant it would be...well, visible to say the least.

They’re within a dangerous distance from the ship when the bright flash of Jackass’ ignition hammer bathes the deck in a bright orange for a split second.

“NOW!!” 9S shouts, pulling up on 2B’s feathers.

On his word, 2B soars straight up into the sky. The higher they go, the tighter 9S holds on to her, and at one stomach-churning moment, he feels his grip slipping, only for that same strange power to surge through him again.

A blinding flash of electric blue light stuns 9S, even with his eyes shut tightly, and a deafening thunderous explosion immediately follows. The air around them shakes, causing 2B to falter and drop for a moment.

“Was that…?”

As 2B begins to descend in a much more controlled and smooth manner, 9S looks down at the steaming, mutilated body of Grun floating just in front of the cannon ships. The entire top of its head is gone, exposing countless teeth and an impossibly long tongue. Blood gushes from its open throat and oozes into the ocean like thick globs of oil. Slowly, the ocean begins to consume it, but not before the stench of a fast decomposing corpse begins to set in, even at their height. The corpse twitches hideously, scattering charred pieces of demonic flesh into the ocean.

“We...We did it?!” 9S exclaims, burying his nose in his scarf.

“HOLY SHIT, THAT WORKED?!” Jackass bellows for all of Vigo to hear.

#nier atuomata #nier fanfiction #2B #9S #2B9S

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gibmb · 4 years

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ch 8 flowers and thunderstorms

Perfuma was walking through her kingdom with Ahriman in hand, Glimmer walked on the other side of the young heir, still bothered by his existence, while Scorpia followed close behind the three. Both Scorpia and Perfuma were lost within their conversation while Glimmer was lost in her own mind, arguing with herself on what creeped her out more, the little monster she was walking besides, the dolls it was carrying, or the fact that it was Scorpia that made the dolls. Ahriman was holding two stuffed dolls, one looking like Scorpia and the other, oddly enough, looking like Glimmer. Glimmer couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease she felt walking next to the prince as the only thing she could think of was that she was walking next to a mini Hordak holding a doll that resembles her and was about to use the doll for nefarious purposes. On the other hand, she was bewildered, slightly impressed, but mostly creeped out by the intricate detail, stitching and overall high quality of the dolls that Scorpia had made, considering she doesn’t have fingers. Though her thoughts were interrupted when the young prince looked up at her, their eyes meeting as he gave her a wide smile showing his red fangs. It caused Glimmer to jump a little and Ahriman did the same mimicking her surprised jump. Glimmer frowned a little thinking he was mocking her, when the sound of giggling caught her attention. Glimmer looked up to see Perfuma and Scorpia watch with smiles on their faces, “What!?” Glimmer asked putting her hand on her hips, Ahriman doing the same, which only made her frown even more. With Ahriman mimicking her every move Scorpia and Perfuma desperately try to hold back their laughter.

“Sorry Glimmer, but it’s just too adorable seeing him mimic you.” Perfuma gave her an apologetic smile, “Plus, seeing your reaction is really funny!” Perfuma laughed a little seeing Ahriman’s perfect copy of Glimmer’s frown, “I mean, it's just cute!” Glimmer thought otherwise, believing it was the farthest thing from being “cute”; she began walking faster to make distance between her and Ahriman. Ahriman stopped mimicking her looking confused, so he glanced over to Perfuma and Scopria.

“Don't worry little guy.” Scorpia said walking over and picking him up, “Glimmer is just a bit bad with trusting people, but don't you worry I’m betting when she gets to know you and see how…” she hugs him close, “...adorable and soft you are, she will just love you!” Ahriman giggled after hearing this, his body letting off a little electricity causing both his and Scorpia’s hair to puff up. Perfuma laughed until Scorpia poked her, causing her hair to puff up as well, “There! Now we’re all puffed up.” Pefuma gave a devious smile

“Not all of us.” Perfuma said smiling. Glimmer quickly realized what was about to happen, her initial expression of shock turned into a wide grin, “Don’t even try it,” she proclaimed. Before the puff trio could touch Glimmer she teleported away from them leaving only sparkles where she once stood. The trio were excited with the challenge that laid before them, catch Glimmer and puff up her hair! Scorpia coiled her tail and used it to carry Ahriman, giving him a better angle to watch, while Perfuma used her magic to summon vines that would try to slow Glimmer down. Glimmer dodged, weaved and teleported her way out of Perfuma’s plants and Scorpia’s arms, especially Scorpia’s arms. She never realized it, but Scorpia was quick and agile despite her appearance and the fact that she’s carrying a baby with her tail. They continued their game of cat and mouse throughout the kingdom until Glimmer heard her communicator pad go off. She gestured to Perfuma and Scorpia to stop and pulled out the communicator to answer. On the other end of the transmission was Bow, Adora and Mermista.

“Hey guys! How’s the investigation coming along?” asked Glimmer. Looking to the screen seeing Bow scratching his head making a face she knows all too well, “It was a bust, wasn’t it? Nothing found? No information, not even a tidbit?” Glimmer sighed, annoyed after the meeting they had just as the twin monsters were born, Glimmer wanted to have the Horde remnants dealt with. It seemed whoever was leading proved to be far superior to Catra or any other in terms of tactics.

“Yeah no, sorry Glimmer we almost had them this time. Mermista wrecked the ship they were using, Adora and I boarded it alongside some of our troops to capture and interrogate them, but then we ended up fighting with them. There was even a sorta shark man that could control the sea life around us, he had a giant squid attack us and by the time we defeated the squid the remnants were gone, but…” he smiled widely, “...on the bright side! We kinda have an idea on why they’re raiding,” Bow turns his data pad to show what looked like half of a large metal boat washed up onto the shore, “They might be gathering up First Ones tech to try and build up there fighting force again.” Bow said a bit nervous at the thought of that, “But there’s one thing that bothers me, just before that shark guy escaped he yelled out ‘Skeletor shall rise once again!’; whoever this “Skeletor” is he's definitely not like Hordak or any other Horde commander we’ve ever faced off against.” Glimmer frowned hearing this.

“From one evil warlord to another,” she rubbed her face with her free hand before hearing a static noise and a yelp from behind her. Glimmer looked at scorpia, noticing that Ahriman had gone missing before feeling her communicator pad shake. Her gaze quickly returned to it shaking and shooting out small sparks of electricity as Ahriman appeared from it, landing on Glimmer. Surprised by his appearance she dropped the data pad while he was still emitting static causing her hair to puff up. Ahriman clapped his hands giggling and from what she could hear Adora and Mermista must have finally joined Bow, their laughter was easy to distinguish, all while spotting Scorpia and Perfuma’s faces both grinning like cats. Glimmer did not find this funny, with a free hand she picked the data pad off the ground looking at it, “We’ll discuss the Skeletor problem later, for now I have a demon to look after alongside...” Glimmer shot Perfuma and Scorpia a glare, “...two princesses.” She ended the video call with Bow and Adora sighing wondering why her mother even wanted her to bother helping Perfuma look after one of those little demons, “Now that you've gotten that out of your system can you come get this thing away from me.” Perfuma frowned at that comment,

“He's not a “thing” Glimmer,” Perfuma said walking over, “He’s a baby and heir to Dryl an-” before Perfuma could continue Glimmer cut in gesturing to Ahriman who seemed more innocent and confused than threatening,

“He’s also the heir and son of Hordak! Making him related to a monster that spent most of his time trying to conquer or kill us, so I don't care! My mom and dad may think that they’re harmless, but I-” Glimmer paused feeling a sharp pain in her hand. She looked down to see Ahriman holding her hand feeding from it, “Arrgh! And then there's this drinking blood thing he does, could you be any more evil!” Perfuma frowned at Glimmer and as she was about to scold her Scorpia interrupted her by tapping her shoulder,

“Sorry to interrupt, but didnt you have a meeting today Perfuma?” Scorpia asked trying to defuse the tension between the two princesses as well as make sure Ahriman doesn't shock anyone. Perfuma paused for a moment before exclaiming

“Oh my! Yes, you’re right Scorpia! I completely forgot about that. How about while I discuss my kingdoms issues with my advisors, you three can wait in a nearby hut? I could have tea sent so that you all may be refreshed and rejuvenated from all of the fun we’ve been having.” She smiles at Scorpia who takes Ahriman in her arms buzzing with joy while giving Glimmer a frustrated stare. They all make their way to the hut Perfuma had suggested and upon arrival, Perfuma has the servant inside the hut leave to gather fresh herbs for tea. “I’ll be heading to the meeting now, hopefully it won’t be too long before I can come back…” Perfuma focuses on Glimmer, “...and finish our discussion from earlier.” Before Glimmer could say anything Perfuma leaves the room in silence. Feeling intimidated by how different she acted Glimmer looked back at Scorpia who was playing with the little monster. She frowns at both of them, while Ahriman giggles and waves his doll of Glimmer.

“How can you be so nice to him Scorpia!? How can you even bear to be around him?” Glimmer asked a little more hostile than she wanted to. Scorpia looked over to her seeming in thought though still playing with Ahriman, Scorpia used her free claw to scratch her head a little bit.

“I don’t know. How can you not be nice to such an adorable little face?” Scorpia says while she uses her magic to create sparks of tiny lightning coming out of her claws. Ahriman gushes with laughter, his eyes reflecting the light of the lightning, he claps his hands for a moment before looking at them. His body is still, sparks begin to illuminate from all over his body; Ahriman, still looking at his hands, scrunches his brows and concentrates, all of the sparks on his body begin to travel to his hands. Scorpia felt a sudden chill running down from the top of her head all the way down to her tail, she quickly realized that there was a lot of electricity being channeled into Ahriman’s hands, “Oh. This can’t be good.” She rushes over to Glimmer, tackling her and pinning her against the wall of the cottage they were in, using her own body as a shield. In that moment Ahriman’s hands grew bright with light and suddenly, massive rods of lightning cracked and flickered out of the young heir’s hands. Lightning launched through the roof and into the sky, the clear clouds turned dark rumbling with thunder, the smaller bolts trailing away to create what looked like a tree made of lightning and storm clouds. Inside, the excess electricity crackling throughout the room, scorching everything in its path. Ahriman giggles and laughs until Scorpia comes rushing to him, picking him up into her arms. Suddenly, the bolts begin to rush to a single point, Scorpia. She calls out to the young prince, “Ahriman! You need to stop! You’ll end up hurting someone! Stop! Stop!” Ahriman looks into Scorpia’s eyes, he sees the fear and worried look she gives him and the light show emanating from his hands stops. He sniffled a little and his eyes water up a bit, he starts to give a worried moan. Scorpia quickly reassures him, “Oh, don’t cry. It’s ok! Look, everything’s ok, everything...is...OK.” Ahriman is still sniffling, on the verge of crying, but Scorpia cradled him as Glimmer got back up. Horror stricken, she began approaching them slowly, her eyes locked on the little monster. Scorpia noticed her and having a guilty look on her face, “Sorry, sometimes when he gets too excited he can lose control, but don't worry before we left with Perfuma I promised Entrapta that I’d help him learn to control his powers.” She had a serious expression, but before she could speak Glimmer cut in,

“Are you kidding me? He just called in a storm with lighting included! HE ALMOST FRIED US! FRIED US! EVEN AS AN INFANT, HE'S ALREADY MORE DANGEROUS THAN HIS FATHER! HE'S A MONSTER AND YOU WANNA TRAIN THAT THING TO WHAT!? KILL US BETTER!? KNOW HOW TO BEST COOK ME WITH LIGHTING!? GREAT JOB SCORPIA! REALLY, JUST GREAT!” Glimmer yelled panting, seeing Scorpia’s wide eyes and Ahriman looking terrified. She didn’t care, she was ready to continue, but scorpia spoke first.

“He is not a monster Glimmer. He’s a baby! Yes, he has dangerous powers, but so does Frosta, me, Mermista, Perfuma and all the other princesses and you think that as a baby they knew to control their powers?” Scorpia had a serious expression, “I doubt that. It took me months of training and even now I’m still learning how to do this whole magic thing, so if he’s a monster so are we.” She said as Ahriman whimpered a little, “You’re mother wanted you to join us because you hated them for their father's deeds, but they aren't him they’re babies, they’re still learning and all you can do is treat THEM like a monster when YOU yourself used your kingdom as bait for the Horde and was willing to try and use a super weapon to kill how many people?” Scorpia said with a cold tone making glimmer flinch a little from the reminder of her less than good time as a queen, “So, can you say that you’re not without a few bad deeds?” Scorpia saw Glimmer look down rubbing her arm. “Exactly!” She said trying to sound cheery. “Then, if your mother and father can look past what Ahriman’s father did, than you should be able to as well?” Before either one of them could speak again they noticed townsfolk and guards at the entrance of the hut looking at them both stunned and frightened, “Oh. Um, hi there; umm, there’s nothing the matter just a small hiccup on our end, the baby got a little too excited.” Scorpia said holding Ahriman still sniffling, one of the guards looked up at the hole in the roof of the hut, then back to the three of them. Scorpia smiled nervously, “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare hut we could use?”

The trio followed one of the guards to a new hut, one that wasn’t catching fire, and were told to wait there for Perfuma to arrive. The room was silent, Ahriman held his doll of Glimmer tight to his chest, Scorpia set him down and sat with her legs crossed next to the prince, and Glimmer stood. She kept her distance from Scorpia, arms wrapped around herself, still feeling a piercing sting from the words that Scorpia had spoken to her before changing huts. The room felt small, the air cold, and bitter memories of the past surrounded them; not a single word was spoken between the two princesses. What was only a few minutes felt like an eternity of awkward silence when suddenly, someone entered the hut. It was the servant that was sent to gather herbs for tea, he was young, dark pink skin with snow white hair, his eyes full of sparkle with a small number of freckles lined from cheek to cheek. The boy was short and carrying a tray with a tea set, “Would you like some tea princesses?” the boy asked. Scorpia smiled kindly,

“We would love some tea.” Scorpia looked to Glimmer, “Come on Glimmer come have a seat, it would do us both some good to enjoy something to drink and calm our nerves.” Scorpia patted an area next to her, Glimmer looking down but nodding, slowly walking over to sit across from Scorpia, “Well that’s not where I patted but it’s something.” The boy smiled at the two princesses setting down two cups in front of both of them and pouring the herbal tea into both cups before stepping back for them to enjoy the tea. Scorpia gently picked up her cup drinking it trying not to break the cup like a few times before, but also looking to Glimmer who still looked like a kicked puppy taking a small sip of her tea, “Listen Glimmer I didn’t mean to sound so harsh about what I said, it’s just...” Scorpia looked down at Ahriman he held his two dolls close smiling at them making Scorpia feel light as she smiled at him, “I don’t want them to be looked at like Hordak was when they’re older. People will treat them differently, like they’re monsters or worse and I don’t want them thinking that they are. I want them to feel safe around those that Entrapta trusts. Is it wrong to wanna give them something bright when we both know what others will say or try to do later in life?” Scorpia saw Glimmer look up at her, rubbing her shoulder with her free hand, then she looked to Ahriman who looked to her giving her a small goofy smile causing Glimmer to smile softly back before sighing,

“You’re right Scorpia, you, my mom, Perfuma, Catra and every other person that's given me crap for the way I've acted.” She rubbed her face groaning, “Why am I always like this?” Glimmer heard Scorpia chuckle a little oddly, “Yeah, yeah. It’s so funny that I can’t seem to ever make a decision that goes well” Scorpia’s claw still had her face covered before she heard glass break, a sudden thud and the table shake.

Before she knew it, Scorpia was on the ground. She could feel her body growing numb, at first it was down at her feet forcing her to collapse; her tail went limp and numb, she could feel whatever was paralyzing her travel through her body. Soon she couldn’t feel her chest, panic and fear started to kick in, she looked at Ahriman and tried lifting her arm towards him. A sudden shock pierced throughout her body, the tip of her claw felt as though it was being stabbed by thousands of daggers and that feeling traveled all through the rest of her body. Her shoulders grew heavy as she struggled to keep herself up, she tried to reach out to Ahriman and drag herself closer to him, but her arms grew too heavy and too weak to carry out her intent. Her head was buzzing, her vision blurring, Scorpia could smell the tea she had fully drank from her breathe. Something was off, there was a faint bitter aroma mixed in with the otherwise sweet and delicate one coming from her breathe. Just before everything went dark, Scorpia managed to say a few words before completely passing out, “Whatever you do...DON’T DRINK THE TEA…” Glimmer looked down at scorpia in shock before looking to the boy,

“What did you do? What, what was in that tea!?” Glimmer asked still shocked and feeling a bit light headed as the boy approached looking stunned

“It was what I normally grab when I make herbal tea, she must be having a bad reaction to it. “ The boy said looking scared and terrified, “You should go get Perfuma while I stay here with them.” The boy said terror still on his face. Glimmer was heading to the door still feeling light before pausing, she had known this boy he had made tea for her before and never has this happened. She turned to see Ahriman looking scared of the boy and trying to nudge Scorpia, Glimmer’s shock turned to anger teleporting between the boy and the baby. She glared at him,

“Nice try, but I know the boy you're impersonating and so does Scorpia if it was really the brew he normally made then nothing would have happened!” Glimmer said trying to stand tall, though faltering as she stumbled a little. The boys surprise turned into a cruel smile and his voice deepened,

“And here I thought you were the dumb one of the two, then again all three of you are pretty stupid.” The boy chuckled walking forward, his posture changing entirely from a kind of cautious and careful posture to one that said all too well what he enjoyed doing to those who kept him from his prizes, “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I did attack him on his way back, so I didn't really have much to go on, I had to make up how he would act which worked out.” He smiled then frowned, “Until you actually used that tiny brain of yours, but oh well! The easy way didn't work, sooooo it's time for the fun way.” His cruel smile returned and Glimmer stepped back a little,

“What, what did you do to him?” The question came out a bit more scared and rattly then she'd have liked. His smile changed to a more caring one,

“Oh don't worry, once I got him to talk he didn't feel a thing. You have my word as a professional, one quick stab to the heart and he was gone before he could feel it. Truly a peaceful ending.” The care in those horrible words spoken to her sent chills coursing through her body and she felt sick after hearing them. Glimmer knew she was in deep trouble. “Though when I came in his place I thought I'd be killing Perfuma, but instead I end up with not one but THREE high value targets! Oh, what a wonderful surprise it was, so I used a little of my special paralyzing agent in the tea, well a little for you, a bit more for stinger over there, but it looks like I should have used a bit more for you”

The impersonator changed his voice back into the little boys’ and asked Glimmer, “You don’t mind if I change into something a little more...suitable?” Before she could answer, the boy’s eyes darkened into solid black, then began to bubble into a tar like substance. It dripped down the cheeks of the boy and more of it started coming out of his nose and ears. He let out a cynical laugh before his face began to melt, the black tar spreading to the rest of the body. Soon what was once a boy was nothing more than a standing silhouette of black tar, boiling and bursting, spilling onto the floor but returning to the figure that stood before Glimmer. It began to grow, as more tar burst onto the floor and returned to its host the figure grew and grew until it became just as tall as Scorpia was. Ahriman moaned in fear and wrapped himself around Glimmer’s leg. Glimmer placed her hand on the prince’s head, words could not begin to describe the dread she felt. Her stomach was a bottomless pit and her heart was heavy as all she could do was watch. The figure in front of her had gathered all of the spilt tar and it began to solidify, forming the silhouette of a person. Once solidified, the boy was no more; now, standing before Glimmer was a man dressed in full black armor. It was a kind of armor she had never seen before, it felt similar to the armor the Horde had worn, but the moldings of the boots, gauntlets, and chest were made to look like that of a skeleton. Even the helmet was similar, but with one distinct difference, the face was silver and was formed into the face of a skull. Day turned to dusk and the sun was almost set, the last of the sun’s light came into the room through an open window making the imposter’s armor shine with a warm glow, but before long, the night came and the warm shine that covered the imposter was gone leaving behind a cold and sinister evil standing before Glimmer.

Using his natural voice he spoke, “There. Much. Better.” The imposter walked to a stand that was holding an unlit torch, “Don’t you think it’s getting a bit dark in here?” With a snap of his fingers the torch caught fire and the rest of the torches and candles within the hut came to life. “Now you’ll get to see what’s coming for you. It’ll be so much fun.” The imposter in his true form stared at her, his eyes shown through the skull mask eyeing her like prey as he drew a knife from its sheath on his waist, “But don’t worry I promise when they have your funeral they can have an open casket.” He said in a horribly soothing tone. Glimmer’s immediate reaction without thinking was to pick up Ahriman and try to teleport, but when she did she only felt sick to her stomach stumbling back. “Ohhh, did you really think that we haven’t planned for your powers? The agent I added, while paralyzing is one of its effects, can also be used to suppress certain talents. It makes sure that only those with skill are allowed to join.” He began his approach readying his knife, Glimmer looked around the hut for a weapon or anything she could use as she felt her body getting numb bit by bit until she sees one of the lit torches. She makes a dash for it while holding Ahriman, grabbing it and prying it off of what held it as she heard the imposter approaching, humming to himself, as he did she twirled and swung the torch at the imposter only for him to catch it with his free hand. His head tilted as if curious, “Oh how adorable! A princess that thinks she can fight a trained assassin.” The assassin’s tone was joyful as he rips the torch out of her hands and sheathed his knife. Using his now free hand he placed it onto the torch, smothering the flame and putting it out. He tossed it to the side before beginning his approach to her again. Glimmer holds tightly onto the young terrified heir,

“Its ok Ahriman,” Glimmer said trying to sound strong, “I’ll stop him.” No matter how strong Glimmer tried to sound it was no use, her body felt weaker and weaker as the assassin got close. She tried desperately to teleport, but it was no use, so she did the only thing she could, when he got close enough she rammed into him with her shoulder as hard as she could. Sadly an armored, healthy assassin wasn’t affected by a drugged princess. The assassin seemed to chuckle before grabbing Ahriman. She tried to hold on, but he punched her with his other hand seeming to take great joy in hurting others who resisted him rather then killing them quickly. He began to repeatedly strike at her, Glimmer noticed his hand and wrist were unarmored so she desperately bit the hand trying to take Ahriman as hard as she could causing the assassin to flinch in pain before growling and striking harder. By the tenth strike Glimmer was beaten and bruised releasing both her bite and her grip on Ahriman. The assassin held him in his bleeding hand looking down at Glimmer with malice in his eyes as he unsheathed his knife again raising it. Glimmer looked to Ahriman, his terrified expression looked back at her. Glimmer felt the abyss in her stomach deepen knowing she failed him.

“Well it was fun dear princess, but it looks like Bright Moon is gonna be short a princess and two princes!” The assassin said with a cruel joyful tone raising the knife. Glimmer closed her eyes ready to accept death, but after a few moments nothing happened except for the faint smell of something burning. Glimmer opened one of her eyes to see the knife mere inches away from her face, the assassin shaking, seeming to be struggling and in pain. Smoke coming off of the assassin with sounds of crackling coming from him as well. When Glimmer looked to Ahriman she saw him biting where she had bitten him, his eyes glowing red like Hordaks’ electricity sparking off his body. He was biting as hard as he could, Glimmer then looked to the assassin’s eyes with horror. Behind the mask showed eyes that were burnt out, smoke leaving the sockets of the silver skull. Glimmer quickly rushed to Ahriman,

“That's enough Ahriman! Stop! He's gone, he won't hurt us anymore!” Ahriman’s eyes returned to normal, his jaw loosened letting go of the assassin’s hand. The sound of sizzling flesh was followed by a loud thud as the body inside the armor fell onto the ground with smoke continuing to come out of the mask. Ahriman jumped into Glimmer’s arms and buried his face in her chest crying. All Glimmer could do was hold him as tightly as she could both of them sitting on the floor. Within moments Perfuma rushed into the hut with a small number of guards in tow, not one of them could say a word. Perfuma came to Glimmer’s side and hugged her, tears flowing down her cheeks. The guards huddled over the smoldering body while some villagers gathered to Scorpia who was still unconscious. Then, a villager came into the hut with a body their arms and bitter sadness in their eyes. It was the body of the boy the assassin impersonated with a single stab wound to the chest where his heart would have been. Silence. The room was still and the first person to break that silence was a beaten and broken Glimmer, “He said that Bright Moon was going to lose a princess and two princes. There’s only one prince here.” Perfuma looked straight at one of her guards, “Send word to the Bright Moon Kingdom. Warn them, tell them what happened here.” She looked at the dead assassin, “Tell them to be ready.”

#heir to the horde #heir #glimmer #Scorpia #Ahriman #perfuma

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silencedtechnophile · 5 years

Text

==> Do something about it

The ship hummed around him in the darkness. Something, somewhere, was beeping near the meat puppet hung in the rigging that limited his abilities with a biological bottle neck. His head was so fuzzy. Which is what they wanted. He was too smart, they knew what kind of damage he could do if he werent forcefully throttled.

He worked slowly. The plan had come to him in an instant, as he'd gotten encouragement from the helm chat. He could do something. He could affect his situation. He was not fucking helpless, he refused to be.

First he carefully hacked into the mediboard that controlled his blood chemistry. He fiddled around with it so its output would remain steady, but it would cease giving him the brain fogging drugs.

That took a while to make it out of his system, every moment of it afraid someone would draw a random blood draw to double check the mediboard, though that was passingly rare. They trusted their equipment.

As his head cleared his body began to hurt, he had a sudden more complete awareness of the agony of the living wires burrowed under his skin, and the way his shoulders were wreched and taking all his weight.

He had to adjust the output again to smooth out his heart beat so they wouldn't be alerted.

Pain was fine. He could deal with pain, he could think and that was what mattered right now in this moment. Blessed clear thoughts. Every moment he delayed was a moment his gamble might be discovered so he worked quickly, spoofing his address from outside the ship while he expanded his own permissions. HE could open and close doors, he could even open and close airlocks, but he wasn't trusted with them.

He wormed his way into the controls, granting himself admin powers at the root level.

Then he just had to wait.

This was the part he had the least control over. Her movements.

Now that he'd given himself root acess and no longer needed the clarity to hack the ships permissions he left the door he'd created open, and went back in to fix his medications and outputs back the way they had been, by the time he had his opertunity he would be fully drugged again, they wouldn't be able to tell it was him. ------------------ Being the Empress had its perks. No waiting in lines, getting to take par in destruction and culling without consequences, running fleets of ships, not having to tolerate any mischief, being feared and respected by everyone at default. But most importantly? Not having to do shit unless you want to. This is one thing Meenah took advantage of as much as possible. If she didn’t have to get up and go somewhere to get something done, why would she?

In her younger years, the idea of taking the throne had caused her nothing but annoyance and disgust. Being taken care of like a wriggler, being responsible for a planet full of easily influenced and hasty trolls. Taking care of her lusus indefinitely, and having to personally feed her each night. Making a quick and not very discreet exit from her original planet had been a great decision. She’s stood by it since it happened, all those sweeps ago in an universe that never quite fit to her tastes. Being born there had felt like a cruel joke once she knew what she had missed out on.

So when she had spawned here some number of sweeps ago, she had been horrified. Devastated. They won and she, as always, got absolutely shafted by the universe. That is... until she took a good look around and evaluated her situation. Beforus had been a little pond, full of toothless guppies. And she had been a shark, unable to even turn around in the limited space. But Alternia? Alternia was a vast sea, with plenty of prey to sink her teeth into and depths to claim as her own. It was as if this gift universe was molded for her, a refined combination of two planets and the two lives she had lived through. The best part was that she had gotten to float over the hard parts, the initial rise to power and the conquering and culling of her personified roadblocks. The endless cycle of teaching her throneworld to submit.

There’s no shame in admitting she’s fully enjoyed the spoils of her new life, entirely content with trading a few sweeps for her position. Hell, she was a tyrian. There were plenty of sweeps to spare, she would do it again.

Which led to this, a three night streak of kicking up her feet in her own block on the flagship. The Battleship Condescention.

Okay, fine, maybe she should have been doing something more important than catching up on dramatic cinema when there was a rebellion to stomp out with her boot. But things were fine. They were starting to close in on the short, mouthy, ship thief. Her biggest potential problem was nice and cozy some number of floors below her, tucked into his ports and wires like a wriggler to coon. And no one else was stepping up to oppose her. Even the most powerful and feared leaders of societies had to take a break, let the tide ease them out.

Of course, all good things come to an end. This time, it’s the portable communications device implanted into her tiaratop. Already missing her makeshift getaway, she flicked a claw against the gold and her features were illuminated by the live footage of one of her on hand advisors. She scowled at him, lip jutted out and pierced brows raised to put emphasis on her annoyance. “We got a, y’know, a problem.” He grunted, the last word coming out like pr-ah-bl-im. “Sum’thin’ funny, ‘kay. Minor. We’re handling it, swear it ma’am. Got someone on the f’rewalls, set that right. But...”

When the purple hued troll went on to explain, she was furious. Someone had managed to nudge at their security systems and give them a test and it took them a few nights to tell her? Her pan whirled to the worst and most paranoid conclusion. Someone from their session, probably that infuriating time wench or the pirate enthusiast, maybe a turnaround from her own Makara if he’d been fully awakened in their new planet.

She stormed about to get ready, pan immediately set to force her commandeered pissblood battery to help her track down and eliminate the source. If her goons couldn’t get the job done, he was going to do it for them.

“Soon as I grill this guppy, you’re gettin’ sautéed. Fried.” Meenah, better known as the Condesce, set her focus entirely on a stomping beeline for the exit and her threatening tangent. “Pike it or not, best get ya’ affairs in order. Boat t’ sea what the pointy end a’ my golden prod ‘eels like embedded in ya’ b’ass. No shrimp-athy for the in-conch-petent, set a bet’a example for the school.”

The door to her block opened with quiet ‘swish!’ as she took her first step out. And then another. Somewhere, a number of clicks below stationed near the central engines, a troll was probably filled with justifiable anger and excitement. With the Empress there was nothing but the light, sharp sound of her heeled boots in the metal corridor paired with the rough undertone to her flurry of words. The advisor on the other end of her video chat cowered, sputtering excuses as she glared down her defined cartilage nub at him. “And if you e’fin conch-sea-der tryin’ to catch a wave trout’a here, I ain’t mako-in it snappy.” She continued her tirade, satisfied by the way the other troll’s eyes went wide and his jaw slid open. “Yeah, that’s moray p’ike it. Best get ya-shelf practicin’ on a look a’ ray-morse.”

“Actually,” he started, gaze averted to the light over the airlock behind her. It blinked red once, yellow twice, and began to shift to green. “I think -“

“Clam it, small fry!” She stopped her determined march to point a claw at him, as if he were really a few feet ahead of her. “Can’t bay-lieve ya’ got the swimmers to gab at me, blowin’ bubbles slap full a’ bullshark.”

Just behind her, the light held steady at green. The advisor stumbled in his warning, horrified and relieved and stalled by his shock as her hair whipped away from her face and her words trailed off. There’s a second where the familiar sound of the airlock opening seemed to halt time. Meenah looked over her shoulder, and then to the projected feed of the lower blooded troll. For the first time in sweeps, she barked a laugh. And then? “Son of a’ eldritch pailin’ bitch.” She bared her impressive chompers, fins flared backwards in her surprise, disbelief, and pure offense that someone has made an attempt on her life. The tyrian scrambled to dig her claws into the metal wall beside her, a cringe worthy noise produced when they drag through the reinforced metal. “You gotta be krillin’ -“

“Maybe if -“

In what might be the most anticlimactic turntables of a story ever, the airlock smoothly opens the rest of the way. Sweeps in the past, there is a time traveling maroon blooded, grudge obsessed troll glancing through the ages and chortling at a joke no one will understand much less believe. The seadweller’s yellow painted claws dig and clip away in a desperate swing at survival. The hatches to the other blocks through the stem are sealed shut, and whatever artificial air was being released dissipated the minute the immediate area was exposed to space. Meenah had a moment, maybe two, to reflect on the mistakes that led her here. Putting an airlock directly outside the door to her block, entirely for the purpose of disposing of any unwanted visitors. Not once considering that someone might turn this around on her, or capitalize on her desire for the dramatic. Leaving her block using her balancing prongs at all, when a transportalizer would have been safer and faster - but would ultimately have lacked in the build-up of intensity and hostility that a chance to strut and lament and publicly humiliate and shortly thereafter kill her most recent workplace pest. If she had more time, she might have thought of a few more excuses to shift the blame a bit.

Including, but not limited to: This Must Entirely Be Megido’s Fault And Here Is Why, the three part series of essays assembled by Meenah Peixes. Or the potential ways Aranea could have somehow subverted death and the fate of their session altogether to somehow ruin the one fun thing she has EVER had the chance to do, seriously, what a Jealous Jude. Or maybe this is the fault of the younger Vantas, who mysteriously fell into her lap around a sweep ago and... well, he was disappointing as a whole until he managed to actually do a backflip off of the handle and body his way out of holding.The diversion of resources from the facility had been an oversight, and the cause of it was promptly replaced and reassigned to dinner duty. A more appealing way to refer to the main course.

Any of those things could have led to this, but none of them did. All the time in the world, and she likely never would have thought her laziness would play a part in her downfall.

It did, though. The metal peeled away from the support column, and the lurching movement broke her grip. It was inevitable. Meenah tried to yelp out a curse, perhaps one last bit of defamation for her last words, but nothing actually came from her throat. Her lips twisted and her expression caught somewhere between anger and fear. The last thought to coherently hit her ends with ‘- and this bucket of chum is the last thing I get my peepers on, really?’ as she wS forcibly removed from the flagship and sent careening into space.

A few blocks and a couple lifts away, the flabbergasted advisor had already dispatched armed forces. Not that it mattered, he decided. The connection to the tiratop flickers more and more as she departs, but the image of his frozen taskmaster tells him there’s no rescuing from that.

Her skin was flaking with ice, fins back and shining tyrian as they stretched, thin eyes obscured by the ice on her lashes, teeth exposed from where she tried to get the last word. The sight of her being quickly and surprisingly easily dispatched hadn’t left him hopeful for saving her, and the last glimpses of her expression deterred him from even attempting to recover her corpse.

The Empress was dead.

#plot post #bulgerot #character death #murder//

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damiencordle · 5 years

Text

JOSHUA DAMIEN CORDLE

Amazon, Google, AI and us: Are we too close for comfort?

Beyond facial recognition, we're giving smart devices and platforms our intimate biometric details.

BY BRIAN BENNETT

Computers aren't just getting smarter, they're studying us more closely too. Whether it's in the name of public safety, fraud protection or simple convenience, we're feeding AI systems details that identify us and track our comings and goings.

Equipped with electronic ears, eyes and brains, a sea of devices now monitor human activity and characteristics. The list includes everything from smart speakers, laptops and phones, to even doorbells and locks. You may not have noticed this trend, but it's real, and growing.

CNET has spent the last two weeks documenting the current state of facial recognition technology, but that's just one method of gathering data directly from your person. Here are a few examples of how other biometric technologies have seeped into the fabric of daily life, and where things could go next.

Fingerprint readers everywhere

Devices that can read, capture and match fingerprints to specific individuals have been with us for decades. In 1969, the FBI began looking at ways computers could help facilitate fingerprint identification.

Back then the idea was to free as many FBI staff members as possible from this tedious, labor-intensive task. By 1975 the Bureau's efforts, aided by the National Institute of Standards and Technology, led to a functional fingerprint scanner prototypebased on capacitive sensors.

Now fast forward to 2013. That's when biometrics truly became mainstream, designed for consumer convenience, not only serious crime fighting. That year Apple integrated its Touch ID fingerprint reader into the iPhone 6, 6 Plus, and 5S. It also placed the security system in its new iPad models.

Since then both Google and Microsoft have launched similar identification solutions. Examples include Pixel Imprint for Google's Pixel phones, and Windows Hello available on Microsoft Surface laptops and tablets. Other device makers have adopted fingerprint reader technology as well. On this list of high-end handsets are the Motorola G7, OnePlus 6T, Samsung Galaxy S10, and Sony's Xperia XZ3.

All these phones, save the OnePlus 6T and Galaxy S10, use capacitive readers. They harness the same principle that the FBI did to build its early fingerprint scanner. Capacitors in the scanner measure fingertips for slight differences in electrical conductivity. The scanner then forms a finger ridge pattern from these differences.

The OnePlus 6T is quite different. Its sensor is optical, essentially a tiny camera that takes photos of fingertips. Since it creates flat, 2D images, this reader is relatively easy to fool. Not so with the Galaxy S10's ultrasonic sensor.

The S10 actively pings your finger with sound waves when it's touched, These waves bounce off skin and back to the reader for analysis. With that data, it constructs a detailed 3D image that's tougher to duplicate or spoof.

They know your voice

The smart speaker's rise in popularity is undeniable. The number of US smart speaker users is expected to swell to 76.5 million by 2020. According to eMarketer, that's up from 16 million in 2016, a compounded annual growth rate of 47.9%.

Amazon's Echo products with Alexa onboard still represent the lion's share of these gadgets. Google Assistant though is in hot pursuit. And as the companies compete for market share, the capabilities of both voice assistants has steadily increased.

hese speakers don't just listen out for your spoken commands. They can recognize, and distinguish between the voices of individual home members. That enables them to deliver personalized responses and results to match specific people.

It's a neat trick that comes in handy when you want a rundown of your personal schedule, tasks, shopping lists and so on. For this to work, you'll need to train these systems. And that means providing them with numerous voice samples. The audio snippets then find their way to remote servers for comparison, identification, fast retrieval and storage.

The eyes can't lie

Like fingerprint readers and voice recognition, iris-scanning technology has slowly crept into ordinary life. The iris, the pigmented area of the eye outside the pupil, is unique from person to person. Even individuals with the same genetic makeup -- identical twins, for instance -- will exhibit distinct iris patterns dissimilar from each other. That makes the allure of this identity confirmation technique strong.

The potentially high speed and accuracy of iris scans is also compelling. A typical scanning system consists of a digital video camera, a low-energy infrared light emitter, plus hardware and software processing.

The scanner emits an invisible IR light beam that illuminates the iris briefly. The system records the iris colors and other unique features. It then breaks the pattern down into a 256 byte code. An unknown individual's iris code is compared with a database of enrolled codes. The entire scanning, matching and recognizing process takes just a few seconds.

Some consumer devices have included iris-scanning features for years. Samsung chose Qualcomm's 3D Sonic fingerprint reader for the Galaxy S10, but the Samsung Galaxy S7, S8 and S9 phones all shipped with iris-based identification systems.

In 2017, Qualcomm entered a license agreement with iris-based authentication company Eyelock. That could be a sign this access control method will soon find a home on Qualcomm mobile processors and platforms.

Two hearts don't beat as one

Basic heart rate monitors have been a standard feature of fitness trackers and smartwatches for years. A few new devices such as the Apple Watch 4, take things a step further. Instead of merely recording heart rate, they also can take electrocardiogram (EKG or ECG) readings. This enhanced data allows the trackers to sense your heart rhythm.

EKG data is useful for many reasons. The first is greater awareness of heart health. Armed with these upgraded sensors, wearable devices can detect and alert you of potentially dangerous situations. That includes abnormal or irregular heart rhythm and even atrial fibrillation.

Another way heart rhythm is useful is its potential for biometric identification. According to company Bionym, each person's heart rhythm and EKG characteristics are unique. Bionym says that's a result of differences in heart size, position, shape, muscle conductivity and so forth. The Nymi band, a watch-sized wearable device, is Bionym's heart rhythm authentication solution.

Bionym envisions the Nymi to serve as an ultra secure biometric key. Each Nymi is linked to only one individual user and their unique EKG identification profile. Worn by its owner, the Nymi is designed to offer authorized access for registered individuals only.

Potential applications include controlling entry to sensitive office and laboratory facilities, along with tools, equipment and digital accounts. At the moment the Nymi appears targeted at enterprise customers, though it's conceivable products like the Apple Watch 4 might one day offer similar features to ordinary consumers.

Following your footsteps

It's easy to see how physical features like fingerprints can identify individuals, but what about the way you walk? Researchers at Shinshu University in Tokida, Japan have examined exactly that.

They paid close attention to the way the foot makes contact with the ground while walking. Specifically they observed the timing of heel-strike, roll to forefoot and the final push off of the toes. They also recorded pressure levels exerted by the foot during the process.

Ultimately the scientists found that these dynamic foot pressure patterns were unique to specific individuals. In fact, they were able to identify particular people using the technique with an accuracy rate of 99.6%.

Wearable technology company Motiv plans to take gait recognition out of the realm of pure research. Its $199 Motiv Ring is packed with numerous sensors to measure physical activity and biometric data. It tracks the steps you take, heart rate, and sleep time. Motiv also touts the Ring as a frictionless security device, one that provides 24/7 authentication for online accounts and transactions.

Most interesting though, is the Ring's WalkID feature. It uses the device's internal accelerometer to figure out your individual gait, and determine whether you're the person actually wearing the Ring. Currently the function remains in experimental beta. That said, it's open to all Motiv Ring owners to give it a spin.

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ceridwenofwales · 5 years

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1: What inspired you to write the fic this way? // 2: What scene did you first put down? // 3: What’s your favorite line of narration? // 4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue? --> For Ebb Tide and the Sea Wolves

Thanks, Laure!

Fanfic asks

The Sea Wolves

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way? Answered here.

2: What scene did you first put down?

You sent me the prompt that inspired me to write the first chapter. Unfortunately, I can’t find it anymore. :(

I wrote Moyra hiding from the invaders and being found by Haakon.

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

@pokeasleepingsmaug asked the same and I included more lines there.

He offers his hand to help her to get up and Moyra looks at him with disdain. Ivar is determined to make her look at him with desire one day.

It was easy to believe Moyra truly wanted him. Why else would she voluntarily undress for me? There wasn’t much left of Ivar’s discernment and shrewdness, so he chose to believe he had finally conquered her with a gesture of gentleness towards a slave and her child, and the intoxicating influence of the honeyed ale.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Well, I’ll pick two.

"Njörun, I beg you to protect her while she is in your domains. Svartalfheim is a dangerous realm for those wandering without purpose. Give her shelter as we try to help her find her path back to us. Don’t allow her to be chased or haunted.“ Ivar lifts his hand to muffle the strangled sob that left his mouth and made Moyra stir.

“I think you should leave!” Ingrid touched his shoulder, looking at him with her mouth twisted. Ivar felt like they were judging him.

“It’s my right to be here, to assist her if she needs me. My children are coming to the world,” Ivar looked from Moyra to Ingrid.

“It was your right to fill your slave with your seed too. That’s why we are all here. But if you don’t leave, the birth might be more difficult for her and the children,” Ivar gulps with the realization that he might be happy being a father, but that for Moyra it is torture. He wanted them to be happy, his selfish mind wanted her to be pleased that his seed had taken roots and they would now have an unbreakable bond. Realizing he is the only one pleased with Moyra growing round with their children is his first defeat and Ivar suspects it to be a thousand times worse than a defeat in the battlefield.

“Don’t blame me! I only want to help her! YOU are the only one to blame for this situation! You should be ashamed of yourself, and somehow, I know you won’t ever be. You forced it on her and now, you see what you’ve done? She might die and it’s your burden. In all my years, I have seen men as you take and destroy innocent and young maidens as that one,” Ingrid gestures to the bed, where Moyra is grimacing as another contraction hits her, “I’m tired of this!” Ingrid hisses, lifting her chin to face Ivar.

Ingrid was getting far too insolent. Ivar couldn’t bear it anymore, couldn’t bear hearing her telling all those things. He couldn’t tolerate her telling him to leave. She needed to be silenced, but he didn’t want to scare Moyra. Lowering his face at only an inch from Ingrid’s, he violently grasped her upper arm with his hand. “You don’t tell me what to do anymore!” he snarled at her.

“I don’t pity, or fear men like you!” Ingrid replied. Glowering at him, she tried to free herself from his hold, but Ivar only closed his hand more firmly on her.

“Listen to me, Ingrid, and listen with attention,” his tone calmer. He could feel the corner of his mouth twitching and his eyes were narrowed and burning with hatred. “It’s better for everyone that she survives this. If she dies I swear by my place in Valhalla that I’ll kill you,” Ivar promised, nodding at the bed. Moyra stiffened at hearing his words, her eyes grew wide.

“I’ll burn that hut you call home to the ground until nothing is left to prove that damned place has ever existed at all. If I’m not satisfied afterward, which I’m sure I won’t be,” His nostrils were flared and a vein in his neck pulsed with tension, “I’ll track down everyone you’ve ever loved or cared about and cut them in half. I’ve nothing to lose, nothing I care for in this ugly world! Save her!”

As he growled his threats, Ivar finally saw fear in Ingrid’s eyes and for a brief moment, the view made him feel better. But it didn’t last. There was only so much pleasure to be taken from intimidating others and the notion of vengeance.

“Go back to her now, Ingrid! You have much to do,” he reminded her, his voice a low rasp.

Ebb Tide

1. What inspired you to write the fic this way?

I’ve always loved the mythology of Selkies and I knew I would eventually write a story about them. Then you wrote Lurking in the abyss and made me ship Ivar with Morven and I loved the idea of Ivar marrying a supernatural being and founding a dynasty as the Melusine myth.

2: What scene did you first put down?

That promo video inspired us to write Ivar interacting with those mythological women. ^^

In your story, Morven is the one to watch as Ivar is unaware. I chose to write Fionnuala being watched as she bathed instead. I think that was my way to show how different they are.

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

She kisses him back with her mouth wide open as she is not afraid of swallowing poison. She tastes the tenderness and the brutality and Fionnuala wants them both.

And when the wave comes Fionnuala remembers not to fight against it. Her body awakens for the memories of swimming in the ocean and soon the primal cry of her baby is heard. She smiles through the tears feeling she won and the sea was with her all the time. Sweat and salty tears are not always a tragedy.

It was impossible for Fionnuala to answer why she couldn’t dive into the ocean after recovering her skin. She was holding the sealskin in her hands, gazing longingly at the ocean but still unable to reclaim her identity. The calling was strong and she thought that would explain why the tears wouldn’t stop streaming down her cheeks. But there was another call. This one was making her nipples leak something precious. Something that meant life for another being Fionnuala loved fiercely.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“If it is not safe for me, how is it safe for you? How can you ask me to stay? You are hurting me! If you do not come back, I will be trapped here…” The tears are streaming down her eyes and Ivar starts wiping them away. He wants to stop making her cry, but it seems he is too good at making her suffer, “alone on earth. Is that what you want for me?”

“Why am I not surprised? You Selkies are always so…,” her eyes travel through my body, “romantic.”

“Let them come. I am starving.” She laughs, and I frown, but I find her excitement so contagious that I see myself smiling shyly at her.

I see her closing her eyes and pressing her lips together as she moans in delight, “I cannot forget the warmth of the blood painting my face as I make them scream. Such a sweet song they sing.”

“All he ever deserved was to be meat to feed my hunger.” Morven is grimacing as soon as I tell her what happened.

“Do you think I did this because of you? Out of jealousy, or to make you proud of me?” A sharpness rises in my throat, bursting out as a scoff, “I don’t want your love anymore. I finally realized you can’t understand or feel love. Erik could have killed me and your son while you were sweating between that woman’s legs.”

“You only understand terror and pain, so I want you to be terrified to the point you will never risk my son’s life again.” I speak with a coldness that not even I can recognize, “You can sleep with whoever you want, as long as you are discreet and cautious not to put my son in danger ever again.” I give a bitter laughter, then look straight into his eyes. Ivar is watching me speechless for the first time.

“Are you saying you will leave eventually?” Ivar laughs, and I tilt my head, “You have nowhere to go and you can get back to the sea. Have you forgotten I still have your sealskin?” I brush a finger over my lower lip, glancing at Ivar from over my shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Do you think you can hide it that well?” I provoke him, and my plan works as I had planned. Later at night, when Ivar thinks I’m asleep, he pulls his body out of the bed to the ground, crawling outside. I only have to follow him discreetly. So predictable.

“Save his head for me!” Fionnuala shouted, looking up from Ragnald to Morven’s bloody face. The mermaid stopped eating, staring at Fionnuala in amazement.

“That’s new! I never thought you would want a taste,” Morven laughed, throwing her head back. Fionnuala watched the blood streaming down Morven’s chin and covering her breasts, “His blood is still so warm, Fionnuala. Come and feast with me.” Fionnuala trembled as Morven licked her lips and leaned down to take another bite.

I think it’s perfectly clear how much I love Morven! Thanks again for this ask. I’m inspired to write these two now. 💖💖

#ask: ebb tide #ask: the sea wolves #goldentailedmermaids #fanfic asks #about moyra #about Fionnuala #ivar fanfic #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless fanfic #ivar ragnarsson fanfic #vikings fanfic #ivar x woc #ivar x selkie #ivar x ofc

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eclecticpatrolsweets · 3 years

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Fog strange talk Season 3 ——Jinjiang City 2020 Top10

preface

The city was swept by high temperature, and there were two pairs of mandarin ducks, who migrated for a long time to build their nests and settle down in a warm place. One was unable to bear the high temperature and fell, dying on the concrete floor. One opened its wings to block the hot sun for his partner. The male struggled and died soon. It was a long way and a spare dream. The mandarin ducks did not eat or drink, and rested beside their husband.

Mandarin ducks are amorous, not to mention people in the city.

TOP10

Early in the morning, the mountain fog came down like a tidal wave, blocking the road.

"It is called foggy city. What a thick fog!" "Sheng exclaimed.

He drove up the hill with fresh groceries, Alma asleep, and the servant opened the door and together they put the groceries in the refrigerator.

"Make me some pasta." "He said to the servant.

The servant took the pasta ingredients to the kitchen and sat down on the sofa to watch TV.

Another servant came forward and said, "Little Alma is growing. She needs more."

"You should teach her that not every meal needs to turn the table red and that greed will only lead to death."

"It is. Children don't understand that..."

"I'll find a way."

"It's so foggy out there." The woman walked to the stairs.

"The stairs are very steep and I don't know what the architect thought. You need to be careful every time you go up and down. Falling is very bad for pregnant women."

"I will." The woman replied.

"Alma's thirsty again." The woman continued.

"You have to know that this is Jinjiang City. It is no longer a place where you can get what you want." He looked at the woman and said.

"I think I can understand why they don't come."

"We are always on the road. If they are just greedy for resources, they are no different than clowns. They will be wiped out."

The servant poured a cup of soy milk for Sheng, who drank it and continued, "I have no power here. People have learned to keep their doors and Windows as closed as their mouths. I'll take her somewhere tonight and be back late."

When the fruit tree called, he said warmly, "Good morning!"

"What's interesting?" L asked.

"Oh, fun stuff. What could be more fun than pushing you for a manuscript?"

"I was thinking about the plot, and it was really hard for the plot to come together."

"The team is struggling, and everyone needs to rest and have enough energy the next day to create something the audience will love. Every phone call is a source of inspiration."

"What did you want to tell me?"

"You wouldn't believe this guy gave me a script when I was at the beach yesterday."

"What story? Did you read it?"

"I think it's ok. But his clothes are so abject. It may have taken him years to write one."

"If you think he's a talent, you can get more work."

"I prefer to be able to create something immediately within a few hours, and a deep artistic foundation is the best tool to test a creator's flexibility." "Of course, if it is a popular book, I can also benefit from it," he said. "In this era, there are not many people sitting in front of a desk, but in the sofa, in front of the TV or computer."

"How did he recognize you?" I'm a little confused.

"It means I'm famous."

"It's a great thing to have someone love you!"

When the woman saw sheng hang up the phone and the pasta was already on the table, she said, "Have you come back to see your brother?"

"He doesn't want to see me. There's a lookalike replacing him. It's dangerous here."

"But we still have the missiles, don't we?"

L put down the fork, he carefully looked at the woman and said: "the most powerful weapon in this world is not teeth and sharp nails, TV, books are told, 'the power of the sun', in my high school days, I am very close to this force, honestly, I was scared, unexpectedly dare to believe that the world's most powerful weapon is in your hands. And at the same time, I'm proud of it, and the aura, the glory of being the Sun god is overwhelming. Now it's more on my own."

In the afternoon, three good students called to make an appointment for a small party with several friends.

It's just time for dinner.

They chatted while eating. The classmate said, "I am very optimistic about you. I hope you will continue to work hard."

My classmate is running a large farm and he badly needs others to buy his produce.

Rose said: "it is the direction of our knowledge we learn and the power, to obtain resources and money has been the eternal pursuit and purpose, in addition to the supermarket will provide a better quality of fruits and vegetables, there will be no other people, and industrialization of the product must be no market, or do a better job, you also want to hard work."

After the party, he took Alma to the White Bar. "This is my niece. Please give her a drink to quench her thirst."

After Alma had a drink, she drank a substitute.

"You have to learn to be patient and control your cravings," Sheng said. "You can't drink it all the time."

"I drink it every day and NEVER get thirsty."

"Jinjiang City is not the place where you used to enjoy yourself. The conditions here are difficult. You need to develop the ability to control your desires. Without power, there will be no red drink to quench your thirst. You will be treated as a monster by the people, and they will beat you to death!"

"You are more verbose than my teacher!" Alma said ruthlessly.

Old woman called to rise: "young man, you come here."

Sing and Alma went to grandma's table. The old woman took out her mobile phone and said, "Jinjiang city has changed. It is no longer a bustling factory city. Poverty makes everyone want to have more. A girl fell down and died this afternoon. Watch this video."

Sheng looked at his phone: The girl was cradled in her mother's arms, her family was screaming hysterically, and the ambulance nurse was stunned by the screams.

"Isn't this where my brother lives?" Rose said.

"Storm is not without foundation appear, when I was younger sailing together with the husband, he is a handsome captain, we through the silk to make purchase capital ship, the sea will there be hurricanes, mainly decided by temperature, must be extremely sensitive to the temperature of the sea, or a hurricane, empress is always along with the ship's porcelain sink to the bottom of the ocean. High temperatures are in the air in Jingang City. "Said the old woman serenely, her tone having the air of seeing through the world.

"Unfortunately she was sucked dry before she fell. I wish I could have tasted it before she died." Alma gave her phone back.

"If a hunter comes after me, I will no longer be able to provide the necessary food for my guests." "Said the old woman.

"If you hadn't been there, there would have been a great deal of trouble. There have been reckless incidents."

"If there's no money, they're not going to get anything here. The hunter wants them to act alone and catch them all."

"How long do you plan to leave?"

"I have no intention of leaving. I am settled in Jingangseong and will not go anywhere. I hope I will not have to travel so much before I die. Pu Chun is my son, I hope he can inherit the White Bar, also hope you can buy shares, maintain the white bar operation. Xiao Yang has agreed to buy in. He came at five o 'clock with the money. This will be your home."

"Good!"

#American Horror Story season 10 remake serialized #Chinese horror story #Fog strange talk Season 3 ——Jinjiang City 2020 #American Horror Story #writing

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 6 years

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PEC (4): Carried on the Wings of an Eagle

Fourth post for the Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange Challenge PROMPT #16: “Good morning. I see the assassins have failed.” (submitted by @the-fear-you-wont-fall). The posts, which will last for the next days, will later become part of the “Without worry” series. @thelallybrochlibrary - This is a kind of longer "weekend chapter". Partially it was inspired by this video: Click! My special thanks goes to @raunchyblonde21 :)

(”Sommerabend” by PDPhotos)

Quellheim Monday, August 25, 1749, early evening

It was a wonderful mild summer evening. They had dined in the garden. Now Fergus was sitting on one of the benches reading, while Claire stood at the entrance of her herb garden, surveying the rest of the garden from there. Between the part of the garden where she had grown vegetables and flowers and the geese enclosure stood seven trees of blue plums and two trees bearing yellow plums. Two more trees with round red plums joined the back garden wall. The fruits were nearly ripe and had to be harvested soon. There were too many fruits for three people to consume them.

It had been the same in June, when the currants had ripened. Claire had discovered them shortly after she, Jamie and Fergus were brought here in February and had been given the farm. There were ten bushes that stood on a small piece of land that connected the garden with the meadow behind the stables. Seven of the bushes carried red currants. These bushes were of a smaller species. Behind them were two really large bushes of black currants. And hidden in the midst of all these bushes was an isolated smaller bush of white currants. Many of the red and white currants they had eaten fresh for dessert. A part of them Jamie had taken to the market. But the blackcurrants, which she knew were especially rich of vitamins and minerals, Claire had made into juice and preserved with alcohol. When Jamie saw what she was doing, he had jokingly asked her if she wanted to open a secret trade in liquors. As a result, she had taught him about the health benefits of the blackcurrant for half an hour ... He had rolled his eyes, thanked her, and assured her that he would not ask such a question again so quickly. She rolled her eyes, turned back to her work, and muttered something that sounded like ‘ignorant Scot’, but not without a little hidden smile. When they were finally able to enjoy the quietness of their bedchamber in the late evening that day, he had taken her hands and kissed them. Her fingers still smelled of the fruits.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your hands, Claire? They seem to bring healing and restoration to everything you touches here. With them you have made a home for Fergus and me out of this place. And out of the wilderness behind the house, you have created a garden that not only provides us with fruit and vegetables, but has become a small paradise in which we all can find peace. The work of your hands," he had whispered. Then he had kissed her hands again.

"And that's just what happens outwardly. I wish you could see what effect it has to Fergus, every time you hug him, tenderly run your hands through his hair. You really became his mother. Not only here. Not only through the adoption. Do you remember when we were searching for him after the battle of Prestonpans and he confessed to you that he probably killed a soldier? I will never forget seeing you two when you found him. You pressed him to your chest as if you wanted to absorb all his pain, all his exhaustion, the whole nightmare of having seen the darkness of war. If there ever was a day, Claire, on which you became his mother, it was that day. You pressed him to you and every touch of your hands said: ‘I care for you with all my heart.’”

Gently, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Small rivulets of tears began to flow from them. She did not say anything. But in her mind she'd returned to the day they had feared they might have lost Fergus forever. When she finally found him, she did not know if her heart should burst with joy and relief, or if she should beat him for his carelessness. In the end, her heart had decided. But she knew that her heart had opened up for him much earlier and in a way that went far beyond the care that a person of mercy was able to give to an orphan. It was the night she'd found Fergus whimpering in his room. It was the night he told her about the terrible thing Black Jack Randall had done to him. It was the night he could not stop crying for blaming himself that Jamie had been arrested for challenging Randall to a duel and Claire had lost Faith. That night, she realized how much Fergus loved her and Jamie. Really loved them. That night Claire remembered a verse from the first Epistle of St. John, written on one of the walls of the ‘L'Hôpital des Anges’: ‘Let us love, for He loved us first.’ She knew that these words referred to God. But could it be different between humans? Could she keep her heart closed to a person who showed her and Jamie so much love and care? She could not and she did not want it either. If there ever was a day, Claire had begun to think of Fergus as a son, it was that day. Jamie's soft whisper called her back to the present.

“Claire? Mo chridhe, what’s wrong?"

“Nothing, Jamie, nothing. I just love you both. With all my heart.”

“I know, Claire. And with your wonderful hands.”

(”Speicherstadt Hamburg” by Karsten Bergamnn)

North Sea Monday, August 25, 1749, early evening

His journey had gone well so far. Over the last days, Benjamin Smith had slowly become accustomed to the movements of the ship. After dinner with the captain, he had climbed up to the deck and leaned against the railing. The captain and the crew of the ship, which sailed under the flag of the Republic of the United Netherlands [1], left him alone most of the time. In particular, they did not ask any unpleasant questions as to why he wanted to leave Edinburgh under the cover of the night or why he was in such a hurry to get to Hamburg. Their welcomed ignorance was certainly helped by the special price Mr. Smith had paid for the trip - in gold.

He enjoyed the fresh salty air and began to stretch his arms and legs. If the wind maintained that speed, he would reach the first destination of his journey in time. He had a ten-day lead and had to take advantage of that lead. The success of his mission depended largely on it. Last night he had already feared that he would not succeed. Although the actual autumn storms were still pending, the ship had to drive through a bad weather front. The thunderstorm and the ever-rising waves had given him a great deal of angst, though he tried to conceal this from the captain and the sailors. After he had left the deck, he had clung to everything in his cabin that he could somehow grab. But at some point his stomach rebelled so badly that he had to vomit. Luckily he was standing right next to the washing basin. Later, the thunderstorm had subsided, but the waves were still restless. In his fear, Benjamin Smith had resorted to a tried and tested remedy. He had begun to hum a song that his mother had taught him:

Carried on the wings of an eagle over the roaring sea of time Carried on the wings of an eagle into eternity Over mountains and valleys and glades even higher to the heavenly height for strong are the wings that carry me the wings on which I stand And under the same wings how wonderful do I rest There is my place of refuge my firm and secure house The enemy may circle above me aim at me and spy as he will for strong are the wings that cover me and under those wings there is peace Yes, sheltered under the wings and kept on top of the wings there you find a blessed rest there you find a joyful ride there you find a firm assurance trough this changing pilgrimage for under those wings there is peace and on those wings there is strength [2]

The song had not missed its desired effect. As in the stormy nights in which his mother had sung him to sleep with this tune, he calmed down gradually, and the storm and the waves did the same. The language was still alien to him, yet he had internalized the words for years. His mother had told him that it belonged to his father's favorite songs and every time she mentioned his father, a radiant smile had formed on her face that Benjamin would never forget.

His father. If his journey was going well and he completed his mission successfully, he would see his father again before the end of the next month. And he knew he would not only see him again, he would make him proud too. But was it that what he wanted? He did not know. Too little did he know about the man who was his father. Why did this song have a special meaning for him? What did his father associate with it? What did these lines really mean? But maybe that would all change. Obviously fate had determined that from then on they would spend a lot of time together. This future prospect sparked ambivalent feelings in him.

But before his thoughts could continue to become entangled in the difficult family circumstances he had been born into, he forced himself to concentrate fully on his task. If everything went according to plan he would arrive in Hamburg in five days, change the ship and then go down the river Elbe for another three days until he would reach Magdeburg. There he would meet with the commander of the fortress, who would forward his message to Potsdam via the secret royal messenger system. He could only hope that his message arrived there in time. He told himself that that was no longer his responsibility. Yet he could not silence his inner unrest, which was caused by his uncertainty about the outcome of this affair. He would much rather have asked the commander for a horse of his own, so that he could bring the message to Potsdam himself and thus ensure that it arrived there on time. But he knew that he had neither the authority, nor would a single rider be able to accomplish this task. Precisely for this reason, the secret royal courier network had been set up many years ago. It was a tightly knit system of royal couriers carrying messages entrusted to them from one station to another. These riders were specially trained and had excellent horses. Each station was about a day's ride away, and when the courier arrived at one station, another, with a rested horse, was there and ready to pick up the documents and carry them on. It was - as Ambassador von Klinggräff had repeatedly emphasized - a very reliable and effective system. Nevertheless, Benjamin Smith hated to leave tasks unfinished, which had been entrusted to him. Such situations always left a mixture of uncomfortable feelings in him. He found it difficult to put these feelings into words, but he felt helpless. And this helplessness seemed to be accompanied by a feeling that something was lacking. Both led to an inner restlessness, which was very difficult to control. This led to more helplessness and with that, the whole vicious cycle began again. The fact that a failure this time could not only lead to a loss of money, land or power, but to the loss of three lives burdened him even more. The only solution was to focus on the things that mattered most in the respective situation.

He stretched again and took a deep breath. Then, resolutely, he left the deck and went to his cabin. He undressed and put out the light. Shortly thereafter, he fell into a restless sleep.

(”Pflaumen” by cgonzalezandrade)

Quellheim Monday, August 25, 1749, nearly one hour later the same evening

Claire turned her attention back to the plum trees. She had already detailed plans for what she would do with this immense harvest. One part they would eat fresh, another part Jamie would take to the market in Teichheim for sale. A third part she would use to make damson puree. The plums, which were not particularly juicy, she would dry and the rest, especially from the yellow and the red fruits, she would preserve in alcohol. Harvesting and preserving the fruits would mean a lot of work and yet she was happy. Jamie had been right. Much had improved over the last five month. With the beginning of the harvest season in the garden, their menu had become more and more varied, which - she had to smile - was reflected also in the weight of Jamie and Fergus.

She looked over to the apple tree where Fergus sat on one of the benches, completely immersed in his book. In the course of the year he had grown quite a bit - physically, but also in his personality. The work at the farm was not only consuming a lot of time and strength, it also increased with each new purchase. Over the past few months, Claire has watched with delight as Fergus not only became enthusiastic about every new little project, but also took on more and more responsibility and diligently fulfilled his duties. It became increasingly obvious that he wanted to prove himself to Jamie as a true son. Since the end of the harvest, he and Jamie spent a lot more time together and it became apparent that this was good for both of them. Jamie was pleased to pass on his knowledge and skills to the boy, and Fergus enjoyed to finally be taken seriously as a man. Claire tried to support him in his efforts. But sometimes Jamie's comments on the lad's behavior led to very funny situations.

Today, two servants of farmer Rein had brought the two pigs that Jamie had picked and bought. He had assigned Fergus to herd them to the little meadow behind the stables. Together they had watched the boy fulfilling his task.

"He does it well. Just look with how much patience he takes care of them," Claire had said. But Jamie had just grinned and whispered:

"Sassenach, he does that because he already sees them as sausage and ham on his plate."

She had given him a light blow and shook her head with a smile. Then both had laughed aloud and Fergus, who had no clue about why they were laughing, turned to them with a serious look before turning his attention back to 'sausage' and 'ham' as Jamie called the two pigs henceforth.

As her gaze swept over the herb garden, her mind was meditating about the things that needed to be done there, Jamie had approached her. He had cleared his throat softly so as not to frighten her. Then he had put his arms around her waist and gently pulled her close.

"Good evening, Mr. Fraser," she whispered while melting into him.

"Good evening, Milady," he answered just as softly.

She felt his smile in her hair and put her hands over his arms.

"What do you think about, mo chridhe?"

"I've planed the work for this week. The rest of the fruit has to be harvested and we'll have a lot of work with it."

Instead of answering her, he began gently placing kisses down her neck.

"And what have you done, Mr. Fraser?" she asked with a certain ironic undertone in her voice.

"I looked for the animals and closed the gate, then made plans for the rest of the evening."

"And what are your plans for the rest of the evening, Mr. Fraser?"

"Well, first of all, I'd like to spend some more time with my family. I want to sit down with my wife and our bookworm, enjoying the mild weather, and then when it's dark, and hopefully our son is sleeping soundly, I intend to be close to my wonderful wife, as close as only I allowed to be."

"Really? Good to know that!"

"Is that ... a good plan, Mrs. Fraser?"

She turned into his embrace and nodded.

"This is a very good plan, Mr. Fraser. We should put it into action as soon as possible."

"Je suis prest, Milady."

Notes:

[1] For more information see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_Republic

[2] The original (German) song is “Auf Adlers Flügeln getragen”. The text was written by Anna von Werthern-Viebahn (1884 - 1931) and set to music by Emil Janssen and Johann Courad around the year 1920. You can find the original text here: Click! The (poor) translation above is mine.

#olpromt-exchange #llevent #jamie fraser #claire fraser #withoutworry #fergus claudel fraser

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years

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Natural disasters are all scary; but one of the scariest ones to be caught in is an earthquake. There’s nothing else that compares with the stark terror that comes when the very ground starts moving underneath your feet.

Perhaps one of the things that makes that terror so real is that earthquakes come with no warning, unlike other types of natural disasters which at least give you a few moments for some last-minute preparations.

Earthquakes are caused by movement in the Earth’s crust. This relatively thin layer of rock and soil is broken up into many plates, which are wedged against each other, largely held in place by friction. But these plates are constantly in motion, slowly changing the geography of the Earth.

Since the edges of these tectonic plates are rough, they don’t slide against each other smoothly. Rather, they tend to catch and stick, until enough pressure builds up to cause them to move.

An enormous amount of energy is trapped in these plates, caused by the bulk of the plate moving, while the parts that are jammed against neighboring plates, at the faults, are stuck. When that energy reaches a critical point, it causes the stuck part to break and move, sending shockwaves through the ground.

The earthquake is actually those shockwaves, which are strong enough to cause the ground to heave and buckle.

It’s bad enough when this happens on dry ground, and can cause extensive damage. California has been plagued by such earthquakes through the years, because of the large number of fault lines running through the state.

But California is by far not the only place in the world that suffers from earthquakes, or even in the country.

But what happens when those earthquakes happen under the ocean? One would think that the lack of human structures would minimize the damage and that the massive amount of water in the ocean would absorb the shockwaves, without problem. But that’s not the case.

When an earthquake happens under the ocean, it causes the ocean floor to move up and down, just like it causes the land to move up and down. The water, seeking to maintain equilibrium, flows towards the epicenter of the earthquake when the ocean floor is at the low point in the cycle and away from the epicenter when the earthquake is at the high point in the cycle.

If you imagine pushing something like a bucket or ball down into the water of a swimming pool, you’ll see the same effect, just smaller.

In the ocean, we’re talking an enormous amount of water that is flowing towards and away from the epicenter. The larger the earthquake, the more water is displaced. This water has to go somewhere, and ends up forming concentric waves, radiating out from the epicenter of the earthquake.

These waves can reach well over 100 feet high, as millions of gallons of water are displaced.

Earthquakes aren’t the only thing that can cause tsunamis, although they are the most common. Landslides and volcanoes can also cause them, as both can dump huge amounts of rock and earth into the water, causing the same sort of displacement that causes a tsunami.

This Timeless Collection of Forgotten Wisdom Will Help You Survive!

Since 1950, there have been 33 recorded tsunamis, varying in location, height and damaged caused. Probably the most devastating of these was the 2011 earthquake off the Pacific coast of Japan, which caused a 33 foot high wave, killing 10,550 people and causing the meltdown of the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant. Effects of this tsunami are still being felt today.

Most recently, an earthquake with a magnitude of 7.9 off the coast of Alaska raised fears of a tsunami hitting the Alaskan coast on Tuesday, January 23rd. While this never materialized, a tsunami warning was issued and people living along the coast were forced to seek refuge.

The Destructive Power of a Tsunami

The power of moving water is incredible. The same substance we drink and bathe in is incredibly destructive in large quantities. When you’re talking about millions of gallons of water moving all at the same time, there is little that can withstand it.

Video taken of various tsunamis, such as the 2011 tsunami that hit the Northeast Coast of Japan, is much different than one would expect. Rarely is there the “massive wall of water” that people talk about. Rather, a tsunami hits the coast much like the ripples of the rising tide. However, unlike the tide, the water doesn’t recede. Instead, more ripples come along, making the water level rise even higher.

While some tsunamis can measure over 100 feet at the crest, many are much smaller, raising the water level to only a couple of meters above normal high tide. Even that can cause massive destruction, as it sweeps ashore, moving everything in its path.

The farther the epicenter is from land, the lower the waves will be when they hit shore. The 2011 Japan tsunami also hit the West Coast of the United States; but by the time the waves had crossed the ocean, they were much lower, preventing them from causing damage to California beachfront properties.

However, it doesn’t take a lot of wave height to cause massive damage. Any water that spills over a sea wall or that goes farther up the beach than normal high tide, is likely to encounter things that were not built to withstand the force of being hit by water. Those things are likely to be carried off entirely by the water.

Video taken when the tsunami came ashore in Japan shows it floating away vehicles and entire buildings.

Protecting Yourself from a Tsunami

Anyone living near the coast needs to be concerned about the possibilities of tsunamis. While they are not common, they are common enough and destructive enough that it is necessary to be prepared to survive one. That starts with knowing how far above sea level you live.

Tsunami warnings will usually indicate approximately how high the waves are, allowing you to make a determination of whether you are safe, in danger, or in the grey area in-between.

When I say “living near the coast;” that’s a relative term. There are places where you might live 50 miles from the coast, but still be less than 100 feet above sea level. If that’s the case, you are near the coast. Base your proximity on the altitude above sea level, not the distance you would have to drive to the beach. Water doesn’t care about distance; but it does care about altitude.

While tsunami warnings will not always be accompanied by a government-mandated evacuation order, they should be taken as such by anyone living near the coast who is within or even near the danger zone. There aren’t any second chances with tsunamis.

There isn’t any safe bug in option in this case. Homes may be washed away or destroyed by the flooding. Bunkers will be flooded. No matter how much work you put into making your home a survival retreat, none of it will do you any good in this scenario.

About the only buildings which are safe during a tsunami are large, multi-storied concrete structures, with firm, deep foundations. But even that is risky, unless you are sure of the building’s design and specifications.

Some of the video from the Japan tsunami was captured by people who had retreated to apartment or office buildings that met this description. However, even though the water may not move the building, floating debris can break windows and cause serious damage to the lower floors of these buildings.

This is one of the disaster scenarios where you want to have a good bug out plan in place. As part of that, you’ll need a planned survival retreat that you can go to. That retreat should be stocked with food, water and other supplies, so that you don’t have to bring them with you.

As in any mass evacuation, travel will be difficult and roads will probably become blocked.

Plan on anything you leave behind being destroyed by the tsunami. If you have valuables which are uninsured, you may want to consider taking them with you, if you can. Of course, that depends a lot on the size of the valuables, how delicate they are and how many you have.

But if your home becomes washed away by the tsunami, even things stored in a safe will probably never be returned to you.

For Those Who Own Boats

Riding a tsunami out in a boat could be considerably safer than riding it out on land, assuming there is no massive wave to capsize your boat (there rarely is) and your boat is large enough for open ocean traveling. Boats don’t care much how deep the water is, as long as there is water under the keel.

This is not to say that taking a boat out to the open ocean during a tsunami is totally safe. Taking a boat out to the open ocean has risks at any time. But the risks during a tsunami are not a whole lot worse than normal boating, if some precautions are taken.

Specifically, the boat has to be pointed in to the waves at all time, to prevent capsizing and you have to manage to get far enough offshore, before the tsunami hits, so that the moving water does not drive you onto shore.

Large oceangoing ships are said to be safe in a tsunami if they are in at least 180 feet of water. So I would say that if this works for them, it would work for smaller vessels too. Whether or not you would be able to make it that far will depend on how much notice you get and how fast your boat is.

Probably the biggest problem for any boat owner will be returning to port. If the tsunami hits the port that the boat set sail from, it will probably be impossible to return to that port, even after the all-clear is given by officials.

There will most likely be extensive damage to the port, and even more extensive damage to the facilities behind the port. Therefore, it will be necessary for the boat to have enough range to reach another port, far enough away so as to not have been damaged by the rising water.

In any case, boat owners should not return to any port until an all clear is sounded. This will not happen until the tsunami has fully ended and the waters have subsided. At that point, and not until that point, it will be safe.

This article has been written by Bill White for Survivopedia.

from Survivopedia Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

#SHTF #TEOTWAWKI #MARTIALLAW #BUGOUT #PREPPERBAG #USAF #USSOCOM #ARMY #NAVY #SurvivalFirestarter #Sur

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newstfionline · 7 years

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As ‘Death to America’ Chants Lose Power, Iran Retools Propaganda With Rap Videos

By Thomas Erdbrink, NY Times, Aug. 26, 2017

TEHRAN--It’s a common theme in the state-controlled media in Iran: The armed forces are not to be trifled with; they’re tough men doing a tough job, defending a country permanently under threat. Nevertheless, it was a shock to some young Iranians when a video appeared featuring a well-known rapper delivering the same message from the deck of a navy frigate.

Things like chanting “death to America,” burning effigies of Uncle Sam and painting murals of Lady Liberty with a skull as a face lost their impact long ago, particularly among younger Iranians. Forced to adapt or fizzle out, Iran’s propaganda machine has sought to embrace the latest trends and technologies to try to tailor messages to the sensibilities of a new generation.

A number of such propaganda videos have appeared in recent years, distributed on Apparat, a local version of YouTube, as well as on the messenger app Telegram.

Below is a selection of some of the most prominent.

Rapping With Sailors: Iranian clerics have long insisted that rap music is the devil’s work, but they had no complaints when Amir Tataloo, a rapper with a hard-partying, gangster-style reputation, turned into a nationalistic admirer of Iran’s military effort in the Persian Gulf. Standing on the Damavand, a frigate in the Caspian Sea, Mr. Tataloo sings that “an armed Persian Gulf” is Iran’s “absolute right.”

The rapper delivers an ode to Iranian power, with flags waving, and soldiers singing along and stomping their feet.

“What better way to attract the youth to our ideals than a rapper who subscribes to those?” said Mohammadreza Shafaf, the head of the Soureh Film Club, a state-backed group that is seeking to inject life into Iran’s fossilized official propaganda.

“If we hadn’t changed, we would’ve lost our audience,” he said, waving off a suggestion that rap music should be taboo in Iran, where dancing is technically illegal.

While the video received wide attention, not everyone was taken by it. “These are state-of-the-art methods to feed nonsense into people’s minds,” said Arian Mozaffari, 27, who is unemployed.

But Mr. Mozaffari acknowledged that people were increasingly influenced by the stream of patriotic songs and videos on the internet. “The idea that we should be strong or will be eaten did not gain a lot of traction 10 years ago, but now for some it does,” he said.

‘We Will Resist.’ Rallying around the flag is a recurring theme. “We Will Resist” is an eight-minute, $250,000 mini-epic about coming together as a country in the face of dire threats. It starts with a computer-generated scene of a plane taking off--Iran Air Flight 655, a civilian airliner that was shot down by an American naval vessel in 1988, killing all 290 people on board.

The film then cuts to a sunny beach where a young man, a famous religious singer, plants the Iranian flag on a mosque. Another perfect day is dawning in the Islamic Republic: Young boys are playing soccer; ethnic minorities are preparing food and repairing fishing boats.

Behind them, oil refineries are rising under the direction of the country’s smart, young, all-male engineers. In the distance, a nuclear reactor’s dome shines. Back on the beach, a veiled woman brings tea to her husband, as a young man helps children fly a kite. The message is clear: All people from all walks of life are welcome here.

Suddenly, dark clouds appear, as the airliner passes overhead and is struck by an American missile. “We wanted to make this event as real as possible, to remind people,” said Mr. Shafaf of the Soureh Film Club.

Bodies float in the sea, on the horizon, a flotilla of American ships appears. Jets fly over, dropping bombs on the mosque, right where Iran’s flag had been blowing proudly in the wind.

United, however, Iranians ultimately triumph by using their willpower to create a giant wave that sinks the entire American Fifth Fleet.

While the producers say they are hopeful that one or more of their videos will go viral, the results so far have been less than stellar. “We Will Resist,” the most watched of the new propaganda videos, has garnered only 17,439 hits.

A Commander on Screen. Gen. Qassim Suleimani, the commander of the Revolutionary Guards’ elite Quds Force, is the scourge of the West, making him the perfect lead character in the computer animated, 90-minute feature film “Battle of the Persian Gulf,” which arrived in cinemas in Iran this year.

Missiles are launched left and right, Iranian special forces roam through jungles, and General Suleimani warns the Americans, “This is Iran, the end of the world for guys like you.”

The movie was shown in most Iranian theaters. “Hollywood is trying to invade Iran, and this is our answer,” said Farhad Azimi, one of the film’s creators.

The Persian Gulf, where Iran and the United States are most likely to engage in a shooting war, plays a central role in Tehran’s propaganda universe. It sees the United States’ sprawling military presence in the region as an invasion, while Washington is wary of Iran’s frequent threats to close the Strait of Hormuz, the only transit point for oil tankers.

“The Americans threaten us, we want to say, ‘If you attack us, if you dare to do so, a rain of hot melted lead will be poured on you,’” Mr. Azimi said. “The American aircraft carriers, vessels and warships will be sunk and converted into beautiful aquariums in the bed of the Persian Gulf,” he added.

‘The Shield.’ Iran’s deep involvement in the Syrian civil war has elicited an extended propaganda campaign in an effort to justify the sacrifice of money and life.

“The Shield,” produced by the Seraj Cyberspace Organization, which also makes computer war games, is an ode to those fighters, who are portrayed as good people battling the Islamic State militant group, saviors who are risking their lives abroad to keep Iran safe and peaceful.

The star of the show is Hamid Zamani, a specialist in propaganda music, who is best known for what is widely acknowledged as the most popular propaganda song to date, “U.S.A.”

A Familiar Refrain. In “U.S.A.,” Mr. Zamani sings, “Our injured throat is familiar with your claw,” next to a version of the Statue of Liberty as a skeleton holding up a menorah instead of a torch.

“You are the best in knowledge,” Mr. Zamani sings, as fire and dust storms erupt around the statue. “The knowledge that kills people. Your policies are leading the world toward death.”

Then he switches to English, returning to Iran’s familiar ideological message: “So we say, ‘Down with U.S.A.’”

#Iran #Iranian propaganda videos #Iranian rap videos #death to America

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debbiehross · 7 years

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The Sporades - From Skopelos to Athens

June 20th

Skopelos is famous for being the island where the musical Mama Mia was filmed in 2008. Although much of the film was set in neighbouring Skiathos, California, and on a set in the UK, the Islanders are very happy to ignore that little fact, and there are many Mama Mia tours, bars and tavernas here.

Skopelos - A Mama Mia bay - love the lushness of the landscape here.

We were guilty of breaking into Abba songs at the least provocation. It must have been in the air – and we started planning a little video of Abba faves, that we were going to film as we scaled to the top of the mountain where the tiny church sits. A bit like a remake ?!

Entering Loutraki with the town of Glossa above.

The Port town of Loutraki is situated on the NorWestern end of Skopelos. We spent a night here, after a full day of sunning, swimming, paddle boarding and singing Abba songs.

The erosion around the coastline is quite noticeable, and Kosta showed us where an entire village had fallen into the sea a few hundred years ago just near the entrance to Loutraki.

The old town of Glossa sits safely high upon the hill above the harbour and we were told it was well worth the climb/ride to enjoy the view. During the middle ages these islands were easy prey for pirates. The inhabitants moved inland to fortified villages, and this is why many of the old towns are high up on the hillsides. (The port areas being more recently occupied in the 19th century).

Vicki and I trying out the E-bikes on the wharf.

Having only two E-Bikes, 5 of us walked and 2 e-biked, swapping half way. It was a steep climb, and Leslee and I waited at one corner for the walkers to appear. Thankfully so did a taxi, and Dimitri the driver took the overheated and exhausted climbers to the Taverna at the top.

The taverna perched above the port. Glorious views.

After a delicious meal while we soaked up the view, we handed the waitress a card and asked her to call Dimitri the taxi driver for us – She smiled and nodded, then turned around and yelled out loudly “Dimeeeeetriiii”!!!. We all burst into laughter as Dimitri’s head popped around the corner. It wasn’t the same Dimitri – but never mind – getting back to the boat was an easier ride down the hill and we were tired and replete.

Chris and John returning to the boat on the bikes.

Our plans to film an ascent to the Mama Mia church were dashed when Captain Kosta informed us of the huge climb it would be, and that there was no bay to comfortably anchor in, and that it would be a lot of motoring to the Northern tip of the island. Ok – we get it – no stars to be born today.

Instead we spent the morning in a beautiful bay on the southern end of the island (where a beach scene from the movie had been shot), called Kastraini. A gorgeous pebble beach, surrounded by lush green trees. I can picture the exact scene from the movie. And I now have a wooden bowl full of different coloured marble stones as a centerpiece on the coffee table to remind me of this idyllic spot.

Later that afternoon we motored to Stafilos Beach. Yet another bay with the most incredibly clear deep water. More of the same, which we never tire of as the beaches and bays all have their own unique character. And we love spotting the beautiful villas set above the water, some with the most divine gardens.

Approaching Skopelos Port from the sea was a beautiful sight. The town was a wash with the evening light, rising up from the harbour - an amphitheater of white and terracotta. We decided an early morning exploratory walk would be a must-do.

G & T’s before heading ashore.

It was dinner ashore again. We set off to find a good restaurant (which we did – in a beautiful garden setting further into town). As always the shops were a huge distraction on the way, crammed with gorgeous things. We gals are enjoying buying linen garments that are made here in Greece and Italy at a fraction of what we would be paying at home. It’s just too tempting. Leslee is great to shop with and manages to hunt out little gems from every store.

Our walk the next morning was full of photo opportunities. Everywhere you looked there was another image to capture. Here are a few...

Yay - The full team!

Leaving Skopelos Port.

We stocked up on more supplies here in Skopelos before heading out of the port to spend the day at a little beach on Alonnisos Island . The team are now becoming very proficient at paddle boarding and it’s a great form of exercise if you paddle hard, with tummy muscles pulled in. Uggggh! Vicky even trying headstands on the board – smarty pants!

Go Vicky ! - Hold the board steady Alan!

Very Cool Aunty Leslee!!

Later we headed in to a tiny bay on the island of Peristeri called Vasiliko. It faces Alonnisos, and an old Goat herders’ house sits alone in the bay. We stern lined to the old concrete wharf there. No one was in the house, but a few goats clambered around outside. An oily calm night - not a breathe of wind.

Vicky having her morning swim - creating ripples.

As it was nearing the weekend, it was necessary for us to start heading South away from the Sporades so as to be in Athens on Alimos Marina for Sunday night. The Clarkes had an early morning flight on Monday, and John and Vicky were leaving in the afternoon for Santorini. So our team motored South in the morning, spending the day swimming at Skantzoura Island which marked the half way point to Skiros island.

Hesham managed to catch a fish that resembled a cod, and another octopus. He again prepared his Stefado for lunch, with calamari and salad. Delicious.

The further south we went, the more arid the landscape became. Gone were the lush green tree covered hills of the Sporades. We were now heading into Cyclades territory.

In the late afternoon we pulled into the island of Skiross. To the port of Linaria, and another gorgeous hillside town to explore. This time we took two taxis, as it was a good 10 kms away on the other side of the island.

The cars can only drive as far as a small square, so we walked the rest of the way. Up, up, and around, and up some more, and along small winding narrow streets, until we found a tiny taverna perched above a street looking out to the sea. Yay. It looked deserted – but we stumbled in, got a table at the edge (as no one was there) and ended up having the best meal we’d had to date. Little plates of deliciousness. The place did end up becoming full of people later on. We’d just managed to time it right.

Thirsty hungry work all that walking !

Saturday morning saw us motoring off fairly early as it would be a long stretch to get to Kea for the night.

We stopped for lunch and a swim at Kalamos beach. We were at the beginning of a heat wave, with tempreratures predicted to reach into the late 30”s and into the 40 ‘s.

A beautiful still day for paddle boarding and swimming. Vicky appeared back from her SUP paddle with a magnificent piece of wearable art around her neck. She’d found it lying on the shore perfecty formed into a lei by the tides. Natures very own recycled art piece.

Well we thought it was very chic!

Once in the little port of Kea called Vourkari, the pre-race nerves started to set in (Americas Cup nerves that is). The races began at 8pm Greek time - much more civilized than our poor friends in NZ who had to get up very early to watch). We ate dinner on board – which was delivered to us by a local taverna owner – a friend of Kosta’s.

Look how nervous we all looked .... so anxious. (we needn't have been!)

What a race. We are all so excited. We won one and Oracle won one! Uggggh. The nerves.

We crossed the road to a little bar and had a celebratory drink. Team NZ are looking great! We’re feeling quietly optimistic.

Leslee and Chris - love this pic!

Sunday morning we taxied up to the town of Ioulis for breakfast and a walk around. This little island has a huge history dating back to Neolithic times, and still has some remains from this era – c4000BC.

Fab place for break, and above was the view!

Vicky and i with yellow wall.

Lit a candle in a tiny little church for our loved ones past and present. Tears.

This little island of kea played a strategic part in the the first world war. I’ve included an extract taken from “West Aegean” by Rod & Lucinda Heikell :

“ The Wreck of HMHS Britannic – A few miles NW of Ay Nikoloas lies the wreck of the sister ship to the Titanic. She sank following an explosion on 21st November 1916. She was on duty as a hospital ship heading up to Limnos to evacuate some 3,600 soldiers from the disastrous Gallipoli campaign of the first world war. The ship is thought to have hit a mine, and sank within an hour of the explosion, but of the 1,100 odd on board all but 30 survived. With the fishermen of Kea first on the scene to help. One survivor thought to be a nurse, was Violet Jessop, who was also on board the Titanic on that fateful first voyage four years earlier.” .... What are the odds??

The Temple of Poseidon.

Before heading into Athens for the night, we stopped at the huge bay of Sounion, with the Temple of Poseidon looming over us. Quite magnificent. The temple was built in 444BC.

Captain Kosta - very happy to see that his son (Adam) , who is Captain on this huge super yacht, had pulled in nest to us! (Ha - So thats why we were berthed in Alimos!?!)

Once in the Alimos Marina – we again planned the evening around watching the Cup races. On board that night we watched the next two wins (One to go) – we were so thrilled. Went to a huge restaurant/bar for our final dinner together as a group. It was starting to sink in that we may just be going to take the cup back. All very excited.

Do we look excited or what!

Monday morning was a time of farewells, laundry, filling up with water and diesel. The Clarkes caught an early flight back home to NZ. They had come all that way for a 10 day holiday with us. So much fun. Vicky and John went into Athens for the day before catching a ferry to Santorini, while we took Leslee into Glyfada for a shop and to show her the “Ponsonby” of Athens.

That night - The final race – it was just Chris, Leslee and I watching. We got a distressed Whats-App call from Vicki who was trying to get cover on Santorini with no luck. So we did a video call with me holding the phone to the TV for the entire race so they could see and hear it all – it worked .

AND WE WON!!!!!!! What an amazing result. Brilliant. So proud of Team NZ.

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