#void stranger spoiler warning for the rest of these tags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twstdreams · 4 years

Note

I've loved your non-romantic/platonic content that you've done so far! Adding on to that list, could I please request a short story surrounding MC, Ace, and Deuce? An accident occurs which ends in MC turning into a little kid and now it's up to the two boys to put their differences aside and babysit their friend until she's back to normal. Girl pronouns plz! Lol I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue. If you don't feel comfortable with this ask you can skip it! Thx for reading :)

I am always up for platonic content and shenanigans! Long story, so the rest is under the cut!

Warning: Minor spoilers for side stories (briefly alluded to)

Length: ~2.3K

“It’s this one!” Deuce declares with unfounded confidence.

“No, it’s not!” Ace rebuttals despite not making it past page 10 in his textbook.

“It’s mine!” Grimm shouts even though he most definitely does not understand the experiment at hand.

The magicless student can only sigh. Deuce and Ace suck at potions. So when the two bicker about what to add to their cauldron, the prefect doesn’t even blink an eye. Deuce mispronounces an ingredient, Ace corrects him, but neither are even talking about the right thing. She can practically sense Crewel’s glare despite her eyes remaining on the cauldron, cautiously waiting for bubbles to appear so she could add the indigo milk cap mushroom.

What is added next to her cauldron is not the mushroom in her hand but a random root Grimm throws in. In Deuce’s haste to catch the gremlin, he spills over his own cauldron and some of their potion spills into hers.

“What are you doing?” she asks, but it’s too late. The mixture in her cauldron is boiling profusely and suddenly envelopes her in a cloud of smoke.

“Funya! MC, are you okay?” Grim inquires. Deuce and Ace also call out her name but there is no response. When the smoke clears, everyone in the room is left speechless.

The potential beast tamer hasn’t moved but an inch but she’s at least two feet shorter and with rounder cheeks and wide eyes.

“WHAT?” she screeches in disbelief, suddenly too short to even reach the cauldron, “Fix this!”

And this is how the group’s long catastrophic day begins.

Adventure 1: The beginning

“What?!” Grim shouts. If looks could kill, Crewel’s glare would have toasted the monster.

“Yes, it is hard to predict when MC will return to normal because you carelessly threw together that potion. It should wear off in a day, but there’s no guarantee,” the teacher explains through gritted teeth. The bell rings but the quartet barely registers it.

“Go to the headmaster! It’s not my problem anymore,” Crewel declares.

Unfortunately, as most meetings with the headmaster are, the conversation is fruitless.

“Hah? We’re supposed to babysit her?” Ace asks.

“Yes! It’s your fault, is it not? Take care of her until the spell wears off,” Crowley declares.

“Isn’t there any way to break the spell?” Deuce inquires while nervously glancing towards MC.

“It’s hard to tell because you added in unknown amounts of various ingredients,” Crowley answers before muttering, “It takes too much time! I need to know what happens next in my novel.”

“Tch, what a lazy adult,” MC comments with a bored expression. She figured this would happen. She can’t even recall a moment when the headmaster had actually been helpful.

“What did you say?” Crowley demands. Deuce immediately picks up MC and heads for the door.

“Nothing! We’ll take care of her! See you later headmaster!” Ace explains while the two boys dash out of the office. They book it out of the hallway and then set her down on the ground.

“Hey! What was that about? It’s usually Grim saying stuff that gets us in trouble, not you,” Ace comments.

“Don’t tell me…Now she acts like a little kid too?” Deuce wonders.

Adventure 2: Stranger Danger

“Oh? Ramshackle prefect, you seem to be caught in quite the predicament.” MC glares at the Octavinelle dorm leader in return. Ace and Deuce are in the midst of calling Cater and Trey to ask for advice, giving Azul the perfect opportunity to approach her.

“I have an offer for you,” the second year begins.

“No.” MC is firm in her answer and has no intention of making any deals.

“Are you sure? I treat children well,” Azul adds but it only results in her frowning. There’s suddenly a glimmer in her eyes but before Azul can deduce what it means, MC begins shouting.

“STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER!”

“Stop that!” Azul insists but his wide eyes give away his flustered state. With a smile that looks a little too much like Chenya’s, MC continues her call for help. Soon enough, Deuce and Ace rush to her side.

“Stranger? That’s Prefect Azul! Have you forgotten him?” Deuce inquires with a look of concern. MC decides this is the perfect time to practice her puppy eyes and simply looks up at Deuce, wide eyes and with a pout.

Azul silently admits defeat as he forms a tight-lipped smile accompanied by some false pleasantries before exiting the area.

“I’m hungry!” she announces before anyone can question her further.

“Yes! Let’s go eat!” Grim agrees.

Adventure 3: Sweet Dreams

Getting lunch is a surprisingly painless affair. Though Night Raven College students could be quite self-centred, even they balked at harming a little girl. MC easily orders her favourites before sitting with her friends, though she has to sit on her knees to be at a comfortable height compared to the table.

“Wow! It’s true!~” Cater chimes while taking a seat at the table.

“How are you feeling?” Trey asks.

“Okay! It’s kinda weird but at least it was easy to get lunch,” she replies while taking a bite of her food.

“Now you really look like my minion!” Grim declares. MC shoots the monster a glare but doesn’t give him a response.

“You’re actually a little kid, huh? So, what do you wanna do when you grow up?” Ace teases.

“I want to control all the ghosts and have an army,” MC answers nonchalantly as if she had been discussing the weather.

“What?” Trey asks, slightly taken aback. Wasn’t this the person who was gullible enough to think that oyster sauce went in tarts?

“A ghost army,” she repeats confidently.

“Anyway! Aren’t you lucky? You get all these handsome guys to help you today!” Cater interjects, not wanting to unpack why the prefect wanted an army of the dead.

Her gaze scans the table before looking up at Cater, eyes wide and expression void of malice, and asks, “Where?”

Grim howls with laughter while the four Heartslabyul students try to recover from the blow to their ego. It’s definitely going to be a long day for them.

Adventure 4: Smiles and stares

“Hey wait!” MC whines. One disadvantage of becoming short is that her stride decreased accordingly, thus her struggles to keep up with her classmate’s pace.

“Just walk faster or we’ll be late for class!” Ace retorts, glancing up ahead to see how far away the next building is.

“AHH!” Ace turns around to see MC a couple of meters behind him face-first in a patch of grass.

“Uwah! Are you okay?” Grim asks while flying above the fallen girl. Ace groans at the predicament. Deuce ran ahead to warn the other teachers of MC’s unfortunate condition so the redhead was the only babysitter at the moment.

The situation only worsens when MC begins to sit up, knees scraped, eyes glistening with tears, brows furrowed, and lips pressed tightly together. Ace’s eyes widen at the sight.

“Please don’t cry,” he mutters under his breath before trying to think about how to soothe kids.

“Oh my, that was quite a fall. You’re okay now though, right?” Jade asks while extending a gloved hand. His face is calm, showing no signs of concerns or worry with only a placid smile to demonstrate any emotion. MC stares at his face, analyzing his expression for a few moments. After finding the answer to her unsaid question, she accepts his hand and quickly sniffles before nodding.

Ace watches in amazement as all signs of pain and panic vanish from her expression. He decides not to question her mood change before ushering the prefect to their next class.

Adventure 5: What came first? The egg or the chicken?

“You have to!” Deuce insists.

“NO!” MC shouts back, sitting firmly on the ground. Deuce is startled by the force of her words but stands his ground.

“It’s for your own good! Kids need exercise!” Or at least that’s what Cater told him before going to light music club.

“You can’t move me an inch!” MC retorts.

“I’m older, you should respect your seniors,” Deuce adds, doing his best to retain some level of patience.

“At least I know where chickens come from!” she rebuttals and Deuce feels at a loss for words. It is certainly not honour student behaviour to yell at a young girl but the first year is at his limits. He came to NRC to learn about magic, not dealing with children!

“Let’s play tag,” Jack suggests. Being the only one with little siblings, he is quickly enlisted to help. While disappointed in Deuce and Ace’s carelessness, he didn’t want to risk MC’s safety by leaving her in their care. Thus making him a reluctant member of the babysitting team.

“Tag?” MC echoes before a bright smile forms on her face. “Can it be teams?”

“Sure,” Jack agrees nonchalantly.

“Jack and I are on the same team! We get to chase Deuce and Ace!” she declares gleefully.

“Huh? I didn’t agree to this,” Ace interjects.

“We need even teams!” MC responds with puffed cheeks.

“Too bad, so sad!” Ace replies without remorse.

“This is our fault Ace. Plus we promised the headmaster to take care of her. As Heartslabyul students and men, we can’t go back on our words!” Deuce declares. Jack’s firm gaze and Deuce’s blazing spirit give little room for negotiation and Ace sighs in defeat. Ace really does hate alchemy class from the bottom of his heart.

Adventure 6: Idiots, all of them

MC closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze while resting. Deuce and Jack had gone to the cafeteria to get drinks for everyone after several rounds of tag while Ace lay on the ground to catch his breath. It was quite entertaining to see the fastest first years engage in a game of tag and even more fun to watch Ace try to avoid his inevitable fate. Agile as he was, Ace couldn’t run fast enough to outdo Jack with his insane stamina and speed. She giggles at the memory.

“Bonjour petite princesse!” Rook looks down at the little girl with a shining smile. Her eyes snap open and follow the source of the cheerful voice.

“Isn’t it delightful to see a new side to your friends? Like escorting someone on their first dance, like watching a lazy lion transform into a beast for the sake of the hunt, like observing night flox bloom under a full moon!” Rook beams but MC merely shrugs in response.

“Yeah but I’ve also seen Ace fall off his broom, Deuce compliment plants, and Jack mistake onions for a chemical leak.”

“Oh? Is it not like having several princes tend to you?” he inquires.

She scrunches her nose in thought before replying, “If my prince got stuck in a tree and I had to go save him.”

“Dear me, and I thought you were une petite princesse mignonne [1]! Perhaps that was a misunderstanding,” Rook remarks though he doesn’t seem displeased with the discovery.

Adventure 7: Mandatory nap

“Let’s go to the infirmary,” Ace suggests, “MC needs a nap and it’s the closest building with beds.”

“I’m the one that needs a nap?” she asks while side-eyeing her tired friend.

“She hasn’t even run for 3 hours,” Jack comments.

“Kids need naps! Plus, who knows what the side-effects of the potion are?” Ace adds, “We shouldn’t take any chances with her health.”

“You do need proper sleep to grow strong!” Deuce concurs.

“Sure, sure,” she concedes. When they arrive at the infirmary, there is no staff in sight. Ace guides her to a bed with an expectant smile.

“Well, go to sleep now!” Ace announces.

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m not sleepy,” she responds.

“Just lie in bed and close your eyes!” Ace insists with a huff.

“Shut up. You’re so noisy,” a voice growls. Leona appears on the other side of a room divider. Jack lets out a sigh, disappointed but not surprised by his dorm leader.

“I was having such a nice nap and now I’m… hah?” His sentence trails off as he eyes the little girl before him.

“Well,” you launch into an explanation of what happened, Leona shooting a judgemental look towards Deuce and Ace midway, before concluding, “It should wear off by the end of the day.”

“Tch, what an annoyance. I’m going back to sleep, don’t be loud,” Leona warns before flopping back onto the bed.

“How do you fall asleep so fast?” MC inquires. Leona glares at her, lips pressed together to form a thin line, but he lets any threats die in his throat.

“It’s nap time. Count sheep like a good herbivore until you fall asleep,” he instructs before turning his back towards the group. More than she’d like to admit, her small body requires rest and what better excuse than this? Besides, it’s not like magical history homework was particularly appealing, so she plops onto the bed to rest.

“I’m exhausted. Taking care of kids is tiring,” Ace says before falling onto another bed.

“It’s been a long day. I’m glad MC is okay, though. Haaah…I’m sleepy,” Deuce murmurs before resting on a different bed. Jack doesn’t comment but quietly begins his homework while keeping watchful eye on the little girl, not that he’d admit it if asked.

Adventure 8: The End. For now, anyway

She stretches after waking up, pleased to find her body back to its normal size. Ace snores lightly, Deuce’s mouth is agape, and Leona is nowhere to be found.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, I actually feel pretty good!” Their conversation awakens their friends.

“You’re finally back to normal! I’m relieved,” Deuce interjects.

“You’re a lot of work for a minion, ya know? You’re lucky I’m so great,” Grim comments.

“That was a pain! You owe me big time!” Ace adds. MC shakes her head and wonders if she has the greatest or most chaotic friends.

[1] une petite princesse mignonne = a cute little princess

#writing Rook and Deuce are hard #Rook is so extra #and Deuce's speech pattern is something I'm not used to #hope you enjoy #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola #leona kingscholar #jack howl #rook hunt #cater diamond #trey clover #wow I cannot believe this is 2K

557 notes · View notes

plumblossomkun · 5 years

Text

Goddess

word count: 879

synopsis: in which Taeyong visits a holy shrine in hopes of finding the answer to the hollowness inside his chest. [this takes place before Mugunghwa. there are no real spoilers, but you can think of this as a teaser of sorts.]

warning[s]: please note that i took creative license in the depiction of the goddess, who is inspired by the Japanese deity known as Inari-Okami. other than that, just a bit of angst.

a/n: ah!!! this is the end of my Neotober posts! i had so much fun writing these little pieces, without the heavy editing that my longer pieces afford. next year, hopefully, i can do one for every day of October. thanks for coming along! leave your feedback, if you have any, in my ask box or wherever! ♥

Taeyong kneels before the shrine, before the wall of wooden wishing plaques, which all carry the picture of two cloud-white foxes prancing across a meadow of flowers. His knees sink into the red cushions as he clasps his hands together.

Above the cushioned pews hangs the painted image of a lady in flowing scarlet and white robes and a fox mask, the details of the whiskers and ears painted in crimson red. A gentle gust lifts the corner of the vellum on which the image is portrayed, and magically, a pale foot steps out from the material, followed by another. And then a pair of slender ivory hands, glittering with golden dust, grab at the air.

And then the fox goddess herself steps out of the vellum, fox-face tilted down towards Taeyong as he murmurs to himself. He doesn’t look up at her, and he does not hear the bells jingling on the sash of her kimono. In fact, when he looks back up, he stares straight through her astral body and addresses her image painted before him.

The goddess laughs. It is a sound like no other; it is the rushing of wind between the reeds, the jingle of coins in a purse, the ripple of metal against stone, and the bubbling of hot water in a tea pot, at all once.

And while Taeyong cannot hear it, while his only company are the two stone fox statues at the red gate of the shrine, and the offerings of rice and sake he’d brought up from the store at the base of the mountain, he feels it. He feels her presence the same way one feels the onset of rain-- in his bones.

When she speaks, her voice thrums like it comes from the belly of the earth.

What are you doing here, stranger?

Taeyong hears the echoes of this and shudders.

“It’s been four years since I came to Korea. Four years, and I don’t feel lost anymore. I know who I am, I know what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

Then why come here at all, if you are satisfied? Stooping by the kneeler, the goddess looks into the container of sake he’s brought her and hums approvingly.

“I don’t know. I feel it in my chest, like… I feel breathless. There’s a hole there, and it burns. I feel hollow.”

I am surprised that you have come to me now. I see star-crossed lovers more often at the turn of the new year.

She examines the silver bracelet on his wrist, not touching, merely observing. I see. You have a lover here, and she has marked you as her own with this metal tag.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not fair to Rumi, that I can’t love her the way she loves me.”

Is that what you are truly in need of? Someone to keep you warm? There are a multitude of lovely things here, if that is so. The goddess plucks a blade of grass from between the cracks of the paved courtyard and spins it between her fingers, humming an ancient, lilting tune. But I suppose you are leaving this country because the flower you want does not grow in these soils.

“And I left so many friends behind when I left America.” Taeyong clenches his fists and sighs. “I don’t know. I might have figured myself out, but I never resolved anything back there. I want to make things right.

“And maybe there isn’t anything I can right anymore. But I want to try.”

How noble of you. The goddess pauses in her song to glance up at the sky. The sun still perches high in the sky, but the moon has appeared just beyond the curtain of clouds, peeking out through the blue.

Taeyong rises from the cushions and bows his head. “I didn’t want to ask anything of you; I know gods can be fickle about the wishes they grant. But thank you anyway.”

Oh? is all the goddess says, standing with him. At her side, a pair of sleek, arctic white foxes materialize, the very same ones depicted on the wishing plaques. They wrap around her ankles and chitter excitedly.

“I just wanted to talk to someone,” he confesses, smiling up at the vellum portrait. “Don’t feel inclined to answer my prayers. Goodbye. Thank you again.”

Oh, my child. You are so sweet, she gushes, hands flying to her face. If I made myself visible, and I was not wearing this mask, you would see that I am blushing. Come back soon!~

Taeyong turns, and begins his descent down the mountain, down the spiraling stairs, and through the thick of the forest. At a whisper from the goddess, her fox attendants follow him down. I can only ensure your safe passage back to the front of the shrine, but I wish you well, and I hope you find the piece of you out there that fills that void inside.

And then she steps back into her portrait and is gone.

On the wall of wishing plaques, at the very bottom, Taeyong’s silent wish dangles loosely in the wind.

It is blank, except for a single word.

A name.

[Your name.]

38 notes · View notes

chamberofnectar · 5 years

Text

A void-damned tragedy

Summary

Ticker's not one to provide problems, but solutions. A list embedded of lives that can be saved from menial labor, from organ repossession, from being brain-shelved on some forsaken Corpus vessel. But she can only solve so many problems - not even her own. [ Includes spoilers for 'OLD MATE' rank with Solaris United, and Ticker's Codex Fragments ]

Mature | No Warnings

Content tags: Ticker (Warframe), Modified body, Repaying Debt, Life Debt, Straw purchase, Charity donation, Spoilers, Unrequited love

[ Read on Ao3 ] or continue beneath the read more!

It is the clamor of the elevator lift that pulls her from a daydreaming stupor.

An averted gaze is brought back from the dredge of fragmented thoughts, cast to the mechanical strumming before her – beyond the balcony that overlooks the menial coolant filtration maintenance pool. Ticker’s cerebral casing follows the rising mechanical sighs as the lift crawls back into the oppressing chill above, beyond the transparent ceiling that stares beyond the surface filtration system looming precariously over Fortuna’s operations. Far beyond the neon lights; the cold shiver echoes of hammer falls and gut-shaking thumps.

Leaning forth, a sigh crawls through the audio processors in her chest, elbows resting against her knees as wondering lulls through tired thoughts. Things beyond the physical… her grip goes lax as she stares at the distant exposed Venusian stone.

And snaps back into attention as an object slips against her thigh –

Her datapad!

Fumbling with a grunt, Ticker finds hold of the device once more; holding it half tilted against the shin of her boot. “Damn,” slips. She’s careful to secure it back onto her lap, shuffling to even out the grid hatch lying over her thighs.

Despite contemplating the attention seeking dot in the corner of the datapad’s message system, she huddles her gloved plan over it, hiding it from her sight as she looks back to the elevator lift. Where Eudico’s talking to a small crowd of strangers.

“Close to busy hours, ain’t it,” her thoughts drift… and her grip affirms.

Another plip sings from the device.

One leg over the other, Ticker drops herself from the table sat beside the balcony railing with an exhale, sight turning back to the datapad as she wanders around the table, to overlook the glows of distant activity beyond where she resides. Enclosed warehouse windows bloom in the eve of the morning hours, glinting through the cavernous open center. Strung electronics sway in the shutter of the enigmatic filtration system – overlooking lamps beaming down from overhead. She looks beyond it, far past the tubing that lines the walls, further than around the corner of the hard labor complex.

Beneath her index finger, the pulsating tone of awaiting messages from neighboring outposts, from outposts reaching far beyond the frequent shuttle transports and the tunnel burrows that connect the remote locations. Holding her vision away from the overworked device in her hands, she takes in the requests from the bond-assistant networks. There’s always more that need help… it takes another moment before she browses through the resources being requested, taking herself back to location in front of her personal space.

Her rig makes the ribbed gate shudder as she leans, index and thumb flipping through the pleas for parcel assistances. Thousands of credits, hundred of thousands of credits, a laundry list of resources that are to be used to pay off the weight of the loans. Items found in the vallis above, resources that take weeks to be taxied into the inner system, a seeking for replacements of ‘stolen goods’ that make her reserved features flinch.

Stolen goods to be repaid by whatever poor courier was responsible – not uncommon.

As she scrolls through the wave of collected requests, minor chatter notes in the corner of the datapad. From the east end, from the gravefield outpost to the north; echoing sympathetic apologies. Another accident happened, a truck split and ruined the fresh supply from the vallis storage cores. In diligence her cadence comes through her vocabulary. That things happen out of any of their control, as soon as those items become available, she’ll send the parcel out through the network tunnels for quick repayment.

‘Thank you so much,’ the person on the other end of the channel messages back.

And only a short stint of silence fills the space before another message blips – confirming Ticker had received the bond request through the network. That the previous request that have been fulfilled are on their way. “I’ve seen to it that the items are securely in transport, stardust,” she chirps from her post, taking a glance up as she hears the lift hum to life. Clientele.

Before looking away, she checks on a previous case that still lies open. An overseer in another outpost. Three dependents. An industrial accident, busted a case of argon crystals in a spaceport – threatened with brain shelving.

They personally sent their bond to Ticker the other day cycle…

“Got good people hoping to see another sunrise, Stardust,” she sighs, datapad tapping against the metal surface. The bond requests already transferred to her internal recollection. “Are you here for donations, love; or bond forgiveness? Either are good news.”

Ahead of her, another day of delegating whom is to live another day – until the blasted corpus ask for more money as ‘compensation’ for whichever incident preceded the time-ticking bounties on people’s lives. She rackets through the trove of those unfortunate; a courier strapped for financial security that they made an incidental mistake, the ex-mercantile recently paying off a loan after they paid off their father’s removal from being brain shelved. The new start that got grinded up by machinery and shoved back into their place of work and forced to pay for their new enhancements. The mother with three dependents selling off her organs to keep herself afloat – just another million to defer the bonds passed onto her by her late parents. The absentee that wandered too far off site and got reprimanded – another stack of payments to their own pillar of paternal loans. It’s the third time they’ve shown up on her list…

A guard threatened with brain-shelving after they claim being unwell, not at their post in corpus punctuality. Ones tied to the undercurrent of bond repayment – they weren’t slippery enough and got caught by the tax-men.

With ease Ticker rattles off the bonds left on her list short and sweet – Their position, dependents, relationships and all associated personality markers. The chime of total bodily repossession or the read out of 60 days hard labor are spoken with the same relative ease – an emotional detachment that relies on her casual demeanor. Getting emotionally invested never lead her to pleasant things… as she gives a casual glance back to her storage unit. A disembodied glove left in the open.

It goes dismissed by the front of her consciousness; turning back to the chroma shuffling through their own manifest of resources. Allocating and matching those they can afford to pay off, stumbling through their words. Flustered, Ticker can assume as she waits. They barely have enough to pay of two additional bonds.

“We can only do what we can, darlin’,” Ticker’s cerebral casing tilts in response, transposed sight looking over the short stature frame. A payment of polymers, rubedo, and alloy plates, a barely short change of credits to fulfill another two’s bonds. But its just enough for the mother, paying off the new-start in another outpost. “Life’s a ride; you can only help so much.” Beneath the shutter vent, a weary smile.

“Thanks, ma’am,” the warframe fumbles, passing off the container details to their cephalon. “Just wish I could do more, the items will be on the dock in an hour!” They chirp, flexible features standing at attention in an adoring attentive display.

Ticker laughs, “don’t worry, Stardust, I’m here all day. The transports not going out for another three to the specific outpost, you got time.”

Beyond the warframe’s sight, Ticker watches the countdown for the overseer clicks over to one hour left. For such an occasion? It’s hard for her to avoid biting her lip, lingering against hope. Thankful her cerebral casing’s display doesn’t correspond with the distress.

They’re counting on her to find someone to pay off the argon crystal damage; It’s rare for someone to have that much argon sitting around, nonetheless enough to survive the transport. Even when she first got the message… the outlook was bleak.

“Take care, stardust,” she waves off the chroma as they bound around the corner, their hand held against their strange flexing scalp as their voice chirps.

Ticker might never get used to how… distinctly different they are to her, to anyone she may have once known; and her hand curls into a fist. Different, but not unfamiliar – digitally, she checks the two bonds off from needing funds. Once her contact on the tunnel docks confirms the shipment, then she’ll let the retrieving persons know they have nothing to worry about.

But until then, it’s onto the next potential client, giving hope to more unfortunates.

Slowly the list begins to chisel away, talking thousands of credits she’ll never see; resources she’ll never touch but corresponds to different drop off points for the future shipments. Can’t be too predictable beneath the Corpus stranglehold. “Chek, chek,” beams across her coms unit, “tube glinty gots the goods.”

“Thank you, Ruub,” Ticker recalls back, double crossing the bonds paid off by the earlier chroma.

“Gotsa note, interested?”

“Later, Ruub,” Ticker answers, turning her attention back to the stranger flicking through their resources. In the corner of her vision, she finally dismisses the delayed debt by the overseer – four hours pass the due. Far too late to do anything about it now; she sighs. Not everyone can be saved.

“Are your considerations in order?” She notions over to the cloaked figure hovering at the table.

Their legs, MOA’d up, pad about anxiously, gloved hands tapping against the datapad in either double check or triples. Ticker can’t be certain as they keep it tilted out of either of her views, the clumsy tech held in tight uncertainty. Under her observation, as Ticker makes impatient idle pace, they throw their hood back over the mess of their hair. “Ye-yeah,” they call over, huddling the datapad against their chest.

Novice in the trade, she assumes.

“I’ve got a sum of polymer, plastids… uh, Gallium, and Neurodes. I want to donate them to the fund.”

Suspicion queries. “I work in inventory transportation, Stardust. You have a location and credits?”

The stranger fumbles through a pack buried beneath their cloak, MOA legs pacing to and fro as she digs through the contents for something. “I assure you, I’m not a plant,” she fumbles with a mingling smile on her flushed squared features, voice trembling. “I’ve – got a shipment for you from a tenno, at least all options lead me to that conclusion. Left me this note about a drop a few days ago with this inventory.” And she hustles a folded fabric to Ticker – it’s been forever since she had to hold some form of writing.

Sure enough, written in plain was a line of coordinates from a tenno-tone frequency. A list of resources rattles off beneath an albeit simple commlink combination; just having writing in some form would be enough to put the girl in some trouble. Ticker glances over to her; the code, one she dials privately, checks out.

“How’d you get a hold of this information?” A simple question; but its never exactly simple.

The woman fumbles with her pack, throwing their hood back over the flutter of her hacked hair – an attempt to hide their identity, the Fortuna debt forgiver assumes.

It reminds her so much of herself… trying to escape a previous life.

“A friend of mine; a researcher from the west needed to repay his prosthetics a while a back. He went missing a few months back and – a frame delivered a parcel to me and that was tucked inside it.” Hands fiddling with their covered hood – anxious.

Hidden away from the stranger’s view, Ticker’s free to let her confusion manifest. She’s seen so many lives pass through the debt forgiveness network, she can’t willingly say she can’t really remember… the details are not uncommon, except for being a researcher. Not many higher rank Corpus seek through the network to pay off loans – most are well connected enough to solve that through their work.

But Ticker can tell her silence makes the stranger uncomfortable.

“What’s the name, stardust? Of the researcher friend of yours.” With nowhere to tuck the precarious writing, she tucks it into the crease of her body casing to dispose of later. The coordinates – already given off to another of the ventkids to investigate at the drop off time.

“Kedan; Kedan Laundras was his name,” the woman sighs, “he’s apparently doing well.” And a faint smile on her stubbled face.

With the same ease as delegating the hopeful fortunes of others, Ticker traces through the archive of payments she penned into her memory banks. Over those with too much debt, the ones just running short of repayments, the few that now languish on a brain shelf somewhere on a Corpus vessel. But he’s on her list; Mechanic turned biomechanic researcher, from the southern cap of Venus. Reliable and hard-working.

“Checks out,” Ticker notions with her palm, a confirmation the stranger is legit, “his case went through me – oof!” winds through her as the slightly taller woman pulls her into a hug. She stands stunned, awkward before the other woman pulls herself away – apologizing.

“Sorry, I’m – just glad there’s people like you out here. He, Kedan, managed to find his way off this place, and – I’ve always wondered who was able to pay off my dad’s debts when I was small. The supplies – they come from whomever Kedan’s with now.”

The smile the stranger gives off… reminds Ticker too much of the look she gives the man as she watches him work the coolant filtration system – the man that doesn’t remember their love.

“I was looking for – for how my father’s debt got repaid. And Kedan’s. And everyone else’s that have come and gone. I’m just – they’ve told me how grateful they are for people like you looking out for them.” She digs through her pack, pulling out the datapad once more. “I want to pay forward to someone else’s bond – I don’t have much to my name, but I have credits.” Handing the personal device over to Ticker, she can confirm the amount – 14 thousand credits.

Compared to the total she tended to today? Its nothing, but for someone working under the corpus?

It’s a lot.

“You’re certain you can afford the donation, stardust?”

“Yeah,” the woman smiles. “it’s fine.”

Her expression… the half-tilted smile brimmed by exhausted stubble, the dreary drifting sigh trying to find focus on Ticker’s cerebral casing for familiarity. Her raiments; they call to a higher working position, office worker perhaps. From the southern laboratories; given her friend’s location prior and position.

And its hard to vanish, and it has taken its toll on the woman.

“Give whatever you can, lovely. But don’t forget to take care of yourself,” she sighs, handing back the datapad – the 14 thousand credits exchanged. Always so poignant, deliberate… “Courier? Take good care of yourself out there.”

“Yeah,” she smiles back, creasing the striped tattoos across her cheeks. “It’s hell out there but pays well.”

It’s the last Ticker sees of her; passing around the back of the next person offering up credits and resources anew. With ease Ticker moves over to handling what they are willing to give, rattling off those still on her list. Lives like merchandise… shaken from her thoughts.

Another cycle of debt fulfillment, networking the ventkids to assure the drops are where they should be, that everything is paid in full from the transactional fees to covering their tracks. Silent transport always has its price, and its too easy to find one willing to hijack resources for high rollers. Working amongst the scavengers taught her to be resourceful, sharp; the taxmen, how to keep a low profile to provide for those on the repayment network. A single slip up won’t expose her – that she’s sure.

The comslinks, masked. The archive logs? Smeared. Scattering them makes it hard to track, the ventkids reliable in understanding the network above and below. Without them; Ticker would be hard pressed to keep it running – relying on credit transfers.

And it’s the most dangerous measure.

But, she’s good at it.

After handing off a nutrient canister to Smokefinger, she takes herself back to her post at the edge of the filtration pool. Never giving a secondary glance to a man standing on the other side of the pool with a diagnostic tool in hand. It hammers against the port all the same as the others; the ring of metal on metal that embeds itself into Fortuna’s background noise. The inconsistent hums by those she passes by onto the short lift – holding her daily nutrient allowance close at her side.

The gate of her personal storage unit clatters as she yanks it up, snapping the locks into place above her.

Spare log books are seamlessly plucked from the floor, stacked one over the other as a boot shoves over an old busted diagnostics tool. Organized chaos, that’s what it is as she steps up one crate and lands down upon another much larger. Huffing one leg to hike up against the container, forcing it out of the way, the shutters of her rib-mounted head case falls open; giving both of her sights a clear view of the opposing wall.

In one hand, the nutrient canister - an ugly little grey thing with only a tube line connection on the top, a secure valve keeping the contents inside. Never had she investigated the contents, flipping the seal off her retrieval port tucked away in the side of the modifications done to graph tech onto flesh and bone. A hiss squeals through the container as the connection between her body and the package turns tight – the seal broken with a simple pull to the valve’s locking pin and holding it up above her shoulder… and all she has to do is stare at the bleak, empty, dreaded wall.

One hand still empty – and she picks up the lone glove that has been sitting on another crate.

Ticker holds it against her lap, in front of her lower sight-line as a sigh rolls through her systems, through the muscles she bought back, the fingers that only now are hers.

Fingers intertwining with the disembodied hand… too well aware they won’t hold back.

They never will.

The mimicry of the handhold distracts her from the wall, turning to look half at the enclosure of all that remains of her former body, and the commotion of Fortuna’s productions. Shaking out the last of the nutrient canister, she holds the palm close against herself, staring off into that middling distance between sight and thought.

Another shaking of the canister – emptied.

With a drifting exhale, Ticker allows the palm to lie against her thigh as she disconnects the nutrient feed from her entry port and the reusable container. A daily deposit, to keep their enhancements from breaking down, from their joints from ceasing up and making it hard to work. Beneath sight, connected to the electronic body that houses her as a prisoner, it confirms the transfusion of material into blood and piping.

Disinterested, she tosses the canister away to pick up later.

Lying back against the wall of the open storage unit, she holds the back of the gloved palm against her stomach-region forehead, obscuring her physical sight to only electronics – perspective that closes itself off to inner records, allocating and recounting the resources and credits. That nothing has been misplaced between client and the drop off points; that manifests are accurate between her and the tunnel docks that moves the resources from Fortuna to the other outposts.

People counting on her to get it right.

Glove interlace with glove; fingers winding around unfeeling fingers that lie limp against her grip as another hand holds the enclosed forearm against the rim of her head containment. Out she stares to the hustle of activity within Fortuna. The slam of metal on metal, the steam exhaust that whistles in the distance and the mechanical shutters from the transport vessel below them.

Always active, always busy – she lifts herself from the crate, careful to lie the sentimental wrist down where a brush of dust marks its domain.

Picking up her personal datapad, she scrolls through the remaining debts seeking assistance. New ‘merchandise’ all the time. It makes her whince before the shutter of her head casing drops back down, closing her away from the view of Fortuna’s neon lights as she wanders over to the edge of the balcony.

Over on the other side of the filtration pool, Ticker sees him working hard. Conversing among himself with others working the same region.

His body posture looks…. enthusiastic.

Ticker adverts herself from contemplation, from lost love as she involves herself with the datapad held firmly against her rig. Picking through the debts once more, casual as she notices in the corner a notification that more people are logged into the underground system, more seeking assistance.

And she’s all to glad to receive their requests, looking over them as she wanders back to her usual post.

Slamming the gate of the storage area down, she secures the sentimental object out of her sight, out of mind as she resumes the dual duty of inventory cataloger, and of debt deferrer. There are people depending on her, and there are people willing to help out those in need – without a way to find them.

“Hey there, Stardust,” she welcomes another donor, “time’s running out for those on my books. What’ve you got?”

#VueWritten #Warframe #fanfiction #Ticker #solaris united #I will fight anyone for Ticker to be happy #she deserves it

15 notes · View notes

millennial-star-gazer · 6 years

Text

Grey Days( reuploadfrom dragon-shield-maiden account)

Grey Days

Vera's May Prompt Challenge 2018 Prompt(s)9when on dragon-shieldmaiden): "Don't leave me! (Sort of implied in an angsty sense of the word) Genres: Romance, Fantasy, Friendship/Family, Angst/Drama Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy(due to this being from Natsu's/E.N.D's Perspective), Gothic fiction, and Poetry

Characters: Natsu/E.N.D, Lucy , Gray, Diamara, Igneel and Zeref Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy/ E.n.d Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: K+-T for some violence, references to death, mature and dark themes. Reader Discretion is advised for those younger than 12 or 13 years and/or anyone who may not at the level of development (maturity) to handle such heavy subject matter . Side note: Please use your own judgement and proceed with caution before deciding to read If uncertain as to whether you're comfortable with such themes.

Summary: Without his most precious star and father's light, the demon of hellfire is lost—all days perpetually gray. For the loss of his beloved really does drive the heart mad. A retelling of the events surrounding Natsu's/E.n.d's transformation (chapters 503-505) from his perspective in poem form. Title taken from the song of the same name by Chelsea Wolfe. Originally For Vera's May Prompt Challenge and Nalu angst week 2018 on previous accounts . Nalu/Endlu

A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl Millennial Stargazer (formerly known as twishadowhunter/ comsicdragonqizard/dragon-shield-maiden/star-crossed-dragon! I'm finally back under a new name (on fanfiction and tumblr as millennial-star-gazer) after months of forced hiatus due to personal extenuating circumstances (which can be explained via private message for those who already don't know why) This time it's an reupload of an installment in the wonderful universe of Fairytail—an angsty gothic little ditty retelling the events of chapters 503-505 and other related chapters mostly from Natsu/E.n.d's perspective which was originally as an entry for Vera's May Prompt Challenge and for Nalu angst week 2018 on my previous dragon-shield-maiden account (tumblr). As you may know, the title is taken from the evocative song of the same name by the lovely Chelsea Wolfe which has heavily inspired the poem.

Yes, I know there's been a lot of poems on my profiles, though I do also write other kinds of non-poetry works if my ongoing fics Tantric Flames and the Draconic Demon -soon to be reuploaded by the way- among others are anything to go by). Also partially by Within Temptation's The Heart of Everything plus the musical body of works from Peter Grundy (Bury My Heart) Brunuhville (River of Tears), Nights Amore (This Dreadful Emptiness , That Which is Called Void, Twisted Goa: Lone Deranger , and A Billion Stars Will Die Today) and Adrian Von Ziegler (Ashes, Twisted, Heaven's Touch, One, My Everything, Ethello-iel and Even in Death) who are all incredibly talented composers in their own right that you should check out! (The songs can be found by by clicking on the song titles or via google. Also see below for "Grey Days" if on Tumblr)

Anyway, I don't think y'all need me warning you that spoilers are present when it's already pretty apparent. Without further ado, here's the poem. Don't forget to let me know what you think by leaving a leaving comment/review. (Links to everything below, sidebar and bio if on tumblr plus Fanfiction profile). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: As you all know by now Fairytail does not belong to me, but the most honourable Hiro-sensei instead, for whom without this labour of love wouldn't be possible.