ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Shades of Perfect
Rupert shifted uneasily in his seat, throwing his eyes all around the small cockpit. Was compulsively checking (fuel: 1/4 tank) all the gauges and lights on the (shields: 82%... repairs needed) dashboard of the small transport plane really (cargo weight: 573 pounds) necessary? No (passengers: 3). But it did help calm his (autopilot: off) nerves. Considering his fear of heights, maybe (miles to destination: 30) he should have considered a career other than (destination: Atlantis) a pilot, but transport was where the money was, and as his (security level: green) mother was always so keen to point out, money was scarce.
He took a shallow breath. He wasn’t even flying the damned plane. That was still Nikko’s job, and Rupert wasn’t going to complain that he’d been an apprentice for three years and had never touched the joystick. He guessed that Nikko knew more about his phobia than the pilot let on, which was perfectly fine. Rupert got paid and Nikko got someone to fill out the loads of paperwork required when you worked for Atlantis Travel and Transport (or AT&T).
When he’d gone over the dashboard twice, Rupert closed his eyes and searched for something else to think about. He settled on the passengers, three peace offerings from Chile to Atlantis. What the little South American country had done to anger the island nation was unclear, but whatever it was, it had been enough to make the Atlantian navy form a blockade along the whole Chilean coast. All 2,880 miles of it.
The offerings were… beautiful. Rupert wasn’t a scientist, but he didn’t have to be to know that those three people had not been born normally. They were products of a procedure done by a company (an Atlantian company) called Predisposition that allowed parents to form the physical and mental characteristics of their child while the brat was still in the womb. It sent shivers up Rupert’s spine, but he couldn’t ignore the results. Those people were so many shades of perfect.
He’d seen them briefly before they had gotten on the plane and closed the door. It was almost impossible to determine their genders, but the manifest said that there were two males and one female.
The female (Sylvia, Rupert remembered, recalling the manifest) had light violet hair swept up into a twist and flourish on the side of her head, casting a claw-like shadow on her face. Her eyes were the same color of purple, flecked with drops of blue, and shaped in a way that reminded Rupert of the Orientals in the history books. Her skin was the color of the moon on a night after it has snowed. She wore an alabaster-white tunic with a yellow rope at the waist.
The first male (Rupert had to try at bit harder to remember… M… Mat… ah, Matthias) stood in dark contrast. His skin was the color of coal, covered with intricate designs that sparkled like gold. Rupert knew that they couldn’t be, because no one tattooed themselves anymore with precious metals, so he figured that they must have been part of his skin. His hair was just a shade lighter than his skin. Half of it fell to his waist, and the other half was about an inch long and styled in short, sharp spikes with gold paint at the tips. His eyes were red like flames. He wore a brown shirt with no sleeves, and a pair of black trousers.
Rupert had just finished cataloguing the second passenger when the plane started its descent. He gripped the armrests of his chair, screwing his eyes shut until he felt the plane bump along on the landing strip. He started breathing again then, too.
As soon as he got out of the plane, a blue-skinned Predetermination attendant stepped up beside him with a clipboard in her hands. “Welcome to the United Federation of Atlantis, Mr. Doctrow. Could you please state your purpose for this visit?”
Rupert opened his mouth to answer, but his attention was caught by a nearby television screen. It looked like some action/thriller movie, with explosions and fleeing crowds… but something was off. He looked closer. Then his breath caught in his throat.
The attendant followed his gaze and sighed. “Ah. You must be the delivery from Chile. Yes, it’s terribly sad, but they had to be taught a lesson, no? No one opposes the Federation and gets away unscathed.” She looked back at him, and her silver eyes held something akin to pity. “No one, Mr. Doctrow.”
Rupert shifted uneasily in his seat, throwing his eyes all around the small cockpit. Was compulsively checking (fuel: 1/4 tank) all the gauges and lights on the (shields: 82%... repairs needed) dashboard of the small transport plane really (cargo weight: 573 pounds) necessary? No (passengers: 3). But it did help calm his (autopilot: off) nerves. Considering his fear of heights, maybe (miles to destination: 30) he should have considered a career other than (destination: Atlantis) a pilot, but transport was where the money was, and as his (security level: green) mother was always so keen to point out, money was scarce.
He took a shallow breath. He wasn’t even flying the damned plane. That was still Nikko’s job, and Rupert wasn’t going to complain that he’d been an apprentice for three years and had never touched the joystick. He guessed that Nikko knew more about his phobia than the pilot let on, which was perfectly fine. Rupert got paid and Nikko got someone to fill out the loads of paperwork required when you worked for Atlantis Travel and Transport (or AT&T).
When he’d gone over the dashboard twice, Rupert closed his eyes and searched for something else to think about. He settled on the passengers, three peace offerings from Chile to Atlantis. What the little South American country had done to anger the island nation was unclear, but whatever it was, it had been enough to make the Atlantian navy form a blockade along the whole Chilean coast. All 2,880 miles of it.
The offerings were… beautiful. Rupert wasn’t a scientist, but he didn’t have to be to know that those three people had not been born normally. They were products of a procedure done by a company (an Atlantian company) called Predisposition that allowed parents to form the physical and mental characteristics of their child while the brat was still in the womb. It sent shivers up Rupert’s spine, but he couldn’t ignore the results. Those people were so many shades of perfect.
He’d seen them briefly before they had gotten on the plane and closed the door. It was almost impossible to determine their genders, but the manifest said that there were two males and one female.
The female (Sylvia, Rupert remembered, recalling the manifest) had light violet hair swept up into a twist and flourish on the side of her head, casting a claw-like shadow on her face. Her eyes were the same color of purple, flecked with drops of blue, and shaped in a way that reminded Rupert of the Orientals in the history books. Her skin was the color of the moon on a night after it has snowed. She wore an alabaster-white tunic with a yellow rope at the waist.
The first male (Rupert had to try at bit harder to remember… M… Mat… ah, Matthias) stood in dark contrast. His skin was the color of coal, covered with intricate designs that sparkled like gold. Rupert knew that they couldn’t be, because no one tattooed themselves anymore with precious metals, so he figured that they must have been part of his skin. His hair was just a shade lighter than his skin. Half of it fell to his waist, and the other half was about an inch long and styled in short, sharp spikes with gold paint at the tips. His eyes were red like flames. He wore a brown shirt with no sleeves, and a pair of black trousers.
Rupert had just finished cataloguing the second passenger when the plane started its descent. He gripped the armrests of his chair, screwing his eyes shut until he felt the plane bump along on the landing strip. He started breathing again then, too.
As soon as he got out of the plane, a blue-skinned Predetermination attendant stepped up beside him with a clipboard in her hands. “Welcome to the United Federation of Atlantis, Mr. Doctrow. Could you please state your purpose for this visit?”
Rupert opened his mouth to answer, but his attention was caught by a nearby television screen. It looked like some action/thriller movie, with explosions and fleeing crowds… but something was off. He looked closer. Then his breath caught in his throat.
The attendant followed his gaze and sighed. “Ah. You must be the delivery from Chile. Yes, it’s terribly sad, but they had to be taught a lesson, no? No one opposes the Federation and gets away unscathed.” She looked back at him, and her silver eyes held something akin to pity. “No one, Mr. Doctrow.”
Literature
You belong with me - Chap. 42
SEVENTH YEAR
Going back to Hogwarts had always felt like going back home, but Lily didn't remember to have ever wished to go back as badly as that year. The sound of the trunk's rollers accompanied the one of her anxious steps, which quickly led her across the station despite it was still early. The slight, inexplicable ghost of a smile flickered across her lips, responding to whatever her mind was thinking as she walked through King's Cross. As she approached the platform 9 ¾, her heart beat faster and faster, and even though she pretended she didn't know the reason, deep inside she knew what was that impatient joy all about.
After
Literature
I Remember You - Chapter 46
The blonde lady in blue closed her office door and promptly offered Red greasy chips. "Mmf?" she licked her fingers and her quarter-sized blue eyes bore into his dirty head. He politely declined.
"TJ- uh, Red, are you okay? You look terrified and sad. Sad children make me sad, and then I write in my diary about how sad I am. Have you done that, Red?" She hunkered in her squeaky chair and plucked off her black high heel, scratching several toes. "Diaries are cool. I have thirty."
"Miss Winston, my stomach hurts and I don't want to be away from Emyrs."
She stopped mid-scratch. "It's Dr. Renet, remember? And who?"
"Em-riss." He gestured a bi
Literature
BBC John Watson x Reader - Chapter 28
A crunching sound came from just behind you to the left.
James must have finished chewing off the caramel layer and made it to the sour center of the apple. His second apple, you noted with concealed distaste.
You’d been in here close to an hour, and he was even harder to crack than your first time around—and that encounter had lasted for over a week [[fact-check this]]. Despite your new familiarity around him, he wasn’t budging. His childish exuberance was hanging around much longer than you remembered it from before. You waited for him to stalk out of your line of view to look around the tellers’ desks so that he w
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Response to the #Artisan-Helpers prompt: what if the sinking of Atlantis never happened?
© 2013 - 2024 Ambiguous-Catharsis
Comments10
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I'm a sucker for anything Atlantian, but this is really interesting. I loved the twist at the end. I loved the way you made the Atlantian people more than just advanced, but a super power, and even cold and detached, but painfully beautiful. It's fascinating to think about. I wanted to read more of this. I found myself hoping it was only a chapter, or part 1.