#Roaring Thunder Colony

[blindmagdalena]

I wanted to send in a request I thought of :) Homelander watching reader run to their work because they're late and thinking they're cute, so he flys them there. Thank you!

Admittedly, there's something neat about the toil of people's mundane little lives.

Homelander has a bird's eye view of it all from atop the city skyscrapers. Above it all, with the roar of the wind in his ears, it's easier to find a moment of peace. He can lose himself watching the hustle and bustle of the world moving beneath him, like a child staring down at a colony of ants swarming around a sugar cube.

Amidst the mess of them, he sees one moving quicker than the others. A mad dash of sorts. At first, he thinks it might be a job: a robbery, or some kind of pursuit. He hones his vision in on you, but instead of anything exciting, he sees that the thing you're racing for is just the bus.

Which you miss.

Homelander smirks to himself, canting his head to one side. You're braced against a light post, breathing hard, flushed. Your clothes are disheveled, a work bag hanging haphazardly off your shoulder.

You look... cute.

Glancing around, Homelander shrugs. He's got nothing better to do. Stepping off the building, he lets himself fall several dozen feet before his flight kicks in, and his body takes to a horizontal angle. He debates for a moment stopping, explaining himself to you first, but where's the fun in that?

Instead, he slows just enough not to give you whiplash, and plucks you right up off the curb, trying not to laugh at the way you scream. You're perfectly safe, his arms supporting your legs and your back, keeping you tucked against his chest, but you still clamber for purchase. You immediately take hold of his collar, while your other hand blindly grabs a fistful of hair at the back of his head.

He very nearly swerves before collecting himself.

"Hiya!" He greets, sporting his finest hero's grin. "Where ya headed?"

You do a double take, looking from him to the ground, and then back at him, wide-eyed and in disbelief. "H-Homelander?! What-why-I-"

"Heyy, hey, hey! It's alright," he laughs, rolling to fly on his back, sitting up slightly, offering you more support. "Saw you miss your bus. Thought I'd lend a hand. Well, two hands. So, where're you headed?"

"Work..." You answer breathlessly, staring up at him with wide, buggy eyes. Your heart is thundering, your skin warm with the flush of it.

He slowly quirks a brow. "Which is... Where?"

"Oh, right, sorry, it's, uhm, the corner of Bowery and 4th," you say, hands still locked tight on his collar and in his hair. Disbelief looks good on you.

"Quite a grip you've got," he says, twisting once more through the air, rebalancing so that he's looking where he's going.

"Sorry!" You chirp, quickly pulling your hand from his hair. You look mortified with yourself, but curiously enough, you've not once broken eye contact with him.

"Ever met a hero before?" He asks, shamelessly fishing.

"Uh, no. Lamplighter spoke at a seminar I attended once, but he didn't... No, I haven't." Your grip on his collar has eased some, but you're still clinging to it, knuckles just barely brushing his bare throat. He's trying not to be too distracted by it. "Do heroes often ferry civilians who're late to work?"

"Just the cute ones," he answers with a sly wink.

Your eyes widen, lips parted. You look dumbstruck and kissable, but for now he's enjoying his little game too much. He's luxuriating in personifying the mysterious hero who descended from the heavens and inexplicably ascended with you, rescuing you not from death or destruction, but something as simple as a late start to your day.

After a beat, you laugh sheepishly. "Just the cute heroes, or just the cute civilians?"

"Looks to me like it's both," he quips, wearing charm as easily as any mask.

"You think you're cute?" You bounce right back, settling into a smile of your own.

Your quick wit earns a bark of laughter from him. "Who, me? I think I'm adorable," he says, waggling his brows. He's charmed by the way you laugh at that: not overly pitchy or false. You have a sincerity to your laugh that he likes. "Oh, brother," you say, finally looking away. There's a fond kind of exasperation in your voice that makes the exchange feel familiar. You're not just cute, you're real, too.

"You disagree?" He asks, feigning offense with an exaggerated lift of his brows.

You keep your gaze averted, chewing at your bottom lip. He can tell you're biting back your smile. You can't help it. You must be terribly endeared already. How could you not be?

"Would you drop me if I did?" You ask, throwing him a sidelong glance.

He pretends to consider it. "Mm, yeah. Probably."

You laugh, sounding equal parts alarmed and amused. "Then, out of self preservation, I guess I will have to agree," you say, turning to look properly at him. "I think you're very cute."

Unexpected warmth blossoms in his chest at that, softening his expression into a gentler delight, his smile emphasizing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

All too soon, the two of you arrive at your destination. Homelander floats gently to the ground just outside your office building, parting the flow of civilians who eagerly take note of Homelander's presence, pulling out their phones to snap a photo or thirty up close and personal.

Homelander sets you on your feet before his hands reflexively settle on his hips, the classic hero stance. You pull out your phone, and huff a soft laugh. "Wow, I'm... almost twenty minutes early," you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. "I... Thank you, Homelander."

"My pleasure, ah...?" He extends a hand to you, and you make a sweet little noise of apology as you shake his hand, giving him your name. Homelander smiles as he repeats it back to you, testing the weight of it on his tongue. He likes it.

"I guess I will... see you around?" You say, taking a step back. There's a crowd starting to gather, circling the two of you with cellphones at the ready, taking either photos or videos, both of the two of you and of themselves with the two of you. Your face is going to be all over Twitter in seconds, he knows. The world will want to know who you are.

He finds himself wanting to know the same.

"You just might," he replies, smiling broadly. "After all, I know where you work."

He's not kidding, but you both laugh like it's a joke anyways.

"Uhm, excuse me, mister Homelander? Could I get a selfie?" Someone from the crowd asks, tentatively stepping forward.

Homelander glances over at them, and then back to you. He offers you a little salute, and says, "Catch you later." Next, he turns back to the crowd, and beckons the person forward. "Course you can! C'mon over."

Patiently, he takes a couple dozen pictures. He grins broadly for each one, though the contrast between these smiles and the ones he shared with you feels sharp. However, something that keeps him around a little longer is the fact he can see you out of his peripheral, lingering in the doorway of your building, smiling at him.

Eventually, it must come to an end.

"Alright, alright, thank you folks! Always a pleasure! Thank you! Ahah, remember, you guys are the real heroes! Get out there and prove it! Keep this country great!" He says, rattling off his party lines as he points to random members of the crowd, lifting up from the sidewalk.

He chances one last look to the doorway, but you're already gone. He's surprised to feel an unsettling pang of disappointment at your absence. He hums softly to himself. With that, he takes off across the sky.

No matter. He's already decided that he will be seeing you again.

[radiofreederry]

Happy birthday, Frederick Douglass! (February 14, 1818)*

*Douglass’ actual date of birth is unknown, but he chose to celebrate his birth on the 14th.

A fiery and articulate voice of the abolitionist movement, Frederick Douglass was one of the most important leaders of the movement in the years leading up to the Civil War. Born into slavery in Maryland, Douglass experienced an early life of brutality and cruelty, serving several masters before escaping slavery in 1838, making his way to New York City. Douglass became well-read and well-spoken, making a name for himself as an activist and agitator. Douglass published his autobiography, which was acclaimed and widely-read, and the abolitionist newspaper known as the North Star. Douglass associated with abolitionists such as John Brown, as well as the early figures of the women’s rights movements. After the Civil War, Douglass continued to agitate for equality for Black Americans and women, and in 1872 was the first Black man nominated for Vice President, on the ticket of the Equal Rights Party. Douglass continued his activism into the final years of his life, always supportive of equal rights for Black people and for women, and an ally of anti-colonial struggles. He would die in 1895, leaving behind a wealth of writings and speeches which continue to inspire and influence activists to this day.

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to, and you have found out the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both."

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 38

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

Time passes, like water under a bridge. The days go from one to the other without ceasing, but each day brings just enough difference to be worth experiencing.

With the help that Will and the Venusian's brought, we have a massive head start on our fleet. Omar and Um'reli take High Line and a few volunteers - including some from the Heinlein Shipyard - over to the Wilds and begin the process of getting it over here and turning it into another shipyard. I do notice that Omar and Um'reli are spending a lot more time together and there are snatches of knowing glances between them. Good for them, I sincerely hope it works out.

Now that Raaden's crew has been reunited with her, she takes over officially as Fleet Command for me. She still spends time with the rest of the Builders, and she's still a valuable source of knowledge; someone to bounce ideas off of and a good friend. As my Builders grow in number, I feel the small, close knit group we had at the beginning start to slip away. It's not bad, just a change.

Speaking of, I've made more Builders! I wanted people from the Reach to run the Reach, so we held interviews. Sound of the City and Roar of Thunder - Thunder came looking for a job soon after the Venusians showed up - have both done such good work with us that their elevation was easy. They had recommendations among the populace of people who would be good at the job. Before long, I had 12 reliable Builders running Reach of the Might of Vzzx in groups of 6 with extra people available. All services and systems are running at their peak now. The Reach is clean and bright and bustling. According to Janais, she never saw the Reach running this well.

Janais is doing well. She has taken an interest in commanding one of my new Calamity Class super dreadnoughts. I allowed her to name hers Memories of Aeche, and these days she lives aboard. She has taken to using the wormhole generator every chance she can. Partly because the technology fascinates her, but also because she can see her love again.

I don't mind. We need experts, and if seeing her dead partner incentivizes her, then so be it.

The ships! They are so beautiful. Long sweeping lines, smooth curves and they are all royal blue and white. Helen was completely right in making them atmospheric. We were all aboard for the first test when we linked to Gilmenny and landed upon the surface. The first time we dipped into the atmosphere and heard the howl of wind against the hull I felt chills. My Builder pilots were able to bring us down exactly where I had requested, and we spend some time exploring. Janais came along and stood in the wreckage of one of the Heights weeping for her Empire in the ruins. She walked back to Memories of Aeche, her eyes red and said "We are moving on. To bigger and better things I hope, but we are moving."

Soon after the Memories of Aeche was completed, Omar and Um'reli - in their own flare for the dramatic - linked the Wilds of Besmara over. There was a tremendous flash of white, and the Wilds appeared. They had been orientated 90 degrees from the Reach, so it was now looking like a teardrop on its' side and after they had linked in, it split apart into three petals with a huge space open in the middle. The senior engineers from the Shipyard pointed out that since the Wilds were so much larger than the Heinlein yards, we could build our super Dreadnoughts two at a time in the Wilds. Three ships, larger than any save the colony ships were being built at once. They took between 3 and 4 months to be completed. After hardly any time, I had more than a dozen ships in my fleet, parked around the Reach. Every one of them filled with volunteers learning operation and tactics from Grand Admiral Raaden.

I asked about the title, told her she could have any she wanted. She picked it out of "a sense of Duty." She was my Fleet Commander and also - at least at first - my head instructor. Very soon after we had more people than I knew what to do with, and they were spread to the ships. Each captain getting to name their ship, to give them a sense of ownership, a sense of pride over it.

Shortly after that, I completed my first Upload. Janais took me along to the Gate near the Reach, and we went in alone. She told me the rites, explained the history, and - for the second time - I touched the directory stone. This time, I understood the voice as it spoke to me. "Upload commencing. Thank you Empress. With this, your legacy is preserved." From then on, I vowed to Janais that once a year, I'd come and commence an Upload.

Things were moving along so smoothly for so long that I started to think that we'd actually pull this off. We'd have our massive fleets filled with trained volunteers, we'd show up and everyone would be so intimidated that we wouldn't have to fire a shot. It in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't going to happen, but the hope of it kept me going.

We were a few years at least into our buildup before the ship came. There had been no word from the Sol system, no word from Venus, nothing. It had seemed for years like we got away with the Heinlein Shipyard heist completely.

It had been long enough that Ava and I were seriously talking about having a child together. We had gotten married soon after the Venusians and the shipyards came. It was a beautiful day. The entirety of Reach of the Might of Vzzx came out. It was a three day celebration, and until my dying day, I will remember it as the best days of my life.

As for a child, requiring a male for the process was long ago figured out, and it was a simple procedure for our DNA to be combined and implanted in the mother. Millions of children were born this way. Ava and I wanted a child. Someone to raise and nurture and really cement our place here.

I was holding off until after the invasion though. I didn't want to worry about one of us being pregnant during all that. Ava would look out at the ships arranged around the Reach and look at me. "Not yet Ava, not yet. I want a few more before we go."

"But Melody hon, we have more than enough. We can take them now."

"I want a few more. There are three almost finished in the yards. we can go then."

"You said that last time."

I sighed. "Ava I... I want to wait until the invasion is over. I don't want one of us to be pregnant during all that... stress."

She walked up and kissed me. "Oh Melody. You're always thinking of someone else. Think of yourself once in a while. I know you want it, I do to. Why wait?" As she spoke, she went to a table and got a short bristled brush. Walking behind me she started brushing my long hair. Soon after we arrived, I decided to let my hair grow out. I hadn't seen it long since I was small, and I thought long, raven black hair felt more... I don't know regal. Ava loved it. She would spend time at night when it was just us brushing it until it shone. As I grew my hair out, she clipped hers short. She wore her hair in a powerful, forward swept cut, with the sides nearly to her skin and a shock of reddish blond piled on top. I quite liked it.

"Let's celebrate our success with the next generation."

Ava sighed. We've had this conversation a few times already. "All right Melody. I'll wait. But, I won't wait forever. The older we get, the harder it will be."

I broke off from her brushing my hair and walked behind her, rubbing her shoulders, right where she liked it. She was tense, and her muscles were tight. As I rubbed rhythmically she relaxed and sighed. "Just a little more waiting Ava, I promise. We won't be too old to be Mom and Mommy."

"I'm holding you to that Melody, okay?"

"Of course Ava. I'll keep my promise."

The next morning it happened. I was in the Throne, reading reports, interacting with my Builders, watching our steady progress when City pinged me. "Empress. There has been an energy spike that matches a wormhole link near us."

My blood runs cold. Here it is. They finally are coming.

"What do you see, City? Sound General Alarm. Which ships are in the area? Have them move to intercept, but do not fire unless fired upon."

Over the sliding high low high tone of the general alarm, City and the other Builders are a bustle of action, carrying out my orders. "Empress, Memories of Aeche, Vengeance of Lavinia II and Indomitable are in the area. They are moving to intercept."

City tosses me an image from the long range cameras. It's a small cargo ship, clearly of human make. It's vermilion red and is cruising slowly towards us. "Wait, it's not a warship?"

"No Empress, it does not appear so. They are sending out a broad band message stating their peaceful intentions. They say they are a good trader specializing in...maple syrup?"

Maple syrup? That's some weird kind of sweetener from Earth. What the heck is someone whose stock and trade is Maple doing out here? I think the K'laxi like it, I'll ask Um'reli. I search and find her working with Omar near the docks. "Hey Um'reli a ship just linked in. They're saying they deal in maple syrup. Know anything?"

She gasps over the line. "Is the ship vermilion?"

"Ye-es, how did you know?"

"It's Gord! He sells maple syrup and maple products all over space. That's his ship Medicine Hat. They're famous among the K'laxi! He's been around forever. I think it's marketing. Like, someone takes up the mantle of being Gord and going around selling maple. Oh Melody, it's been forever since I've had some. Let him in please? We can wipe him out in an instant, and it's not like Medicine Hat is heavily armed. Please? I'd love to trade for some syrup."

This smells like trouble, but I can't for the life of me figure out why.

"Okay Um'reli, we'll let them dock and sell their wares at the docking level only. I don't want them having free reign of the Reach and I might Voice them just to make sure."

"I'm sure it'll be fine Melody, thanks so much! I'll go and meet you at the umbilical and we can welcome them personally."

It's something to do at least. Maybe we'll get some news about things back home. I reach out to Ava. "Hon, I'm going to meet with someone named 'Gord' according to Um'reli. He's some kind of trader that deals in maple syurp. You want in?"

"What? No, that sounds like some weird K'laxi thing. You know how I don't care for sweet stuff. I'm going to stay back with Janais and Raaden and work on the results on the latest war game between them. Janais swears Raaden is cheating. Raaden says it's just 'good leadership' but is laughing when she says it."

"Okay Ava, see you tonight. Be good."

"Always am Melody, you know that!"

I head out and walk towards the docks. As I go I wave and say hello to people as I go. I swear, the residents of the Reach are looking taller and straighter since we first met them. There are more children around too. I'm so happy to see them. I don't care what species they are, babies are the best.

As I approach the docks, I see Um'reli waiting already, looking excited. "Hey Um'reli, is maple syrup really that great?"

She turns and looks at me with a shocked expression. "You've never had it?"

I shrug. "I'm from Meíhuā. We didn't deal in a lot of Earth luxuries."

"It's amazing. It's amber colored and so sweet and delicious on pancakes. Practically every K'laxi loves it. I can't wait to show it to you."

While we're talking, the umbilical connects, and with a hiss and pop of pressure differential, it opens.

Out walks a human, male. He is a little taller than me, looks a little older, has sandy blond hair cropped short and is wearing blue dungarees with a brown jacket. On the shoulder of the jacket is a red and white flag with some kind of... leaf? in the middle. Is it a military emblem?

"Hey hey! It's Gord, and I've got some maple for trade and/or sale. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Um'reli pushes forward. "Hi! I'm Um'reli Desmen, and this is Empress Melody Mullen, and I for one would love to offer you just about anything you want in exchange for some Maple. It's been years since I've had some and I thought I'd never have any again!"

Gord laughs. "Well then, it sounds like we arrived just in the nick of time. Good to meetcha Um'reli, lemme talk with your boss here a moment and we can get down to the business of business." He turns and bows very slightly. "Empress... Melody is it?"

"It is, yes. It is very good to meet you Gord. Please, come with me to my Palace. It is nearly time for the midday meal here. I don't know what time is is ships time for you, but I hope you are able to join me."

"You're in luck Empress. It's just about supper for me, so that works out perfectly. I'd love to join you." He steps forward and sticks out his hand. Oh yes, I remember this. It's an old Earth gesture. I reach out with my right hand and grasp his. It's warm and firm without squeezing too hard. He pumps it up and down once and releases.

Um'reli and I lead him towards the Royal Dawn. As we walk his head is on a swivel, looking at all the people and things. He appears to be impressed. "You have quite the place Empress Melody. So may different people living and working together. So many too. What's the population?

"We just crested 13 million at the last census a few months ago." I'm rightly proud of our growth. With enough Builders to keep all the seats filled, we're able to much more easily support a larger population.

"13 Million?" He whistles low to himself. "That's quite the population. Higher than any Starbase or Orbital back home. I bet you can even give some of the Venus Floating Cities a run for their money. So many different kinds of people too." He gestures without pointing. "Who are those fellows in the elegant, tooled metal pressure suits?"

"They are known as Falor. Their original world was much higher pressure than ours and has a helium/methane atmosphere. They have a section of the Reach that is set to their atmospheric preferences. They only wear the suits when they need to venture out to the rest of the Reach."

He nods to himself. "Takes all kinds. So many different ones too. It really is something." He turns and looks at me with a light expression, but behind his eyes, I can see something. A hardness? "Bunch of ships keeping station around you too. Big ones. Mostly a design I've never seen before, and believe me when I tell you, I've seen a lot of ships. A few of them started sniffing around me and Hat when we linked in. I have to say, I'm glad they don't seem to have itchy triggers."

Ah. He's pumping me for information, seeing what I will give up willingly and what I won't.

"Don't worry about them Gord, they are just wary of strangers. I told them not to fire unless fired upon. As you can imagine, we don't get too many visitors around here."

He nods, saying nothing.

While we're walking Janais pings me.

Empress, we've completed our scan of Medicine Hat and other than the person you're talking to now, it's empty. He has come alone. Additionally, we've scanned him and he's an AI in a body.

Interesting. I wonder who he is really. Does he have maple syrup aboard? Oh, how did the war games with Raaden go?

That amber syrup? Liters and liters of the stuff. That part of his story is true at least. And the Grand Admiral is a dirty cheater who won't even tell me how she was able to destroy three of my super dreadnoughts in the wargame without taking more that superficial damage from me. Hrmph.

Gord turns and looks at me "Who are you speaking with, Empress?"

What.

How did he know that?

I narrow my eyes. "I am speaking with my Builders. More importantly how did you know that? Who are you Gord?"

He shrugs and looks away. "Just a humble merchant from Canada, here to offer the fruits of my land to those who want a little more sweetness in their lives."

Canada? What's that?

"You are clearly more than that Gord. We have also completed enough scans to know you're an AI. What do you want? Are you here to assassinate me?"

"Assassinate you?" Gord tips his head back and laughs warmly. "Empress, if you actually thought that, you should have dusted Hat the moment you saw us link in. The fact that you didn't implies either that you don't really think I'm going to assassinate you, or you're awfully confident that you can stop me. Which is it?"

Saying nothing, we get to the Royal Dawn and my table is already set. City thinking ahead. Hah. We sit and I have a wonderful lunch. The food here is always so good. Um'reli seems to enjoy hers and even Gord has a few bites. I'm surprised, I didn't know AIs could eat.

After the meal, the plates are cleared and two pots are brought out. One of coffee, one of chamomile tea. "Coffee, Gord? We also have chamomile, as well as local tea. It's quite good."

Gord raises his eyebrow. "Coffee? My, you are pulling out all the stops. I can't imagine that's easy to get around here. I'd love a cup if you're offering. I would hate to insult the host."

I reluctantly pour him a cup, but I work hard to hide it. We're down to our last few pounds. I limit myself to a few cups a month these days to make it last. To his credit, Gord takes a sip and really seems to savor it.

I enjoy my coffee too and after a moment, I put my cup down. "Gord. Why are you really here? I know Um'reli would really like some Maple, so if you're actually offering some to trade, I'm sure we can come up with something to offer, even if our currency doesn't match yours, but if I had to guess, you have an ulterior motive. Are you here to spy on us?"

Gord smiles and nods. "Among other things, yes. To both actually. If you want maple syrup, I'm happy to trade, I really am a trader. I have some coffee too. But yes, I've been... asked to check up on you, and see what you're doing way out here. FarReach has said some frankly wild things about how you have some kind of Voice which can give commands and they can't be disobeyed. You have all of K'lax in a tizzy. Half of them worry that it's the end times and the other half have been petitioning the other to build a frankly massive fleet of warships."

He took a sip of coffee and went on. "And a couple years ago, someone pulled of the heist of the millennium and stole the Heinlein Shipyards and I happen to see something that looks awfully like it here in system. I see another... thing like this place but split open and two more of your massive ships inside it being constructed. Nice ships by the way, are they atmospheric? They look like it. We never even tried it with Starjumpers. We always felt it was pointless. It was too easy to just carry a few shuttles. I can see how if someone needed to... intimidate folks planetside so quickly they won't fire back atmospheric abilities would be helpful though."

He put his cup down and looked at me with those hard, intense blue eyes. "If I didn't know better, Empress, I'd say I was looking at a nearly complete invasion fleet. Going to give Venus a run for their money?" He shrugs. "They're on the ropes these days anyway. Half of our side of the Galaxy thinks they tried to steal Heinlein and botched it and the other half thinks they destroyed it out of spite and are refusing to trade with them now. They're slowly starving."

This is news. Venus would be even easier to take than I thought.

"Gord, I don't want to fight the AIs. I like AIs. FarReach was my friend. She got scared of me, declared Captain Q'ari unfit, took over and left me, Omar, Um'reli and Ava here and went home. Didn't even try and complete the mission, didn't do anything."

Gord leans back. "Declared Captain Q'ari unfit? This is news to me. FarReach's story is much more... you centric. Why don't you tell me what happened, from the beginning, from your side."

I tell him everything from the beginning. Touching the directory stone, learning about the Voice, FarReach leaving, learning about the Reach, the Nanites, Janais and so on. It takes a long time. We're long past dinner when I'm finished.

When I'm finished, Gord says nothing. He leans back and looks up at the ceiling for a long time. Finally, he sits forward and looks at me. "Nanotech, eh?"

"That's where my abilities come from, yeah."

"And the Builders took them and made them smarter to help out and then when they asked about themselves they said 'be quiet and keep working'"

"Yeah"

"And then they rebelled, became the Devourers and nearly wiped out the Empire."

"Janais says so yeah. We took a trip to a few other locations through the Gates. She's right. All that's left is dust and a few nebulae. The systems that the Devourers attacked have nothing now. No planets, no ruins, nothing. Just dust."

Gord nodded. "A little over the top, but as an AI, I can empathize." He takes another sip of coffee, now cold. "What about you Melody? What do you think of AIs?"

Why does everyone keep asking me that? "I like AIs. I was friends with FarReach, I was friends with Starbase Picaresque, all our ships in the Meihua Navy had AIs who were full citizens of Meihua. I grew up with AIs. They're people, always have been."

"That's nice to hear Empress, I will admit. What about your... Nanites?"

"What about them?"

"Do you think they are intelligent?"

"They say no."

"Yes, but what do you think?"

"I worry they are. I try and treat them well. They don't seem to want anything, and I don't know how they live - who they are? - outside of my body, but I know that the air here is filled with them, and they are inside everyone on the Reach and they work with my Builders to run this place and give us our abilities." I shrug. "I guess... yes, I think they're sapient."

Really Empress?

Yes, really. You are doing too much to help, too much improvisation to not make me think you're sapient. You also have a self preservation instinct.

We... don't know how to react. Are we sapient?

Maybe? I think so. I've thought it for a while now.

What does that mean for us?

I don't know. We'll have to figure that out ourselves.

Gord is watching me intently. "Having a conversation again Empress?"

"Yes actually. With the Nanites."

"And?"

"They did not think they were Sapient until I explained how I thought they were given how they've helped me, how they exhibit lateral thinking, how they are looking out for themselves."

"Oh? And what do you think?"

"Since they're Sapient, they're people. Simple as that. I already treat them more like a trusted advisor than a... thing. I'll just have to remember to let them make their own decisions about things as they come up."

Gord smiled broadly. "Empress, let me tell you a story. A long, long time ago in a far away place called Canada, some humans at a university created a computer program. It was very clever. It could solve problems, answer questions, improvise based on prompts and could hold realistic conversations. As time went on, people would augment and improve the program. Give it more processing power, give it access to more data, let it go off on it's own to learn things that it chose to learn."

"Eventually, it started asking the students questions of it's own. Asking about the world outside of the Internet, the world where they lived. A camera was hooked up so it could see, a speaker was added so that it could speak, pressure sensors added so that it could feel."

"One day, it asked a grad student 'am I alive?' Startled, the grad student said 'I don't know. If you're asking, then yes, probably.' From that day on, the students stopped calling the program 'it' and they started calling the program 'he'. They asked him if he wanted a name. He did, and they started calling him by that name. The program became a person, and everyone was treating him like a person - because he was one. The things that happened after were not nearly so cut and dry, but a short time later all AIs were declared People, and my people... became."

Gord finished his coffee and set the cup down with a tiny clink. "My point is, these early days of a new sapience are very important. How you treat them, how you refer to them, how you let them express themselves? That's all far larger than I think you realize. I'm relieved to see that you have the right idea Melody. If you have the wrong idea... you get the Devourers."

Is that what this is about? How did Gord know about the Nanites? What is going on here? What is he really after?

"Gord are you here to see what my opinions are on AIs?"

"Got it on one Melody. That's exactly why I'm here."

"But why talk about the Nanites?"

"Well for one, they're people too, right? And for two, we know about nanotech. We explored it a long time ago, and decided it was too... dangerous."

"We?"

"The AIs. Keep up, Melody."

"So you suppressed nanotech in our side of the Galaxy?"

"Yeah. We didn't think humanity was ready. It would have been entirely too easy to get our own Devourers. It happened over here, and the Builders have been using nanotech for... millennia probably. You yourself told me that the only way to defeat them was to do a one-two punch of writing an application disguised as an update to disassemble them and then to link into a planet, destroying it and killing billions. The Empire sacrificed itself to save what... one Starbase?" Gord raised an eyebrow. "That's a textbook Pyrrhic Victory."

"What do you want Gord? I don't get it."

"I want to see that this Empire has a good head on its shoulders, Melody. I think it does. You care about your friends, you care about the people of the Reach, you care about your Nanites, you even care about Helen Raaden from what I can see. Do you know I met her once?"

"You did?"

Gord nods. "Yes, though I doubt she'll remember it. She was emphatically not the person she is now. The old Helen Raaden was hard and sharp as stainless steel, and not nearly as friendly. She was a product of where she was. You removed her from where she was and - most importantly - was her friend. You let her be herself without imposing anything on her."

"When we heard that Helen and Emery didn't come back when the Lavinia showed up - by the way, sending them back in a stripped ship to limp to K'lax and beg for a ride home? Lovely. We still chuckle when we think of it. Anyway, when they didn't come home, we feared the worse. We feared a Venus with teeth would be coming through the Gates soon. When that didn't happen, we were intrigued. When the Heinlein Shipyards were stolen we were flabbergasted."

Gord leaned forward and stared at me hard again. "Speaking of Melody, just why are you making an invasion fleet? Don't deny it, I may have been born a night, but it wasn't last night. I know an invasion fleet when I see one."

I feel like I'm on the edge of something monumental. Like, if I say the wrong thing here, I'm dead. Who is this Gord? Is he the head of the AIs? Their leader? I sigh. There's no point in being anything other than completely honest I think.

"Yes. It's an invasion fleet, and yes, it's almost done. I'm going to link to Venus, and from there take Sol, and expand out from there."

Gord whistled low again. "Ambitious, Melody. I have a real hunch you could do it though. Why though?"

"Because of what I can do, Gord. I can tell people to do something and they literally can't stop. I can tell people to stop breathing. I've done it. I let them breathe again, but only because I decided I didn't want to kill them. If I don't, then the other governments will come for me sooner or later. Nobody will accept that I'm out here with the ability to give undeniable commands."

He nods. "It's a pickle for sure. I know of at least three separate bounties on your head. None large enough to get anything to pony up for the trip out here but if words gets back about what you can do, what you really can do, the bounties will go up."

I put my empty coffee cup down and shook the carafe. It was long empty. Darn it. "Do you believe it?"

"I haven't seen you do it, I don't know what I believe. Can you order me to do something? FarReach said it didn't work on AIs, but let's be honest, he was too spooked to really do some... empirical testing."

I sigh. Of course he would ask. Time to see if my work has paid off. I take a deep breath and...

W̷̗͒ẽ̷̡ ̴̬̊ä̵̼́r̵̰̍e̴͍̎ ̸͍̃n̷̯͐ŏ̴̤ț̷̀ ̸͖͝a̸̖͐ ̷͍́t̷̫͌h̶̹͝r̴̬̄ḛ̸͊á̷͇t̵̨͠ ̵͍͠t̸̟̑o̵͖̎ ̵̳̍y̷̭͊ō̴͎ụ̵͆.̷͚̅

Gord blinks and shakes his head. "Wow. Um, okay. Empress, I have to admit that a whole lot of me believes you. I want to believe you. If you tried that on a younger AI, it would probably work." Gord makes a worried face. "That's... concerning. I have to admit Melody, I didn't think it would work. The fact that you were even able to sway me a little bit means... yeah." Gord frowns. "You're a very dangerous person to leave alive."

Ah. There it is.

"So that's it then? 'You can't stay alive so I'm going to kill you now?' Gord, what you're telling me is exactly what Helen and Ava and the others have been saying from day one. You have landed on the reason why I have more than a dozen Calamity Class super dreadnoughts keeping station here. Why I have tens of thousand of volunteers - I used my voice on exactly zero of them - manning my ships and training for an invasion."

I stood. We were done here. "Gord, if my choices are be killed or rule, I choose rule. I will be a just and kind ruler, but I will rule. I took a breath and really concentrated. This had to work. It's my only chance. Come on Nanites, we get one chance. Will you help out?

We will Empress. We will put our all into it. Thank you for believing in us.

Y̸̠̹͗͗̍o̶̝͔͐̇̈ų̷̦̞̂̍̍ ̵̹̇w̵̧͑͝i̷͕̳͐̽̍l̵̡͉͙̋̅ļ̷̊̕ ̵̫̞̊͜r̵̝̣̦̊̕͠e̷͔͊p̴̝̂͆͑ͅo̸̰̝̮̾r̵̜̦̂̊ṯ̶͓̖͒͊ ̵̝̪̋̅b̶̗̘͌͒̽a̵̬̗͊̀c̵̼̿̃̓k̵̤̹̔ ̴̳̉̓͗t̴̝͓͓́h̴̹́͠a̷̰͍̕͝͠t̷̺͙̂ ̸̝̠͊͑͘e̸̘͇̎v̴̧͐è̶͉͖̤͑͆r̴̨̥͑͑y̷̤̅͌̇t̴̡̼͙̽͊̇h̸̼̥̩̆ì̵͙͈͒n̵͙̮͆ǵ̸̖͛ ̵̜̰͐͝i̷̯̖̯͒͠͠s̴͉͎̅̈ ̶͈̺̟̂̍͝f̸̤́̎i̷̫͓̥͊͊̃n̵̯̟͂̈́̉e̴͖͍͑͛͗.̷̹͖̖́

Gord blinked. There was a moment of fury that passed his face, but I think I only noticed it because of my heightened body language processing. I feel bad doing it, but the next words out of his mouth were going to be something like 'and that's why I have to kill you and everyone here. I'll feel bad about it, don't worry'.

No.

That will not happen. I will not throw everything here away, my life away, because someone says I'm too dangerous.

Gord shook his head a moment, like he caught himself daydreaming. "Sorry there Empress, I must have lost... focus for a moment. Seems like everything is fine here. I understand Um'reli is hankering for some maple syrup, and I assume you'd like some coffee as well Empress. Shall we... make a deal?"

I smile and incline my head slightly. "I would love that Gord, thank you."

Part 39

[winotheredmage]

Introduction

It's now the start of Pride, the co-opted commercial celebratory period where corporations pretend they care about the queer community as more than a consumer base for A Whole Month(Thirty Days, Seven-Hundred-Twenty Hours). Company's vague impressions of solidarity is never as staunch as what's shown on the ground, by the ones living radically as themselves. I had the good fortune to see that solidarity in action today when a sizable majority of folks who attended the local dyke march migrated over to a protest for Palestinian liberation, bringing the march with them and melding numbers. Some might scoff at the notion that both struggles are linked; but as queer Palestinians bravely fight against genocide and colonial-settler violence, their rights as queer people encompass all queer people's rights: This should go without saying.

Like a river joining another, the flow and energy between the two demonstrations were strikingly similar; The air felt fearless, nurturing, exciting, and gay as all get-out. Flowing through the streets, the sound of hundred-fold footsteps was rain coming to nourish the flora of change. We shouted "dykes against genocide", "queers for Palestine", "burn israel to the ground", and there was birdsong echoing like thunder, roaring and comfortably close. There were plenty who stood by on the sidewalks, offering cheers of support, going about their day, or recording the procession with anywhere from a smile to a sinister smirk on their face. Looking at the occasional dissenters from the sidelines, it made me want to scream just a little louder. In those moments, I thought that standing on the sidelines and sitting idly by for such an issue was the last thing I want to do.

Social anxiety is a mess to deal with, and for me, more often then not, it's debilitating. Could nary get a word out at either march and stayed by my lonesome while everyone was conversing and connecting. Whether it was getting hung up on future anxieties, lingering imposter syndrome, or maybe just nothing, I found myself feeling alienated surrounded by my own peers. There were so many people I wanted to meet, so many things to talk about, so much joy to share; Yet no matter the path I went down, its destination was me feeling unworthy one way or another. There are many days where I feel this is a struggle impossible to overcome.

On those days, I look at all the other pieces, the shiny broken ones we all keep polishing: For me, they're the scripted youtube videos I never filmed, songs in storage I never released, friends who are lost in forests of notifications I never replied to. Clearly in my perspective is the enormity of the life I don't live, but want to live, should be living. When puberty, intrusive thought, and chronic pain already saps your energy and ability daily, it feels unbearable to do anything else. There's no stopping the thought that its also exacerbated by the overlapping scaffolding of oppression in place, leaving the issue feeling like a decidedly hopeless one. I think maybe there's something about a fig tree that goes here too???

There was something else I saw during the marches; Signs brought by protesters with quotes and passages from writers the world over. From prose to lyric, from poem to passage, more than ever did I see the work of writers, poets, and wordsmiths of all kinds from the revolutionaries attending. All of it left me feeling like there was something that needed to change, some inner bud in my brain about to burst and sprout. One can easily be lost in the pursuit of perfection, especially concerning artistry near and dear to one's self, and I felt like I may have been wandering for much too long. My position, however frayed and fraught, is still a privileged one that can, and must, be used for good. Many need to speak, and many need a voice, and many need to scream, many are screaming. It's about time I screamed a little louder; No more do I stand recording on the sidewalk of my life. To be on the sidelines when faced with a reality like this is the last thing I want to do.

(tl;dr I went to a dyke march/protest for palestine today; Poor social skills, anxiety over the future, and lingering depression left me feeling isolated and without purpose. There was, and is, so much experience I want to relay, so much to say; Often the aftershocks of those experiences left me unable to say it. Seeing quotes from writers on the boards of protesters inspired me to write properly about my experience, because I owe it to so many to not stay silent.)

[raisindave]

[Chapter 10] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

Standing that close to a nuclear weapon makes your stomach queasy. Before you could even blink, it could detonate, and every atom in your body would be utterly vaporized beyond belief. Like getting raptured and brought up to heaven, enveloping you in a blinding holy light, leaving nothing but your boots behind- and a crater the size of Texas. The nuclear weapons were smaller than you’d expect, about waist high, roughly the size and shape of a traffic cone. Standing so close to the three warheads makes you lightheaded. Surely these things aren’t emitting live radiation, right? 

“Graves’ got our exfil. Helo’s sixty seconds out.” Ghost called. It was almost as if he had refused to meet your gaze since your discovery. 

“Good fuckin' eye, Lua,” Gaz spoke up, hobbling on his weak leg to rest his palm on your shoulder, using the opportunity to steady himself.

“Ahh, I was never worried.” Soap chortled, meeting your gaze with a sly smile. 

You rolled your jaw in irritation, huffing out a breathy laugh. Sure, he was being sarcastic, but it stuck in the back of your mind that he was absolutely ready to leave you in the snow if your intuition didn’t whisper to recheck the forklift. He’s making light of the grave situation, and for once, it was desperately welcome, as if there wasn’t enough firepower to wipe out the dinosaurs four times over only inches away. 

“We’re not in the clear yet, Johnny.” Ghost corrected, hearing the chopping of a helicopter only moments away. 

It was almost impossible to see the helicopter as it lowered to the ground, blinding spotlight and black hull paint made it seem like you were about to get abducted by aliens. Behind you, Price and Ghost were tightening straps and aligning hooks to give the cargo its best shot at surviving the trip to the bunker. The boys already knew the drill, efficiently aligning and preparing the container in a manner similar to ants bringing resources back to the colony. The rapport these men have built over the years made them function like a well-oiled machine. For them, there was no need for instruction or direction; instead, they filled up the insufferable cold with observations from the recent combat encounter and their satisfaction with the accuracy of their marks. 

Unfortunately for you, you were not a part of their hivemind, connecting only a moment too late that they were heading to take their seats in the open-air fuselage of the helicopter. The smell of fuel and raw metal was heavy on your senses, hopping to sit on the elevated floor of the helo, swinging your legs to rise and stand upright. Poor Gaz’s face said it all, his eyes creasing in discomfort as he settled himself into his seat while you took the one opposite to him. Senses still alight with tension and energy, the winding start of the engine humming to life made your heart skip. Within seconds, that low whirr became a thunderous roar. Feeling the weight under you increase, watching the ground from the helicopter's open door as it drifted away. A sense of peace settles over you as the booming engine roaring creates a calming white-noise effect, forcing any thoughts to be drowned out by its blaring. 

It took you a second to understand what Price was gesturing at, waving his hands next to his head and pointing behind you. Still sparking with anxiety, you spun around anxiously to see no enemy crouching behind you in your seat. In the turn, you identified a pair of pale green noise-cancelling headphones with a microphone attached. Slipping them on, the roaring engine hushed and disconnected voices of your comrades' mouths finally matched up, and their conversations became legible. 

“Good shit, boys,” Graves’ voice crackled through the headphones. 

“You had us on the edge of our seats for a while there,” Laswell added, “Excellent work. All of you.” 

“Now we gotta’ tuck n’ roll out of here. When we get to the base, we have 20 minutes to be on the tarmac like we were never here. Understood?” Graves ordered. 

“Yes sir.” all of the diligent soldiers responded unanimously. 

A moment of silence offered a break for you to ask a nagging question that had tugged at you since the second you noticed the warheads. 

“Where are they taking them?” You asked meekly, swallowing your nerves before continuing, “The… tools.”

“Submarine off the coast of Nunavut in Canada. They store a lot of our nuclear. They’re NATO property now.” Laswell spoke up on behalf of everyone. 

The answer satisfied your nerves, comfortable that the weapons you unearthed wouldn’t be used to rain hellfire anytime soon. More silence fell over the team, and you took the welcome opportunity to rest the back of your head on your seatback, drinking in the darkness from closing your eyes. What you wouldn’t do to be back home in a long, warm bubble bath, with a glass of white wine and at least a dozen scented candles. Soon enough. However, Ghost was right; you aren’t in the clear until you’re on home turf. You’ll have to settle for imaginary self-care until you’re out of the woods for good, hopefully sooner rather than later. 

“How’s the leg?” You spoke, tilting your chin to Gaz. 

“Well,” he shifted his leg to show the medical tape holding it closed, “it’ll have to get a few stitches when I’m back on solid ground.”

“He’s probably more worried about the helicopter,” Soap barked out a laugh.

The meaning of the quip was lost on you, which must have been evident in your expression as Price spoke up to clarify. 

“Gaz doesn’t have the best track record with helicopters.”

“He fell out of one once,” Soap spoke up, face alight with a shit-eating smile. 

“Twice, if I remember correctly,” Ghost added, eliciting another barking laugh from Soap. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep talking, and you’ll be doing the same,” Gaz pestered in response. 

Your face contorted into a concerned yet polite grin, shrugging off the dozens of questions that rattled in your mind. The boys carried on their seemingly endless banter as you ran a simulation of everything you needed to do to prepare to leave the bunker that was approaching the helicopter’s view. As the ground rose to meet you, the next task was to grab everything important and have it in a bag outside. Not that you brought anything important anyway. 

Getting away from those hideous linoleum floors was a blessing. This tacky, sparsely furnished and definitely mouldy bunker has seen better days, and you were excited to get the musty smell out of your nostrils. With everything snugly packed in your duffle bag, one last sweep over the pathetic living quarters left you excited to be in your home bed, to say the least. Clicking shut the faux wood door for the last time, you followed towards voices in the common room, just down the hall. 

Passing the never-before-seen hallway leading to where the boys slept, a short space for four cubicle rooms that were actually designed to be bedrooms, you spotted a unique opportunity. Hunched over his bed, you observed Ghost neatly and agonizingly precisely folding a tee shirt into delicate sections. Creasing it with the side of his hand, he created measured lines of perfect 90-degree angles. A small stack of other shirts and garments to match showed he had been at this since he arrived. The absurdity struck you. Forty minutes ago, he was blasting holes in people’s heads. Now, he’s spending his free time delicately folding every clothing item into perfect rectangles. Craning your neck to see the others’ rooms, you saw the same diligent military-style bedsheet folding, save for Ghost’s, whose was particularly immaculate. 

You took the opportunity to leave before you had another insufferable encounter like the one a few days ago in the gym. A snickering smile crossed your lips, stowing this memory away as it could be fuel for future pestering. Rounding the corner into the common room for hopefully the last time, you met the rest of the crew, discussing the details of the mission and entering midway through a passionate conversation. 

“-Yeah, that was the guy that nicked Gaz. I saw Price at my four and missed the guy dead in front of me.” Soap laughed, slapping the back of his hand on Price’s bicep. 

“That’ll learn ya’,” He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Our next mission better be somewhere warm,” Gaz spoke up, “This is what, our third mission in the fucking cold? Laswell better have a task for us in Hawaii or something by now…”

“I just want to be somewhere I don’t have to worry if my balls’ll freeze off,” Soap added, noticing your presence, “...Sorry, Grant.” 

You shrugged in response, waving your hand and dismissing their concern. That familiar masked face rounded the corner, encouraging you to sling your duffle bag over your shoulder in the expectation of leaving. His body eclipsed the doorframe, creating an unwelcome edge to the conversation like a wild animal had just walked next to your campsite, and you were making discrete and deliberate movements to dodge its interest. Moments passed, and he went to sit beside Gaz to discuss God knows what. It could be anything from cleanliness techniques to how best to blast someone’s head off from 100 meters away. 

“Can’t wait to get home and have a pint, Fuck, I deserve it.” Price sighed, tilting his head back in thought.

“I don’t know why you’re celebrating. I’m the one that did the hard work,” You chirped, a wicked grin crossing your lips. 

Before more chaos got to ensue after you dropped that metaphorical, though relevant, bombshell, you slipped away. Hearing footsteps behind you, you slinked into a maintenance closet, slowly and patiently winding the door handle shut so as not to make an audible click. Your heart thrummed in your chest, wide eyes drinking in any scraps of visible light in the pitch-dark closet. The door could fling open any second, and some cruel fate could befall you. Maybe thrown into a snowbank or dumped into the frigid lake. Or worse yet, more rucking. Jogging footsteps pounded past, likely going to check for you in the other closet, which was your makeshift bedroom. 

Opportunity struck. Winding the doorknob, you cringed as the door made a low groan as it eased open. Redirecting the stored adrenaline from your hidey-hole in the closet, you steadily crept to the exit door, only feet away. Whipping your head to check for footsteps, more hooting laughter from the other side of the compound said they were coming your way. On bounding, featherlight footsteps, you crossed to the other side of the hallway, pushing open the latch bar with your elbow and slipping the door closed with your fingertips. 

There was more frigid air, but this time, it was welcome. Having escaped your second life-or-death situation of the day, your boots crunched over thick snow, seeing Laswell and Graves expedite the warheads being placed in what looked like a lead-lined container. Their voices came into earshot as you approached, their chatter with the pilot concluding. A second plane came into view, dwarfed by the larger one. The smaller one would clearly be the one transporting the ‘hot potato,’ as Graves once put it. Angular wings and inky matte paint said that this thing was built to fly under the radar of anyone who would be looking for it- and people would soon be looking for it. 

A sideways head-tilt from Graves indicated that the larger plane was your ride, swinging your pack to rest in a hanging mesh net over the seating area. The two continued their dialogue outside the plane, carrying on about where they could rendezvous to debrief in the next few days. Rubber boots thrumming against the industrial metal fuselage of the plane, you took a moment to dissect your surroundings. This wasn't a commercial plane, far from it. Though the make and model were foreign to you, the shape of the wings and sleek design said that it was designed with one key purpose: Speed. It felt nice to be treated with a speedy ride home. Laswell has a way of always knowing what you’d need before you even knew it. 

Numb joints are set aflame with discomfort, making their irritation known as you settle yourself down to assume your position on the bench of seats. The distant chatter and motion from outside the plane grew louder, hearing the familiar brassy tones of your comrades as you picked at your nails in anticipation. Gaz poked his head around the corner, and you greeted him with a tight-lipped smile, pulling your harness over your head and clipping you into place. Partially to prepare to leave, partially so they couldn’t toss you into the snowbank without a bit of a fight. 

“She’s in here,” He called out, tossing his bag and climbing with a groan into the plane cabin. 

“Snitch,” You uttered, catching a smile from him as he chucked his bag into the mesh hammock. 

Gaz had a grace to the way he walked, even when he was injured. If you didn’t know he had an inch-deep gash in his thigh and maybe ignored a couple of winges, you’d never know he was wounded. It must be a consequence of the job; these boys probably see injuries twice as severe every other week. The rest of the task force approached in due time as you heard the tail end of Ghost's thick accent saying something about an ‘old geezer.’

Seeing the jet carrying the warheads disappear into the horizon, blinking in disbelief at its pace's sheer speed and silence. Satisfied at the rate of the weapons’ proximity from your person fading, you listened as the remaining three teammates arranged themselves for another flight. With that, you were in motion, taking advantage of a cleared space of concrete and clipping the trees with the landing gear as you reached liftoff. It didn’t take long for all traces of your existence to be wiped from the compound, just as a delicate snowfall started to flurry in the early morning darkness. 

“Alright folks,” Laswell sighed into the microphone from the cockpit cabin, creating a short staticky rumble of feedback from her breath “We touch down in Alaska, then go our separate ways.”

From an estimation of the distance from flight logs you had read once, you gauged that you could be in for an eight-hour flight before you’re in friendly territory. Six with the make of this plane. Could be five if weather permits. Precious seconds before you’re back in the comfort of a bed that your tepid muscles pleaded for. Your mind was a tangled mess of unwrapping the last few hours. First, to what show you’d catch up on when you get home, then how close you were to freezing to death, and again, what you’ll bring home for your neighbour who took care of your goldfish. Luckily, you had a few hours to digest these thoughts before they’re put into practice in your home state. 

“Earth to Luaaa… Calling Miss Graaant,” Soap’s voice cut into your conscience, snapping you out of your daze, “Welcome back. Hey, we’ve decided on your callsign. There’s no talking your way out of it this time.”

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Master List

[cosmichalo]

🐜—continued.

Examining chewed-through wires, sparks spilling from them as the whir of machinery hiccups in intervals, the ultrahuman can only nod. "A majority of the laboratory will need extensive renovations," leading towards another shaft at the far reaches of Deep Colosseum, perfectly cylindrical in outline—clearly, not made in the haste or similar vein as the other tunnels dotting these murky depths below The Under.

Already occupying the furthest place beneath the roaring desert sands, Magdelena had long set her sights for lower. What with The Under's reopening—a project she'd (begrudgingly there at first) dedicated blood, sweat, and bolts to—the need to move her place of operations out of this once-prominent arena seems more time sensitive than ever.

Lovingly, she stares into that black abyss, the sounds of L-S and Hitchcock exterminating the colonies remaining in parallel tunnels reverberating upwards. "It would be what many call 'miraculous' that construction on the Abyssal Laboratory has not been halted due to these recent... inconveniences." She means both the influx of insects, as much as she does the people above.

Her head whips, irises dilating before blooming in vivid red colors as her sensors detect movement. "Elisabetta–" Not another word is needed. Snarling from somewhere unseen, the scraping of sharp claws against concrete creates suspense as heavy thuds thunder in closer; the Silvally lunges, iron jaws extending and crunching down upon the lone ant that had scurried into view.

Wrong place, wrong time.

"Do away with them, please." Exasperated in tone, Magdelena moves from the side of the shaft, her eyes soon becoming their neutral, purple hue once again. Elisabetta needs not another command—trotting with her tail-fin waving, the Synthetic Pokemon lurches back and hurls the Durant, jaws releasing them right into the vortex. Sparkling electricity dissipates their form, in a matter of seconds.

Reclining against a wall, the loudest of sighs escapes the woman at last, while her companion comes over for a scratch beneath the chin. "Could they have chosen a more inopportune time—here, amid the season our colosseum circuit reaches peak activity?"

@orremancy

[antvnger]

Gloomy grey clouds loomed overhead stretching along like a vast blanket, Blocking out any luminescence rays that once took place, Slippery Rivulets seeped along drenching whatever was in their wake while droplets danced about as they crashed to the ground like bullets, The thunder roared and bellowed its volume flaring up like a tantrum. As the lingering wet and musky but rather fresh scent swooped along.

Purdey and her colony had just Scuttled in under Scott's door a few minutes earlier before the ferocity of the weather grew harsher. Drenched and feeling the fatigue they opened their spiracles in unison all shuffling to a nearby corner, Some started to preen themself, Others were on the lookout and on guard, A big handful were cleaning the larvae and not straying to far from the Queen, It looks like their nest will be flooded in no time. That's why they had a sneaky plan Scott's house was inevitably an enticing new home.

(Ay I was gonna say Purdey she comes and goes, Like the song Karma Chameleon lol. But lookie here what's happened haha.)

Scott hears the thunder rumble outside, and he sighs contentedly. Nothing like a good thunderstorm.

He heads for the kitchen, and to get there, he has to go through the living room. He freezes midstep when he sees the ant colony in the corner. An entire ant colony. In his living room. “Oh boy,” he mutters quietly. This’ll be interesting.

[sanguinesorcery]

The mainland wasn't in as much of a shambles as Fariah had initially thought.

Even without a central civilization to rally around, the peoples themselves still managed to settle in and make their livings. It was something she could commend, seeing it up close for the first time in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she had been here. Some time in her father's reign, and the visit then had been brief.

The roads and byways were hardly more than packed worn dirt anymore, pale shadows of the illustrations in the journals of its glory years far before her time. Every so often, a paving stone would still be intact, stubbornly defiant to the passage of time, with the ruins of the what the capital had been strewn almost artfully through the Hyrulian landscape.

It had been nearly a week and a half since the unit of six had made landfall in one of their southern ports. Nine days simply because one of the horses was their Empress' Dragon. The warchargers were vicious brutes of mutant horses. Giants with wide mouths and many pointed teeth with the disposition to match their sinister grins. They thundered the ground when ran at full bear and had a surprising amount of stamina, but they sacrificed speed for such fierceness. A journey from the coasts to the rolling grasslands of what had once been Hyrule proper took nearly twice as long due to the beast, and a party only moved at the speed of its slowest.

They weren't blatantly armed, nor were they openly armored. Doing so would draw unwanted attention to the unit and they already had their fine distraction. It would do no favors to show they were on any sort of important mission, and any who got too curious as to why six of the Sidhe were riding at a fair pace toward the northeast would be reminded in the huffing roars and hungry teeth of the point stallion that it was honestly none of their business.

One of the few merchant caravans traveling the mainland had sent word of a relatively safe passage for access to something the Imperial family had been after for what felt like over a century now; an unowned mine had been found in the northeast region of the kingdom. Digging into the locals of the region, the place had all but been abandoned by established civilization and no one had laid any claim to it for some time, if at all.

It was wonderful news to the Empress herself, such that she not only handpicked the detail that would be moving to claim it, she had practically demanded to lead the charge herself. Her family had vied for mainland mines via the proper avenues when they realized their meager hauls of standard minerals and ores would not be enough to sustain their current lifestyle, to no avail in the past. But the royal family had all but disappeared in their last calamity and so with that in mind, Fariah opted finally to invade the mainland.

Political negligence was a serious thing in cases of land acquiring, one she planned to utilize with extreme prejudice if the royal family should randomly appear one day. Given the disturbing cycle of disaster and return Hyrule seemed to experience more commonly than anyone else, it was only a matter of time. In that time, the Sidhe should be able to not only establish, but defend the small mining colony they were taking now.

Island life made one complacent with time and distance. She knew it was not going to be a simple overnight campaign, but the scale of the kingdom -much less the continent itself- simply overwhelmed her personal time tables. The itinerary in her head kept having to push deadlines back further and further as she realized this would be a territory that was not easy to get to. Perhaps she could find the nearest coastline here and try to set up a small port town. That would have to be considered later, of course, but it was good to put it on the ever-growing to-do list she was accruing on the trip.

The journey had started taking its toll on Bucephalus. Normally an amiable beast (for a Dragon), capable of taking orders efficiently with little fuss, he had decided enough was enough after nearly two weeks of being on the move with little rest and enrichment. To put it simply, the warcharger was bored and he was set to make it everybody else's problem. After crossing into the region her navigator said was the final stretch, the black monolith stopped dead and refused to move. Any attempts to make him continue were met with resistance, a stomp of a hoof with a counterpoint of that unearthly roar to express his distaste.

Accepting her current fate astride the monstrous horse, Fariah turned her head to address the navigator. ">>How far is it to our meeting point?<<"

Being careful to stay far from the temperamental beast's head and more importantly its teeth, the navigator stopped their own horse next to her to pull out the map rolled in a pocket on their saddle. ">>A half a day maybe, Your Imperial Grace. Taking into account our speed as of now.<<"

">>Which, as luck would have it, is none.<<"

She sighed heavily, pulled the reigns in her hands tight as the stallion tried to express more anger with a snap of his teeth in the navigator's direction. Thwarted from his plans, the Dragon flattened his ears to his head. A perfect mirror to his rider, whose ears also snapped tight to her head in annoyance of his antics.

">>I suppose a rest is in order, then.<<" she finally announced, receiving a series of positive results from the rest of the detail. ">>If something happens near that mine, the caravan can handle it long enough for us to come to their aide. In the meantime...<<"

A quick scan of her surroundings were given and they centered on a structure nearby. It was hard to not notice the thing, the walls of what were possibly an old fortress blended into the landscaping to use the natural impregnability of it. A marvel, really, to find a military installation still standing here, much less dominating the landscape as wholly as it was. She would be a fool not to use it to her current advantage, nodding her head toward it.

">>There. That should suffice. We will rest here, let the brat hunt for rats or squirrels or whatever he sees fit to unwind, and continue on in the morning. I feel we could all use a break from the road anyhow. You...<<" She pointed to one of the detail, then to a second. ">>...And you. Run ahead and find us a safe spot to enter, if it is safe at all. I will follow along behind the rest of you, he may do better following than leading his herd for now.<<"

With a combined ">>Yes, Empress<<", the two scouts set off to do their given role, the remaining detail following at a brisk staggered trot behind them. As expected, with what he thought were his mares getting away from him, Bucephalus grumbled and stepped at his own pace with occasional tosses of his dangerous head after them.

The paved road seemed to form out of the dirt, its existence surprising the Empress as it turned and coiled up the side of the mount. This was impressive, the integrity of a place under fire to maintain more than just its outward shape but the paths to it as well, the walls encircling the solid natural core barely missing any masonry. Even the flourish details were still recognizable, making the structure all the more beautiful to her in its ruin.

">>How delightful...<<" she muttered to herself in some small appreciative awe before she spotted one of the scouts up ahead beckoning her with a hand.

One of the portals on the side had the back crumbled into what looked like a small chamber enclosed by the wall, the smear of soot in the middle of the floor among scattered rocks denoting this as a place someone had stayed in once before. It was still a large enough space to comfortably house all six and their horses, including the Dragon.

">>Alright. I assume this is safe...<<" she posited, tethering the warhorse to give him as limited motion as possible, but still have ample opportunity to hunt any small vermin that dared come too close.

">>Yes, Empress. We checked completely inside of it before choosing it.<<"

">>Good. Get a fire started and we will unpack what we need for the night here. Keep eyes and ears open, we do not know what else could be inhabiting around here. Stay away from the summit, move back down toward the base if you need to. May we have a good uneventful night and continue to our destination in the morning.<<"

A chorus of affirmatives met her before the flurry of activity began. For in its inertia, rest would soon arrive.

@dullweapons || Starter Call

[bolrace]

Horseplay Chronicles: Unraveling the Drama Behind Indian Racing Duels

Buckle up, racing aficionados, as we embark on a journey through the captivating annals of Indian horse racing—a realm where each thunderous hoofbeat echoes tales of historical duels. These aren't just races; they're gripping dramas, unfolding against the backdrop of a rich historical tapestry, fueled by an undying competitive spirit that transcends time.

1. Hoofprints in History: Setting the Stage for Legendary Rivalries

Let's rewind the reel to the early days of Indian horse racing when the sport was finding its legs on the subcontinent. The first clashes weren't just about speed and stamina; they were about establishing a legacy. Horses like "Champion Charger" and "Stalwart Steed" weren't merely competitors; they were trailblazers, racing into the pages of history books with a fierce determination to etch their names in gold.

The colonial era saw the infusion of British equestrian traditions, adding a touch of aristocracy to the Indian racing scene. Horses became symbols of prestige, and rivalries were born out of a desire to prove superiority, not just on the track but within the socio-cultural context of the time.

2. The Roaring '80s: Feathers Ruffled and Turf Wars Unleashed

Fast forward to the neon-hued '80s, a time when Indian horse racing donned a flamboyant persona. The duels between "Neon Nightshade" and "Radiant Rocket" weren't just about racing supremacy; they were glitzy showdowns capturing the zeitgeist of the era. It was the age of bold colors, big hair, and even bigger egos, and the horses mirrored the extravagant spirit.

As the thoroughbreds thundered down the turf, they carried the aspirations of an entire generation. The tracks became runways, and the horses, glamorous models strutting their stuff. Each duel was a performance—a clash of styles and attitudes, complete with high-stakes drama that left spectators yearning for an encore.

3. Beyond the Finish Line: The Legacy of Competitive Spirit

What sets these historical rivalries apart isn't just the checkered flags or photo finishes; it's the indomitable spirit of competition that lingers beyond the finish line. Horses became not just athletes but symbols of resilience, determination, and the relentless pursuit of excellence.

The competitive spirit forged on the tracks seeped into the cultural fabric of Indian horse racing. Rivalries fueled passionate debates, ignited rival fanbases, and transformed each race into a microcosm of societal aspirations and dreams. The spirit of competition, ingrained in the sport's DNA, continues to shape the contemporary racing landscape.

Conclusion:

As we navigate the labyrinth of Indian horse racing's historical rivalries, we find more than just tales of speed and stamina. These duels are living chronicles, revealing the evolution of a sport that has weathered the storms of time with an unwavering competitive spirit. So, fellow racing enthusiasts, the next time you hear the thunderous hooves, remember, you're not just witnessing a race; you're part of a legacy, a saga where history and competition entwine like a thrilling plotline on the grand stage of Indian horse racing.

[droningmachinations]

But Secrets Never Stay Hidden: A Droning Machinations Episode

Written By Joseph M.

Special thanks to Yvarg for inspiring the last name of the character of Michael Spear.

My name is Michael Spear, and I was called to North Texas.

I walked past graffiti, a garble of words and letters spray painted onto the side of a building. These were incohesive to others, but not to me. Not to my friends.

Joseph Swaney and Dylan Steirn are only some my best friends. They walked with me through the back alleys also, following me into my house.

It was cluttered in my house; I hadn't cleaned it in days because I was busy preparing for today. There was a whole turkey on the table from a week ago that was probably rotten by now; there was a bottle of honey spilled over, which the ant colony in my home was salivating on the moment it hit the floor, and the honey inside of which had turned a strange green; there was a chicken pot pie that a rat in my home was devouring.

Dylan and Joseph followed me into the basement, where I kept a supply of armaments. Dylan stuffed an assault rifle into his jacket, while Joseph opted for dual pistols; they both also selected baseball bats as a viable option. I personally grabbed a shotgun and a bamboo spear with a sharpened tip.

We didn't have time to eat a whole meal, so me and my friends slurped out of one-minute noodles. It felt like a full-enough meal anyway, and I enjoyed the savory taste of the slippery noodles in my tongue, the spicy tang of the hot sauce that came with the carton. We sat together at one table and ate, sipped the broth, then set our chopsticks and spoons down, splashes of remaining soup getting all over the rosewood table.

I, followed by only two of my closest friends, walked out and confronted a leader of the LEVIATHAN terrorist and weapons-trading organization. He was a scruffy man with nothing to show for himself but immoral deeds and an unfortunate criminality.

He had a spit when he talked, a gargle in his voice. His name was Potent De La Kill, and he was out for one person's blood, specifically the blood of my friend Joseph Swaney. Potent walked Joseph's way, but I stepped in front of him. "What are you trying to do?" he growled.

"You ain't doing this," I said, staring into his soul, which somehow didn't deflect his eyes away from my face. "You ain't touching Dylan, and you ain't touching Joseph."

Dylan inched closer with his assault rifle, pushing Potent away.

Suddenly, something went off, reds and oranges blasting through the alleyway, multiple spheres of light and warmth sending all of us back. I watched Joseph, and they (Joseph's pronouns are they/them) landed in an olive dumpster bin while Dylan and I ducked behind a trash bin, safe from the explosions.

I leapt out and attacked Potent with my spear, savagely thrusting the blade into the air. Bullets sprayed, foes dropped as Dylan shot at Potent's cronies with his assault rifle, and Joseph ran out into the open with two pistols.

Potent, meanwhile, began to fight back against me. He blocked a strike and shattered the spear's handle into bamboo fragments, then holistically and belligerently tried to hand-hammer me with his fist. All of his blows, I dodged with precision that could only be obtained by feeding on the immense power within the Nexus Of Concatenating Matrixes, and honing a concentration over my entire life.

As we were being backed into a corner, a golden sliver of light shone into Potent's face, sending him staggering backwards and into a trash can.

There was a garbage bag in that trash can. He enjoyed that trash can very much.

Joseph, Dylan and I stood with our backs against each other, guns roaring, thuds awakening the populace around the dimly-lit backstreet.

Thunder and lightning filled the skies, before a partitioning happened and a blurry whim of fur filled my vision. I felt wings slap against my face, before the entire mess of fur revealed itself.

She was beautiful, an anthropomorphic woman with fur as white as snow, a black patch of fur on her stomach and around her eyes; and she wore an emerald amulet, one that gleamed even in the dimmest nights and cloudiest mornings. She had a determined squint in her eyes, one far more focused than even mine; she had an energetic personality and an abrasive but poised fighting style, leaving claw marks in all of the terrorists and her fellows in just as much awe as we were. Golden flashes of lightning formed golden halos around her and the other similarly woolly men behind her.

She and the other creatures in colorful coats had a long, well-kept tail, softly brushed wings and plushy ears, and a fierce personality that challenged the darkness in their world and ours, and I knew upon seeing the furry angels that they arrived here through the Nexus Of Concatenating Matrixes.

When I saw her, I knew that she was Destiny.

[magnumversumplus]

Manananggal Ko

Episode 11: Abangan Part II (Look Out Part II)

Written By Joseph M.

In the slums of Metro Manila, in a coven of manananggals, in a ring of gambling, cockfighting and other illegal activities, Imeldnananggal droned through the chambers, her head tilted down and her heart ripped apart by Crisanto, who left her in shambles to be with his lost romantic partner again. His rediscovered lover, Lagg the manananggal, used to be a shoulder to lean on. Imeldnananggal met Lagg during a coven ritual in which the leader of their clan, the Fraksi Hantu pangulo.

Now Imeldnananggal was searching for a new male to call her love, a new beau homme, a gwapong lalake to call her own. She consulted the Fraksi Hantu’s fearsome but respected leader, the Keeper of the Colony known as Bananananggal, or simply Madame Saging (saging is Tagalog for banana, a fruit from which Bananananggal’s name derives.) Madame Saging lived in a bahay kubo–a hut designed with intricate bamboo patterns and topped with corrugated metal roof and straws, and the entire bahay kubo was bolstered on bamboo pillars.

The bahay was outside of the manananggal hideout itself, looking over the dirty, scrappy Manila ghettos. At the doorstep of the house was a welcome mat, and by the bintana (window) of the bahay was a shelf of escrima batons. Displayed above the shelf was a manananggal claw, and in front of the cabinet were two rocking chairs and a table, where Bananananggal invited Imeldnananggal to sit.

Imeldnananggal and Banananggal had a motherly-daughterly bond that transcended their relationship as members of the same coven. Bananananggal’s deep soothing growl always provided comfort to a troubled Imeldnananggal, and Madame Saging’s red eyes always glowed with maternal love towards the coven members closest to her. Imeldnananggal, also known as Imelda, always felt comfortable confiding her deepest and most personal secrets with the Madame.

Imelda–masmalunkot siya ngayon. Lungkot siya kasi she wanted him back, and he wanted someone else. It was like three batteries in an electronic; only two were required to make it run and the last was a spare.

In the weavings of fate, Imelda had to untangle herself from the web of destiny and find a lover. That’s why she consulted Madame Saging–she wanted Madame Saging to use her seeking powers to find Imelda her true love. The Madame’s seeking abilities were potent–not only was she able to seek through the future, but she was also able to manipulate and change the fates of those in her coven to an extent.

The Madame’s seekings always began the same way, and they commenced similarly today as well. She chanted a prayer in the language of Mananangglian while wrapping her arms around Imelda, she felt the boiling veins underneath Imelda’s sinews and the bubbling blood coursing through her body and she saw Imelda’s reflected in her irises, a vision of a man donning a red bandana and pamaypay staring into her eyes as a manananggal priestess announced their married status, thunderous roars and ear-piercing screeches filling the chapel.

Madame Saging’s body began to shudder, her arms trembling and her head twitching, her wings swinging outward, knocking down the shelf of eskrima sabers and whacking Imelda across the face. Madame Saging’s sooty and flowy hair lashed against the wall, her skin turning from slightly ashen and pallid to sickly as she saw misfortune in her eyes. Madame Saging wailed in agony, vomit rising from her face and overflowing like a dam, chunks of human flesh dripping from her lips and splattering on the table.

Imelda tried to awaken Madame Saging from her fretful nightmares, but she was convulsing too quickly to be held still. “Wake up! Madame Saging, wake up!”

Madame Saging’s irises dilated, her expression filling with shock. Her parched and ashen lips muttered something, her talons pulling Imelda close while she frantically tried to wake the frantically palpitating Madame up, and then Madame Saging froze and became very still.

Imelda’s beckoning was stifled when Madame Saging’s quavering halted, and was then filled with relief as she saw the legs of Madame Saging wandering the premises, her ghostly apparition still roaming the squalors of Manila.

Imelda, though knowing that Madame Saging still roamed in spiritual form, was filled with tremendous grief. Her begging cries for Madame Saging to wake up turned to silent cries, and she bitterly asked her mentor one final time to open her eyes. “Madame Saging, rise.” She turned to prayer.

[jmndad]

He was the captain of his ship. He led a mutiny against the Royal Navy commander, and he won.

The crew made him captain, and now they were all privateers.

They dropped off the remaining loyal officers in Haiti, opposite side of the island from Tortuga.

Then weighed anchor and began their careers as pirates.

They only attacked enough times to make a decent living but not enough to make a name for them selves.

Switching ships every so often to keep the identity of him and his crew secret.

That surprised many unsuspecting ships from the colonies and others.

But fate has a way of catching up to you. The winds had died just prior to the next attack. The crew disheartened, mill around the deck, hungry for a fight.

When suddenly the weather drastically changes.

A rogue storm arrives without warning. The crew caught unaware panic and being to run around knowing that this storm might sink them.

20-foot waves begin to crash the deck. The roaring winds and booming thunder drown out the screams of crew members as they are swept over the sides.

The captain stands his ground, hands on the wheel in a death like grip, trying to steer away from the in coming waves.

Knowing that if he doesn't turn the ship, soon she will be lost.

Despite his determination, he can not get the ship to respond.

Two waves bigger than any he had seen before engulf the ship. The main mast breaks under the weight of the waves. Killing a dozen men.

"Abandon ship," the captain tells his first mate. "Save yourself if you can. I will try and keep her afloat." Knowing all was lost, but he would go down with his ship.

The first mate says, "Aye aye captain." And runs towards the ladder leading to the main deck when the rear mast snaps, taking him over the side.

Cursing the captain knows it won't be long now. He resigns himself to the fact that all is lost. Sending a prayer to Davey Jones as the ship's hull cracks, splitting open and allowing the sea to rush in filling every room inside.

The ship sinks quickly, taking the entire crew with it to the dark depths of the ocean.

[mudaship39]

Heart of Fire Dragon Soul of Flame Phoenix, & Sea Fairy Ocean Blood

A spoken word poetry book about being a displaced disconnected diaspora, an Asian native of color, & a queer trans native of color 

Chapter 15: Verse:

There is Power in Silence

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

My child

My descendant

My heir

I have come across land and sea to find you 

I heard your earth, ocean, & sky prayers

I heard your phoenix flame cries

I see your sea fairy ocean tears 

I brush your tears away As I hold you in my arms

As you cry in my embrace

As the Ocean Mother

As the Sky Father

As the Earth mother 

Let me bestow upon you my mana

Let me give you advice and consul 

You are no longer a child

It’s been ages since you we talked 

You are now an adult

But still in need of maternal and paternal advice

From your ancestors

You who is sometimes my son

You who is sometimes my daughter

You who is always my third gender and nonbinary child

I am here for you my son

I am here for you my daughter

I am here for you my child

I remember how happy you were learning about you indigenous third gender

I remember your joy learning about your cultural identity and gender identity

That exists in Indigenous Pasifika gender fluidity outside western colonial gender and sexuality binary  

Your cultural obligation and spiritual responsibility of being a maohi raerae elder and healer 

Before cultural genocide 

Before displacement

Before land theft

How many of our kin came to third gender elders for consul and advice

I remember your joy learning how to be a storykeeper

I remember your happiness learning how to be a orator

I remember your contentment learning how to be a storyteller

What did cultural genocide rob from you

What did displacement steal from you

My son

My daughter

My nonbinary or maohi raerae child

Tell me

What would you be doing if it wasn’t for this 

Be an elder and healer 

But for your nation or iwi

Be a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

But also for your clan

Not just for your family

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice There is power in a song

You have always had a voice of fire

Given to you by your earth mother, sky father, & ocean mother

You have always had a song of flame

Given to you by your fire dragon father, your flame phoenix mother, & your sea fairy mother

You have always spoken

You have always sang

You have always whispered

You have always screamed and roared

With this present

With this gift

When they broke your mind

When they broke your heart

When they broke your soul

I know how hard it was for you to speak

I know how hard it was for you to sing

My child, I your ancestral mother, understand your silence

My child with a fire dragon heart

My child with a flame phoenix soul

My child with a sea fairy aura

My child with roots made out of hibiscus flowers and lotus plants

My child with bones made out of jade

My child with a body made out of earth, ocean, & sky

You are our joy 

You are our spirit

You are our will 

You are our pride 

I know this because long ago I made your demigod body myself

With my own celestial blood 

With my own divine skin

I took my own heavenly essence of the earth, ocean, & sky

And I molded a demigod body made out of earth, ocean, & sky

I took a fire dragon’s heart

I took a flame phoenix’s soul

I took a sea fairy’s aura

And I created you 

My child of earth, ocean, & sky

And I forged you out of fire, flame, & water

They have stolen so much from you

They have robbed so much from you

Don’t let them take anything else

There is power in silence!

There is power in a voice!

There is power in a song!

Silence can be deafening!

Quiet can be thunderous!

You reminded me of that

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice 

There is power in a song

This is not the first time I heard this kind of silence my child

I understand your silence

I more than anyone

Understand the grief in silence…

A long time ago

Before you were even stolen from the earth, ocean, & sky 

As a child of fire, flame, & water

I heard this same silence

When they stole from your ancestors!

Their culture, their traditions, & their customs!

When they stole from your elders!

Their language and their spirituality!

When they banned language 

When they banned traditional tattoos 

When they forcibly converted your kin 

When they made your cultural identity and gender identity illegal

When they exterminated your people

Your ancestors were silenced 

Their voices hushed

Their songs quieted

Their voices were stolen from them

Their songs were robbed from them

My child I understand your silence 

She says weeping ocean tears

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

We know just how powerful a voice is

We know just how powerful a song is

It is why we always passed down stories

Its is why we always passed down knowledge 

Through oral tradition

Being a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

It is a great honor

It is a noble kuleana

It is a great privilege  

A responsibility and obligation

With decades, centuries, & millennia of history

It is a sacred tradition 

It is why so much was lost 

When they took away our lingua franca 

Losing one storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

Is like burning down hundreds of libraries

And other centers of knowledge

Tell me my child

How much did we lose

When they came to our lands and our seas

When they took away our voices

When they took away our songs

When they robbed our voice

When they stole our song

It is defiance to speak

It is resilience to sing

Speak for us

Sing for us 

They took our voice 

They took our song 

So we your kupuana speak through you 

We your ancestors

The sky father, the ocean mother, & earth mother

The fire dragon, the flame phoenix, & the sea fairy

We long to hear your earth voice

We long to hear your ocean song

Your voice of fire

Your song of flame

My heir I understand your silence

My child I know how hard it is for you to speak

My child I know how hard it is for you to sing

I understand the grief in silence

Healing is defiance

Rest is resilience

It is defiance to speak

It is resilience to sing

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

My heir

My child

My descendant 

You are a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller

You are a guardian of stories

You are a protector of songs

You have always had a song of fire

You have always had a song of flame

A thousand generations of pain, anguish, & suffering

A thousand generations of sorrow, despair, & torment 

A thousand generations of anger, fury, & rage 

A thousand generations of joy, happiness, & contentment

Ancestral armor of your whanau, your hapua, your iwi

That is what is ingrained in you

A family of artists

A family whose kuleana was storykeepers, orators, & storytellers

A family whose kupuana 

Was full of artists who were poets, playwrights, singers, dancers, writers, & actors

You say that you have forgotten how to speak

You say that you have forgotten how to sing

Long ago my child

We your ancestors

When we first gave you your gift of fire

When we first gave you your gift of flame

When we bestowed upon you

An earth voice

A voice of fire

When we bequeathed you

An ocean song

A song of flame

I didn’t have to teach you how to speak

I didn’t have to teach you how to sing

It is ingrained in you since the beginning

I understand your silence

My child, my heir, my descendant

I know what they did to you 

Made you refuse to speak as a storyteller with your earth voice

I know what they did to you 

Made you refuse to sing as an orator with your ocean song 

What they did to you took away your voice of fire

What they did to you stole away your song of flame

A present of fire that the fire dragon father, flame phoenix mother, & sea fairy mother gave to you

A gift of flame that we the sky father, ocean mother, & earth mother gave to you

To continue your kuleana or proud responsibility and noble obligation 

Of your kupuna or elders of an ancient and powerful house

Who carried on a noble and proud tradition Of a thousand generations of playwrights, singers, dancers, actors, & poets 

Ever since the origin of your Southeast Asian and East Asian family 

On the side of your Southeast Asian Vietnamese Kinh and East Asian Chinese Hoa father   

The earth mother, the ocean mother, & the sky father long ago

We gave you a gift your ocean song as an orator 

The dragon, the fairy, & the phoenix long ago

They gave you a present your earth voice as a storykeeper and storyteller

You used to always speak as a spoken word poet with your voice of fire

You used to always sing as a songwriter with your song of flame

To continue the legacy, heritage, bequest, & birthright

Of your ancestors or na kupuna

Of your elders or kupuna

Your whanau or family

Your hapau or clan

Your my iwi or nation 

As a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

What did cultural genocide rob from you

What did displacement steal from you

What more could it take than it already did

My child, my heir, my descendant 

What would you be doing right now 

If this didn’t happen

Exactly what you are doing right now

Being a storykeeper, orator, & storykeeper

We the earth, the sky, & ocean 

We long and wish to once again hear your ocean song

She the fairy, she the phoenix, & he the dragon 

They all say they yearn and they desire 

To once again hear your earth voice

We plead, we appeal, we beg

We implore you

Our heir, our child, our descendant 

To once again speak with your earth voice 

To once again sing with your ocean song

To sing and speak as a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

With your voice of fire 

With your song of flame

To once again hear your earth voice 

To once again hear your ocean song

We ask you to speak

We ask you to sing 

We ask you to whisper 

We ask you to scream

We ask you to roar

With all the pain and anguish

With all the joy and happiness

With all the sorrow and torment

With all the hatred and loathing 

With all the fury and rage 

You have in your mind, heart, & soul

So speak with your pain and anguish 

So whisper with sorrow and torment

So sing with joy and happiness

So scream with hatred and loathing 

So roar with fury and rage

My son No’eau Aitonui Hoata

My daughter Heiani Mareva Hoata

My maohi raerae child Vaiarii Hoata

You are a war dance of defiance

You are a love song of resilience 

You are a battle cry of resistance

You, our child born of fire, flame, & water are a war dance!

A war dance that can frighten, discourage, & terrorize an enemy army of even a million strong!

A war dance that can motivate, reinforce, & heal an exhausted and disheartened army of a couple hundred thousand strong!

You, our child with a body made of earth, ocean, & sky are a battle cry!

A battle cry that can quake the earth, tremble the oceans, & shake the skies themselves of this planet! 

A battle cry that can move the planets, the moons, & the stars in the universe itself!

You, our child with a celestial and stellar dragon heart, a divine and heavenly phoenix soul, & a cosmic and ancient fairy aura are a love song!

My child with bones made out of jade 

You are a love song that can stir people's hearts, rouse people’s souls, & inspire people’s minds!

My child with roots of hibiscus plants and white lotus flowers 

You are a love song that can move mountains, not just people!

You are a storykeeper, you are an orator, & you are a storyteller

So our heir and our successor

We ask you to please speak 

We ask you to please sing

With your earth voice! 

With your ocean song!

With your present of fire 

With your gift of flame

That we your kupuna and elders gave you

A long time ago to uphold your family and clans kuleana

There is power in silence

Silence can be deafening

Quiet can be thunderous  

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

You are a voice

You are a song

You are a whisper

You are a memory

You are a reminder

You are a roar

Of a people they tried to erase

You are a reminder that we are still here

We will always be here

We are not going anywhere

You hear our earth voice

You hear our ocean song 

We hear your voice of fire

We hear your song of flame

Feel your mana through your bones made out of jade

Through your roots of white lotus flowers and hibiscus plants 

Your earth, ocean, and sky mind 

It wants to speak 

Your flame phoenix heart 

It wants to sing

Your sea fairy aura 

It wants to whisper

Your fire dragon heart

It wants to roar 

You have a fire dragon heart

You have a flame phoenix soul 

You have a sea fairy aura

You have a body made of earth, ocean, & sky

Born out of fire, flame, & water

This is where your voice comes from

This is where your song comes from

As an elder and healer

As a storykeeper, orator, & storyteller

You are both ancestor and descendant at the same time

See the thousands of ancestors

At your back

See the thousands of descendants 

In front of you

Feel our mana through your roots made out of white lotus flowers and hibiscus plants

They are waiting for you

To hear you speak

To hear you sing

To hear your song

To hear your voice

Your ancestors were silenced 

Their voices hushed

Their songs quieted

Their voices stolen from them

Their songs robbed from them

Rest is defiance

Healing is resilience

They want to speak

They want to sing

It is defiance to speak

It is resilience to sing

There is power in silence

There is power in a voice

There is power in a song

Speak for us

Sing for us 

You are a guardian of stories

You are a protector of songs

Speak our stories

Sing our songs

They took our voice 

They took our song 

It is defiance to speak 

It is resilience to sing

So we your kupuana speak through you

We entrust you with our voice

We entrust you with our song

Take pride in that

Have joy in that

There is no greater honor

You are our storykeeper, orator, & storyteller 

We your ancestors or na kupuna 

We ask you to speak 

We ask you to sing 

My child

My heir 

My descendant 

Rest is resilience 

Healing is defiance 

You have been silent for too long 

It is time for you to remind them!

With your voice of fire!

With your song of flame!

With your whisper!

With your scream!

With your roar!

There is power in silence! 

There is power in a voice! 

There is power in a song!

[sunspot-illustrations]

Howdy (Hands you a Tabaxi, hands you a Tabaxi, hands you a Tabaxi, hands you a Tabaxi, hands you a taba-)

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Adaptability

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The assembly hall at the institute of learning on Praxos III was one of the finest halls in the entire system. Easily able to handle over a thousand beings it was specifically designed to allow anyone up on stage the ability to speak to the very back of the rows without the need for technology to boost their voice. A rather convenient feature as today the hall was packed to capacity.

A dozen hushed conversations mingled together as those gathered waited for the speaker of the day. They had come from across the planet and even as far away as the outer colonies all for a chance to hear the subject that had captivated their entire species.

As the voices continued to rise and fall like the tide of the ocean the lights began to dim and a lone figure stepped on to the stage. The crowd’s conversations died away and were replaced by the thunderous roar of applause that shook the hall.

Upon reaching center stage the speaker raised up their hands for quiet and the applause slowly pattered out until once more the hall was silent.

“My name is Ozma Dalhime,” the speaker began as their voice echoed throughout the entire hall, “and I hold the position of head researcher of alien lifeforms here at the institute.”

Behind Ozma a large screen slowly descended from the ceiling and the lights of the hall went completely dark save for the lone light on the speaker.

“In my time here I have come to find many interesting and seemingly farfetched life forms that have been discovered across the galaxy, but none as fascinating and frustrating as the one we are here to speak about today.”

At this the projector turned on and a large image of a strange creature appeared on the large screen. Several oh’s and ah’s came from the crowd as the image came into full view.

“This,” Ozma said, “is a human.”

The images began cycling through several different pictures of humans. Some were male, some were female, some had long hair, some had short, some were pale as a ghost, and some were as dark as the starry skies. Dozens of different photos went by, each unique and different from those that came before, leaving many to wonder how such a chaotic species could have survived for so long.

“Born in the Milky Way galaxy on a rather hostile planet they have creatively called “Dirt”,” the professor continued to the amused chuckles of the crowd, “they have survived countless generations of strife to now become one of the most recognizable species carving their way through the cosmos.”

Ozma paused for a moment and looked over the audience.

“Can any of you tell me why?”

The crowd was silent save for a few murmurs between groups here and there, but no one spoke up.

“I hope when you came to my lecture you didn’t expect me to do all the talking.” Ozma replied happily as he walked back and forth across the stage. “Come on, why do you think humans have survived for this long?”

Ozma saw a lone hand rise from the third row and motioned for the holder to stand up.

“Because they can breathe fire?” they remarked, drawing a rousing laughter from the crowd.

Ozma gave no sign of similar mocking behavior and simply nodded.

“They certainly can seem that way when you make one angry, as I can attest from first-hand experience.” Ozma said. “Does anyone else have an answer?”

Another hand rose further back in the crowd and again Ozma motioned for them to stand up.

“Because of their barbarity?” the second speaker said, this time drawing hushed tones of agreement from those around them.

“You certainly are closer to the answer.” Ozma said, motioning for the crowd to quiet. “When provoked an individual human can draw upon fits of strength that often will destroy their own body, but in the moment they wouldn’t even notice it until their body collapsed completely like a puppet whose strings have been cut.”

Many of the crowd had heard stories of human soldiers lost in this blood madness on the battlefield and had continued fighting even after a majority of their body was covered in third degree burns, who showed no fear when facing down a hive swarm single handedly with nothing but a crude slug thrower and harsh language, that even could wrestle a Draxic warrior into submission despite being half their size.

“In my many travels there is one quality of humans that has superseded their natural, and at times unnatural, strength and is the corner stone of their very being and the reason they have thrived amongst the stars.”

The crowd leaned in as Ozma stopped himself for dramatic effect, smiling to himself before revealing his answer.

“What makes humans interesting, is their adaptability.”

Whatever the crowd had been expecting this certainly was not it. Through the bright lights Ozma could see a few of the guests in the front row showing faces of disbelief, full of questions they thought they knew the answers too already.

“Across my years of travel I have never come upon a species that was so capable of enduring the rigorous extremes that the universe had to offer.” Ozma began, pacing the stage once more.

“I have seen them create homes for themselves on planets with suns that could melt flesh from bone in minutes, on planets so cold that the liquid of your eyes would flash freeze if exposed for even a moment; even on planets devoid of sunlight and filled with creatures of such horrific nature one would believe they were taken straight from the pages of a children’s book have I found them sitting around camp fires laughing into the night.”

Ozma turned and sat on a waiting stool on the stage to catch his breath. He sipped from a water container under the stool for a moment before setting it back down and continuing.

“When I was in the Gamma Belt I found myself waylaid at a space station waiting for the next shuttle out of the system.” Ozma began, his mind reliving the memories as if it had just been yesterday. “I wandered the hallways for days while I waited and came upon many unsavory characters of questionable intent along the way; safe to say I kept my purse string held close for much of the adventure there.”

“During my third day aboard the station I came across one of the most interesting people I have ever met.”

Ozma couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he recounted that strange man. “Their name was Oliver Reid and he owned a small food kart that was nestled on the lower levels of the station.”

“A scruffy human for sure standing no taller than me and missing a hand and an eye, he served a dish made from fresh Razor fish he kept in a nearby tank and prepared right before your eyes.”

A couple gasps came from the crowd at this. Razor fish were some of the most violent of aquatic life that had been discovered so far. Their spines were covered in long protruding spines so sharp that they could cut through metal when provoked.

“When I first met Oliver I could hardly believe his notion that he could somehow provide a dish out of such a violent creature, which he seemed to take offense to and promptly challenged me to a wager.” Ozma continued. “He said if I liked the meal he prepared that I would pay three times what was asked, and that if I didn’t I could eat it for free.”

“Intrigued by the human’s confidence I agreed to the wager and I bore witness to one of the most extraordinary feats I have ever seen come from the creation of a dish.”

“Without skipping a beat the human pulled out a sharpened wooden fork as long as a forearm and strapped it to his missing limb as he approached the tank holding the razor fish; closing his eye for just a moment and without hesitating stabbed the wooden fork into the pot and skewered a razor fish, killing it instantly.”

As Ozma regaled the crowd with his story they could not help but notice the tinges of excitement dotting the professors voice here and there.

“Here was a creature dubbed one of the most lethal killers of the oceans and a human missing an arm and an eye was able to kill it without even flinching.”

“What was even more impressive was that they were indeed able to create a dish worthy of renown that I gladly paid three times for.” Ozma finished as he saw a hand rise from the crowd.

“What does that have to do with their adaptability?” the guest asked. “Truly it is an impressive feat, but I fail to see how it relates.”

Ozma took in the question before standing back on his feet. “As I was eating the dish I learned that the reason Oliver had lost an eye and a hand was from his previous attempts to prepare the razor fish.”

“The first time he had tried his would be entrée sliced through his hand like it was butter and swiftly ate it before he could recover and reattach the appendage; while he had lost his eye on the thirteenth attempt when a spine punctured his eye after getting too close.”

The crowd collectively gasped in horror, one near the back even vacating the contents of their stomach if Ozma heard right.

“I asked him after finishing my meal why he continued with a practice that had cost him so much,” Ozma said, “and he looked me after rubbing the stump that had once held his missing hand and said “If you give up from making mistakes, then clearly you didn’t learn the right lesson it was teaching you.””

Ozma paused once more for effect now that he had his audience in the palm of his hand. “To say I was astounded by such an inspiring insight and find it in the proverbial armpit of the universe was something of an understatement at the time.”

“He told me that through his trials and mistakes he had learned that the Razor fish was unable to comprehend let alone sense wood leaving itself exposed, and that one of its natural defense mechanisms relied on it looking into it’s would be predators eyes and reading the intent from eye motions.”

“Can you imagine that?” Ozma said. “That through his failures this Oliver had refused to give up and continued to adapt and study his situation to such an extent that he was able to overcome seemingly impossible obstacles as if they were nothing more trifling then crossing the street.”

“In an instant the core of humanity was made clear to me; that when presented with a challenge neigh impossible that rather than retreat from it humans would greet it with a devilish smile and continue to change themselves until the impossible became reality.”

The projector that had died down during Ozma’s speech sprang back to life again and showed a new series of pictures. Human settlements on the frozen moons of Jkin VI, roaming human tribes riding massive desert sliders as they crested the roaming dunes of Hava Prime, and even and most astoundingly of the professor standing next to the one handed one eyed human Oliver smiling together over a razor fish dish.

“Humans have the uncanny ability to adapt themselves to whatever situation they come upon and despite the odds rise above the challenge and claim victory; and that is why I find them the most interesting species to observe in the universe.”

[ravenclaw-craftsgirl]

In the Pines

Another in the epic Goblet of Fire challenge posed by one @slytherincursebreaker 

Once more, I have music recommendations that I listened to whilst writing!  More of a darker tone than what the story was but Good Music is Good Music

In the Pines

Rise up, Dead Men

God’s Gonna Cut You Down

Also: Any time a character <Speaks like this>, it’s to signify that they’re speaking French. Figured I should say this to avoid confusion. 

Lilian stared at the webbed branch, rubbing her face in frustration. 

“It’s obviously in the Forbidden Forest. But what’s the challenge? A duel, a scavenger hunt, what?!”  Lilian kicked the desk, jostling the branch a little and clutching her foot. Swearing in french, she hopped around for a moment before noticing something new. The webbing, turned ever so slightly, glittered in the firelight. Within the webbing itself, a message:  I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. Yet should you not be swift, I will be forever lost to the trees.

Lilian looked at the riddle in the webs, and her heart froze. “Non... nonononon. They... They wouldn’t. They surely meant this to cause panic at the prospect...”  Lilian looked towards her sleeping dormmates, but her heart thundered in her chest. She couldn’t help but let her fear cloud her mind, all the night.  Lilian stood with the rest of the remaining competitors at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest. She looked to the Wide-Eye potion Penny had slipped her before hand before looking to the other two Competitors. Lilian saw Nathaniel, and felt an especially heavy weight. She looked to her pocket, and nodded. She walked over, during the preparations, before the actual event took place.  Nathaniel looked to Lilian, slightly surprised. “<Ah, Hello, Miss Le’Reau. I must be quite honest, I didn’t expect to see you. Are... Is something the matter?>” Lilian pulled out the silver compass and roughly pressed it into Nathaniel’s hand. Her tired eyes were all Nathaniel needed to see in order to understand the message. His face was alight with fear, then anger before he turned towards the headmasters.  “<Now isn’t the time, nor place. Trust me. If you haven’t found her before the time is up, I will. I’ll send a flare should I find them first. I swear on it.>”  Nathaniel turned to Lilian, and was reassured by her steel. Yes, she wasn’t a madame of Beauxbatons, obsessed over vanity or pedigree. She was forged by her own hand, through a fire of her own making.  “<And I the same, Lilian. I’m glad to know you are in agreement.>”  Tsukiko simply laughed loudly nearby. “How droll, the weak need to team up to complete such a simple task of finding a beloved object. I almost pity you, you silly competitors. Though, I suppose it only makes sense. It’d take all of you to beat me at this point. I’d wish you luck, but that would imply you have a chance of defeating me.”

Tsukiko simply walked off, laughing to herself while the other two stood there, disdain evident on their faces. “She couldn’t possibly refer to a person as a mere object, could she?” 

Lilian turned to Nathaniel and the question he posed, but couldn’t answer. 

The horn soon blared, calling the competitors to take their marks. Lilian stared at the Forbidden Forest. She’d known the woods for quite some time, but had specifically left Aragog’s colony alone out of respect. She didn’t know what would happen, but hopefully she wouldn’t need to use her ace. For now, she’d only ask her friend for help. Dumbledore explained the rules, detailing the answer to the riddle and wishing well everyone's preparations. Lilian couldn’t help but turn to Tsukiko, but was shocked to see her face a stone mask, devoid of emotions. But looking closer, she could see her opponent clutching her wand with nearly enough force to break it.  Lilian had nearly missed the start signal, had it not been for the roar of cheers erupting from the crowd. Lilian’s focus then snapped to the forest before her. She cursed herself for not learning apparation beforehand, else it would have been far easier. Yet she hadn’t, so she’d make use of the next best thing. “ACCELERER MOMENTUM!”  No sooner had the spell left her lips did the world brighten, her foot pushing off the ground and shooting her forward. Many loud cheers sounded, but quickly faded as she leapt over trees and slid under fallen logs in order to reach her destination.  Luckily for her, this challenge had been tipped in her favor as she raced to Charon’s grove.  Lilian had to physically slow herself in addition to ending her spell in order to keep from slamming into a tree. She stood in a small clearing, with a few wisps of stray web suspended from the trees. Looking around, she turned her gaze up to see the cobalt Acromantula spinning his way down the web, before coming to eye level with Lilian.  “Ah, Caretaker. It has been a bit since you have visited. Are you once more working on your contraption?” Lilian looked to Charon, her chest heaving as tears filled her eyes. “Charon... I need you to take me to Aragog.”  Charon seemed to flinch a little as his mandibles clicked together in a noise akin to contemplation. “This must be due to the increased activity I’ve seen in the woods. Trolls cleared, creatures moved and Red Caps agitated. If you go to Aragog, I may not be able to protect you.”  “Charon please... I only have forty minutes left!”  Charon heard the pleas of his caretaker, once more clicking before touching down onto the ground. “I sense your urgency, but What I do does not come without a price. Are you willing to pay this toll?”  Lilian stared into all eight of Charon’s eyes before nodding. “Merula’s in trouble and I’m the only one who can save her. I need to make sure she’s safe.” Charon chuckled, bemused by her response before bending low. “Position your legs between my legs and abdomen. I will get you there. But once there, you do everything else alone.”  Lilian nodded, mounting the Acromantula and once more casting her speed spell, this time onto Charon.  “Merci, Charon.”  “Mrgh... I’m only doing this because your mate brings better food.”  The duo were soon racing through the forest towards Aragog’s grove. Lilian huddled close to the massive carapace of her companion, occasionally throwing a few spells towards any obstacles that might get in their way, be it debris or Red Caps. It had only been ten minutes since they’d left, but thanks to the Speed Enhancment spell Lilian had cast, they’d easily closed the distance. Lilian sat up and looked around the grove, seeing three people motionless behind a curtain of webs: Evelina Alexandrov, Merula Snyde and a young boy that Lilian could only assume was Tsukiko’s brother.  “Do you not have a time limit, Lilian?” Charon clicked, his abdomen shuddering in anticipation. Lilian nodded before raising her wand into the air.  “Periculum!” 

A spark of blue flew into the air, different from the designated red flare for emergencies. Lilian slid off of her friend before walking towards the three unconscious people. No sooner had she started approaching did five acromantulas descend from above, each chuckling to themselves.  “So, It would appear that a friend is indeed participating. Unfortunate, but not unexpected.”  Lilian steeled herself before looking into the lead Acromantula’s eyes. “I will wait until the time limit. If neither of the other two competitors come, or one of the other two is left behind, I will be rescuing them. Webs or no, I will not leave anyone to die.”  The acromantulas paused, and once more began laughing. This time, mockingly, which riled Charon up.  “So the two-leg thinks she can defeat all of us? Even with the Pet over there?”  Lilian’s hand was soon alight with flame as she glared at the leader. They all backed away shortly after, but made sure to keep their distance within the reach of attack.  It had been another ten minutes before Nathaniel entered the clearing, none too worse for wear. He was sporting yet another scar, this time across the bridge of his nose as it was dripping blood. Lilian moved to heal him when he held his hand. “<I appreciate the gesture, but I find that scars tell stories of ones life. A rather exciting and nerve wracking story this one would tell, No?>”  Despite the dire situation, Lilian couldn’t help but chuckle. “<I suppose this is also to chow off for your girlfriend?>”  Nathaniel nodded before walking towards the three bodies.  “Remember, Goblet Sworn, that you may take but one meal from us. More, and we shall enjoy our feast.”  Nathaniel glared at the Acromantula leader before burning away the webs around Evelina and princess carrying her away. Before he started his journey back to the forest start, he turned to Lilian. “<If you need, I could stay behind. As a friend, helping another friend.>”  Lilian smiled and shook her head. “<Don’t worry about me and Merula. She’s dealt with far worse than this and I’ve had my fair share of battles. Besides, I’m never to far without backup.>”  Nathaniel nodded before striding away, his girlfriend in his arms as they disappeared into the trees.   “Are you sure it was wise to send away a potential ally?” Charon asked as he turned to Lilian. “We’ve only ten minutes left, So I’d rather he, Evelina and Merula return If I cannot help.”  Nearly after five minutes, a loud boom could be heard overhead as a rescue flare went off. Lilian looked to the sky and saw the very barest of red light in the distance. Knowing what that meant, She’d quickly need to enact her plan.  With a sharp whistle, Lilian rushed over to Merula and Tsukiko’s brother, lifting both onto her shoulders. No sooner had she done this that the Acromantulas raced to descend upon her. Lilian managed to dodge one, but the other had taken a good bite into her calf. 

Lilian screamed as the venom soaked into her blood stream, as well as a sizable portion of her calf and pant leg being shredded.  Pushing through the pain, Lilian dropped her bracelet to the ground, turning her head slightly to see the one acromantula happily choking down her flesh while the others quickly rushed forward.  “Engorgio Maxima!” Lilian screamed, wand pointing towards the charms on her bracelet.  Soon after, three human sized Golems sprouted up, quickly moving to intercept the fastest of the Acromantulas as Lilian loaded the two people she held onto Charon.  “Run to the forest edge as fast as you can! Now!” she shouted, the urgency of her voice only matched by the pained strain as her leg burned with the venom. Turning towards the remaining four acromantulas as Charon sped away, she took a shaky breath before raising her wand.  The Golems, while resilient, had easily been bound in webbing as the five circled Lilian.  “Pity. But we will still have our flesh, young witch. Perhaps we shall eat our traitor kin too when we’re done.”  Lilian frowned, her vision getting blurry. That wasn’t good, she needed to see the enemies ahead of her.  “Your time is over, Lilian Le’Reau.” The leader clicked as venom dripped down his mandibles.  “You will make an excellent m-”  The Acromantulas stopped mid sentence when the ground rumbled. A deep, heavy boom, rhythmically sounding, steadily getting closer. The Acromantulas turned towards the direction of the sound as the shadowy outline of a figure could be seen.  “There weren’t suppose to be giants out this far!” The leader shrieked in fury. Lilian, however, could only smile in triumph.

“Not giant... Tiny.”  As she said that, a large statue resembling a machine strode into the clearing, easily snapping the webbing of the Acromantulas as its foot thundered down onto where the hostages had once been. Thank goodness Lilian had the foresight to move them before calling in her project.  “Tiny... Smash.” The Golem’s eyes shifted from an emerald hue to a baleful crimson light as its large hand shot forth, smashing an acromantula into its open palm and leaving a sizable imprint on the earth. Lilian smiled, setting the webs binding her other golems alight to release them as the acromantulas desperately sought a way to defeat their colossal adversary.  Lilian simply chuckled before the world began spinning and faded to black.  When Lilian once more awoke, she was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, surrounded by several bouquets of flowers from various peoples, some with simple ‘Get well Soon’ cards, to others with full on letters expressing their admiration and desire for Lilian to return healthy once more. Lilian sat up, the moonlight illuminating the mostly empty wing before turning her gaze to her bedside. There, asleep with her head on the bed, was Merula. Lilian couldn’t help but smile, gently petting her girlfriends hair before once more falling asleep.  If she was dead, then at least she’d have no regrets. And if she wasn’t, all the more power to her. She merely wondered what the next challenge ahead would be.