Bring Him HomeDeryn slumped down into the weathered chair, defeated. Her filthy midshipman uniform clung to her body with sweat, taking some distraction from the hot embarrassment she felt flooding through her veins at the moment.Bring Him Home by VictorianBombshell
"And I don't ever-" her mother's voice screeched with fury, her plump face turning a ruddy color with anger to match her daughter's.
"Ma, this is my passion! Ever since Da died- " Deryn sputtered out.
"No. Don't you say a word, young lady. Passion has nothing to do with it! A young woman such as yourself doesn't go hop on some warship and come back like like this!" Mrs. Sharp vigorously waved her flour-stained palms in Deryn's direction, and Deryn could do nothing but hang her head in shame.
Another set of eyes had been watching this scene, taking in the childish bickering. The brunette knew better than to get between a mother and her offspring, so he forced himself not to make a sound and drew himself to the farthest corner of the table.
"Why can't you just ac
We'll meet again (Chapter Eight)Deryn was glad the doctor had finally finished checking them over and set them to a small room in his house to stay in for the night.
The house wasn’t particularly big, and was split up in to several much smaller rooms. She and Alek shared a room with two slim cots against the walls and a desk between.
She had the room lit by a single candle, its warm glow and thin heat quite comforting, reminding her of the night before her exam.
She had emptied the pockets of her uniform jacket, now flung on the back of the chair in which she sat, the contents scattered in front of her on the desk.
Her whistle, her notebook, a couple pencils and a chunk of drawing charcoal, her rigging knife, a patch of lint, her cell phone and earbuds, and her radio, which was cracked open from the landing due to it being strapped on the back of her waist.
Deryn rested her elbows on the desk, linking her fingers together and staring down at the broken pieces of radio while the music in her earbuds played softl
Operation Imperium (Ch. 1)"The situation in Germany grows more dire by the day! We can no longer risk standing by." A worn voice protested, punctuated by the swipe of a hand.
"Commander, as much as I would like to agree with you, we simply cannot bring ourselves into this mess. This is a delicate situation. One wrong move and we'll topple the Jenga tower that is world politics." A gruff voice responded, slightly annoyed.
"Our intel reports state that the Emperor of Austria-Hungary is nearly on his deathbed. If we opt for a conference with him and he dies in the middle of peace talks, we will not benefit."
"Then why not try to secure co-operation with the next in line for the throne? Surely there is a contender who wishes to end the war enough to co-operate." The worn voice suggested.
"We've reviewed every available candidate; most are not powerful enough to have influence, or their commitment to the war is too strong. No living member of the nobility is a good choice." The rougher voice insisted.
"On the contra
We'll meet again (Chapter Thirteen)The blood’s not stopping.
Your fingers are covered in so much dark red you can’t see the skin, they’re slick as they grip the wound in your chest, under your collarbone and near your shoulder, your fingers gripping your armpit to maintain pressure.
It’s hard to see the precise spot the bullet hit, the area matted, clothes crumpled and stuck to the wound.
Alek’s panicking, fear all across his face, and his raised voice struggles to keep you conscious and reassured. He’s pried the first aid kit from the wreck of the walker, fumbling out packs of gauze and trying to figure out what to do, how to help.
You can’t feel anything under your fingers. The blood doesn’t gush, but your palm sits in a gross puddle of sticky crimson.
“Alek.” Your voice is still strong enough, though it cracks and breaks. “Alek, listen, I have to tell you something.”
Chunks of broken building are digging into your back. They sky’s turned re
We'll meet again (Chapter Twelve)“Ten thousand hits and climbing.” Alek comments, looking at your phone.
You groan, bringing a hand to your forehead to massage the massive goose-egg you woke up to, paired with the mother of all headaches. Your sunglasses have been on since you woke up.
Sound crinkles from the phone, your slurred rendition of Muse's 'Cant take my eyes off you'- the decision to sing at all being blamed on Drunk Deryn, a decision Sober Deryn has to suffer with.
“You’re not bloody watching it again, are you?” You grumble, eyeing him from where you’re plastered to the couch.
“I can’t help myself.” Alek grins. “It only gets funnier.” His eyes go back to the screen, and you can hear the crack overtop of your drunken singing as you get whacked in the head by one of the small stage-lights from the ceiling of the bar. Alek’s giggling doesn’t improve your hungover mood.
“I’m turning into my brother.”
We'll meet again (Chapter Eleven)“What are you doing?” Alek asks politely, leaning over your shoulder, but not far enough to see the words on your phone screen.
You glance up at him from where you tossed yourself on the worn couch in the open area where the huge Spider printing press is kept, along with random crates of machine parts and knick-knacks.
Your mother’s voice in your head lectures you to sit up properly and get your leg off of the back rest where it’s slung over the couch, your head on the armrest, but your logical voice says “that’s not what a boy would do.”
“I was texting Lilit.” You say, scrolling down. Something about having Alek this close makes you kind of itchy in a weird way. The worst part is you already know what it’s from.
“She wants to do something tonight.” You continue, pretending to ignore how close he is.
“Like what?” He asks, walking around to sit right by you in the small space you don’t occup
Problem Struck chapter 2Problem Struck
By Stargirl 8
"Scheiße..." Alek swore when he realized how the boffin and the damned count tricked him, as he stared at the unconscious female. The prince glanced at the door, pondering whether the conspirators locked him in or not, but a low moan from the female wiped all of those thoughts from his mind. Alek dashed over to the bedside, gazing worriedly at the cross-dresser wondering whether she was alright.
"Aunt Claudie... Aleksander... airship dead... " moaned Deryn as bitter tears began to slide down her cheeks, leaving wide salty trails shining in the glow worm's light. A throbbing ache welled up in Alek's chest as he watched the crossdresser shed her precious waterworks until the prince could stand no more. Awkwardly Alek seated himself on the tinniest sliver on the bed, and gradually shifted Deryn's head to his lap so he could stroke her silky short sand-colored hair.
"Shhhhh, meine liebe... don't cry, I'm right here for you..." soothed Alek
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