#it's about radio codenames wondering if anyone can even hear you wondering if there's any point in searching anymore. but most importantly

[youssefguedira]

not to talk about my own vague concept of a fic but nile going by river and joe going by ghost (in arabic, which i believe is tayf, but correct me if i'm wrong)............. yeah

[presumenothing]

FICTOBER 2020 – PROMPTS #01 TO #05 – WTNV/FMA AU – GEN, NO WARNINGS

📻 PREVIOUSLY ON: episode one – pilot

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“NO, COME BACK, said the spider to the fly, but we all know how the rest of that story goes.

“Welcome to Resembool.”

“TODAY, THERE IS THIS: a story about someone.

“This information is less helpful than you might think. All stories are about someone, in the singular or plural or uncountable. It’s what makes them stories, instead of disparate collections of facts and events loosely coiled about some narrative anchor.”

“HERE, THEN, are the particular someones this story concerns itself with – a man who is not large, and a man who is not small.

“Of course, this is only one way of describing them, and not even the one most people might use. Truth is not often equivalent to relevance, but for the purposes of this story it is close enough anyway.

“The man who is not large sits at a desk with a phone. The scene is not much different to anyone else sitting at a desk with a phone, and indeed not much different from his usual behaviour at all, except that he is frowning.

“This is, in turn, because his calls are not getting through.”

“AT THIS MOMENT, the man who is not small arrives. There is very little in common in the way of physical appearance between these two men, save for the possibility that if you ignore everything else about the situation, you might quite understandably think that both of their faces are made for smiling.

“Neither one is smiling now. The man who is not small crouches a little when entering the room, as some people who are not small are wont to do. No luck, sir? he asks.

“No luck, the man who is not large agrees, but not in a way that is frustrated.

“Or rather – it is true that he is frustrated, but that is not the most relevant thing. He taps his fingers, looks to the ceiling, and thinks.”

-

“WE CUT BRIEFLY AWAY from this story to the community classifieds.

“Item: Curtis Butchers is looking to hire an additional staff. The job requires comfort around cleavers and other large knives, but not butchery experience since you will find yourself learning rapidly on the job, and anyway that’s the easy part. What’s the hard part? Wouldn’t you like to know. To apply, head down to the store and challenge one person to arm wrestling. Who you choose will be the first part of your interview. Good luck!

“Item: Ice-cream truck found in the parking lot of Dark Owl Records, vacant but in good condition. If this is yours, contact Rebecca Catalina, owner of Dark Owl Records. If this is not yours, but you are interested, maybe contact her anyway. She has some interesting ideas about a joint venture of sorts.”

“AND FINALLY – item: Base to Phoenix, town square, ten o’clock. That’s… literally all this last sheet of paper says. No clue what that’s about, but doubtless the recipient must have understood the message anyway.

“This has been the community classifieds.”

-

“AND NOW, WE RETURN TO the story at hand.

“…so I figured it was worth a try, the man who is not large is saying to the man who is not small. I have a theory that– never mind, we’ll know if it’s true or not based on how this pans out.

“The man who is not small does not say anything aloud in response to this statement. The contemplative silence is uncharacteristic of him, or at least how people usually perceive him, but then again everything they are doing now is uncharacteristic of how people usually perceive them.”

“PERCEPTION, AS IT HAPPENS, can often be neither relevant nor true.

“He’s going to kill me if this actually goes through, the man who is not large remarks, in a manner all too cavalier for such a comment. Ringing him up just to talk his ear off.

“That didn’t stop you before, the man who is not small observes.

“The man who is not large laughs. It really hasn’t, yeah. But who wouldn’t be happy to hear my dulcet tones? Or, more importantly… the news of my beloved wife and lovely daughter!”

“THE MAN WHO IS NOT SMALL studies the stack of photographs that have been thrust in his face. She really is growing up well, he says, and this impression at least is true if not particularly relevant.

“Although it is very relevant to the man who is not large, judging by the breadth of his grin. You’re a good man, Major. Ever consider having kids yourself?”

-

“LET’S PAUSE HERE AND TAKE A LOOK at traffic.

“There is a woman. We will call her Emma, and I won’t tell you if that is her real name – or more accurately I can’t, for reasons that will soon become clear.

“Emma came to this town just over two years ago, bringing only her daughter with her. Old Woman Pinako, smoking a pipe on her porch near the car lot, would see her arrival and think privately that it seemed more like a fleeing.

“Then she would extinguish her pipe and come forward to offer assistance anyway. They would not form any kind of instant trust, because Old Woman Pinako had been right in her guess, but both are practical women, in the way that you tended to get when you are adjacent to someone who practices alchemy.”

“BUT THAT WAS THE PAST. This is now.

“Now, Emma listens to the radio, hears about the newcomers to town, and worries. Her daughter is older, now, and I will tell you nothing about her either, besides that she has brown braids and blue eyes and a smile like the sun. Sometimes, she plays happily with the dog that welcomes her at Rockbell Automail, like Den reminds her of a family pet she was too young to remember.

“Sometimes, out the corner of Emma’s eye, her daughter bears a different form, like she is not sure what shape she should have when no one is looking. Sometimes it reminds her of the shadowed shapes she saw in the basement lab, the ones her husband only smiled about when she asked, scared and desperate and furious: you did this? Is this also what you’re planning to do to me, to N–

“And so Emma wonders if she got them away from her husband quickly enough, and worries if the newcomers are looking to bring her back. If they suspect what her husband, the alchemist, had been trying to do.”

“THE GENERAL ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS is that she did what she had to, and will continue to do so. The specific answers are yes, probably no, and no.

“The real answer is that none of these answers will be enough to reassure her, but at least they might help.

“This has been traffic. And now, the weather.”

-

-

“SO THAT’S THE WEATHER FORECAST FOR this coming week, but perhaps there was something you were more keen to hear about. A phone call, perhaps.

“Alas, listeners, I’m afraid I don’t much news for you on that front. You see, there are municipal regulations requiring enclosed booths around payphones to prevent undue weather damage to the equipment. As such, when the phone in the town square rang at ten, and a man stopped to answer it, there was a door he could pull closed behind him.

“However, the regulations say nothing about making the booth proof against eavesdropping, only rain, and so some parts of his words still drifted out anyway, stolen snatches of half a conversation: why did we let you choose the codenames? and yes, Eagle is fine, just itching to shoot something and I’ll report in as soon as I have something to–

“THIS LAST PART is said with forehead pressed against glass, eyes scanning the darkened streets outside, and presumably this is related to the way he stops suddenly, mid-sentence. A hurried murmur, too low to even guess at, and then he is hanging up and stepping out, pushing the door open.

“Who’s there? the man asks, measured in the way of someone who expects to be answered, and the words do not hang suspended in the night for long before a figure steps out of the shadows, hood drawn down around his shoulders.”

“THE MAN’S STANCE changes completely: he stiffens, and his tone is no longer measured when he says Marcoh? What are you doing here?

“It’s Mauro, the Sheriff replies, pulling his customary hood back up, and I could ask you the same thing, Lieutenant Colonel.

“It’s Colonel, actually, the man corrects, but not in a way that is actually meant to be a correction. I told everyone when we first arrived, it’s just for surveillance.

“The Sheriff says nothing, but the silence is loud enough anyway: that answer was unacceptable, try again.

“They’re planning something, and this town is standing in their way. Either it submits, or– you know what they’ll do. I can’t let that happen again, he finishes with an urgency that makes the words sound true, and relevant, and completely opaque to anyone else.”

“BUT THAT IS ONLY TO BE EXPECTED. This has been a story about someone, after all, none of which are us, and just because something is true and relevant to you does not guarantee that you will understand it at all.

“Stay tuned next for the crackling jingle of a blue truck parked by a records store, and the worried weight of a mother tucking her daughter in while wondering what will come tomorrow.

“Good night, Resembool. Good night.”

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📻 TODAY’S PROVERB:

There are many things in this world worth an arm and a leg. If it’s not your own, at least.

(AO3)

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happy inaugural fma day to me, and yes i’m celebrating it by putting out 100% self-indulgent content that is only borderline recognisable as fma because i can!! this also serves as a somewhat nonstandard fill to the first five fictober prompts, one for each section of the episode. i had to contort pretzels around myself putting some of them in, but it was a fun challenge anyway

this episode’s weather (which is arbitrarily decided by which 80s song is currently stuck in my head) was “eye in the sky” by the alan parsons project

characters introduced this episode, for those keeping score at home: maes as the man who is not large (who codenamed roy and riza as phoenix and eagle respectively for this op), alex as the man who is not small, curtis butchers as big rico’s, rebecca catalina as michelle nguyen, ex-mrs tucker pseudonym emma and nina as alive and well because to hell with shou tucker, and last but not least – marcoh as the sheriff of night vale, just because

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 2.09 (part 2) - In which they seem like good people

Sorry, I had been gone for a while.

Let’s continue then!

I nodded, absorbing the information.  It sounded very underwhelming to me, but I was willing to admit I could be underestimating it.

We were discussing Alec’s power last time, and how it sounded silly but it could be really OP in the right hands

“Well,” I said, after a long pause, “I think I pretty much get what everyone can do, then.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but Bitch can turn those dogs into those freakish monsters I saw the other night?”

Sitting a few feet away, Bitch muttered, “They aren’t freakish.”

I think Bitch’s power is the most obvious of the group, so it’s normal it hadn’t been discussed yet.

Lisa answered my question, ignoring her. “Rachel can do it with any dog, actually,” she said, stressing the name, “And no codenames when we’re not in costume, ‘kay?  Get in the habit of using the right name at the right times, and it’s that much harder to slip.”

It was hard to think of Rachel by her real name.  Bitch seemed really fitting given the stunt she had pulled.  I apologized to Lisa, “Sorry.”

Yeah slip-ups concerning secret identities and the like could be baaad

Pfft, I love these little inside-comments Taylor makes, like the bitch thing.

Lisa gave a small nod in response, then told me, “She can use her power on any dog, but only Brutus, Judas and Angelica are trained well enough that they’ll listen to her when they’re pumped up.”

Oh so her power juices up the dogs, but doesn’t make them submit to her control like Taylor’s power does with her bugs. She has to actually train them

Makes sense, as Bitch seems to care for her dogs quite a bit (”They aren’t freakish...”) while Taylor really only uses her bugs as a means to an end, and even feeds some to others.

I really like when the nature of the superpower fits the kind of person that it belongs to, and can be used to explore their personality further.

Ah, so that was it.  “And Brian makes that oily darkness that screws up your hearing.  The Parahumans wiki said it was darkness generation.”

Brian smiled, “I put that into the wiki myself.  It’s not wrong, but it does catch people off guard when they think they know what you can do, and there’s something more to it.”

That is something people would do if superpowers were real, no doubt! Editing the wiki about their own powers, either to bring attention to themselves or to obfuscate the truth. Very nice detail to add.

Lisa added, “It’s not just hearing.  It also cuts off radio signals and dampens the effects of radiation.”

“That’s what her power tells her, anyways.  I haven’t had much chance to test that part of things.  I get by as is,” Brian said.  He turned his hand palm up and created a handful of the darkness.  It was like smoke, but so absolutely black that there was no texture to it.  It was like someone had taken a scalpel to reality and the blackness was what was there when everything else was gone.  I couldn’t even gauge the dimensions of it, unless I looked at it from a different perspective.   Even then, with the way the darkness shifted and billowed like smoke, it was hard to judge the shape.

Brian’s darkness nullifies or weakens wavelengths and senses! That’s amazing! I can see how it could be really really useful.

I love the description of the darkness. It’s absolutely pitch-black, like when you were staring at something bright and then turn all lights out. That darkness so all-consuming you can’t make out dimensions or distances inside of it. Only in this case contained within a single place on his hand.

It remains me of the nothing from The Neverending Story, in that they both feel inherently wrong.

The Nothing was way more unsettling and indescribable though. Especially in the book.

More of it just kept pouring from his hand, climbing upwards to cover the top of the room.  As the light from the windows near the upper edges of the room and the florescent bars on the ceiling was cut off, the room got a great deal darker.

He closed his hand into a fist, and the darkness thinned out and disintegrated into strands and tatters, and the room brightened again.  I looked at the light coming in from the windows and was surprised it wasn’t later.

It can expand and cover the whole room just like that?

Imagine going up against these guys and you suddently get surrounded by this type of dark abyss and completely lose your bearings. That sounds scary as fuck.

“What time is it?”  I asked.

“Nineteen minutes before five,” Lisa said.  She didn’t look at a watch or a clock as she said it, which was unsettling.  It was a reminder that her power was constantly available to her.

Lisa’s power is still by far the most dangerous, with the tactical advantage she represents in any battle. She’s also the most fundamental threat to Taylor’s little undercover plan, easily.

Brian asked me, “Do you have somewhere you need to be?

“Home, I guess,” I admitted, “My dad will wonder where I am.”

I bet Danny could never imagine in a million years the type of situation you are in.

“Call him,” Lisa suggested, “Now that the introductions are over with, you can just hang out for a bit, if you want.”

“We could order pizza,” Alec suggested.  Then when Lisa, Brian and Bitch all made faces, he added, “Or maybe everyone’s sick of pizza and we could order something else.”

“Stick around?” Brian made it a question.

Alec really is the most chill out of all of them.

This all feels so normal, hard to believe we were having a fight just moments ago.

I glanced at Bitch.  She was sitting on the table behind one of the couches and looking like a mess, with a bloody bandage over one ear, blood smeared below her nose and lip, and a bit of green around the gills that suggested she was feeling a little worse for wear.  With her in that state, I didn’t feel particularly threatened.  Staying meant I could work to get things more copacetic and maybe dig for a bit more information.  I’d also missed socializing with people – even if it was under false pretenses with a group that included an apparent sociopath. It had been a sucky day.  Just chilling out sounded good.

Damn Taylor really fucked her up! Maybe even Rachel respects her more now, with that warped view of things she seems to have. Or maybe she is more pissed off, hard to tell, don’t know her enough yet.

Taylor’s clearly looking to socialize with them, but I like her attempt to justify it to herself as part of her undercover mission. Oh boy you’re totally going to end up becoming a member for real

“Okay,” I decided, “Yeah, I think I’d like to.”

“Phone’s in the kitchen if you want to call your dad,” Lisa said.

I looked over my shoulder as I headed across the loft.  The others got settled on the couches, with Alec turning on the TV while Lisa and Brian took a second to clean up.

I found the phone and dialed my dad.

“Hey dad,” I said, when I heard the phone being picked up.

This has the potential to be awkward, painful, sad or any of the three

“Taylor.  Are you alright?”  He sounded worried.  It was unusual, I supposed, my not being home when he got back from work.

“I’m fine, dad.  Is it cool if I hang out with some people tonight?”

There was a pause.

Yeah that’s not normal for her

As an introvert, I imagine it would be jarring if my parents heard I’d be staying for dinner at a stranger’s house unnanounced.

“Taylor, if there’s anyone that’s making you make this call… the bullies or someone else, tell me everything is fine.  If you’re not in trouble, tell me your mother’s full name.”

Oh that is really smart and really great on Danny’s part. You’re a good dad, Danny.

I felt momentarily embarrassed.  Was it so unusual for me to hang out with people?  I knew my dad was just trying to keep me safe, but it was bordering on the ridiculous.

I feel like in a world with supervillains people would be more paranoid in general about these things.

“Annette Rose Hebert,” I told him, “Really dad, it’s cool.”

“You’re really okay?”

My gaze roved over the kitchen, taking in the details, as I gave him my assurances.

“Better than ever.  I kind of made some friends,” I said.

Well that’s kinda true I guess...

My eyes settled on their dining room table.  There was a stack of money, wrapped with a paper band just as the money in the lunchbox had been. Beside the money, plain as day, was the dark gray metal of a handgun.

....Fuck

Well that’s a really effective visual to drive home the reality of the situation she’s in and of the people she’s hanging out with...

My attention caught by the gun, I only barely caught my dad’s question.  “What are they like?”

“They seem like good people,” I lied.

....

That’s such a good ending line. It gave me chills.

What kind of hole are you digging for yourself here with this?

...

Well, I’m hooked.

[just-under-lucid]

A Dossier

Well... I think I can’t go back now. I can’t make another choice. It was taken from me a long time ago. 

Mom and Dad showed me a thing that came in the mail. It looked perfectly fine, like a normal package... Until I opened it. There was a red binder inside with that eye symbol on it, detailing all the things we said in the club for the last few missions, even our plans. They heard everything... CHORUS heard everything... 

The worst part was the note. 

“Ms. Peters,

It has come to our attention that there is a group of vandals running around the town, destroying CHORUS property as well as harming those who just wish to keep them safe. Enclosed is a document containing all of the intercepted transcripts we have received from them over the last few weeks. We want you to investigate these events and report them back to us. 

Failure to comply will result in your parents returning to you beaten. We know. We see. We are always watching.

CHORUS”

It sends shivers down my spine even now... There were more details, but I really don’t wanna get into them. They were... gruesome. I asked Mom and Dad about it and... Well... they explained that the note was a form. They sent it to everyone, but I knew better. I would be willing. They expect so much from me... But I couldn’t say no. I know that we don’t hurt anyone, not much... Not if we don’t have to... But I don’t know what CHORUS would do. ... I don’t know what Speak-As-One will do yet. I... I’m still new to this. I have some loyalty but... I’m still scared...

I still signed on to do it. I was sent to a van in the woods, farther away from the boxcar than I’ve ever been (at least, i think.) and given the keys. The thing doesn’t run, I don’t think, but there were computers everywhere, even a little closet and some snacks... I wonder if there are more people doing this... But anyway, back on topic. The computers prompted me to log in, and it took me forever since I didn’t realize that they would just use my normal intranet login, but, there it was. A whole database on what the Club was doing. There was even a list of what missions were supposed to be going on that night... And it was really accurate. They couldn’t figure out who was going on the missions... but they knew how many. It’s... It’s scary. They know way more than any of us think they do... and I definitely can’t tell them. 

There was a little database on who was doing this... this... Stalking? That’s the best way I can put it, considering that we’re literally supposed to be following the kids and taking pictures of them... But... there were so many. So many codenames that I could barely recognize, but... there were some I did. The others from before? The other followers? They were here. There were a few others I didn’t even think of, and even more that I just didn’t recognize. This whole thing has been planned for so long... They even gamified it so we might actually like it...

... Was this the sign we were supposed to look for? ... Agh I’m off topic again. 

I picked my mission, well, the mission I was given and was told to look in the drawer for a radio to listen to... Then to go to the nearest red door. Um, what? The red doors hurt us, right? We’ve never been able to touch them without going nearly blind and getting massive headaches, and I’m supposed to go to one? ... I can’t exactly not comply... So I did. And it opened for me. Let me say it again. 

It opened for me. 

Terrified? Sure fucking was! They came after me, someone very new to this and probably one of the questionably loyal, told me to stalk or they’ll hurt my parents, and suddenly, the red doors just work. I still have no idea what happens. I just know that I can’t remember anything that happens behind the door. I come out, my memory is fucked, and I look around for anything that I could use to find the others. There was a little radar I could use, but it only went off if a Sleeper was disturbed. 

Being this weak... It’s terrifying. They must have done something to me ‘cause that power the Deck gave me doesn’t work, and all I can do it hope they don’t find me.

There was a lot of climbing. A LOT of climbing. I never knew how much of a crutch my Grapple was till now... And how much I hated lockpicks. They gave me a skeleton key in that drawer, so why would I even need them? I don’t! And that’s the point! I come in here with nothing and I have to take on four people at once. All I have is the same stuff we find in the Maze. That’s it. ... But back to what happened. 

I came in and... well... They were all upstairs still. I figured I had some time before I swarmed, so I ran around gathering stuff. ... It almost... scared me how little the Lucids and Sleepers reacted to me. They didn’t say a thing, didn’t question me, didn’t do anything. I guess they got some sort of message that I was okay? Did i smell funny? Why did they ignore me? Either way, I spent way too much time worrying about where the Lucids were to notice the kids coming down the ladder. 

As soon as they saw me (and somehow didn’t recognize me) they just yelled for the others over the radio and bolted towards me. I never realized how long a hallway Ingestion was until that chase. The steps echoed, I heard a couple Lucids and Sleepers start to investigate, but there was nothing else I could do except try to lose them. There was NO WAY I was gonna throw a noisemaker or a flash at them! I don’t want them to get hurt! I managed to get some pictures of the one chasing me, but that was it. ... A sleeper grabbed them and I was able to duck back down into a door. Another memory gone, this time replaced with something else, but I’ll get to that later. 

I decided to look around in the houses to see what was happening and found a couple doors busted open. I heard Dispatch say something, so I took a picture of it. A few moments later, Dispatch mentioned vandals in the area, and I got the hell out of there. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they’d figure out someone took a picture of them. (Of course, this was before I realized the club got my pictures. I’m amazing, I swear.) I got a little closer to them and got a few more snaps once I went back downstairs... But I wasn’t paying enough attention. 

Suddenly I felt hands against my back, forcing me down, I think I got hit too. I was pinned. I was trapped. They came prepared. They knew someone could invade them. I could barely feel my wrists and ankles, they tied them so tight. They yelled over the radio that they “caught our stalker” and tried to shine the flashlight in my face. I managed to headbutt their phone away, which was nice, but I was trapped. I literally shut down. What would they do to me? What was their plan? Would they leave me here to die? Would they bring be back to the Boxcar to interrogate me? I love anxiety. I really do. It’s amazing really. My brain kept reminding me about all the suicide pills spies have and kinda wondered if there was one in my earpiece. 

I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a good minute or two. I heard what was around me, but I couldn’t register it. Everything grated on my ears, EVERYTHING. ... I stopped hearing footsteps after a while. I came back. I came to. I could barely breathe, I was crying, but I was there. ... I tried looking around, I couldn’t see anyone or anything. Anything useful. ... My saving grace was the Lucid that came through the door. I still can’t see their faces, but I called out. I was lucky. 

They came running over immediately, asking me what happened, who did it, looking just as paranoid as I was about the others on the mission. I couldn’t say anything. All I could say was get me out. They knew where a knife was, so they left to get it and came back and cut me loose. I was a mess... I just cried on a stranger for an hour... Maybe more... We went through a door, so I don’t remember... The only reason I was safe was... because of my earrings or something. I still don’t know why they didn’t hunt me... 

But whoever that Lucid is... thanks for the blanket.