#but the point is that it needs to be seemingly unaware of itself at first bc its fluffy and cool and YA.

[kanerallels]

In Saecula Saeculorum

My contribution for @inklings-challenge 2024! Content warning for death and injury

Playlist link (I HIGHLY recommend listening along I spent like four collective hours on this thing I'm super proud. I am, however, adding which songs are best listened to at which points. They will be the bold italicized captions at the beginning of different sections. All the songs mentioned can be found on the playlist! (also, when you finish Afraid Of Time, just listen to the rest of the playlist straight through. It should line up well enough!))

~Time~

When Stephen Reid was nineteen, he almost got hit by a truck while trying to cross the street. A young woman a few years older than him yanked him back onto the sidewalk as the massive garbage truck barreled past, seemingly unaware that it had almost caused his demise.

Stephen steadied his breathing, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, then turned to thank the young woman who’d saved him. His mother had drilled good manners into him from a young age, and she’d have scolded him soundly for wandering into the street without looking first, let alone not thanking the person who’d saved him.

But she’d already started moving down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched in her green jacket, her hair (the tips of which were dyed an electric blue) brushing her shoulders as she moved. She was hunched over her cupped hands, whispering to something she was holding, and Stephen frowned. Strange way to hold your phone.

But there were more pressing things on Stephen’s mind. Namely, the fact that the world was tearing itself apart.

When he was little, things were so simple. It wasn’t just that he was a kid—Stephen remembered things had been happy, peaceful. He remembered summers spent digging holes in his backyard with his friends and raking leaves in the autumn. His mother and father had been happy, and life had been good.

As he got older, he saw the little ways things weren’t so good. The strain his father’s job put on him, the leaner times. But his family was still happy.

And then he turned eighteen. And things got really bad. Countries baying for each other’s blood, corrupt leaders turning their backs and doing nothing to help. Every day, the news showed more horrors. Every day, things got worse, and war was on the way. And Stephen knew he couldn’t just sit by and watch. His mother had taught him manners, common sense, and how to be fierce when it was needed. And his father had taught him that if you could help, you did help, and to care even when it was hard. 

So that was what Stephen planned to do. In every way possible.

He’d started out with volunteering as he started college classes. There were even more people living on the streets now than ever, and helping make meals at shelters was a step toward helping them.

But then things took an abrupt turn for the worse. And suddenly, they were at war. And Stephen found himself dropping out of school to enlist.

He was twenty when he saw his first dead body—a woman on the side of the road. Face pale, limbs at unnatural angles, blood still staining the front of her shirt. It was an image that didn’t leave his mind for a long, long time.

Two months later he killed someone for the first time. He tried not to remember that. But it wasn’t the last time. Every time he took a life, he found himself mourning, for what the world had come to, for the life that he’d ended.

Stephen may have known the reasons for what he was doing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less, or stop him from wondering if there was a better way he could help.

At twenty-two, he was shot in the line of duty.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured. But it was the first time it had been serious enough to warrant being sent to a hospital for a prolonged stay. And as it turned out, it was serious enough that he was discharged from the army. The bullet had shattered bones in his leg, leaving him with a serious limp and pain that never fully went away.

It was strange. One minute he was fighting for his life, the next he was home. Like nothing had changed, like he was supposed to pick up where he left off. Stephen found himself adrift, unsure of his next step. He went back to school, but his old major didn’t seem to fit anymore. Nothing did.

He was twenty-two and a half when one of his classmates dragged him to their local church. Howard was stubborn and usually said exactly what was on his mind, without thought toward how he’d affect others. It was an odd combination of refreshing and very irritating.

And yet, in that sanctuary, Stephen had never seen Howard light up the way he did when the singing started. And listening to the words, he started to understand why.

He’d gone to church growing up, and it had been fine. But this was different. This was something beautiful rediscovered, and he cherished it. Soaked in every word spoken from the front. It was like water after years in the desert, healing after pain for so long. It brought peace he hadn’t known could exist.

Stephen was twenty-three when he changed his major. Not to a pastor, though Howard joked that he might as well, with all the Bible reading and questions. But to a counselor. Someone who could guide others through what he’d gone through, and worse. Someone who could help.

It was a refreshing of his original purpose, a rewriting of his story. It was the right thing to do, and that was all he’d ever wanted.

When he was twenty-seven, he started on an internship. And that was where he met Marian.

She was an astrophysicist, and while Stephen admittedly didn’t understand a lot of what she did, he liked to listen to her talk about it anyway. He liked her smile, too, and her warm brown eyes that lit up like gold in the sunlight. They both loved music, and swapped favorite songs every time they saw each other. She loaned him her favorite book, and Stephen read it eagerly, looking for what she loved in every line.

It took him a while to gather the courage to ask Marian out. Howard—now graduated, running his own construction company, and happily engaged—teased him relentlessly about it. “She likes you, you clearly like her,” the young man would tell him. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Stephen would respond, and Howard scoffed in response.

In the end, he didn’t ask her at the right moment. He simply asked her, one day when she was stopping by at his work to talk about the book she’d just finished, eyes bright with happiness. Her smile outshone the sun when she said yes.

One year and six months later, she said yes again when he went down on one knee on a date to one of the few functioning observatories left in the country. He would have given her every star in the sky if he could have, but Marian settled for a diamond ring and a small wedding at her brother’s farm. Stephen hadn’t known someone could hold this much joy within them without bursting.

Two years later, Stephen was thirty years old. And that was when things started to get strange.

~~~

~Prepping For Rescue~

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She avoided his gaze as she strapped on her protective gear. While the technology they were using had come a long way since the beginning of its use, there were still dangers. Being pulled through time and space could cause serious injury or damage, and the cuffs she was locking into place would generate a field that could protect her from that. Strange, how they almost felt like shackles, weighing her down, when they were the only thing bringing her hope right now.

“You know I am,” she said. “We already tested it. We can go back now, not just forward. And if I have that chance—”

“You’re gonna take it. I know,” he said. “But we still don’t know everything about this. We don’t know how it could affect the timeline. You could start wars, cause innumerable deaths. You could prevent yourself from even being born.”

“I know the risks.” She finished with the cuffs and grabbed her jacket, pulling it on to hide the cuffs from sight. “I don’t care.”

He looked like he wanted to comment on that very much, but just sighed. “Okay. Do you have your location drone?”

“Her name is Penni,” she informed him, and he sighed again.

“It’s a robot. It doesn’t have a name.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile at the old argument. “She does now. And I have her here.” Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a flat, circular object about the size of her palm. The domed top flickered between different colors, trying to camouflage itself with its surroundings, and it zipped into the air, hovering right above her shoulder. She brushed a hand along Penni’s surface, taking a deep breath.

“Good. Keep her with you, and I’ll be able to bring you back,” he reminded her. “Otherwise…things could get ugly. Because this is all supposed to be theoretical.”

“Then I guess I’m a pioneer,” she said, mouth suddenly dry. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Let’s do this thing.”

~~~

Exactly twenty-seven days before his thirty-first birthday, Stephen was on his way home from work. He stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner—Marian was working later than usual, and he wanted to surprise her with a delicious home cooked meal when she got home.

When he stepped out of the store, a car drove by at top speed and shot him three times in the chest. Two other pedestrians were hit, but he was the only casualty.

Except he wasn’t.

He heard the car screech around the corner, and looked up in time to see the dark barrel of a gun pointing out a window—and then a girl slammed bodily into him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Glass from the store windows shattered upon the bullet’s impact, tinkling against the pavement. There were screams, and Stephen pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan, looking around as the car roared away.

Two other pedestrians lay on the ground—one hit in the shoulder, the other only grazed in the arm. Stephen automatically moved to help them, calling for someone to call the cops, his head spinning.

Because there had been a moment where he’d known, he’d been sure, that he was going to die. Not just fear. Utter confidence. He’d all but felt the bullets pass through his body.

But instead, a girl had saved his life.

The girl. Stephen glanced around—but there was no sign of her. And all he could remember, as he later recounted to the cops, then Marian, was a blur of green jacket and blue hair.

Something about the description itched at the back of his brain, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he was somehow, impossibly alive. And he was grateful for it.

Two days later they found out Marian was pregnant.

~~~

“It worked,” she gasped, stumbling away from the framework of the machine.

Her friend looked up, eyes widening. “It—it did? Are you okay?”

She nodded, then stumbled again, and he caught her by the arm, hauling her upward. “Whoa. Sit down, have something to drink. We should check you out—”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving away his worry. “It worked, Tad. He—he’s not dead. Is he? I can’t—I can’t think—”

Steering her into a chair, Tad said, “Disorientation is a common side effect after traveling. Let me look at the database—drink some water.”

Taking the water bottle he shoved into her hands before moving to the computer, she gulped down some of the contents, her head spinning. “Do you remember how it was before?” she asked. “You said that you might not—”

“I think being close to the temporal field distortion preserved my memory,” Tad said, typing rapidly. “It’s fascinating, and if we don’t get arrested for this, I’ll write a paper–oh.”

Her stomach dropped as his face fell. “What?”

“You…almost succeeded.” Reading from the screen, he said, “Stephen Reid, died age thirty-two, in the ‘65 train bombings.”

“What?” Rocketing out of her chair, she moved to his side, swaying a little. Tad put a hand out to steady her as she bent over the screen. “How?”

“Looks like he was injured, but didn’t let on because he was busy helping others to safety,” Tad read. Glancing at her, he said, “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but—”

She was already moving toward the machine. “We have to go again.”

“What? I don’t think that’s a good idea. You already somehow created a temporal loop when you first went in. Who knows what—”

Spinning around, she said, “We can’t save him from being murdered just to let him die in a freak accident. It’s not—no. We’re fixing this.”

“And you don’t think this has anything to do with—”

Fixing him with a fierce glare, she said, “We’re going. Again.”

~~~

~The Typewriter Theme~

If that was the only incident, Stephen would have accepted it and moved on. He wasn’t dead, and that was something he was fiercely grateful for. His wife was pregnant, and instead of being dead he was there. For the moment when their little girl came into the world, and he held her close for the first time.

They named her Zara Grace Reid, and Stephen’s heart was full. For two long years, they had peace.

Then, when he was thirty-two, things started getting bad again. The governments were all fighting, and groups of dissenters were getting angry at, well, everyone, no matter who they claimed to hold responsible for everything going badly. Danger of terror threats grew more and more present.

The day after Zara’s birthday, Stephen was taking the train to a meeting across town. But when he got to the door, his ticket was missing. Racking his brains, Stephen vaguely remembered slipping it into his jacket pocket—and a girl bumping into him as they crossed paths in the station.

Strange. Who would steal a train ticket? He considered buying another one, but it was a nice day and he was in no hurry. He decided to walk.

Two blocks later the world exploded. Four trains, all across the city, blew up at once, killing hundreds in a deadly attack.

Stephen not only saw it when it happened, he felt it. In his chest, like he was on the train when it happened. But no sooner had the feeling come then it was gone and he was running toward the rubble, hoping desperately that he could pull someone, anyone out.

He missed his meeting and saved twelve lives that day. All the while wondering at the phantom pain in his side, but there was too much to do for him to care.

Hours later, he made it home after Marian, cleaned up, and only by the time he fell into bed did he wonder—did the girl who took my ticket know?

~~~

“SIX MONTHS?”

Pacing back and forth, she glared into space. “I only bought him six months? What does he do that makes these people want him dead so badly?”

“It’s pretty fishy,” he agreed, typing rapidly. “Okay, the records are a little messy, but I think I know the exact date. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

~~~

The thought didn’t really leave Stephen, as he racked his brain to remember what the girl looked like. He remembered dark hair with a splash of blue, and the girl had been holding something small. And those thoughts tugged at other memories—of a day almost twenty years ago, when someone had pulled him out of the way of a truck. Of the shooting before Zara was born.

He wasn’t able to really consider the idea, let alone voice it. Not until six months later, when there was a fire in his work building, and someone locked the door of his office, leaving him trapped inside while the flames grew and the smoke filled his lungs.

He’d been in tight spots before. He’d been trained, in the Army, not to panic, even when it was logical to do so. But as his oxygen seeped away and the door refused to budge, even as he bashed at it with a chair, Stephen found himself absolutely terrified.

No. No, this can’t be it. Images of Marian and Zara flickered through his head and he knew he had to fight, had to live at all costs. But if there was nothing he could do—

The door swung open, and someone pulled him forward.

~~~

~The Hornburg~

“I wonder what makes them choose the intervals they do,” Tad mused as he typed. “Is there someone else preventing them? Do we just do this for the rest of our lives? Are they experts or are they just trying everything and every year they can to kill him? Furthermore, what’s going to stop them from just going back to the same year and trying again—”

He stopped short when he saw her face. “Which…they definitely can’t do. Most likely. I think they can’t, anyway. It’s just that the science is so—I’m sorry. They haven’t done it yet, they probably won’t ever.”

“I hope not,” she said, checking her cuffs and scooping up Penni, who chirped a little greeting. “The last thing we need is more things to worry about.”

“Or to send you through more times.” His worry showed through the edges of his speech. “You don’t have to—”

“Let’s go again.”

“Okay.” 

~~~

Stephen made it out of the fire and he could have cried with gratitude. The firefighters who arrived on scene seemed very startled to see him stumble out of the building, coughing—they said that the last man to come out had sworn up and down that there was no one else inside.

And they swore with equal fervor that they hadn’t sent anyone else in. They claimed that he must have made it out under his own steam somehow—adrenaline, maybe?

Stephen knew better.

“There are two options,” he told Marian when he explained everything to her later that day. Her brow was furrowed like it always was when she tried to solve a problem. “Either I have a literal guardian angel, or somehow the exact same person is traveling through time and space to save me.”

“I’m not sure which is more improbable,” Marian said slowly. They were sitting at the table, and her fingers twitched against the surface like she wished she had something to write on. “Bending time and space isn’t…unheard of, per se, but we’re years away from being able to achieve it under our own steam. And if we assume they’re from the future, they’d be moving into the past, which is, theoretically, even harder.”

“But then there’s the guardian angel idea,” Stephen said, grinning at her expression. “Which you think is scientifically impossible?”

She let out a long sigh. “I’ve learned not to count anything out when it comes to our faith. So…I don’t know.”

Reaching across the table, Stephen caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll just have to pray that whatever this is keeps ending up at the right place at the right time.”

Their prayers were answered when, two years later, someone tried to shoot Stephen again. And again, he was pulled out of the way just in time.

~~~

“So,” Tad said, staring at the screen.

“Yup,” she said.

“A sibling, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s do it again.”

~~~

It started happening more frequently. A near knifing in an alleyway, a car barreling toward him as he crossed the street. Every time, it was thwarted. Sometimes, he didn’t even see it coming—the coffee knocked out of his hands that hissed alarmingly on contact with the concrete, leaving it pitted and worn, for instance.

But every time, the attackers failed. And eventually, Stephen started to wonder if they should stop prevention and start focusing on the attackers. The only problem? He had no idea how to do that.

So he decided to reach out to the person who did.

~~~

“How. Did he do that?” Tad asked, staring at the screen.

“He must have realized what we’re doing, somehow,” she whispered. “I mean, he’s married to an astrophysicist, he has to have picked something up.”

Shaking his head, Tad said, “Okay, then how do we respond?”

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, thinking as she reread the lines on the screen. More specifically, the email Tad had found during his usual archive wide search for anything pertaining to Stephen Reid.

He’d sent it to himself, apparently hoping that it would be good enough. And it had been.

To whoever is helping me:

Thank you. I don’t know who you are or if you’ll receive this, but I have faith it’ll end up in the right hands. 

Clearly someone wants me dead, for whatever reason. Instead of preventing it, why don’t we get rid of the attackers? Let me know how and when to help.

Stephen.

“What do we do?” Tad asked quietly

She studied it for a moment longer, then said, “We answer. I can slip him a message on my next trip. Have you located who it is and why yet?”

“I think so.” Opening a new screen, Tad tapped on the article he pulled up. “There’s a stabbing, two years from the next attempt, in an alley nearby his route to work. Exactly the kind of thing he’d get involved in and try to stop, right?”

Nodding slowly, she said, “Right. But why this person?”

“No idea. They’re dead in every timeline so far. They must do something that the attackers aren’t a fan of.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Then let’s hope we’re not actually on their side.”

~~~

~FREEPORT~

For a while, Stephen didn’t think his message had worked. Things were peaceful—no attacks, no poisonings. Marian found out she was pregnant again, and nine months somehow managed to fly and drag by until she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, who they named Isaiah.

And then three months after that, it happened again.

At exactly the right moment, he was pushed forward, just in time to avoid a bunch of tiles crashing to the ground from the roof. When he caught his balance and his breath, there was no one there. But when Stephen put his hands in his jacket pocket as he started onward again, he found a slip of paper.

10/11/71. Four in the afternoon on your way home from work. Watch the alleyway off Racine. Be ready.

This was it. This was the answer. A little under a year in future, he’d be able to fix this, for good. Whatever this was.

So he kept the paper tucked in his pocket until it grew worn, the folds flimsy. He kept going with life—worked and went to church and looked after his wife and children. He avoided two more attacks in that time, and every time, his mysterious helper was there just in time, only to disappear before he could get a good look at her.

Finally, the day came. Stephen usually carried a knife, out of habit, and this time he made sure he had it, just in case. The day passed in a haze of business as he worked with patients and did paperwork and wondered what exactly was going to happen.

And then work was over. It was 3:45, and he was walking home from work, hands tucked in his pockets, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t thundering in his chest.

3:47. He passed the cart that sold churros. Oftentimes he stopped to buy one and chat with the owner, but for now Stephen just gave her a little wave and kept moving, pace brisk.

3:50. A couple of kids zipped by on bikes, laughing.

3:51. He heard footsteps behind him, and his heart lurched. Be ready, Stephen.

3:55. The sidewalk came to an end at an intersection, and he turned onto the sidewalk along Racine.

3:58. He wove through a group of teenagers and sped up a little. He could see the opening for the alleyway.

3:59. Heart pounding in his throat, Stephen came to a stop outside the alleyway.

4:00.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing. And then he heard a muffled scream from the alleyway.

Instinctively, Stephen started forward, concern rippling through him. It had been the voice of a girl—young, too young. Most likely not his helper, but that didn’t lower his concern.

He made it two steps forward before he was grabbed from behind. Stephen vaguely registered the cold press of steel against his throat for a heartbeat before he moved, driving an elbow backward into his attacker’s gut.

There was a grunt—a man’s voice, judging by the baritone—but the grip didn’t loosen. Until Stephen snapped his head backward , connecting solidly with the other man’s nose.

There was a crunch and a howl of pain, and Stephen felt the knife at his throat break skin—

And then the grip was gone, and he was stumbling forward, hand pressed against the shallow cut on his neck. Spinning around, Stephen registered a man in all black taking a swing at a young woman—green jacket, hair dyed blue at the tips, holding a weapon he didn’t recognize. What looked like a tiny flying saucer hovered next to her shoulder.

“Help her!” she shouted, dodging her opponent’s blow with ease.

For a moment, Stephen didn’t know what she meant. And then he remembered the scream from the alleyway, and turned. Pulling his knife from his pocket, he moved.

There were two men, both trying to subdue a struggling, terrified girl. One had a hand over her mouth, and the other held a wickedly curved knife. Stephen took a moment to wonder why these people insisted on using knives, and then he was on top of them.

Clearly, either of the men were expecting him. The one holding the blade went flying into the wall with a cry of pain, clutching his shoulder where Stephen’s knife had gone deep, tearing through muscle.

 The second tried to reel backward, avoiding Stephen as he clutched for his own weapon while clinging to his victim. But Stephen smashed his fist into the man’s face, catching hold of the girl’s arm and pulling her away at the same time, using the man’s momentum as he fell to tear her free.

He took a minute to glance at her—no sign of injuries, just bright red hair and freckles and shocked tears starting to escape—and then turned to face his opponents again.

Only to find them gone, a trace of blood on the ground the only sign that they’d been there in the first place.

What? Baffled, Stephen turned in a full circle, then glanced at the girl. “Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded shakily. “Okay. Wait here a minute. Call if you need me.”

Moving quickly, he headed back to the mouth of the alleyway, to see if there was any sign of his mysterious helper, or her opponent. But there was nothing. Just the now oddly dusty sidewalk, passersby who seemed to have no idea what had happened, and—

A scrap of white paper. Stephen bent and picked it up, unfolding it, and read the now familiar lopsided script inside.

She’s safe. You both are, unless you see me again. Look after her. Don’t worry about the other attackers.

There was no signature, although Stephen hadn’t expected one. A wave of relief swept over him, and he breathed out a prayer of thanks.

He was safe. They were both safe. It was done.

~~~

~Afraid Of Time~

“It’s not done,” she said.

“What?” Tad stared at her, baffled. “How can it not be done? We saved the victims, including a victim we didn’t even know we had until now, helped catch time traveling murderers, and hopefully we’re not even getting arrested for using government property without permission. Your mom might not even yell at us. How is this not a win—”

He stopped short, looking at her. As she looked at the computer file in front of her, wishing the words were different.

Stephen Reid. Died 10/12/83

“Zee.” Tad’s voice was soft. “You can’t stop everything.”

“That’s kind of the point of this whole time travel thing, Tad. I can.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m stopping this. I’m going in again.”

~~~

Stephen had always loved autumns. The crisp, cool air, the knowledge of the approaching season that heralded celebrations and wonder and joy and family time. How could he do anything but love it?

Sure, he’d almost died at this time of year a few times, but with his life, when was that not true? 

It had been 12 years since the last incident. He’d helped the girl—Jenny, a teenager who’d been alone and afraid and had no idea why those men had attacked her—to the hospital to get checked out. They repeated the same impossible story to the police over and over until they finally got tired of asking and declared the case closed. Stephen was fine with it. He’d been told they were safe, and he believed that.

Years had passed. Jenny became all but a member of the family, and he and Marian encouraged her and supported as she chose a career path and moved forward with her life. Stephen still wasn’t sure what the men wanted with her, but it didn’t matter. Her purpose was her own to discover.

His other two children were far too close to grown up for his taste, as well. Isaiah was thirteen, flirting with girls, and discovering a love for basketball paralleled only by his love for mischief. And Zara was in college, pursuing a degree in physics.

He held great hope and joy for both of them, that they would grow up to change the world in whatever small or big ways the Lord had planned for them. If Stephen was being honest, he held a very specific theory for one of them, as time passed and the similarity grew stronger and stronger.

And that was why, on his walk home from work, he wasn’t overly surprised to see a familiar figure at his bus stop.

She was sitting on the bench, knees pulled up against her chest. Her hair, dark like her mother’s where it wasn’t blue, covered her face in a curtain, and the tiny flying saucer hovered at her shoulder again. As Stephen drew closer, he heard it letting out soft little chirps, like it was trying to comfort her.

Sitting next to her with a grunt, Stephen set down his bag and leaned back. Glancing at her, he said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Her chin jerked up a little, like she was surprised to hear his voice, then lowered again. Stephen watched her for a moment, debating whether or not he should speak again, when she did, voice low and cautious.

“If you could know the day that you died, would you want to?”

Stephen considered for a moment, tapping a finger against his knee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My instinct would be no—why live in dread of something like that? But I can’t say I would be curious.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” the girl agreed, voice still quiet. “What if…what if you could stop it? If someone just told you the right things?”

A heavy feeling began to settle over Stepehn’s chest. “Can you?” he asked, abandoning all pretense.

She let out a choked sob, and Stephen felt a stab of sadness. “I tried,” she choked out. “I tried again and again, but no matter what I do—”

“It’s okay,” Stephen told her, gently reaching out to touch her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Letting her feet drop down, the girl scrubbed a hand across her face angrily. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I might,” Stephen said, his voice very soft.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. For you, it’s been another twenty years, but for me…I thought I’d get to go home and—” she stopped short, staring across the street, eyes red.

“And I’d be there?”

She swiveled to face him, eyes going wide. “What—how did you—”

“You’re my daughter, Zara. How could I not recognize you?”

Her face crumpled, and Stephen slid across the bench to pull her into a hug as she burst into tears. She pressed her face against his shoulder and he ran his hand over her hair, the way he used to when she was a little girl.

Closing his eyes against tears of his, he whispered, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she mumbled, voice muffled by his shirt. “I was supposed to get you back.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out. “Just not for as long as you wanted. But you were the one who saved me, so many times. You’re the reason I got to watch you and Isaiah grow up, and I will never stop being grateful for that. You’re the reason Jenny’s alive.”

“It’s not enough,” she whispered. “This shouldn’t be the last time I see you.”

Stephen almost laughed, tears springing to his eyes. “It won’t be. If there’s one thing I hope your mother and I taught you, it’s that.”

Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, he pulled back a little, taking a look at her. Zara had his wife’s beauty and dark wavy hair, and he wondered when she would dye the tips blue. Her eyes were the same warm brown as Marian’s—oh, Marian—and right now, they were wet with tears.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she said, voice shaking.

“I know,” Stephen said, heart aching. All he wanted was to tell his daughter that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be able to come home. But it was becoming increasingly clear that he couldn’t make that promise.

Instead, he asked, “Tell me about what you do next. Tell me everything.”

So they sat on the bench, and Zara told him about her work and her best friend Tad—whom Stephen had already met, but the two hadn’t grown close yet—and how Isaiah was coaching at a local high school and Marian was still working, still looking out for Jenny, still going to church every day. “She still loves you so much,” Zara told him. “Even when I never knew you, she’d tell me about you and how important you were to her. I—I thought I could bring you home to her.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out, remembering all the days he’d almost died, and all the days his daughter had saved his life. His daughter.

Eventually, the bus came around the corner, and the little flying saucer at Zara’s shoulder let out a chirp. Zara’s eyes widened, and she glanced up. “I—”

“You have to go,” Stephen guessed.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“I know. But if this is it, I don’t want you to have to watch it.”

Shaking her head, Zara said, “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Stephen told her, and he meant it. Though his heart was heavy with grief, it wasn’t for him. And he knew—he was sure of it—that his family would be alright. They were strong enough to look after each other without him.

Getting to his feet, he waited until Zara did the same, then pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you,” he told her. “And I’m proud of you. You and Isaiah, you’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

She was openly crying now, but nodded, holding him tightly for another minute. “I love you, too,” she said.

And then stepped back and the bus was there. Stephen took one last look at her, taking in every detail. At last, he turned and boarded the bus, taking a seat in the back.

It lurched into motion, and Stephen glanced out the window at the now empty bus stop. I’ll see you again, he thought. And he knew, in his heart, it was true.

Pulling out his phone, he opened up his text messages and began one to Marian.

I love you, Mari. I love the life we’ve lived together for the past twenty years. Thank you for being the best wife and friend I could have ever asked for. 

Looking up, Stephen took one last look around him, and wondered what would come next. He knew more than most sitting on the bus did, and yet found himself frightened. And yet, at the same time, excited.

Whatever else happened, he was ready, with no regrets.

He sent the text.

~~~

Zara was still crying when she stumbled back into her own time, bones aching fiercely. Most trips, she’d taken a break in between, but for the past five or so, she’d gone in without stopping, time after time. Trying desperately to stop what she knew was going to happen.

It hadn’t worked.

But somehow, despite the tears and the ache in her heart, it was okay.

“Zara?”

Tad had moved to stand in front of her, face twisted with concern. “Are you okay? Or—are you hurt?”

Shaking her head, Zara took a shaking breath. “I’m okay,” she said, and he gave her an unconvinced look. “Fine, I’m not hurt. And I…” she trailed off.

“It didn’t work,” Tad said quietly. “Zee, I know you want to do this, but so many trips in a row are hurting you. And if this is so hard to stop—”

“I know,” Zara said, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’m…I’m not going in again.”

Tad’s eyes widened. “Really? I—I didn’t expect that to work.”

“It didn’t,” Zara said, and couldn’t hold back a laugh at his expression. “I…I talked to my dad. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Tad said slowly. “Because five minutes ago you were very ready to keep doing this or die trying.”

Nodding, Zara swiped a hand over her face, ridding herself of the last traces of tears. “I am. I got to say goodbye, and…he’s right. I’m gonna see him again. Someday.”

Resting a gentle, if slightly awkward, hand on her shoulder, Tad nodded. “I’m glad. He’d be proud of you, Zee.”

“Thanks, Tad.” Zara took a deep breath. It was time to stop living in the past, and start looking at the new, and slightly changed present she had waiting for her.

And when the time came to see her father again, she would greet him with joy and the knowledge that she’d lived her life to the fullest, like he had. Until then, all she could do was take the first step toward doing that.

[werrrrrd]

CHARLES XAVIER X OC PT.7

PLEASE READ PREVIOUS PARTS FOR WARNINGS!!!

Part IV

Mays Point of view:

I woke up. I didn't open my eyes yet though. I felt slow, like I had just slept a little bit too well for it to be normal and my mind still felt slightly unaware. It felt almost like the first night I had met Charles. Except I was in pain.

 I tried to figure out who was near me. Several voices talked to one another. I reached out with my powers to see if I could recognize them but I strained, my brain foggy and unsharp. “I don't understand why she's here? This is something that could completely derail the entire mission.” said a man's voice, he felt familiar but It wasn't someone I knew well.

“Shut up. He knows what he's doing.” someone replied. This heartbeat also familiar, one I had felt before.

“I'm not so sure.” Said the first voice again

I felt myself attached to an IV and I could feel that my head had been bandaged and I remembered where I had been just before this. I kept my hands still and tried to feel out the people in the room. I could tell they were mutants, their blood pulsing quicker, stronger, thicker more than a human’s would. I could always differentiate between a human and a mutant. Suddenly a few others entered the room and I mentally face palmed for missing their approach, I was out of it a little more than I thought I was

“Is she still unconscious?” a girl said

“She hasnt stirred.” said the voice I had heard before

I felt a body come up next to me. The next thing I knew, the seemingly more frequent connection between mine and Charles' mind occurred again, startling me.

“Pretending to be asleep are we?” He said aloud. My eyes flew open and made contact with his. His hand dropped from his temple as his eyes crinkled warmly. For a moment all I could focus on was the sharpness of those blue eyes. He had a pleasant expression on his face as he looked down at me. He was so close to me, his arms leaning on the bed beside me. I let out a shaky breath I had been holding before looking around at the others near me. Mostly the people who had gone on the mission with Charles the last two times we had met. Erik, the man who had pinned me to the wall with his metal manipulating powers, had a quicker heart rate than that of the others, although all of them seemed to be on edge. All but Charles. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked me warmly. I sat up in the bed and groaned inwardly at the slight ache in my back and head that made itself known as I moved. 

“Fine, yeah.” I replied. Charles smiled, pleased with my answer. “Are you concussed?” he pushed further

“Probably.” I said shortly. I felt even more on edge than the rest of these people did. All of them had reason to kill me. Even in my poor state I wasn't worried of getting hurt if someone came at me, I would be able to stop them. I would not have the concentration to let their blood remain flowing in their bodies though and worried that I may kill them by accident. With that said, I would have preferred not to start a fight. I wasn't quite sure why I was here at all. This was a very dangerous situation for me. Not to mention Shaw must be wondering where I was and would be even more angry with the fact that I hadn't alerted him immediately. Though, they might have thought I was dead if they hadn't looked at my devices and saw my charts, as well as my location. The fact was, I shouldn't be here. Something both sides would agree on. Everyone seemed to think so except Charles. Shaw would not be pleased to know I was here with them and not attacking. If I could get back to the parking garage then Shaw would eventually pick me up after he thought it was safe to return, they could pick me up. But if he saw I was here, wherever here was then Charles would be found out.

“I need to go,” I said, moving off the bed. It seemed that I was in a plane, fortunately we were not in flight and outside looked like Russia still.

“Wait no, you arent completely stable yet,” Said a tall boy standing near the monitor that was attached to me. Charles' strong hands guided my shoulders gently back onto the bed.

“No really,” I said, putting my hands on his wrists and subtly resisting.

“Darling, you nearly died. You need more time to recover, let us help you.” He said, his voice making my brain hum. I hesitated while also repressing butterflies in my stomach, before leaning back down. I couldn't say no to that face now, I could stay for just a moment longer. 

The scrape on my back had been bandaged and felt sticky, I flexed my hands, using my powers to make sure it wasn't my blood seeping out. Several people around the room jumped and lunged towards me. Erik put his hands up and came towards me like lightning with murder in his eyes.

“Wait, stop.” Charles’ hands flew up defensively as did mine, this caused even more commotion as Erik's hands came and slammed my arms down against the bed with my hands enclosed in his fists, my head ached trying to process how quickly things were going wrong. He took a moment to glare at me. He was rather intimidating I'll admit, not to mention very close to my face. I turned my head away feeling the fear bubble up, often Shaw gave me that same look, fear fueled fury, the need for control. Charles put a hand on Erik's shoulder who snapped up to face him. Charles’ brows furrowed and he gave Erik an understanding but firm look, tilting his head down slightly, to get him off of me. Erik glanced back at me once before backing off with a huff. 

“I just wanted to check the state of my back. I don't mean any harm” I said carefully

A girl with blond hair and a nice but cautious smile came to my side. “It's alright, everyone just needs to calm down” She glances at the others in the room

“Thankyou Raven,” Charles looks at her fondly “She's not going to hurt anyone…”

“How do you know?” a younger boy questioned with his hands folded in front of him

Charles paused and looked at me briefly with almost a questioning expression on his face before looking back at the boy. Only half a second had passed before he spoke again

“If she wanted to, she would have done it already.” Everyone looked around and acknowledged the truth of that statement. He was right of course. If I wanted to I could have been able to kill them all before they even knew I was awake, which was why I was especially worried about using my powers right now. I would kill them with too much ease, so much ease that it would be hard not to kill them. 

“You see?” Charles spoke again addressing the others “no need to fret.” He returned his gaze to me. “We applied a balm to help it stop any pain but it's not actively bleeding, you should be ok in a couple hours.”

“Thankyou,” I said sincerely “but I really do need to go now.” I pushed up again. “Shaw will be-”

“See? She's loyal to Shaw, Charles! She needs to be locked up.” Erik threw his hands around. I began to feel my anger flare up but suppressed it, my emotions would not help this situation deescalate.

“Erik, we don't have-” Charles was interrupted.

“No! You've put the whole team in danger bringing her here and we can't have her running off to shaw and telling him where we are and where to aim the nukes!” 

I saw a flash of hurt in Charles’ eyes that I couldn't help but feel responsible for. 

The blonde girl Raven spoke up before I could but in and explain. “Erik, calm down! She's clearly not actively trying to harm us! She's just sitting there.” She motioned to me. The team glanced at me and I saw several people swallow and rest their eyes on me, still nervous. “I- I don't want to kill you. But I really can't stay” I confirmed. I couldn't help but feel like Shaw's weapon again. Even with him who knows how far away, he still had a strong hold on me. Shaw had invested in a pair of high tech remote shock devices that worked from a pretty long distance, Id never gotten farther than his reach. Back when I tried to run off, the first few months after he kidnapped me, I had gotten pretty far. One night I thought that maybe I had made it past even their reach. But come morning I felt the buzzing, and then I was brought to my knees at the intensity of the shocks and laid helplessly while Shaw came to pick me up and return me to his side. He never stopped me from running, just reminded me that I would never actually escape. 

Those devices, which he had hooked up to a small screen as well as the remote in his ring, could notify him of my heart rate, when plugged into the monitor correctly, proving I had survived somehow. These little devices also contained trackers which could also be shown on the monitor when told to. I just prayed he didn't know what the location of my tracker meant, that he hadn't already checked. If he showed up then I knew what that meant for the people here, even if they got out of here quickly, I wasn't sure Shaw would be far behind. And Erik had been mostly right. I was, although not willingly, potentially giving Shaw the exact coordinates of where his enemies, the people actively trying to stop his plan and would now be a target, were. The only hope of him not finding out what was located where I was was for me to not linger and get back right away so he wouldn't even notice that I had ever left. I realized how selfish it would be to stay and let them take care of me, even if it was begrudgingly. No matter how much I wanted to be near Charles, putting him or his friends in danger was not alright.

I got up, wide eyed and worriedly pulling out the IV and causing a scab to form to keep me from bleeding on my clothes which were still tattered and dusty but in better shape than they should have been considering what had happened earlier. Charles reached for me to stop me from getting out of bed but I stood and stared him down. He recognised fear and determination in my eyes, so he stopped and put his arms down slowly. “Are you sure?’ he asked. His eyes pleaded for me to stay near. Careful and worried, sympathetic even. I almost broke again just at the sight of him. These people could help me. I could help them. And I craved to be near Charles. But not now I couldn't. If I went rogue now I really would compromise their mission and also their lives. Shaw would only follow me. “Yes. I'm sure.” I spoke firmly. Charles looked at me like he understood every feeling ive ever had, like he had read my mind and sifted through my memories and yet I still knew that that wasn't the case. He knew I was afraid. He could feel the nausea rise in my belly. He nodded at me and I took off past the curtains that had been set up around my medical bed. Erik and the blonde boy objected and called to Charles as he followed me out of the space. “What's wrong?” He said once he had caught up to my quick strides. I glanced around the plane looking for an exit. He took my arm and guided me down the aisle walking quickly. I followed even though I wasn't sure if he was taking me to an exit or somewhere they could lock me up. I trusted him and my mind was buzzing again slightly at the feeling of his hand on my arm.

“Shaw will find you if I stay here.” I said rushedly. He furrowed his brows looking intensely at the floor before turning me around a small corner. In front of us was an exit. Outside it was mostly dark “How?” he asked and stopped me once we got a few feet away. Both of his hands rested on my shoulders. He ducked his head slightly to be level with me and searched my eyes. I reached for my neck to feel where the devices were embedded in my neck, about to explain before I looked outside and saw the night coming, time moving quicker than I had expected. Too quick. “No time.” I moved for the door but he held me back and forced our eyes together again.

“Fine, don't tell me. But please May, stay safe” He looked at me so earnestly that it took my breath away. My throat closed before I nodded at him.

“Thankyou, for saving me, Charles. And your friends.” I said genuinely, feeling like I should match his kindness and vulnerability. He had brought me here in order to keep me safe despite the risks and It was the most anyone had done for me since I had gone to the institution and been with Lou.

He smiled at me, taking my breath away again, before nudging his head in the direction of the door, urging me to go. 

“Follow the road just out East that way, and then walk along the freeway. You'll run into the parking garage but dont go too close, I'm sure the authorities will have been notified about its collapse by now.” He directed. I was grateful I didn't even have to ask. “Good luck may.”

I breathed out once more while we looked into each other's eyes and then I gave in and went for the door, his hands slipping away.

Once I was out into the cool air I went down a small set of stairs that had been set up at the exit. I glanced back at the plane, military grade, yet it felt oddly homey in there. It drew me back although I knew it wasnt the plane that was drawing me back, it was Charles who was stood still at the open door watching me go. We looked at each other silently. I let out a breath of air and glanced at my feet before I kept going.

Once a little ways away from the plane and down the first road I felt myself finally be able to breath normally. My brain stopped itching to reconnect to Charles once I got a ways down the side of the freeway. I started to miss the sensation when It wasnt present. I shivered at the loss and felt a little naked somehow. At least, with Charles' brain attached to my own, I didn't feel so lonely. Now, it was just me In the dark on an empty gravel road with the sound of loud cars and honking on the other side of the large fence to my left. Soon It would be me with Shaw and that would be much much worse. I couldn't help but think about how this was the first time I had been on my own since I had last tried to run away and here I was making my way back to the man responsible for that. But what choice did I have? After perhaps an hour of walking, I saw the obliterated parking garage, police lights flashing like Charles had warned me. I sat myself on a curb across the street and checked myself for any proof that I had been helped by Charles. I peeled the bandage off the side of my head and redirtied my face with the soil next to me. I waited for a couple more hours, the police slowly leaving until it was just me. Shaw's car eventually pulled up and I picked myself off of my sore butt and got into the SUV, feeling numb.

“Glad to see you made it out alive.” Shaw said from the passenger seat. I hummed in response, If it weren't for Charles then I wouldn't have, But Shaw could never know that. Azezel patted me on the shoulder from the back seat, the gesture as comforting as it could be coming from him.

“Lots to do, May. We have Lots to do” Shaw smiled menacingly facing forward making me shiver.

[asters-notebook]

moonlight ray cookie's vanilla kingdom arc: part one

um! moonlight has been spinning in my brain at incredibly high speeds pretty much since the day i've created them, soo. here's some of their lore! as the title suggests, it's about the time they've spend in vanilla kingdom - or, well, part of this time; mostly the events, even though i could (and will) talk so much about their dynamic with pure vanilla and other characters, but i will need separate posts for that hahah

as you will probably be able to see, this is still a wip! though i have a lot of stuff figured out, some other still needs work! so please bear with me and also if you have anything to say.pls lmk i love talking about ocs hehehehehe

also this is a looong post. be warned. SHDHD

divider by @/saradika-graphics

♡ first; moonlight comes from a made-up kingdom (possibly……… a new continent? but i shall see), because i realized im unstoppable 🤭🤭🤭. this kingdom (or kingdoms? the more i think about the worldbuilding i want to do, the bigger it grows) is mostly inspired by,, celestial bodies and weather and the hm… kind? of cookies that live there are codenamed celestial cookies for now; one of their main characteristics are wings, though they look different from, for example, faeries in beast yeast! more… bird. or angel-like, i suppose. and that's how moonlight's wings look like! though i think they're just plain white wings

♡ moonlight's kingdom is located far to the north! isolating itself a bit, but not quite enough to the point where they would be completely unaware of things that are going on, so obviously they know about ancient heroes and such. (this is a bit relevant but i'll talk about it more in a bit!)

♡ now, as for why moonlight leaves their kingdom, that… will remain a secret for now 🤭 (< is still in the process of figuring it out.) one of the ideas is that they were… forced to leave in one way or antoher; which kind of sucks, because they're maybe eighteen when it happens! or a little younger than that, actually - though a few months at best! baseline is, though, that they leave in… somewhat of a hurry, and without a real, solid plan. their goal is to get away from home and - they succeed; and since they aren't enitrely sure where they should go from there, they suppose they can… travel for a while.

♡ it's… odd, but almost… freeing, in a way? it's quite a new feeling, something they aren't used to and what is also, admittedly, kind of scary, but - surprisingly fun, as they soon discover; even if they very much try to not draw attenion to themselves, and stay in the background, as they've always done back at home. the fun only lasts, however, until they end up damaging one of their wings.

♡ they likely… pull a muscle, or something similar, if that can be said in the context of cookies (though tbf all of these character are in their more or less humanized versions in my head 95% of the time); and it would be all good if they weren't in a - seemingly - rather desolate area. namely, they arrive in the… ah, the area near the clastle in the sky; perhaps near the village where raisin cookie along with the others used to live (i'm not sure if that would still count as vanilla kingdom's territory or no). they're… quite tired, obviously so; they're thinking of taking a break, even though the place seems abandoned, but then, they run into someone.

♡ i think they would arrive in a… sort of in-between moment; after the vanilla kingdom part in the main story ends, but before the gingerbrave & co set out to meet with other ancient heroes - and custard cookie iii and chili pepper presumably return to 'their' kingdom (aka, the player's kingdom). and that's also who moonlight meets! at the very least it's gingerbrave and chili pepper, though i wouldn't be surprised if it was still the entire gang; since these kids (and chili pepper, who is probably older than them) run around everywhere anyway.

♡ of course; both sides have quite a few questions for each other, until chili pepper points out that something seems to be wrong with moonlight's wing - and also kinda keeps eyeing moonlight's staff, but to that moonlight only grips it a little bit tighter and gives her a 'don't even think of it' look, though they are very much not sure if they would put up a fight if chili pepper did try something. the most likely answer is "no".

♡ to chili pepper's remark gingerbrave suggests they take moonlight to pure vanilla - he's such a good healer, surely he'll be able to help them! and moonlight needs to take a small pause, because - wait, hold on, pure vanilla cookie? this pure vanilla cookie, yes? and when they get the confirmation that yes, indeed, they're talking about the ancient hero, they panic a little; and of course they are ressured that oh, they don't have to worry, he's very nice, he won't mind! but they're also thrown off by the fact that these kids talk about him in such a casual manner, like they were friends. still - this way, moonlight ends up in the city in the sky.

♡ of course, it turns out that gingerbrave & co were telling the truth; pure vanilla insists that it is no problem at all, yes, he can help, it won't take long and it won't be troublesome to fix their wing - and manages to convince moonlight. though, after moonlight's wing is healed, the two go through the whole thing again - this time, it's because pure vanilla can see that they're, ultimately, very tired, and invites them to stay there for a while and rest, and moonlight once again doesn't want to cause trouble. they do stay; at that moment, though, they don't really think they are going to stay for good.

♡ and… a day of rest is about all they get, before they decide they can't just sit around and do nothing; at the time they arrive there, the kingdom is still largely being rebuilt, and because of that moonlight feels bad just doing nothing, (even though no one is putting any pressure on them) - but it also means it's very easy for them to find something to do, as any help is appreciated. and they're all fine now, really! they doon't need that much rest. which is… not entirely true, as they tend to overwork themselves a lot; that goes unnoticed until a while later though.

♡ this turns into a day or two more of them staying in the kingdom, then a week, then two - though, before the two week mark they get approached by pure vanilla again; partly because he wants to make sure they aren't overexerting themselves, partly because he wants to thank them for the hard work they have been already putting in into helping everyone restoring the kingdom. they are very much not used to receiving this kind of… appreciation, but it… feels nice.

♡ they eventually end up staying in the vanilla kingdom for good; they realize they… actually feel nice here, and oh, they… are appreciated for their skills and abilities? something that almost never happened at home? on a slightly different note, they also discover they… seem to be quite good in the role of a mediator! though, all of that is not nearly enough for them to overcome their many… troubles, that only start coming to light to the residents of the vanilla kingdom (particularly pure vanilla cookie) after moonlight spends a while there. though, to be honest; pure vanilla likely knows right from the start that something is up with this one.

♡ speaking of pure vanilla; their… friendship also develops! friendship/mentor-apprentice relationship, though it's not exactly that, either; at the very least moonlight definitely would not say they're this important at this point, even though they clearly are important. pure vanilla values their opinion on things, too, given they've proven themselves to be a keen and careful observer. and i could ramble about their dynamic so much more, but i'm gonna leave that for another post, because this one is already incredibly long

♡ as for any meetings! moonlight does not even dream of taking part in anything ever aside from the preparations, unless pure vanilla invites them to join something and then manages to convince them.

♡ and this finally brings us to the cookie odyssey, which is! moonlight's first time actually meeting the other ancient heroes! including my ancient hero oc but i'll talk about them in a different post heheh. also about moonlight's dynamics with all of them, but the one thing i'll say is that at first, moonlight tries to avoid them; they're kinda scared! they're intimdated! what if they mess up!

[au-ra-babygirl]

First Date (Pt. 1)

Sholi didn’t consider herself a nervous person. She was confident and extroverted and strong and none of those things lended itself to being a nervous person.

That said, she was very nervous about the idea of meeting Masa for their first real date. Yes, they’d hung out quite a bit in the days since meeting (since Masa’s very arrival in the city), but they hadn’t been on an official date yet. The very idea is a little intimidating if she’s being completely honest, if only because of how her last first date went.

Zevri was, unlike her, very knowledgeable about dating and had done quite a bit of it (not that she’d dated a lot of people either, just that she’d had more relationships as a whole than Sholi’s one experience with a boy she didn’t even remember the name of anymore). As such, she’d known right away what to do and where and when and how and all those other things Sholi wasn’t quite sure about.

Still, she’d told herself (and Masa) that this relationship would be different. In this relationship, she’d actually try to take charge and be confident and strong and all those other things Ma’s self-improvement books said to say about oneself in the mirror every morning (it was a little ridiculous in her opinion, but she also couldn’t deny that it seemed to work… at least a little bit).

She quickly changes into a tunic with leggings under it and hefts one of her smaller bows across her back. The odds of needing it tonight were slim, but one could never be too careful in this world. Besides, she’d promised a demonstration of her skills at some point. Maybe it would be tonight? Was late night training romantic or stupid?

Eh, she’d figure it out later.

She makes her way to Masa’s room at the inn and knocks on the door. When they answer, they’re wearing a similarly short dress with leggings under it. It’s not something she’d ever seen them wear before, and it looks very becoming on them. “You look nice. Really nice.” 

Masa blushes their cute little blush and smiles. “Thanks. I was hoping it would be suitable for tonight.”

Did that eliminate the idea of late night training? Possibly, but from what she knows of Arcanists, their skills are long range anyway, so maybe not entirely. Besides, she can’t help but notice Masa has their tome at their side, so maybe they had the same idea. Or they were being overly cautious like her. Either or.

She holds out a hand, wondering if Masa will take it. She does, and Sholi hopes her palms don’t start sweating as she leads them to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant just outside of town. It’s not the fanciest place in the world, but she’s rather fond of the food here, and she hopes Masa will enjoy it just as much. “It’s not much, but there’s great food here,” she explains as they approach the rundown looking building.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Masa says politely. Sholi wonders if they’re humoring her.

She leads them inside and sits at one of the booths. A staff member immediately comes over and hands them a menu each, vowing to come back in a few minutes to take their order. She already knows what she’s planning to order (what she always tends to order when coming here), so she takes the time to subtly study Masa.

Their hair is short at the moment, cut in a jagged sort of pixie cut. At least, she thinks that’s what it is. Hair was never her specialty. She wonders what it’d look like grown out but doesn’t comment. Their eyes are a pinkish hue that’s rather pretty even in the less than ideal lighting. Unlike her, they don’t have a significantly sized scar covering half their face. She envies them. While no longer as self-conscious about it as she had been when it first happened, it still made her uncomfortable when she felt herself being stared at, always wondering if it was the scar or her face in general that was being looked at.

Masa’s tails waves contently behind them as they pursue the menu, seemingly unaware they’re being watched. Sholi smiles to herself, about to say something when the waiter returns carrying two glasses of water. He sits them down in front of the pair and takes their orders before scurrying off somewhere else. “So,” Sholi starts. She realizes as soon as she said it that it was the most awkward thing she could’ve said and tries to adjust. “You have really pretty eyes.”

Masa blushes once more, their skin turning a delicate shade of purple. “Thank you. I like your too.”

Given that Sholi’s were unique in that they were two different colors, she’s not used to them being approved of. People usually commented on how weird it was. “Thanks.” An awkward silence settles, and she curses herself. This was what she was trying to avoid. “Sorry. I’m… like I said, first dates aren’t my specialty.”

Masa chuckles. “It’s okay. I’m not used to them either, remember? Sorry if I’m being weird.”

“No,” Sholi immediately protests. “You’re not being weird at all. I was just thinking I was being awkward, and…” she laughs. “You know what, let’s start over. How was your day? Anything exciting happen?”

“Not really,” Masa admits. “I ran an errand for the Arcanist’s Guild and trained with one of their people, but… I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to learn about magic, but they insist on starting with the basics, and I already know those, which makes it hard to focus sometimes.”

“Which then gets you in trouble,” Sholi concludes. “I get that, I think. Did you learn the basics from a book or something?”

Masa looks sheepish. “Sort of, but also, like I said before, magic just comes naturally to me. Kind of hard to care about the basics when you can do it so easily.”

Sholi hums. “Now, I get it. Have you considered that those basics will help you more in the future? Nocking a bow is something anyone can do, but not everyone knows how to aim or shoot multiple at once.”

“I suppose. It’s just so hard to focus on it. I want to, but it’s just not… engaging or something.”

“Have you mentioned that to your mentor? Maybe they can change their lessons a bit to accommodate you?”

“... I hadn’t thought of that,” Masa replies, bringing a hand up to her chin thoughtfully. “I’m not good at talking to people… or admitting when something’s not easy for me.”

“Gifted kid?” Sholi asks. She hadn’t been one herself, had gotten to be the archer she is today through hard work and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, but she understood the concept in theory.

“That obvious?”

She chuckles. “Not exactly. Zevri told me she used to be one of those, and how hard it was to learn conjuring because of that.” Zevri had been able to learn how to command the elements fairly easy, but learning to heal was harder for her and she struggled because of that. Not having something come easily to her was foreign, so she struggled a lot with it in the beginning, which frustrated her to no end. “Or rather, the healing portion of conjuring.”

“So you’re saying if I don’t study and understand the basics of my magic now, I’ll struggle a lot more in the future when it builds upon those magic practices?”

Sholi nods. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s my understanding, and please take this with a grain of salt since I’m no mage, but it’s my understanding that all magic is built upon the basics. It’s like learning to count to four before attempting two plus two, I think.”

She watches Masa’s face. They seem to understand what she’s staying, which was hopefully accurate since it was mostly just something she pulled out of her ass. It made sense though now that she took a moment to think about it. It was kind of like she said before: learning to nock and shoot a basic arrow from a standard bow before escalating to better bows and more trick shots. She could calculate the best angle to shoot a target at now, but she didn’t get that good overnight. It took a lot of time and effort.

“I guess so,” Masa says after a few moments of thought. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, but that doesn’t help me in the moment when my mind’s drifting off to something else while it’s being explained.”

Sholi leans her elbow on the table, propping her chin up with her palm. “I think you should talk to your teacher. Tell them that their current style of teaching just doesn’t work for you, and you need them to do something to make it more engaging. I dunno what that might be, but I’m sure they can come up with something. The best teachers always can.”

“I guess so.” Masa crosses her arms on the table and rests her chin atop them. “It’s just so hard. How do I tell someone they’re not doing good enough?”

“It’s not that they’re not doing good enough, though,” Sholi says. She takes a moment to think about how to word her next statement. “It’s more… everybody learns in different ways, right?” Masa nods, clearly not understanding where this was going. “Well, they’re just not choosing the right method for you. Maybe they learned best using the manner they’re teaching, but not everyone will. Some learn best by doing, which might be what you need.”

Masa buries their head in their arms. “I guess so,” they reply, voice muffled. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but telling someone what we need isn’t always easy, especially when they might misinterpret it.” Oh, gods, she was an asshole. And a hypocrite. Why hadn’t she realized she was being an asshole? She doesn’t notice as Masa looks up and blinks in confusion at the expression on her face. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Huh?”

“That’s exactly what I was doing to Zevri. I wasn’t communicating my needs the way she wanted and needed me to, which certainly explains why she dumped me.” She realizes who she’s talking to and where they are. “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this right now.”

Masa shakes their head. “No, no. I… if it’s weighing on your mind, I want to hear about it.”

Sholi buries her face in her hand. “It’s not that it’s weighing on me. I kinda just realized it.” How had she never seen this before? She had done the exact thing she was telling Masa not to do. “Gods, I’m an idiot… and I probably owe her an apology.” She definitely owed her an apology. Maybe tomorrow. Or tonight if it wasn’t too late when she and Masa parted ways. Either or.

Masa reaches out a hand and places it over Sholi’s. They blush as she looks down at it. “S-sorry. Is this… is this okay?”

She smiles softly, feeling warm at the gesture. “It is.”

They smile warmly. Her heart flutters a little at the sight. “Okay.”

They stay like that for a few long moments before the waiter arrives with their food. Sholi smiles at him in gratitude and watches him leave before digging into her meal. It wasn’t as good as Gridanian food, but it was still pretty good. A lot more fishy than she’s used to, but she supposed she’d develop a taste for it eventually. Hopefully.

[ravenspeakrp]

As night turns to day and the first signs of sunlight begin to peak over the horizon, Raven's Peak is filled with a misty haze of confusion and destruction. Through tireless efforts of the Originals, hunters (though most wouldn't come outright and claim to be), and any other brave souls who learned the ways of dispatching the demons one way or the other, the possessed were lured and trapped within devil's traps painted onto the ground throughout town. Exorcisms were recorded and blasted through speakers downtown or spoken in unison by those who knew enough Latin to perform them in person. One by one it seemed as if the rampaging demons were cast back from whence they came.

The smoke in the air had diminished, now only leaving behind charred remains and some still burning embers where Midnight Mirage had once stood proud. Many other businesses nearby suffered damages in the chaos as well, including Jukebox Junction, Witches Brew, and Herb & Spice Apothecary. Teams were deployed of emergency personnel and volunteers alike to clear the roadblocks and begun restoring Raven's Peak to what it once was.

By dawn, all was quiet as people returned home to their loved ones and questioned if the night's events really had unfolded.

But even more strange, the sinkhole in the Stygian Woods seemed to have closed in on itself, the only evidence of it having once been there being a deep crater left behind. And a thick fog has begun rolling in, growing thicker the further you wander through the trees.

Be careful, wanderer. Don't get lost in the fog. And keep in mind, demons can look just like you and me, blending in with the general population. While many of the creatures were banished back to Hell, there may still be some citizens lurking about who are not as they seem...

This concludes our Hell is Here event! Things to note in the aftermath:

Several of the businesses downtown are undergoing renovations and rebuilding. Help needed!

Midnight Mirage is closed for the foreseeable future, but plans are in the works to restore the lounge club in time.

One may notice painted devil's traps throughout town. Most are broken at this point, but it may be possible an unsuspecting demon might find themselves in a predicament should they stumble into one unawares that hasn't been broken by the elements.

The local tattoo shop, Black Rabbit Tattoos, is offering a discount on anti-possession tattoos! Those interested should inquire within.

As the town rebuilds, the smell of sulfur that seemed to be infused in just about everything following the chaotic night has slowly started leeching from the environment. Instead, citizens of Raven's Peak may notice a fog pouring into town, most notable in the early mornings.

The sink hole in the Stygian Woods has seemingly closed up, leaving a crater behind. Still, it is ill advised to get too close.

[moonchildlix]

Introducing!!! My TMNT fan iteration

What is TMNT PIA?

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Punks in action (Or TMNT PIA, sometimes also just referred to as ‘Punks’) is a fan iteration me and my best friend have been working on together since late August 2023.

The story itself still needs a lot of work, but so far we have gotten down a lot of the character writing and most important plot lines written down.

Something I feel is necessary to point out, Punks will be given a Mature rating. The story will include a lot of graphic violence, injury detail, death and even the occasional sexual joke (No actual sex scenes or nudity though) as well as some pretty extreme themes: torture, implied sexual assault, infant death, murder of a pregnant woman, animal cruelty etc.

One more thing, why is it called ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Punks in Action’?

Here’s some history for you, the TMNT fandom has always been very popular with the punk community since the release of the first TMNT Mirage comics in 1984. The community itself seemingly being what made the original story of the Mirage Comics so popular that eventually the 1987 tv series was produced and eventually the franchise began to become more and more popular that it’s initial connection the punk subculture has slowly faded to the background. This is especially noticeable from how the series has since become more focused on a younger audience. Nowadays if one to imagine TMNT being connected the punk community they may only think of the Mirage comics, and those with more knowledge of the community may connect it to the 1990’s live action movies or The Last Ronin and IDW comics. Other than that the tv shows, movies and other forms of TMNT media in more recent years do not show any signs of the franchise’s connection to the subculture, with newer fans likely being completely unaware that it was the Punk scene that made the franchise popular in the first place.

Punk aims to reignite the TMNT’s lost connection to the punk community, reintroducing the Ninja Turtles themselves as punks. Leather jackets, fishnets, piercings, rock and roll hand signs, graffiti art, air guitars, mosh pits, anarchy etc.

Hopefully when we have fully written as much of the plot as necessary we will begin posting the story on AO3, under the title Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Punks In Action, however I’m a slow writer so this may take a while

[circadianwolf]

On Megalopolis (2024) and the Catilinarian Conspiracy

I have watched Megalopolis (2024). My short review is: it is a bad movie, and not in a way that is worth watching. Spoilers follow, but again, I really don't recommend watching it anyway.

It is a surprisingly boring movie. Its plot is ultimately prosaic and uneventful in the macro, and basically nonexistent in the micro. That is to say: if I tried to explain the broad arc of the film's plot, it would seem childishly simple. But if I started explaining actual scene-to-scene events, it would often provoke questions of how those events relate to each other, in a basic causal sense, that I could not answer. This is a movie that is uninterested in laying a road for how it reaches its big points, and yet those points are also not interesting on their own.

It is also a very offensive movie. This is perhaps less surprising, except in how completely unmasked it is. I have not seen a movie with such open contempt for women in some time. This is a movie where, in the most straightforward and unquestioned way, the role of good women is to stand by and support great men, and women who stand outside that role in any way are unquestionably, indisputably evil. One of the two main villains is a lowborn woman who schemes to achieve wealth and power through seducing male betters; the other is an embodiment of gay/trans panic who is somehow also a Trump analogue.

The only things that I ultimately found interesting and worthwhile in the movie are:

The visuals. Sometimes the movie actually looks good. Mostly, however, it looks bizarre. Often it has that certain quality of something made with money that nonetheless looks bad, although it is at least generally visually interesting in a way that, to offer an incredibly low bar, Marvel movies do not.

The usage of Roman historical references/allegory is, quite frankly, absolutely wild.

It's this last point that had me most interested in the movie in the first place, and also the one I'd like to expand on.

What is Megalopolis?

If you're completely unaware of this movie, it is a kind of transported-historical-allegory (the movie terms itself a "fable") in which names, events, and cultural tropes from the late Roman Republic are applied to a modern New York City stand-in (simply called "New Rome").

The movie centers on Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), an architect/wonder-scientist who maybe heads some kind of quasi-independent government department (again, the movie is very unclear about a lot of seemingly basic plot points) and is in a long standing feud with the city's mayor, Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito). On the sidelines of the feud are Crassus (Jon Voight), the richest man in the world and Catilina's uncle; Catilina's cousin/Crassus' grandson Clodius Pulcher (Shia LaBeouf), an ambitious, sexually ambiguous, crossdressing Nazi; and the lowborn journalist social climber absurdly named Wow Platinum (Aubrey Plaza, giving her all in a movie that does not deserve her). Much of the film is from the viewpoint of Cicero's daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel), who gets involved with Catilina in order to investigate her father's claims about him, but Julia is less a character and more just a vessel for men to explain things to or have emotions about.

In the film, Catilina is a misunderstood, slandered genius and visionary; he was accused of murdering his wife and is at one point framed for having a sexual relationship with a teenager, both of which are conclusively proven false. The film positions him as a revolutionary being held back by the forces of "practicality" (despite being part of the richest family in the world and clearly wielding significant power on his own). He repeatedly and directly suggests that trying to do things to help people in real ways now is a threat to the continued existence of the human species, because what we need is vision, which comes from love, which can literally give you the power to alter the fabric of reality at will. (Why anything is an obstacle to Catilina when he has this literal godlike superpower is also something the movie is uninterested in answering.)

Catilina does have the first name "Cesar" (pronounced just like "Caesar" in English), and you can certainly try to draw out some weak parallels between Caesar the dictator and Catilina (ties to Crassus, opposition from Cicero, antagonism with Clodius Pulcher). The character's parallels with the historical Catilina (generally called "Catiline" in English) are... about as weak. But I assume most people are familiar at least with the basic arc of Caesar, while most people will not be familiar with Catiline, who is a much funnier figure to pull for this sort of allegory, so I want to explain. (To be clear, I'm not a historian, but this is a period I do find fascinating.)

Very briefly, on the decline of the Roman Republic

The decline and collapse of the Roman Republic (which was, to be clear, a state whose government and economy were from the beginning built around conquest and slavery) was a slow process that occurred over generations. While the first big signs of structural danger might be traced back to the Gracchi (active roughly 133-121 BC), the civil wars that eventually broke the Republic can be very roughly grouped into three generations: that of Sulla and Marius (roughly 91-73 BC), Caesar (roughly 49-44 BC), and Octavian (roughly 43-30 BC).

Of those, Sulla is probably the figure least commonly known, but he's very important. Following the Social War (an uprising of Rome's vassals which functionally ended in Rome's defeat), Sulla led the first fully Roman army to march on Rome, revived the long dormant office of the dictatorship (having himself appointed by force), killed and seized the wealth of many of his enemies (and random others), made radical changes to Rome's government and legal system in order to to achieve his political goals, then left for the countryside.

Sulla's example served Caesar (a young man at the time of Sulla's rule) as both precedent and lesson to learn from; it seems clear that many of Caesar's decisions were influenced by trying to achieve a more lasting result than Sulla (many of whose political changes were discarded almost immediately after his death). Many of the famous figures of Caesar's time, such as Pompey and Crassus, also cut their teeth in Sulla's wars.

Shortly after the final end of Sulla's wars (which outlived Sulla himself), about twenty years before Caesar's march on Italy, there was another major civil conflict - the mass slave revolt whose leaders included an escaped gladiator known as Spartacus, ultimately put down by armies commanded by, among others, Pompey and Crassus. In the relatively peaceful (within Italy) years after that, the slightly younger Cicero worked his way up from comparatively humbler beginnings (working as, basically, a lawyer/speechwriter for hire), as did (the much higher-born) Caesar.

Who was Catiline?

You'll notice I haven't mentioned Catiline yet. That's because Catiline isn't really relevant to any of this history. He was born into a noble family and did become wealthy by siding with Sulla in his wars, but were it not for the one thing Catiline became famous for later, he would be simply one of several dozen Roman elites who were within a small enough circle of wealth and power to be relatively well documented even millennia later but who just aren't really important when narrativizing the history.

So what is Catiline famous for? In the 60s BC, Catiline, born into nobility, wealthy from spoils of civil war, and with powerful political allies, reached the second highest position in the Roman government (praetor). He served multiple terms, including as a provincial governor, and despite being tried multiple times for corruption and other crimes, he was never convicted. But like any good Roman elite, that wasn't good enough - Catiline wanted to have his turn at the top, as consul.

Positions like consul and praetor were elected (though buying votes was more or less legal and common). Catiline ran for consul multiple times, and lost each time. The last time, one of his victorious opponents (there were two consuls at any one time) was the "self-made man" Cicero. With Catiline's wealth spent on the failed election campaigns, his political allies deserted him. Catiline apparently felt he deserved more.

It's hard to be confident of exactly how much direct agency Catiline had in what followed, given that our sources are largely rooted in Cicero's representation of the events, and Cicero quite happily used Catiline as a political prop for his own self-promotion. But here's what we're told:

News came to Rome of a ragtag army led by a minor officer that was plotting to march on Rome to overturn the election and install Catiline.

A series of fires were set in Rome, ostensibly by conspirators to disrupt the city in advance of the army's approach.

Assassins were sent to kill Cicero, a man never known for any military or physical prowess. He escaped and reached the Senate.

Cicero denounced Catiline in the Senate and demanded his arrest; Catiline denied any involvement in the events but fled the city and met up with the ragtag army.

An army led by the other consul departed Rome to pursue Catiline's army.

Meanwhile, envoys of a Gallic tribe on Rome's northwestern border reported to the Senate that Catiline's supporters had tried to get their support in exchange for concessions from Rome upon Catiline's success. They handed over written, signed documents to Cicero, who promptly arrested those named.

Cicero, in one of his rare moments of decisive action, had the detained conspirators executed without trial. Despite being consul at the time and acting with the Senate's approval, the threat of prosecution for these extrajudicial killings hung over his head for the rest of his life.

As the consular army approached, Catiline's army largely abandoned him.

Catiline and his remaining supporters tried to escape north to Gaul, but were cut off. The consular army forced an engagement and annihilated Catiline's small force. Catiline was killed in the battle.

The whole series of events played out over the course of a few months, and its most lasting political legacy seems to have been giving Cicero credit as a man capable of doing violence in defense of the state, a vital attribute for Roman elites (where all high-ranking officials were also generals and vice versa) that he otherwise mostly lacked.

In a decades-long period dotted by large scale civil wars that repeatedly, radically altered the Roman state, Catiline's conspiracy is an also-ran. It's possible (though it seems unlikely) that Catiline harbored some laudable ambitions toward reform (as he is alleged to have made overtures to the poor in an attempt to build support), but even if so, in execution his conspiracy seems to have started poorly and only gotten worse. He didn't even get far enough to be the farce to Sulla's tragedy; he has become, often literally, a footnote.

So why Catiline?

When I saw the first trailers for Megalopolis, I was baffled as to why anyone would thus choose Catiline, of all people, to center as a heroic figure in a Roman-inspired history. In the full film, the villainous Clodius Pulcher riles a mob and builds a political movement (that uses explicit Nazis symbols) on the back of superficially populist rhetoric and his family wealth toward the aim of seizing power over both Cicero and Catilina - a plot that sounds a lot more like the historical Catiline.

(What's the historical Pulcher famous for? Mostly some bizarre incidents that presumably inspired the crossdressing featured in the film, but also for a feud with Cicero that culminated in him successfully if temporarily exiling Cicero from Rome for those extrajudicial murders during the Catilinarian conspiracy!)

For a while, it seems like the film is heading towards Cicero failing to stop Pulcher's fascist takeover due to his preoccupation with obstructing Catalina - which would at least be something. But instead, Pulcher is first manipulated and made the puppet of the real villain, a woman who doesn't know her place, and both are ultimately defeated by the lecherous, senile, and literally bedridden Crassus, who then instead bequeaths all his assets to Catilina, which allows Catilina to finally complete the titular Megalopolis, a utopian Tomorrowland in New Rome's Central Park which will apparently save the world by giving a handful of presumably very rich people a walkable green micro-city to live in.

So again, the movie is bad, but I still would like to know: why the fuck is it Catiline? There is literally no conspiracy or coup attempt in the film except by Pulcher. Catiline doesn't really do anything except mope about a dead wife, sleep with a female employee probably two decades his junior, and say lines destined for the "written for a smart character by a dumb person" hall of fame. (Seriously there are multiple montages, intended to show him working on Megalopolis, that are just this, over and over, and they're some of the few parts of the movie that are entertainingly rather than boringly bad.) Seemingly the only thing from Catiline's life that crosses over to Catalina's is "he and Cicero didn't like each other". I suspect this will continue to bug me.

[terramythos]

Mort by Terry Pratchett Reading Notes

Full Review Here!

So this book also opens with a young person and their parents. As did Equal Rites which I need to restart 

Ok so I didn't take notes as methodically as usual to start But as with Guards Guards it is very funny, with jokes that just keep coming back when you don't expect them. Lots of good bits and parallels 

And the fucking MORPHOGENETIC FIELD fuck 

-i like Mort but he's most certainly going to do some Dumb Shit. He is also very blank slate in terms of protagonists. His most consistent trait is reminding people about his name. Which I imagine will have some payoff 

-I find some of the parallels funny like death clearly taking on Mort to maybe get together with his adopted daughter after his dad talked about that exact thing (in that context seemingly ridiculous). I hope there's more to it than that however. 

-and I do wonder about how succession with Death would even work. As I'm pretty sure Death in this book is the same entity in the whole series 

-not to make this elder scrolls but I guess they could do something like Sheogorath where you Become that person in every significant way after inheriting the role from them. I'm sure there's a better comparison/example lol 

-but Mort could just be a. Friend or something. Which would also be fine 

-I'm sure sexy witch won't be a Thing at all later  

-Listeners hear every sound in Discworld? 

-"light dawned on Mort, but very slowly" lmao 

-ok Death showing up to someone who perpetually reincarnates is a little bit funny. What Is the point 

-'cut the heir with a knife' what a pun. Insane 

- interesting to frame Mort saving Keli from her perspective. So we don't know exactly what he thought as he did it. And this was presumably a Very Bad Thing since she was supposed to die and he killed the assassin instead? 

-so many anachronistic similies and metaphors. I guess that is appropriate for this book specifically 

-also idk if this is relevant at all. But Keli not dying has a big butterfly effect, obviously. But what about the assassin? Who were they? How would their death change things? 

-i have to imagine no one really noticing you exist suddenly without being FULLY non existent would be pretty awful 

-"there's no justice. There's just you" will this come around again to a "just us" 

-ok Ysabelle kinda goth. Which like obviously, but nice  

-oops! You made a split timeline 

-theres something interesting about this? Border? Between realities an 'interface'. Cause that has a very specific meaning in 2024, but I bet it read different in 1987. At least a little 

-i like the narrative dropping A Big Hint for the reader by noting how the character did not notice it 

-the description of how Mort has changed might be The Quote 

-a fan of something being so real it's uncanny. Especially in the realm of fiction. Gives me Inkheart thoughts 

-ok the whole thing with Mort being able to walk through doors and walls was introduced EARLY and continues to be so. And Death seemed to consider it normal. But what causes it? Why does it only work sometimes? 

-this is a fairly familiar plot where you change 1 thing in history and everything else changes as a butterfly effect. The main difference so far is it being a delayed reaction. I want to see if Pratchett does something different with it otherwise 

-capital L Logic "taking the night off too" 

-so a split timeline will heal itself but Mort is going to fuck it up again? 

-a fucking island named KRULL? No way, no fucking way. Hold on I have to look something up 

-2 thing I learned googling Krull: the MOVIE Krull came out in 1983, 4 years before this book. So it is very plausible Pratchett knew of it. Second thing is Liam Neeson was in it, which I was somehow unaware of or forgot 

-"why did you save me?" "... for later" God damn why is Pratchett clever 

-Mort suddenly scary! And here I think is the first bit where he doesn't say "Mort" when someone calls him boy. Instead he's scary about it. So. That's a fun play on what I expected. 

-we have. Switched to present tense. I see 

-im not sure what this revelation about Malich is supposed to be implying. Maybe I missed something. I think the only person we don't know anything about it Deaths butler? Guy? 

-oh yeah. Albert is his name. And the famous wizard is Alberto Malich. So Death like. Adopted a famous wizard who's now like. A cook? 

-my biggest area of criticism with this book is I just have zero investment in Mort's obsession with this random princess. Like it's an objectively stupid thing to cause so much trouble over. Doesn't even know her. Maybe that's the point but it's hard with no investment whatsoever in it 

-A PET SWAMP DRAGON??? I UNDERSTAND THAT REFERENCE (read: the only other book I've read in this series) 

-trying to imagine how shooting Mort would even work. 

-it is difficult to convey how clever & funny Death's alternate typeface is when it shows up unexpectedly. Just an oh shit moment every time. 

-'if you win, you will [do this] ' 'and if I lose?' 'You will wish you had won' what a fucking threat lmao 

-update: shooting Mort did not work. 

-i know this book predates "bucket list" as a term but that is nevertheless what Death seems to be doing 

-god I thought the bit was gonna be that Death can't get drunk and then he DOES halfway through the scene. Then manually stops being drunk

-bartender: 'well at least this weird hooded figure seems to be harmless' (it's literally Death)

-no way can Albert be a wizard, he doesn't wear a wizard hat! So true bestie 

-i know Ysabell is probably like The Actual Love Interest but it is a little cute that Mort got so angry at people not using his name but went back to just correcting when Ysabell did it 

-theres a whole shelf! Aw fuck do we have a doctor who situation or some shit 

-no he's just been alive that long ig. Wonder if this character shows up elsewhere 

-Death at a job broker.... 

-Oh my GOD *THAT* was the payoff for the "Mort." bit! A fucking typeface wham line. Jesus christ that's good lmao  

-"Death must be the loneliest creature in the universe" either sounds like a quote from some ancient philosopher or an 80s prog rock album. But nope, Pratchett. 

-ysabell girlboss 

-kinda feel bad for Death finding happiness and the implication being he can't keep it. Unless Mort does actually become Death 

-and there's the idea of becoming real becoming more like death. All in a fictional story of course. 

-ok I am Compelled, finally, by Morts transformation. 

-i do really like how the "Mort." bit has extended throughout the book to convey his character arc and even got integrated into the storytelling in a meta way with the Death typeface. 

-this presents the idea of a human becoming Death as Really Bad because if you apply human morality and emotion to it, Death becomes cruel. Which sounds philosophical as fuck and all, but it brings to mind all the terrible things humans have done when inflicting death on others. It is comforting to think of Death as neutral from the perspective of an uncaring universe-- all things die, no matter what, but likewise, its hard as a human to see Death that way within the context of lives and experiences. 

-but there is some positivity to the overall story so I am interested to see the "good" side if there is one. I'm not sure there is 

-Mort is a blank slate character, i think intentionally so, so that as he develops we see how his mistakes and the worst sides of his personality manifest as he matures and becomes more Real, like Death. The actual Death character isn't cruel but when Mort is given the opportunity he makes selfish decisions (rescuing Keli) and cruel (how he treats Albert in this scene). So then my question is where do his Best traits manifest? Is it impossible for then to, in this context and with this kind of power? 

-man Mort is so mean to Ysabell. 

-the fucking speech check war between the Emperor and Vizier was pretty funny 

-oh hey, The Librarian cameo. And.. Albert called him a monkey. Oh dear. Also isn't Rincewind a protag in another series 

-"THERE'S NO JUSTICE," said Mort. "THERE'S JUST US."  --- Oh my god I fucking called it I CALLED IT I KNEW they were gonna use that line holy shit 

-"You are whatever you think you are" hell yeah 

-at least Ysabell punched Mort in the face. He kind of deserved it 

-shout out to The Librarian killing Albert lmfao 

-the elephant gets drunk and sees pink people 

-i mean good for the elephant going home. Ok king 

-i like the implication that the speed of night is faster than the speed of light 

-oh so we do get to play a game with Death? At the end? 

-"were all lives--from a personal viewpoint-- entirely the same length?" I mean okay damn 

-i like Mort thinking "you'll never beat him... the best we can do is hold him off for a while" about Death, but in the context of like. A duel. 

-i mean YEAH you CAN turn hourglasses over! Obviously! That's how they work! 

-the weight of a pearl, huh 

-I like closing the story with Mort reading his own book and that becoming the last of the narration 

Hmm ok! So I liked it. But have some mixed thoughts. I'll need to gather them together 

First off I loved the writing, Pratchett really was clever and had very unique and humorous ways of saying things. Stuff like "her voice could have kept milk fresh for a month" instead of "her voice was icy". And its not just wordplay but situations themselves. It is difficult to convey just how much clever stuff there is in the book because it would 

overwhelm anything else. I think that this is probably true for most of the Discworld books and is at least in part why they're so beloved. I have a hard time thinking of other writers with quite this knack for clever humor in such a nonstop abundance. There's stuff like this book introducing the detail that every person has a book being written that narrates their life, then closing out the book with Mort reading from his, and then using that as the closing narration. Like that's cool and brilliant. 

I like Morts character arc and how he goes from a blank slate to something more in order to convey how being Death's apprentice changes him. There is also fun worldbuilding and creativity on how Death's actual job works, with the tongue and cheek acknowledgement that even this is a personification and not really real. 

Deaths typeface is used as an honest to God wham line which is probably the only example I've seen of... a font conveying a plot twist. I guess technically this also happens in other Discworld scenes where Death shows up unexpectedly. But in this particular story it's not Death saying it which is why its so shocking. 

My main struggle with Mort is I had a hard time caring about or being invested in the main plot. For example, the inciting incident that kicks off the main plot is Mort making a selfish decision to save the life of a princess who is destined to die, purely because he has a shallow crush on her. I know it's intentional that their relationship doesn't really matter and is just surface level. But theres nothing to make me care about it at all, and when him doing this AND KEEPING IT SECRET FROM DEATH is the main source of narrative tension, it's a problem when I can't find any reason to care about it. 

The plot itself is very... loose I guess. It's a collection of scenes and vignettes a lot of the time that are only tangentially related to the story. Which is fine, but this makes the problem of investment in the story even harder for me. I was suddenly very compelled when Mort started to transform into Death and the personal issues of identity, human behavior, etc that this introduces. It just felt like that's what the story should have been about the whole time. 

Basically what carried me through the book was the clever prose and humorous scenes/situations. Which again, is fine! I definitely enjoyed reading Mort. It just didn't amaze me as a story. 

Probably the funniest thing is you could remove Albert from the story entirely and it wouldn't change anything. Like slightly rework the scene at the University near the end and you're set. It felt like Pratchett realized we needed a villain in the third act and assigned that role to a random side character so Albert was evil, briefly, then not as soon as Death dealt with it. Just felt very oddly paced and structured 

There are loose ends that did not get concluded and I'm not sure if this means they are explored in greater depth later. For example Mort bungles one Death collection and a witch's soul escapes mortality. Another is this persistent idea/theme of what's "real". We explore it a little but never to its conclusion. Mort gets a pearl which is supposedly a piece of reality he created. And there's the idea of one reality happening when it shouldn't and how the universe reacts to it. But it's very mechanical (literally turns into an artifact) and the thematic implications are still up in the air 

Anyway I'm thinking 7/10 cause it was good and a fun read, just didn't floor me