#something about feeling all alone in a vast desert town in the middle of the night

[nuclearbyproduct]

Thinking about the radio station in Str*ngetown that is only on air from midnight to 4 am. It only plays spacey ambient tracks. No one knows who's running it, but those up late enough to hear it, enjoy it. It's a comfort to many of the night owls in that little desert town.

[moeruhoshi]

I’ve already put this on my ff.net but I wanted to share it on here

There existed a legend of the undine, a powerful creature that provided the continent, Fiore, with its water supply.

The story began with a vast expanse of desert covering every inch of the land, barely a water source in sight. Water early humans were able to find, made for the center of town, small villages surrounding it. And once their source was used up, they moved to find the next one.

Soon, all tribes gathered around the last oasis, each leader convening to decide the best course of action.

They gathered all of their people, asking each and everyone if they were brave enough to wander the desert searching for the fabled undine.

There was a high risk of death from dehydration or getting lost in the delirious sun. But to save thousands of people from the brink of extinction would deem even the weakest a hero.

Silver Fullbuster offered himself for the task, the North's most notorious warrior.

The crowd roared with cheers as the leaders took him away, immediately preparing him for the turbulent journey.

An ancient map of the undine's possible location, enough drinking water for two months, rations, clothing, shelter. Silver's own camel would lead him through the trials of the hot sun.

He left that night, ignoring the cheers and hopes of the people, knowing their burden wasn't worth shouldering.

He wasn't doing this to gain status or heroism. Only a greedy man would save thousands to stoke his own ego.

His greed was personal, because of course, he wanted something in this world.

He wanted a family; a wife and a healthy little boy. But he never let himself fall into such an extreme fantasy.

How could he when the world was in so much trouble? When there was barely any water for the children to drink now? He refused to let his family struggle without a means of solution. And now, here one was. He could appease the undine, beg for their help, possibly return water to Fiore.

Once he went back, victorious, he could settle down and have the life he always dreamed of. That was the true reward in this trek.

So he kept a consistent routine; traveling at night under the moon's cool gaze and building shelter for the day's beaming sunlight.

Silver would read the map, re-reading day in and out. He memorized the landmarks on the way; massive sand dunes, clumps of palm trees, dried up oasis', gardens of cactus.

The undine rested in the northeast, the location, he found, that he'd never seen on a map before. He was quite an expert when it came to navigation, having read most maps that led his people to new water sources.

But this one led him past the highest dune, into an undiscovered portion of land. This assured him of the possibility of the undine's actual existence. He also felt a bit wary, unsure of what lay out in the mythical desert.

He hoped his sword wouldn't have to be drawn for anything but slicing his fruit.

The journey was taxing, Silver, fearing that his mind would begin to waver. Sanity was not easy to be kept by oneself, and he wished to have just one conversation with his old friends. The camel wasn't as interesting.

He hoped they were well, that the villages were, too. He hoped the water supply hadn't lessened by much, his self-made calendar almost a month in.

He neared the location, marking off each landmark that stood out to him. The palm trees, the oasis', the cacti, and finally, the series of mountainous dunes.

It wasn't long before his two months came to fruition, his water supply dangerously low.

It was enough to make it over that high peak in the distance, his goal just moments out of his grasp.

He traveled through the sun and the moon, not caring to even get a wink of sleep. He was almost there, almost there, almost...there.

Sand, sand, and more sand.

What? No, that couldn't be true.

Where was her cave, where was the blooming rainforest, the oasis?

Where were the plants and trees and water?

Where was the undine?

He gulped down the lump in his throat, calming his trembling hands as he ebbed his camel to begin its descent.

It had to be nearby; maybe it was just a bit farther than he could see.

But he didn't have enough food or water to make it past another horizon. His camel would lose its energy, and then, he would be left, stranded in the middle of nowhere, to die.

He held back his fear, taking deep breaths with his eyes shut tightly. Everything would be okay.

He repeated this in his head, holding onto the reins to avoid falling off.

Everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

Everything would be...gentle, like a droplet of water on his cheek.

Everything would be...silky, like a cool banana leaf brushing against his skin.

Everything would be...comforting, like a calm wind on a hot summer's day.

Everything would be...wait...huh?

Silver opened his eyes, leading his camel through a suddenly grassy area, plants, and trees surrounding every end. He couldn't even feel the sun on his skin, the leaves providing him with excellent shade.

He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, slapped his cheeks.

No way...

He stopped abruptly, eyes bewildered at the sight of a relaxed, glistening, untouched body of water.

He hopped off the camel, quickly throwing off his clothes as he jumped into the water. He couldn't help but laugh. He actually made it.

He knew he would never have a chance to bathe like this again, taking the soaps out of his supplies to properly wash the desert off of his skin.

Somehow, he felt healthier, renewed. Almost like the water was giving him nutrients, soaking into his body and returning all of his lost hydration.

He never smiled more than he did today.

He let himself rest against the water's edge, stroking the camel's head as it drank from the pond.

A sudden snap of a twig in the leaves startled him, Silver quickly standing in fear.

Until now, he hadn't bothered to wonder if there was anything else in this place. But, of course, wildlife could exist anywhere.

A sharp squeal punctured his eardrums, a girl not much taller than himself falling out from behind a nearby tree.

She was dressed in delicate white, albeit sheer, garb, hair the color of the moon.

Silver felt his cheeks reddened as they made eye contact, his heart suddenly unable to stop beating.

He asked carefully if she was alright, the girl quickly scrambling to her feet, giving him a haphazard bow before running off into the woods.

That couldn't have been the undine, right?

He hurriedly tugged on a pair of pants, running after her without a second thought. A smile grew on his face; somehow, he was having a lot of fun right now. Maybe it was the effects of this place, but he wouldn't question it.

She came into view, her hands carrying the ends of her dress.

He called out, asking her to stop, pleading with her, apologizing for scaring her off.

She eventually came to a halt, doubling over as she caught her breath.

"I've never run so much...in my life," She wheezed, Silver laughing as he caught up to her.

"I'm sorry," He snickered, running a hand through his hair. "Do you need some water?"

"...No, I'm alright," She said, standing straight to look him in the eye.

His heart jumped at her sharp gaze, finding it absolutely mesmerizing. But then, he remembered his task, remembered everyone who was waiting for him.

Either way, something told him not to ask just yet.

"How did you find this place?"

"By accident," He shrugged, the girl blushing at his lopsided grin. "Although, I do have a map,"

"Eh? Where? Show me," She said, quickly grabbing onto his arm. Both blushed at the sudden touch, Silver suddenly realizing that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

He led her back to his things without question, pulling the scroll from the camel's back.

"See," He pointed at the blank space. "This told me that I'd find this place here,"

"All this time, they had a map," Her lip trembled as she mumbled, staring at the expanse. "Why did no one come if there was a map?!"

Silver reeled at her sudden outburst, watching water drip from her arms and legs, forming a pool at her feet.

"Why..."

He struggled to speak up, not knowing exactly what to say. But he recognized that sad tone on her voice, one he'd come accustomed to in his own mind. She was lonely.

"No one thought this place was real," He said honestly. "It was a story for young children. Not a message to come find you,"

She sniffled as he reached out to rub her back, the two awkwardly meeting eyes again.

"I-I see... I'm sorry...I get very emotional at times,"

"That's okay," He shook his head, clearing his throat as he thought of something else to say.

"So...you have a name?"

"Mika...my name is Mika."

Silver then spent his days with Mika, wondering how he could ask her to provide water to the world. But he couldn't ask a lonely girl, barely his own age, to do such a thing. They just met; how could he make it her responsibility? She was abandoned by the world, left to take care of it without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to Silver, however, the world already began to change. The water seemed to grow from nowhere, the oasis back home never even falling an inch.

Old, dried up sources began to refill, and plants began to grow out of the ground. It was a true miracle, for every few hours equaled to about three months in the real world.

His presence alone filled the undine with a newfound emotion, one that stirred her to unconsciously plenish the Earth.

She showed him every plant and animal that existed in her domain, how she took care of them all these years.

He showed her how to wield a sword because that was the only thing he knew how to do.

She would watch him practice, trying not to stare so hard at his bare chest.

Mika didn't understand the deep welling in her chest that made her leak out of her ears at times. Silver was steadily filling a hole in her heart, one she didn't realize was so empty.

He was straightforward in most ways, knowing full well he'd fallen in love.

He went off and fell in love, unable to accept that he hadn't helped anyone by doing so.

He couldn't bear the weight of selfish guilt, wondering if he should just get it over with and ask the undine for help.

She sensed his anxiety, her own building as her thoughts began to wander. He wasn't from around here; what would happen if there came a day he wanted to leave? How could she go back to existing all by herself?

"You look quite somber," Mika said as she approached Silver from behind, sitting next to him as he stared into the reflection of the pond. "Anything I can help with?"

"I just miss my home," He sighed, tossing a pebble into the water. "I wonder if they're all okay,"

"I could show you?" She hummed, bending herself to enter his field of vision.

"How?" He stared at her as she waved a hand over the water, an image blurring into view. He saw his friends, the villages waving as they began to part ways. They were returning to their rightful homes, all with enough water to last the whole trip. He could see the plant life that never existed before, the clouds in the usually empty sky. He could see their vanished cracked lips, their joy as they helped themselves to the oasis water that didn't even lose an inch.

He looked at her with wide eyes, quickly understanding the situation. She craved for company, never having any before he stepped foot in here. And the world magically began to fix itself, all because her lonesome self was requited.

Silver no longer felt the need to hold back, grabbing onto Mika's shoulders. He pushed her down before she could refuse him, kissing her with his held back feelings.

The undine rightfully sprung a leak, unable to grasp the situation entirely.

This day would mark the first rainstorm to ever cross the land.

She kissed him back, finding herself more comfortable when he whispered between their lips.

"I love you,"

He finally had the family he always wished for, a wife and a healthy little boy.

They named him Gray, his sharp eyes a bit gloomy but bright and full of wonder.

He was an undine, like his mother. The day of his birth had unwittingly created what the world would come to know as oceans.

Silver lived without knowing what became of the world, its expansion, evolution. It was past its days of cloth tents and makeshift floors, buildings and castles built, wars fought and won, kingdoms conquered. The legend of the undine soon became a legend again, Silver's name lost in the history books.

He didn't need anything more than Mika and Gray in his life.

But Gray, well, Gray tirelessly craved something. He couldn't understand what; maybe this was just how an undine lived. His father was a human, so he couldn't understand well.

However, Mika repeatedly told him what it meant to find love. It was everything to an undine, a second close to their life's primary purpose. It was more than familial love, a bond that Gray could only ever have with one person.

The one person he met by falling through a pond.

Juvia liked to play by the water every day, skipping rocks and kicking her feet in the shallow end.

She was an only child; her parent's often too busy to pay her any attention.

The water created a reflection she spoke to, mistakenly learning the habit of talking in the third person.

Juvia this, Juvia that...her parents would never let her make a debut in high society with such an odd way of talking.

One day as she sat by the pond, the young girl was started by a sharp shout, one that was...falling from below?

She threw herself back and out of the way as a boy popped out of the water, gravity bringing him down on the ground.

He grunted, rubbing his nose as he stood up.

"What the..." He pouted as he looked around, soon locking eyes with the girl behind him.

"Who..." Juvia began to say, startled as he quickly jumped back in the water.

"Be careful! You could drown!" She shouted, rushing back to the water's edge. But the surface was still, and the boy was gone as if he'd never existed.

Gray did exist and quickly wished he hadn't. His chest, his heart...it felt like it would beat its way out onto the ground. What was this? What did she do to him? Why does he feel so...mushy?

He ignored such a creepy feeling, going back to the quiet life he lived with his parents, unable to get her image out of his head.

Years passed before they would meet again, on the eve of Juvia's eighteenth birthday. Her parents threw a ball, introducing her to all sorts of people from across Fiore. But she didn't really care to fake a smile all evening.

She escaped to her safe haven, sitting beside the pond once again.

She couldn't forget that strange boy with the droopy eyes, even after all these years. He was wonderfully precious to her, like a fairy. She wondered if they'd ever meet again.

"It's rude to leave a party without even having one dance, no?" She turned around, rolling her eyes as she saw Lyon.

"I don't care much for dances," She sighed, frowning as he crouched down beside her.

"I'd rather if you learned to be more well behaved," He frowned, tightly gripping her chin with his forefinger and thumb. "My fiancee has to have manners."

"I'll do well to remember that," She glared at him as he stood up, turning to walk back inside.

"I'll see you in a few minutes,"

Her rage always escalated when that creep was around, never even able to care about him for a second. He didn't like her anyway since their relationship was arranged for their parent's benefit. She caught him multiple times cavorting with his own maid that he seemed to adore ten times more.

She looked into the pond, sighing again. She wanted to be with that boy from her memories, wondering just what could lie underneath this shallow surface.

Maybe she could go through, too? She never thought to try it before. And drowning was always better than a miserable life with Lyon.

Juvia waded into the water, her large ballgown helping to drag her to the bottom.

Please, please, please, let me see him again.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, struggling when she needed to exhale.

Juvia forced herself to the surface, gasping for air as she reached the top.

Opening her eyes, she met the shocked gaze of a boy almost her age, those same droopy eyes staring at her with ripe panic.

"It's... It's you!" Her smile stretched widely at the boy before her, his blush increasing with each passing second.

"Could you...!" He roared and slapped the water at her. "I'm taking a bath!"

"Oh..." Juvia quickly turned around, covering her eyes. "My goodness, I'm so sorry!"

"Uh-huh, just don't turn around, I mean it!" He growled, the splash of the water letting her know he got out.

"Let me get your hand," Juvia blushed as she turned to see him holding out his hand, wearing nothing but a loose pair of trousers. She'd never seen a man shirtless like this before. It was...she couldn't think of the word.

"Thank you," She swallowed her nerves as they stood before one another.

"Do you need some help getting back?" He quirked a brow, looking over her shoulder. "That gate should've been closed, but I can push you back through it, so you get home,"

"N-No!" He took a step back as she shouted. "N-No, I don't want to go back there, please don't send me away,"

"Fine then," He huffed with an annoyed hue on his cheeks. "You can stay, but we'll have to ask my parents,"

"Okay," She quietly followed behind him as he began to walk, the soaked train dragging against the forest floor.

"May I ask your name?"

"Gray," He threw her a look over his shoulder, walking with his hands held up behind his head. "Yours?"

"I'm Juvia,"

"Juvia," He mumbled, unconsciously smiling at the way it flowed on his tongue.

[du0tine]

    𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝒀𝑶𝑼: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬𝑹.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝐈𝐃𝐊 | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 + 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫, 𝑮𝑶𝑹𝑬 & 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 𝑴𝑼𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵. 𝑴𝒀 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑱𝑶. 𝑷𝑯𝒀𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑷𝑺𝒀𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑮𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹. 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑼𝑪𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑹 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑫𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑫.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲!! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲! 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭.

      𝟎𝟏: 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓.

The sun was scorching, its blazing rays burning him up. Drenched in sweat, his dirty tan shirt clung to his skin creating a sensation of such moist discomfort he’d never known was possible.  Rummaging around for his water bottle he finds the silver canister surface boiling hot to touch, the contents inside completely dry. Groaning he throws the empty canister to the floor of his clean 1970’ Dodge Monaco. The desert was well, deserted the stretch of land was vast. Littered with tall, striking green cacti with the odd vulture circling above in search of animal carcasses to eat.

Even the predatory bird flying up high, with its bird eye view advantage couldn’t find a single thing to feast on. So how on earth could Taeil find a young women here of all places?

His thoughts were cut short when a loud bang was heard. Something had fallen atop the hood of his car. Tilting his sheriff’s hat upwards he instinctively grabs at his silver revolver, his hand gripped tightly around the wooden handle. His thumb placed atop the trigger but not pulling it down. He spots what’s caused the commotion and groans as he sees the black feathers of the vulture that had previously been circling above him cover the surface of his car. The bird itself was emaciated and lay dead, its dark blood slowly covering the hood of his car. 

“Fucking pity,” he murmurs to himself before stepping out. Nudging the bird with his gun at its lifeless body he pushes the bird aside, its body falling to the ground. The dust swallowing it alive, bits and particles of the grain covering the bird. 

Gazing up towards the sky he mentally groans to himself it had been officially 45 days since her disappearance. If anything she was a dead pile of stinking, rotting flesh or perhaps all the remained was the skeletal corpse of her frail bones. Her body ravaged upon by the desert’s harsh elements. It would have to be a miracle or some sort for her to be alive. For the desert itself reeked of death, stripped and bare not a single proper source of life to be seen. It wasn’t the animals that ate you, it was the desert itself. 

He was beginning to lose hope.

Pulling out his map he marks his current location with a red circle noting underneath that the place was bare, not a single human being to be seen. This stretch of land was one of the many he’d come across, empty with no sights of human activity to be found. Pulling out his radio he calls into town to further update and report his case. 

“Sheriff Moon?” Answers the voice on the other line. 

“Reporting to Deputy Lee this is Sheriff Moon,” He repeats wincing at the loud crackling of the radio as he wipes a bead of sweat away from his temple. 

“Any news?” Answered Deputy Lee Taeyong. 

“Pocaterra County is bare, not a single living thing in sight. Fuck — there was a vulture but even that poor fucker dropped dead atop my car,” He explains his eyes drifting back onto the hood of his car. The blood had already dried, staining the vehicles navy blue surface. Not to mention the rather large dent in the middle of it all, “Newbie? Be sure to schedule an appointment with the mechanic, the fucker dented my car.” 

“I’ll put your car up for inspection Sheriff Moon. Are you coming back into town today?” 

“My rations are finished, I’ll be back by midnight to restock.” 

“We’ll be waiting, get here safe. Over,” Replies Deputy Lee. 

“Over and out,” Answers Taeil as he shuts off his radio. Sitting back into his car, he feels suffocated by the heat and overall is exhausted. He couldn’t wait till this case was over. 

Switching on the engine to his car, the vehicle roars as it comes to life. Stepping on the gas he drives the hell out of that deserted plot of land. Reaching the long strip of highway rather quickly. It was going to be a very long drive back to town. Speeding down the highway, driving through the desert landscape the sun began to set. Painting a beautiful arrangement of oranges and reds across the horizon as the sun soon disappeared underneath the rolling hills and in its place came the moon. As the car’s headlights flickered on illuminating the road Taeil began to pick up speed, eager to reach the town as soon as possible. 

It wasn’t the night that scared him. It was something about being alone in the dark in the middle of nowhere that did. The hairs on his arms stood up straight as goosebumps began to litter his skin. Something didn’t feel right and he wanted to get the fuck out.

His foot placed firmly on the accelerator the car moved at an incredible speed. Moving from 80mph to 100mph soon reaching 120mph, everything whizzed past him. The scenery becoming a mere blur as he fell into a daze. The aura wasn’t right, it felt tight. Like something held him tightly within their hands, the air in his lungs becoming sparse as his breathing became hoarse. His mouth going agape, drool seeping out of the corner of his mouth as he wheezed. His eyes were empty, filled with absolutely no emotion. The knuckles on his hands turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, the sound of the wind whipping against the car echoing through his mind. 

There was no stopping him. Not until he saw it. 

It shone like a bright, white orb. Gravitating in the distance and moving towards the vehicle with such velocity that when he stared at the figure from afar. He could’ve sworn it had perhaps been the moon, falling from the sky and rocketing towards him. 

The drool from his mouth began to travel down his neck dripping onto his shirt. Clear snot slipping out of nostrils as the waterworks began to drip from every orifice of his face. Salty tears poured down his cheeks as the white figure began to move closer and closer. 

Soon he saw a face, then a pale white body.

One that was like white porcelain it showed delicacy. It was one of incredible beauty and yet as he sped closer and closer towards the face he couldn’t snap out of the trance that he’d fallen into. His eyebrows scrunching in agony as he let out a harsh whine from his throat, one that turned into a high pitched scream when he saw the beautiful face turn into something much more menacing and familiar. Something deep within his mind clicked and it made him convinced that the face he was looking at was the true nature of something he knew so well.

The thing had jumped onto the hood of the car as it hovered above the windshield sitting up on its knees. The gaze it held was intense as it never looked away from Taeil. Bringing forth its hands towards its face, its elongated fingers tore into its face. Plunging its fingers into both eye sockets and pulling out its milky white eyeballs as crimson blood began to pour out of the empty cavity’s. Then it moved towards its nose tugging at the skin, ripping it off with such vigour that blood sprayed onto the windshield.

Finally, it moved towards its mouth. First contorting it into such a menacing smile. A sharp finger at each corner before tugging the flesh in opposite directions. Ripping the skin and muscle creating two flaps of skin that when let go it hung loosely at the sides of its jaw. Its sharp teeth and bloody gums smiling brightly at Taeil before opening widely and letting out an ear piercing scream that terrorized him to his core. 

It had been mimicking Taeil. It was Taeil.

Its empty facial orifices gawking at him as it howled in pain before flying into a rampage pulling at its hair ripping chunks of it out, as pieces of scalp went flying across the highway the wind blowing it away. Continuing to self mutilate itself the thing came to an abrupt stop. The once beautiful figure no longer visible as it sat there, the flying past it as the being held on tightly. Taeil hadn’t stopped speeding down the highway, he was too petrified to do so. He felt as if he’d been suffocated by an unknown force as his throat continued to feel enlarged. 

He continued to misact amidst this trance like a marionette being controlled. As he was suddenly pushed towards the windshield glass. His face pressed tightly against the glass as he kept screaming, his voice growing hoarse. His foot falling from the accelerator as the car began to skid across the concrete, his hands ripped from the steering wheel and forced behind his back as the disfigured being stared at him. 

As he stared at what once looked like himself.

It sat there momentarily observing Taeil before once more copying the young man. Bashing its head against the windshield, creating a spiders web of broken glass on the windshield. Pressing its face firmly against it as the glass sliced into its skin, it screamed and it screamed. It just wouldn’t stop, just like himself.

He didn’t know what he was looking at anymore, the being pressed up against the glass looked beyond recognizable. Much to his dismay the car had lost control losing track of the road and swerving onto the desert floor before flipping on its side. Once, twice the car flopped around before coming to an abrupt stop.

Completely upside down, Taeil had blacked out. 

[jeongyunhoed]

You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: So, I am kind of late. Like hours late. But! To make up for it, I bring you a more wholesome chapter of TOD (Because Twilight Zone does have very wholesome episodes, just not often haha) to take away from the emotional anguish presented by the previous chapters. Happy (Belated) Birthday Seonghwa!!

XVI. Last Two Standing (Seonghwa)

High noon. 

An empty desolate town, a shell of what was once a bustling city. The abandoned buildings were either halfway torn down or had vines and weeds creeping into the concrete. The same could be said for its streets that had bricks and debris scattered all over. It was a city that remained abandoned for what seemed like years.

There was a reason for the abandonment. It was once plagued by a devastating war that reached all corners of the world, but this place was lucky in the sense that people had already fled before it was brought to ruins. Almost everyone. 

A young woman stepped out from the piles of debris in the corner, her uniform that was once a visible navy blue had gotten shabby, patches of dust at the hem of her skirt and minor rips and tears on everywhere else. Her face was weathered, showing signs of having actively fought in the front lines, her AR-15 rifle slung over her shoulder. She had arrived after having hidden out at a fort that ultimately went low on supplies. She was a commanding officer of her unit, and arguably the only one left standing in the deserted remnants of a metropolis. 

She walked down the empty street, looking around at the displays of abandoned shops and residential areas. There was hardly a working car in sight, as some had either been looted for engines or simply crushed from blocks of cement that came from blown up establishments. It was deafeningly quiet, and she knew better than to let her guard down. The war might have been over, but she knew it was impossible that she would be the only one left. She knew very well she would not be alone. 

The more she walked down the street, the more she started to feel her body ask for nourishment. She had lived off hunting and roasting animals on fire before she arrived, and maybe now, she could get a taste of what properly prepared food was like. Whatever it tasted like, that is. She could hardly remember what comfort meant, what home-cooked food tasted. War was all she knew. 

She skidded to a halt when she came across an abandoned diner. Taking her rifle off her sling and poised to shoot, she made a quick scan of the area for any sound. She still had a good three rounds of ammunition left. Once she was sure there was no soul inside, she stepped in, immediately making a beeline to the kitchens to see if there was the source of nourishment she was hoping for. 

The presence of tinned food made her sigh in relief and she immediately took down a can of tomatoes, a can of peaches, and canned chicken. She felt like she was going to feast like a queen with this much food in front of her. She looked closely at the canned chicken, checking for its expiration date, nodding to herself when the date was a little far from today. 

She was set to open the can when she heard footsteps padding towards the room she was in. It was a man, also in uniform that looked just as tattered as hers. He had jet-black hair that had already fallen over his eyes from how long it seemed to have gotten. But it didn’t distract from the fact that he was handsome. But while he wasalso wearing a uniform and had his own rifle slung over his shoulder, she knew it was a different uniform. The uniform of the enemy. The uniform of the North. 

Putting the can down, she charged at him, the two of them getting into a tussle on the floor until he got the upper hand, his strength overtaking hers as he knocked her out unconscious. He got back on his feet, noticing the cans that she had set out on the table, especially the canned chicken she was supposed to eat. He opened the tin, devouring its contents as he glanced over at the woman’s unconscious figure every now and then. 

Having had his fill of the chicken, he stepped out, looking at the city before him. He hadn’t stepped in this part of the country before and thus everything looked so foreign to him, even as he could understand everything albeit in a slightly different way. He was also a commander of his unit, and from what he was seeing, he was also the last surviving member of his unit. Before he could take another step, the newspaper at his feet caught his eye, particularly the headline. 

EVACUATE! City Left Abandoned After Invasion

He picked up the newspaper, staring at the headline. There was no one left. It was just him, and the woman he knocked out in the kitchen. He dropped the paper and went back inside seeing the woman still unconscious. He took an empty can and filled it with water from the tap, splashing some of it on her face. 

She began to stir, eyes opening until she saw him standing several feet away from her. She got up, aiming her rifle at him. If it didn’t work, she had her knife. 

“There’s no reason to fight anymore,” He spoke. “We’re the last ones left. There’s no more war, no more armies, no more weapons of mass destruction apart from what we’re carrying. The only difference now is our clothes. Nothing more than that.” 

She stared at him, not quite believing what he said. 

“You can have the rest of that food,” He gestured to the cans on the table. She saw that the canned chicken was significantly finished. “If you understand me, you will put down that rifle of yours, as I already have mine.” 

She didn’t let up, and he could only sigh, figuring that they were best left to their own respective devices. As soon as he left the room, she put her rifle down to eat but not while glancing at the door every now and then in case he returned. She kept thinking about what he said. 

As soon as she finished, she quickly washed her hands and left, looking around for a sign of the man. She stopped when she saw him inside the barbershop and she stepped inside, watching him shave with the razors that were left behind. He stopped when he saw her and tossed the bar of soap towards her, and she caught it in time. “Wash your face,” He mumbled. 

She was still watching him as she approached the sink, seeing how she also needed cleaning up, she washed her face quickly, scrubbing away the dust and smoke. It was only then that she realized how the war seemed to have changed the way she looked, how the dark shadows under her eyes had become more prominent. She wiped her face with the towel he handed her while he watched her with a kind of curiosity he hadn’t had in a while. It was probably a long while since he last stood in the same place as a woman without them running away or cowering in fear simply because he was amongst those who were fighting. 

The two of them stepped out of the shop, once again taking in their dilapidated and abandoned surroundings. It made them think about what the place must have been before the war. Busy, noisy, but more importantly, full of life. As of that moment, they were the only lives. The silence between them was becoming less and less deafening, and he figured it was because she was slowly warming up to what he said earlier. They were no longer in a war, they were no longer fighting, much less see the need to keep fighting. 

They stopped in front of the abandoned movie theater, some of the letters on the marquee having fallen off, the rest of the letters hinting at what movie was being shown before the evacuation. 

A Fine Romance: A Story of Love in War 

How timely, he thought, catching her gaze the moment he glanced at her. Even with the slight changes, their language remained the same. As they approached the entrance, they saw a pile of skeletons, the remains of the soldiers that fought either with them or against them. As if on command, the two of them suddenly aimed their rifles at each other.

The two of them were prepared to shoot, but the man put his rifle down, reminding himself that there was no longer the need to do it. If they were bent on destroying each other, they probably would’ve done it from the beginning. She would’ve been dead in that diner. He walked away, slinging his rifle again over his shoulder. She quickly followed him, observing his every move. Even after cleaning up, she noticed how handsome he was. 

She stopped in front of a dress shop, seeing a white dress on display that had long sleeves and embellishments on the hems and sleeves. It was probably a dress that would’ve been perfect for a dance, or maybe a wedding, she thought. “Beautiful,” She muttered. 

He glanced at her and then back at the white outfit. Without another word, he broke through the glass, taking the dress off from the mannequin, and handed it to her. “Wear it,” He said. “It’s yours now.” 

She slowly took the dress from him, unable to hide the astonishment on her face at the feel of the fabric. Even when it was a little dirty in some places, it was still as soft and as beautiful. She went up into what looked like an office to change, hoping that it would fit her. It had been a while since she last wore something nice. 

As she was about to take off the jacket, she saw the posters plastered on the walls, reading what was on each one. It was all messages of the war, messages empowering those who read them to enlist, to fight, to shoot the enemy. She rushed out, rifle back in her hands as she aimed it at him again, but this time, she pulled the trigger. Once, twice, only to miss. 

He stared at her incredulously. How could she still think he was dangerous? Even after giving her the dress she had her eye on? Even after having told her that there was no need to fight, that he only sought peace. He sighed, walking away before she could shoot him any more. 

She watched him walk off, seeing him drop his rifle to the ground before leaving. They were better off apart. She looked back at the dress on the table and took it with her as she left the office, thinking to go back to the barber shop that had a slightly more comfortable chair. It was already getting dark and she needed someplace to camp in for the night, at least for the night. 

~ 

Morning had come, and the man stepped out of the room he stayed in, the room that was on the second floor of what was an old clothing store. It was there that he found clothes that suited him this time, finally rid of the military garb he had been wearing for as long as he could remember. He changed into the tuxedo he saw on the mannequin, slightly fitted in some places but he made it fit. As he stepped out, climbing down the staircase to look at the view of the run-down metropolis, he saw two cans of peaches on the railing. 

He scanned the empty street, immediately catching the gaze of a familiar pair of eyes from behind the truck. It was her. He had given up trying to convince her that there was nothing left anymore. “Take your war elsewhere, there’s no war here, there’s no enemy for you to fight here,” He called out. 

Before he could turn back, he saw her emerge from behind the truck, and his expression softened when he saw that she was wearing the dress. He took the cans and climbed further down to meet her in the middle of the street. He handed her one can. “Beautiful,” He said. A small smile appeared on her lips. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, her voice soft.

“I’m Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa,” He replied. 

“Ara, Kim Ara,” She said. 

“Beautiful,” It was his turn to smile.

[winchesterandpie]

Wounded, But Not Dead (Geralt x reader)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 2380

Warnings: angst (really just for plot), injury, death mentions, major character almost death (Happy ending, I promise! - that’s not a spoiler, the title already tells you), poor proofreading

A/N: Ok, just a disclaimer on those warnings - the vast majority of this fic is fluff! So if angst isn’t your thing, don’t worry, it gets fixed really fast! Also, I haven’t actually watched the Witcher, but I read a few Geralt fics last week, and then this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it! Please forgive Geralt being (likely) wildly out of character, I tried to stay true to what little I know of his character from the fics and gifsets I’ve seen on here. I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, but it’s possible I slipped up somewhere! Gif is not mine! Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy!!!

I didn’t even really feel the blow when it hit. I suppose that was my first clue that the outlook wasn’t good. Still, I couldn’t leave the White Wolf to fight off all of the men on his own, so I fought on. If anything, the numbness that was beginning to spread through my body lent me a certain numbness to fear and caution.

With unbridled ferocity, I struck out at the man who had landed the blow. He went down, and the remaining three circled me at a wary distance. 

Guess it’s my move, then. I shrugged before lunging at one with reckless abandon. 

The rest of the fight passed in a blur. I wasn’t sure if that was because it happened quickly or because of the rapidly increasing fuzziness in my vision. When it was over and the three men lay dead at my feet, the second signal that I’d been badly wounded came. Without warning, my knees buckled under me and I collapsed facedown on the ground with a pained grunt. 

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before someone rolled me over. Instinctively, my hand found the hilt of one of my knives, grasping it weakly in a poor defense from whomever that hand belonged to.

Geralt grabbed my wrist, effortlessly stopping my feeble attempt to stab him. His fingers were rough but gentle in their movement as he probed for my wound. He slowly came into focus before me, his silver hair falling in disarray. His eyes were… No, that can’t be right - Geralt’s never worried...

“Dove, what happened?” As ever, he was quick to the point, not one to waste words. Had I been more conscious, I would’ve noted the near-panic in the two words.

“One of--” A harsh cough forced me to pause. “One of them got a lucky blow.”

He found it then, and I flinched away from the pressure. There wasn’t an accompanying pain, which I knew was a bad sign. He apologized and cursed in the same breath, lifting my shirt just enough to see the deep gash across my abdomen.

“That bad, huh?”  

Geralt only grunted in response as he focused on assessing the options. 

“I’m gonna die, aren’t?” The sudden fear clawed its way out of my throat, followed by a cough that felt wetter than it should have been.

“No.” His wolf-gold eyes met my gaze with a sharp ferocity as he said it. “No, you won’t die. I swore to protect you and that’s what I’ll do.”

“Geralt.” When he didn’t answer, starting to move away, I tried to put a little more strength into my voice. “Geralt. It’s no use.”

“Just--”

“Leave it.” He must’ve known as well as I did that this wasn’t something he was going to be able to fix, for he returned, all but falling to his knees beside me. I wished desperately that I could fix the defeated slump of his shoulders, the way his head hung low.

“I can’t… I…” The words caught in his throat as he gathered me into his arms. “Please just let me try.”

“Try what, love?”

“To save you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” I reached my hand up to his cheek, tracing my thumb over his cheekbone as he leaned into my palm. His hand came up over mine, as if to hold it there. “It’s ok. My brave witcher, you’ll be alright.”

“I thought I was supposed to be reassuring you. I’m not the one who’s...” It was a valiant attempt at humor to hide his faltering facade, but I saw through to his over-bright eyes and the slight waver in his voice.

“When have we ever followed the normal people rules?” I smiled softly up at him. He hummed in response, and I saw the gears start to turn in his head. A sudden determination came over his features and he secured me more tightly against his chest. Tiredly, I leaned my head against him, my eyes drifting shut.

“No, no, no, you keep those eyes open, dove.”

“But ‘m so tired,” I mumbled into his leather armor. 

“Stay with me, hmmm? Just a little longer.” 

“Geralt, I don’t think I can,” My words were slurring together now, blackness beginning to edge in at the corners of my vision. “Find Jaskier.”

“What?”

“Find Jaskier - you were never good at being alone. Laugh at something he says, even if it isn’t funny. Promise me - at least once a week you’ll laugh.”

“Stop it, you can’t say goodbye.”

“S’not up to me anymore, love.”

“Hold on, please.”

I mumbled some gibberish response, and we held a sort of conversation that way for a while. It was odd to hear Geralt talk so much - not that I was opposed to hearing more of the deep rumble of his voice. Somewhere along the way, I picked up on the rocking gait of his jog. 

In hindsight, his newfound talkativeness was probably an attempt to keep me conscious for longer. In the moment, it was all I could do to notice the weightlessness I felt in his arms before the blackness enveloped me.

.   .   .

.   .   .

I didn’t think I was supposed to open my eyes again. Then again, I suppose I’d never been dead before, so I wasn’t entirely sure what dead people could or couldn’t do. The room slowly came into focus, a little odd, since I was pretty sure I’d died in the middle of the woods somewhere, but again, I had no experience with being dead. It was bright enough that I could believe it was some sort of afterlife.

Then I sat up.

Tried to sit up would be a more accurate description. I barely started to shift any weight onto my elbows when pain shot through my abdomen and I was forced to fall back with a grunt. That felt a little more like real life, though that shouldn’t be possible.

A rustling noise came from beside me, sounding almost like… like someone shifting in a chair, I realized as I turned my head to see what made the noise.

“You’re awake.” A familiar deep voice filtered over my ears. 

Geralt. I saw the silver-white hair now, more disheveled than usual.

“Yes, it’s me.”

So I must not be dead then, somehow.

“Wounded, but not dead, indeed.”

Wait, did I say all that out loud?

“You did.” 

Slowly, my eyes grew used to the light, taking much longer to adjust than I felt it should have. He came into focus, leaning forward from a chair pulled next to the bed I lay in. There were several half-healed cuts on his face that I could see. I tried to sit up again so I could see him better,  apparently having not learned my lesson from last time. Geralt was quick to support me as I shifted, moving additional pillows behind me so I could sit up a little better. Once I was situated, he passed me a cup of water to ease my desert-dry throat.

“I didn’t die?”

“No.”

“Good to know you’re back to your chatty self,” I joked weakly. His lips pulled up into the slightest smile, and I could see the relief in his eyes. “What happened back there?”

He sucked in a breath, releasing the air in a long sigh before answering. “You passed out. I carried you here. The mage in town happened to have the skill to heal you. You’ve been asleep for two days.” I wished for the strength to reach up a hand and smooth the crease that formed between his brows as he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” The furrow only deepened with my apology.

“For worrying you.”

“You almost die and the first thing you do when you wake is apologize for scaring me?” Geralt let out a huff of breath that I could only describe as a laugh. “Only you, dove.”

Slowly, carefully, I reached out my hand to grasp his, intending to pull him to sit on the bed beside me. His hand met mine before I could stretch too far, but instead of coming toward me, he lifted my hand to his lips, where he pressed a feather-light kiss to my knuckles.

That put my hand close enough that I could fulfill my original intention. Slipping it from his grasp, I lifted it a little higher to trace over his cheekbones, then up to his forehead, smoothing over the furrow between his brows. He huffed out another breath of amusement mingled with relief.

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like when you’re stressed, love.”

“No, not that.” He shook his head a little, his hand coming up over my hand to hold it there - mirroring the interaction in the forest when I’d been dying. “I meant why were you even in that fight? I told you to stay back.”

“There were four of them that came sneaking up… it would’ve been behind you, I think.” Honestly, my memory of the time was a little bit muddled. “They passed by where I was, and I thought it would be easy enough. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know I started teaching you to use a sword, dove, but one on four?” He released my hand, standing to pace back and forth across the room. 

“I didn’t want--”

“I heal! I could have handled it! You…” Geralt was half-shouting now. “You almost died! What would I do if you had?”

I didn’t really have a response to that. I didn’t think I’d spent particularly long thinking about it, just jumped out to attack them in the fear that there were too many for him to face alone. I knew this was the delayed anger that came from fear - I’d seen it before. What I didn’t know was how to respond. For a long moment, there was a tense silence between us.

“You’re right, Geralt,” I offered tentatively. When he didn’t immediately react, I continued. “It was reckless and I almost died. But I couldn’t just leave you to fight on your own! And I’m alright. It’s like you said - wounded, but not dead.”

He exhaled a long sigh, striding back over to my side and sitting on the edge of the bed. Almost immediately, he pulled me close to him, mindful of the bandages wrapped around my middle. His face was buried against my hair as his arms tightened around me, as though he was reassuring himself that I was really there. My fingers found their way into his silver mane, combing through the tangled strands. 

“I’m here, love,” I murmured as I felt his shoulders shake ever so slightly. “I’m alright. You saved me. It’s ok now.”

“I was terrified.” The words were barely a whisper in my ear, a rare admission of vulnerability that few were ever allowed to hear from the White Wolf. I didn’t speak, just wrapped my arms around him more tightly. I turned my head slightly so I could press my lips to his chest through his shirt. His shoulders gradually stilled as the grip of those emotions loosened. Eventually, he twisted enough to touch his lips to my hairline, resting there in a soft kiss.

“I’m safe now,” I reassured when I felt he was calm enough for me to pull back slightly. One of his hands moved up to cup my cheek delicately, like he was holding fine china. I kissed his palm, feeling him almost shudder at the feel. 

“I’m sorry, I should be comforting you.”

“Why’s that, love?”

“You’re the one who almost died.” He said it as though it were obvious, and perhaps to some, it was.

“I’ve always thought it harder to be left behind… Or almost left behind, in this case.” His honey eyes wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Besides, as long as I’m with you, I’m not too worried about how I’ll fare.”

“I was there when you nearly died too. Doesn’t sound like much of a good luck charm.”

I started to lean forward to rest my forehead against him but flinched when it pulled the skin around my wound. Immediately, Geralt pulled back further to look down at the bandages, starting to reach a hand toward it before he stopped himself. No blood came through the white bandage, and he relaxed a little, though he still avoided my gaze.

“It’s alright, I’m fine. Just moved too fast.” I settled myself slowly, leaning against his broad chest before continuing my train of thought. “But yes, you were there. And that’s why I’m even here to be having this conversation with you. Because you were there. Because you, my brave, sweet, determined witcher, refused to give up on me.”

His cheek came to rest atop my head as his arms wound back around me. “When did you get to be so wise, hmmm?”

A joke was itching to roll off my tongue, but I refused to burst the atmosphere of Geralt’s rare vulnerability just yet, sensing he still needed something. Instead, I simply shrugged, knowing he could feel the movement.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful, dove.” There it is.

“I’ll do my best,” I sighed. “But careful is rarely an option in this line of work.”

Geralt grunted, effectively ending the moment of vulnerability.

“I’ll at least try to be less reckless. All things considered, though, I think this proved I’m a natural with a sword.”

Geralt heaved a long sigh, but I heard the hint of a smile in his voice. “One of these days, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Someone has to keep your life interesting.” That drew a full chuckle from him, and I grinned in silent victory. “You should teach me more sword moves. Then you might not have to worry so much.”

“We’ll see about that when you’re healed, alright? For now, just let me look after you, dove.”

“I hope that includes entertainment - you know how quickly I get bored on bed rest.”

“Hmmm, no.”

“Just a little dancing?”

“No.”

“Singing then?”

“Absolutely not.”

“... Fine. Funny faces?”

He only let out yet another long-suffering sigh, one of the first of many during my recovery.

That’s all, folks! Hope you enjoyed!

Forever tags:

@riddikulus-obsessions​ @addictionmarvel​ @peppermint--teas​ @mercedesbarnes​ @javapeach​

Tag list is OPEN! Let me know if you want to be added!

[mishinsisa]

A traveler's learning - A princess' wish

(AlMei fic)

Summary.- Alphonse Elric decides to start his own life and materialize his projects: traveling east and study alkahestry. He takes two friends in order to help them recover their original forms and, along the way, gets to know the seventeenth princess of Xing better. During Alphonse's learning process and while Mei takes on projects in support of her clan, they get to understand each other and their bond strengthens.

*This is the first thing I write about FMA since I got into the fandom recently. English is not my first language and I hadn't written any fiction in English, so please, if you see any mistakes, do not hesitate to let me know so I can correct them.*

First chapter length: 3,825 words

Total length: 13,780 words

Genre: Friendship / Family / Romance (at the very end)

Links to AO3 and Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist

1

 Determination

 He had to reconsider his plans of departing soon to the East on the advice of his family and acquaintances: his brother and surrogate grandmother were worried about him exposing to such a strenuous journey through the desert. The chances of survival and successful completion for healthy people were already low, let alone for a boy whose body had suffered years of starvation and consequently severe health issues. The princess, his friend, despite showing excitement for his intended visit to her country and a willingness to work with him, stated that he would have to study the language beforehand, at least to a basic level. A vast majority of Xingese did not speak Amestrian at all, and traditional teachers were not patient nor gentle with foreigners.

 There was no chance to see friends off. Due to the critical condition their bodies were in, all the brothers got was a brief and restricted visit by the far eastern group. An interchange of addresses—attempting to ignore the fact that they might not see nor contact each other again—, words of gratitude and encouragement, and that was it. The Elrics and the people who fought that day would spend a while under close medical care.

 Alphonse’s process was, by far, the longest and most difficult of all. He learned when the Armstrongs, the Colonel, the Lieutenant, the chimeras, and everybody involved was discharged. Even his father, who, once healthy, showed intentions to stay with his sons. However, Hohenheim understood, from Edward’s attitude, that his continuous presence with them would not be wise nor comfortable.

 It was Edward the one who never left Alphonse’s side. Even when he himself was severely injured, he insisted on being with his younger brother to make sure of his progress. It was not only his guilt of the failed transmutation and bringing his young body to that pitiful state, but also the uncertainty of his survival given that severe emaciation.

 Bedridden, stuck to a liquid diet, barely able to turn over and subject to multiple injections a day, not only the youngest Elric was restrained in a body he and his brother had been searching for years. He was also prey to baffling nightmares, hallucinations, abrupt losses of consciousness, and difficulty in remembering things that happened during the journeys with his brother. During these lapses, Edward would sit on the edge of the bed and hold his hand in an attempt to make Alphonse feel safe and supported. Even being such a reckless youngster, the older brother knew when to cheer the younger one, and when it was best to stay quiet and hold him.

 It was the memory of those endless months of convalescence that made Edward worry about his brother’s decision to go to the east as soon as possible. He understood his urge to travel and live as many experiences as he could, since the former state alchemist had already decided to study in the West. However, communications between Amestris and the East were still limited, and the connection projects were still drafts. Führer Grumman and the Crown Prince, on behalf of the Emperor of Xing due to his frail state, had just opened a trade route through Aerugo and the south sea. It was the beginning of a promise to a profitable exchange between Amestris and the eastern country.

Determined to prepare himself for his journey, Alphonse took into account Mei’s words and chose to start learning Xingese. In East City, the closest urban area to his hometown, he found little linguistic and instructional material that could help him. He didn’t feel like going all the way to Central, so he had some books delivered to the Rockbell house by some renowned bookstores.

 Once the brothers felt ready, Alphonse would be the first one to depart. Deep down, he trusted his absence would give his older brother the space and courage to acknowledge his feelings and talk about them with the girl they grew up with.

 ~

 ―You sure you don’t wanna wait for an eastern railway line to be ready? I’ve heard it’s in the Führer’s agenda.―Pinako told him with a concerned tone.

 Alphonse smiled reassuringly.

 ―We don’t know if that will start tomorrow, next month or next year. What if they start building it in ten years? I’m not going to wait that long.

 ―You just make sure to call home whenever you get the chance, okay?―his brother said, smiling―There’s got to be a phone in each station. So let us know about all of your layovers, huh?

 ―Ed, he’s going to spend too much money on phone calls.―Winry talked back and then immediately addressed to Alphonse―You just call us once a day so we get to know you’re okay. Don’t forget to write as soon as you get to Xing, understand?

 The first announcement of the train to Aerugo echoed in the station.

 Pinako wished him the best of luck and reminded him that he could get back home whenever he wanted to.

 Winry took a package wrapped in cloth out of a basket and gave it to him.

 ―When you get hungry during the trip…

 The boy gasped out of joy when he noticed the smell of apple pie.

 ―You didn’t have to! Thanks a bunch!

 ―I can’t believe you will cross the sea! I want you to tell me what is it like!

 He smiled at her and nodded.

 Then, his brother came closer to him.

 ―You just take care, okay? Don’t get in trouble.

 ―You’re not coming with me, so most likely I won’t get into bigger trouble than the ones you got me in.

 Edward scoffed.

 They bumped fists. Then, they bumped elbows and patted each other’s shoulder as Alphonse turned around to walk towards the platform.

 The Rockbells and the older brother waved him goodbye when they spotted him in his seat. He waved back at them, smiling. Soon after the train started moving, Winry and Pinako got tired and lowered their arms. Edward, however, not only waved even harder, but ran along the platform so as not to lose sight of Alphonse, until the train outran him and went away.

 ~

 He met with Jerso and Zampano at the South City station. From there, they headed together to the southernmost city of Amestris connected by train and took a tram to the checkpoint. The Amestrian police and soldiers checked their passports and jackets, acting somehow lenient after noticing the Elric surname in the documents. In the Aerugonian side, however, they got thoroughly searched and questioned. Their ID photos were constantly checked to confirm if they were the persons they claimed to be; they even had to take their shoes off and open their luggage. The process, which seemed endless for the young alchemist and former militaries, ended up with the confiscation of personal items such as straight razors, nail clippers, a lighter and a hip flask. Alphonse’s medication was almost confiscated, too, but he showed his prescription and bargained speaking a mixture of Amestrian and very broken Aerugonian.

 The first train they took, in a noisy and narrow station, was full of people with work attires and uniforms; people carrying heavy packaged goods, cases full of documents, lunch boxes. Some of them avoided interaction by reading the newspaper; some others simply slept with the newspaper on their face to block the light. The boy, however tired, kept looking out the window, curious to find out if the countryside in Aerugo would look different from the countryside in which he grew up.

 Hours later in the train, the former militaries couldn’t help but chuckle about Alphonse’s look. He fell asleep with his face leaning next to the window. His jaw was wide open, part of his hair was upright and entangled, and his left leg was extended to the front, almost in the personal space of his companions. Zampano tapped the tip of the boy’s foot with his own foot in a subtle attempt to wake him up when he noticed a middle-aged woman selling snacks, approaching. Not that the food or service were that good at the train, but he and his friend were hungry, and they supposed the young one would need something to eat.

 ―Hey… hey, Al…

 A sharp move of the train made his head bump into the wall and woke him up.

 ―You okay, buddy? You want something?―Zampano asked him in an amused tone.

 Alphonse yawned covering his mouth, unable to talk immediately, while Jerso took some money out of his pocket and bought snacks for the three of them.

 ―I can’t believe it’s already afternoon. Did we pass by any landmarks?―The boy asked.

 ―I woke up an hour ago.―Jerso answered, shrugging and chewing.

 ―I’ve been sleeping and waking up every now and then. Only sheep, cows and plantations out that window. You didn’t miss anything.

 Alphonse smiled. Deep down, he disagreed with Zampano’s answer: he was in a whole new place for him and was willing to see the slightest detail of it, specially since he was just passing through that country and didn’t know if he would be there again.

 At night, the train stopped in what seemed to be a textile town. Given the hour and their tiredness, all they did was look for an inn to have dinner and rest.

 Alphonse went to an old phone, one of the only three that were near the front desk area. He took some coins and dialed long distance.

 ―Rockbell Automail.

 ―Granny, it’s me.

 ―Al, thank goodness. Where are you now?

 The young Elric attempted to ask the name of the town with his limited language skills, but he didn’t understand the answer he got, no matter how many times the clerk repeated.

 ―I… I’m still north of Aerugo. I just had dinner. How’s my brother and Winry?

 ―He’s upstairs, reading.

 ―Hey!―A distant voice and quick steps were heard through the phone.

 ―Here he comes. Hold on.

 ―Yo! How’s everything going?

 ―It’s all right. I’ve been sitting all day long.

 ―You in Aerugo? Is it hot? You’re gonna get all tanned and all. Careful with the ladies.―Edward teased his brother, trying to conceal the fact that he already missed him.

 ―It’s humid, yeah.―The young one smiled―So, when are you going to talk to Winry?

 ―Uh…

 Edward seemed to be about to give an explanation, but he remained silent. Alphonse was not surprised.

 ―Listen, I gotta go now. I need to sleep. We’re taking the next train first thing in the morning. Take care.

 The next morning they woke up a little later than agreed and barely had time to get prepared. They ran to the station and, panting, abruptly stopped behind the platform line. Less than a minute later, the train doors opened. It was still dark, but the next train would depart three hours later, and Alphonse was not willing to delay his itinerary.

 Luckily, there were very few people in that train given the hour and route. The train car they were in was practically empty; it was just the three of them, so the Amestrians were free to be at ease. After a light breakfast and a nap to recover the lost sleep, they played cards. The game finished gradually with the hours of the morning and they ended up chatting and laughing, telling stories and their plans on the East.

 They spent the whole day crossing Aerugo and, as they headed south, Alphonse wrote in a travelogue details of what he saw. Not only did he enjoy rural and natural landscapes, but as the train went through big cities and the capital, he was delighted by the architecture, urban transportation, and the people’s disposition. Aerugonians seemed to be much more open and talkative than Amestrians: most houses decorated with flowering plants and painted in bright colors, unlike in his country.

 After spending the night in a city 400 miles away from the coast and boarding a last train the next morning, the three Amestrians arrived in an important port where they had some time to spare before their ship’s departure. They had a taste of Aerugonian seafood and bought medicine and personal care items, since their razors were taken in the north border and they didn’t want to look unkempt on arrival in Xing.

 Once on board the ship and upon leaving his stuff in the cabin, Alphonse rushed to the top deck and, amazed, walked to the railing and stood there. The wind in his hair and clothes, eyes narrowed by the daylight and mouth wide open, he stared delighted the vastness before him, sky and sea, which he thought of as two realms only separated by the line where the shades of blue diverged.

 During the early afternoon, once in open sea, Zampano and Jerso chatted and enjoyed the sunlight while the boy, feet away from them, looked down the hull and noticed a large school of flying fish, fluttering. Alphonse leaned over the railing to take a better look of them and the deep waters he was navigating. Later on, in the distance, he spotted dolphins. Pelicans and seagulls flew above the ship and, following their path with his eyes, he turned around and looked back at the point from which it sailed, now vanished in the horizon. A tear crossed his cheekbone. That innocence and sense of wonder reminded his travel companions of their own children, moving them.

 ~

 The Xingese harbor where they set foot in land for the first time in days was a bustle of vessels, rickshaws and loud talk that, in addition to their seasickness, left the three Amestrians dazed and indisposed to walk long distances. The midday light worsened their discomfort, and Alphonse had to call to mind his self-taught language lessons and look for a way to get to the train station. Needless to say that three considerably tall, unusual-looking, tired foreigners would be easy prey to cunning drivers.

 They got on the cab that charged them the less among the other options presented to them as a swarm. Still, in front of the station, the driver charged them more than agreed, claiming the routes he had to take in order to get them fast and the weight of three big men and their suitcases. Alphonse’s shortness of vocabulary and Jerso and Zampano’s total ignorance of the language led to an unintelligible quarrel in overlapped Amestrian and Xingese. The altercation drew the attention of bystanders and ended up with the foreigners paying reluctantly the final demanded amount. Jerso was about to spit his chimeric saliva to the driver but was stopped by Alphonse.

 ~

 The route to the capital of Xing took them through places that not only enthralled the already curious alchemist, but also delighted the grown men with him. The stunning look of lightning in the distance in the southern area near the desert, they had never seen that kind of thunderstorms. Numerous rice terraces extending in sequences that seemed infinite; rivers reflecting surrounding peaks covered in green; a thick emerald forest where the silence seemed sacred; hills that seemed painted with watercolors in various shades of yellow, red and green; plantation fields; busy towns. Bluish, gray mountains imposing as they approached the capital city.

 Never in his life had the boy seen so many people concentrated in one place. When Alphonse and his travel companions arrived at the main station they were easily stepped on and bumped into by the passers-by, not without a curious peek. Not every day did they see people with those Amestrians’ physical traits and clothing. Besides, they looked unkempt, since they hadn’t had the chance to shave since their last morning in the Aerugonian ship.

 The place was so big they got easily lost amid the swarm of people and the overwhelming amount of hallways, waiting areas and sigs they didn’t understand. They decided it would be better to go first to the restrooms, which were in an upper floor. The young one remembered reading once in his books that performing personal care activities in public, such as combing or shaving, was seen as very bad taste in Xing, so they went very quickly.

 Once done, walking down the wide stairs along with many other users, Alphonse felt weak due to a drop in his blood pressure. The changes in altitude and the eating habits he had been leading during such a long trip affected his health, and he fainted. People near him stepped aside, most of them continuing on their way. Zampano and Jerso ran to their friend, turning him over to see if he was awake or injured.

 —Al! Hey, Al!—Jerso shouted, gently slapping the boy’s face.

 Alphonse’s head had hit the edge of a stair, causing him a laceration on his forehead and a black eye. Zampano held him and softly shook him.

 —He’s passed out, go get help.—He told Jerso.

 —They won’t understand a word, lemme just…

 —Go get help! We don’t know if he still has any condition.

 —I don’t know how to! I better go get water to splash his face and wash that blood.

 Three security guards came running, alerted by one witness of Alphonse’s fall down the stairs. Their first impression was that of an innocent looking youngster waking up disoriented and bleeding, surrounded by two threatening-looking men with untidy stubble, one of then shaking him on the floor and patting his coat, the other one carrying his suitcase. Yelling, one of the guards asked something none of the Amestrians understood. He and the second guard proceeded to detain Jerso and Zampano, while the third guard helped Alphonse stand up and walk.

 ~

 —Sir, are you here against your will?—The sheriff asked slowly and clear so that the young Amestrian could understand.—Were you kidnapped? Kidnap?

 —Again, I was not abducted. I came here because I want.

 His accent was strong, but he talked clear and was confident of his language use in that situation. Alphonse tried to explain time after time that he was in Xing willingly and that those two men were his friends, but none of the officers seemed to believe. The wound on his forehead had been washed and covered and he had been offered an ice pack for his eye. His companions were held in a cell.

 The sheriff opened the boy’s passport. He frowned a little, glanced at the Amestrian, and skimmed the document again. That surname may have been distant news once, but he was not sure.

 —Do you want to go back home? Call anyone?

 —Yes. I want to call the Seventeenth Royal Princess of Xing, Mei.

 The sheriff and the officers in the room looked at each other in incredulity. Some of them grinned and sneered. They talked mockingly among them at fast pace and the sheriff tried to impose order.

 —Sonny, home? You don’t want to go home? Or do you need a lawyer?

 Alphonse felt like the man was treating him like a stupid.

 —Sir, I know my rights. I can resort to the help I need. And the help I choose is Her Highness, Princess Mei.

 Silence in the room, skeptic faces.

 —I met her, the Crown Prince Ling Yao and his bodyguards Lan Fan and the late Fu in Amestris. I’m Alphonse Elric, and I came here to study Alkahestry, science she masters.

 One of the officers talked in a condescending tone and the sheriff mumbled, frustrated. He took the phone and dialed. Once he got an answer, he adopted a formal tone and, among the particulars, he mentioned the name Alphonse Elric, mispronouncing it. Minutes of silence. The conversation seemed to resume briefly, and the man hung up. His countenance seemed uncomfortable and wary. He had a secretary bring the Amestrian a cup of tea and offered him a forced smile. The officers in the room were in expectation. Minutes later, the sheriff called again.

 —I am sorry for keeping you waiting, Mr. Elric.—The man in charge of the situation addressed the young Amestrian after hanging up—I contacted the relevant palace office and they talked to one of the Princess’ assistants. She will be here in about two hours. In the meantime, the nurse will take care of you.

 Alphonse smiled and sighed with relief.

 —What about my friends?

 —That’s for the Princess to decide.

 —They are hungry and tired by now.

 The sheriff acted as if he hadn’t heard that and handed Alphonse his passport back, then called the nurse and asked her to take the young man with her.

 ~

 The distant fuss in the building woke him up from his shallow slumber. The bed was narrow and hard, but he was so tired and unwell that he surrendered to the cherished rest by the nurse’s command. She saw him awake and made a gesture, indicating that he should get out of bed. The door was opened. The nurse bowed down and, with a glance, warned that he ought to do the same.

 He saw her: a shining maiden, ravishing, small in build, taller than the last time they talked, her little panda on her shoulder. Dressed in a light blue cheongsam, her hair tied in two buns with braids, she seemed to personify the morning sky. The princess stared at him, first in disbelief; then, after asking him and the nurse to stop bowing and scrutinizing his face, she recognized him and gasped.

 —Sir Alphonse!—She took four steps forward in a reflex of greeting him like in the old days, but remembered the presence of her palace assistants and the officers and stopped suddenly, bowing slightly—I mean, Mr. Elric! Are you all right?

 —I am! Don’t worry, it was just a fall!

 —I have to apologize for being so late. I was addressing issues when we received your call. After that, I had to get everything prepared for you and your friends. Where are they?

 —Arrested, I’m afraid.

 —Oh! Let’s hurry, then. I’ll explain later, but I wanted to make sure you’re well received and comfortable, specially after this unfortunate misunderstanding.

 An officer released Zampano and Jerso. When they were greeted by Mei, the man forced them to a bow, and escorted them out when she headed to the exit.

  —It feels weird. Such a tiny girl we met in Amestris, now a fancy princess.

 —Yes, man, she’s royal family and all, remember?

 The former militaries mumbled astonished once out of the police station, away from the group. Alphonse joined them then.

 —Don’t be surprised. She’s in her country, she must follow a protocol. All we can do is adapt ourselves.

 —Gentlemen!—The princess called them loudly, waving to draw their attention.

 She invited them to get on the limousine with her. Once their luggage was in place and they got on the back seats, Mei asked the chauffeur to drive to the place where the Amestrians would stay.

[cecilspeaks]

165 - Charlie

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are written about on Wikipedia. Welcome to Night Vale.

Charles Rainier grew up in Becket, Massachusetts, nestled in the rolling small hills of the Berkshires. The fiery fall leaves, pristine winter snowfall, lush spring flowers and sparkling summer lakes belied the average life of young Charles. He went to school, passed his classes, he spent time with friends seeing popular movies and playing popular games. His family ate food together and generally got along. When he wanted to be alone, he went to a small pond, hidden in the woods, to fish. He studied sociology at Amherst College and graduated in the top 50 percent of his class. Nothing about his unremarkable upbringing indicated he would one day be standing in the middle of a desert, behind a roadblock, holding a rifle and a flashlight, and searching for fugitives from his own asylum.

Last month, a dozen inmates of the Night Vale Asylum escaped during a production of a play. As an attendee of that play, I would say that while the escape was clearly not part of the original draft of the script, it made for an exciting resolution. I mean, bout 30 minutes in Carlos and I were like, is there going to be a car chase or a shootout or something, I mean that play was bo-o-o-orring! And then suddenly, there was both! But the warden, Charles Rainier from Becket, Massachusetts, did not like the last minute edits to the plot, as he and the Sheriff’s Secret Police have yet to round up any of the inmates now on the run, somewhere in our vast desert. Night Vale citizens have expressed deep concerns about their safety. A scathing op-ed in yesterday’s Daily Journal by Leann Hart read: “Warden Rainier should never have been in charge of such an important institution. His unchecked irresponsibility will lead us all to be killed by psychopaths, who surely hide now inside our basements, our attics, our laundry hampers, perhaps inside our own pants pockets.” The editorial continued: “They wield knives, ropes, wrenches, candlesticks, or pipes. And when we least expect it, these crazed killers will leap out at us, screaming bout eating our faces or feeding us to rodents. Or whatever other evil actions those two very funny women are always describing on “My  Favorite Murrderrr”. Charles Rainier called Hart’s claims “neurotypical ableism”, saying that we become too biased from movies and TV shows that play up harmful tropes about mental illnesses. He added that none of the peoples inside were of immediate anger to any individual in Night Vale. The Night Vale chapter of the ACLU then responded, calling for in investigation into a public facility that would imprison people who had committed no criminal acts and were of no harm to society. Charles Rainier replied: “I said they wouldn’t hurt any individual. I didn’t say they were of no harm to society.”

But who were the people in the asylum? Carlos and I attended the production of the play “18713/NTSB”, partially to have a nice date night, just the two of us. But also because I was curious if I would see Amelia Anna Alfaro there. The air traffic controller has not been seen since 2012, after hearing voices from the missing flight, Delta 18713. There were rumors she was checked into the asylum. Other rumors, that she had gone off to find the missing plane, and other other rumors, that she was disappeared by a Vague yet Menacing Government Agency.

Amelia was not inside the asylum the night of the breakout. But Doug Biondi was there. He played the pilot of the missing plane in the play we saw. Doug was the impetus for this entire story, really, because it was Doug who, according to Sheriff Sam, had real information about the missing plane. Members of the National Transportation and Safety Board had also come to Night Vale to talk to Doug about what he knew, and Sheriff Sam obliged by sending those agents from Washington DC on an undercover investigation into the asylum. Yet, like Doug and the dozens of other inmates in that fearful place, they did not return.

According to to Doug Biondi’s journal, which Carlos and I found inside the asylum after the play, warden Charles Rainier developed a paradoxical logic for dealing with these inmates. He encouraged them to talk openly bout their feelings under the guise of healing them, but the more they expressed their thoughts and emotions, the more the warden used this information as proof of their insanity, and by extension, ineligibility for release. But as Doug elaborates, if inmates refused to talk, they were deemed uncooperative and of course, ineligible for release. Reading further into Doug’s journal, I realized it’s just like that novel, “Catch-22”, in that there’s a bunch of talk about airplanes. What stood out most to me, though, was the fact that every other inmate Doug mentions also talked about the missing Delta flight. Every single person in there either heard voices of the passengers, or had theories about what happened or were, in the case of NTSB agents, just open to find survivors of a missing plane. Doug railed against the collusion between the warden and the sheriff to imprison people simply because they knew something, anything, about flight 18713. “This is the last thing,” Doug wrote the day he escaped. “This nefarious conspiracy runs deep. Deeper than we can imagine. There are innocent people on a missing plane, and our government wants to destroy us for seeking the truth. Oh well. In other news, they fixed the TV in the rec room so I’m hoping to finally watch ‘Cheer’ on Netflix. Everyone says it’s super good.” Doug makes a compelling claim here, but he is wrong. About the conspiracy thing, not about “Cheer”, that show is super good.

So. Back in 2015, my devoted husband and devoted scientist Carlos, was heading a research project into a desert otherworld, a place very similar to our own. We spent almost a year apart while Carlos was in this alternate dimension performing experiments and drawing charts and pouring bubbling liquids back and forth between flasks. It was hard. We had only been dating a year when he left, but we kept in touch talking almost every day, sending each other text messages at night, like a kissy face emoji with a big red heart emoji. Or sometimes we sent racier messages, like [naughty voice] the safety goggles emoji with the police siren emoji and the first place ribbon emoji. Oh, sorry if that’s a little too graphic.

Anyway. Carlos made friends during his many months out of town, and so when he finally decided to return to Night Vale, some of those he met followed him. They came through a portal Carlos discovered in the Desert Otherworld: a one-sided door. It was difficult to find in a never-ending sandscape, but it is still there. And as Carlos said, once you know the way, you never forget it.

One of the people who came with Carlos through the portal in 2015 was Charles Rainier of Becket, Massachusetts. It was not easy for most of these new arrivals to find comfort or employment in Night Vale, but in just a few months, Charles had become friends with our new Sheriff and secured himself a job at the Night Vale Asylum. Few people looked deeply at the asylum, nor at Charles Rainier’s quick appointment as warden. Few people, in fact, looked closely at anything to do with mental disorders. It it almost as if we prefer not to see the mental illness at all. It is almost exactly like that. Well below the radar of public attention, Charles settled into his new position. And because there are no accounts of what went on in the asylum, and thus no stories of failure, it was inferred that he did a good job. But Carlos discovered something this week. In reading Doug Biondi’s journal, Doug makes passing mention of warden Rainier cautioning his inmates against listening to the voice of the pilot. The warden warns them that the pilot can control other beings with his mind. It is odd that the head of a mental health institution would patronize his patients with their own inner demons. Carlos at first thought the warden was manipulating the mental stability of his charges to stir up their fear and confusion in order to keep them there. We don’t know if the warden profited from retaining inmates or if he just felt an evil thrill from playing these games. But in Doug’s notes, the warden apparently said: “It is possible to escape the allure of the pilot. The power of his voice. Some have, but it is rare. And it is dangerous that you can hear him at all.”

Carlos remembered when he first met Charles Rainier, five years ago in the Desert Otherworld. Charles was so enthralled with Carlos’ stories of Night Vale. Charles Rainier could not wait to see this fantastic town and more importantly, to leave the terrible place in which he lived. He told Carlos that he escaped some – frightening people there. Charles Rainier said he had live in a commune for a couple of years. It began OK, they foraged and hunted their food, they helped each other and shared shelter inside the fuselage of an old plane. Everything was fine. They were alive, but soon the group became cult-like and aggressive, fashioning weapons and manufacturing enemies. The constant threat of violence toward other, towards themselves, shackled Charles’s every move. But he could not leave. Every time he tried, he heard a voice that called him back. So he trained himself to block out the voices. It took him weeks of determined practice, but finally he broke free. Carlos said to me: “Cecil, sweetie, my hypothesis is Charles Rainier was flying home from Detroit to Albany on June 15, 2012.” And I said: “What are you saying, honey-pop?” And Carlos said: “Babe, his plane blipped out of the sky and into the Desert Otherworld.” And I said: “Are you saying, kitty-cake, that Charles ws a passenger on Delta 18713?” But then Carlos aid: “You know, little piggy-pie, all this work talk is exhausting. Let’s have a glass of wine, sit out on the deck, and enjoy the nice weather.

[“Breathe” by Tanja Daub http://tanjadaub.bandcamp.com]

Listeners. I called Charlies Reinier, and I told him what Carlos and I talked about, and he confirmed what we discovered. He was indeed a passenger on 18713. They landed roughly but safely in the Desert Otherworld in June 2012. They ate their few food items and drank their water stores in two days. And soon they began spreading out to find civilization. But the desert was vast and seemingly uninhabited. They were too afraid to venture far from the plane, the only symbol of recognizable society. The pilot lead expeditions to find plant life and sources of water. He exuded calmness and clarity, and the passengers followed his example, occasionally finding peace in this unpleasant and frightening desert. Within a few months, they had developed a rhythm. They were finding food to eat, water to drink, the pilot seemed to know exactly where to hunt, exactly what to say, exactly how to behave.

Every passenger fell in line. They all had jobs to do, roles to fill, in this little commune. The fuselage kept them sheltered from the searing white days and the icy black nights. Sometimes they sang together, walked together, taught each other how to sew, how to cook, how to make tools. The passengers’ fear became comradery, which became unity, which became family. Which eventually became religiosity.

One day they were making salves from cacti, and the next they were crafting weapons. Charles hadn’t realized it at first, but every person on that plane could communicate telepathically. They could speak without talking – no, without learning. They were becoming a single organism separated into dozens of bodies. The loudest voice in their heads was the pilot. They had grown too complacent, and the pilot began to fill them once again with fear, fear of outsiders, of the rest of the world. They began to make barbaric expeditions hoping to find people or things to destroy. “I tried to escape,” Charles said to me. “I tried to escape over and over, but the voice was too strong. It was only when I thought about a little fishing hole down near Stockbridge that I would go to in summers by myself, to get away, to be alone.” Charles said he began to pantomime fishing, casting his imaginary lure on an imaginary line into and imaginary pond on hot desert sand. And when he did this, the voices quieted in his mind. He could free himself from the pilot’s voice, from the pilot’s control. I asked Charles why he and Sheriff Sam were locking away people just for knowing about the plane. He said: “Cecil, I locked up Doug Biondi before anyone else. He’s from that Otherworld, and he knows how to get back, and if he knows how to get back, he’ll join the 18713 and lead them into Night Vale.” Charles said he was protecting our little town from the threat of the passengers of Delta flight 18713. “If the pilot enlists Doug and gets into Night Vale, he’ll recruit who he can and destroy the rest.” “But why odes he communicate only through Doug? I-I mean why not Carlos or, or Dana Cardinal or Sheriff Sam themself? Why not recruit everyone who knows the way into Night Vale?” “I don’t know, Cecil,” Charles snapped back. “But I don’t will into existence by yapping about it either, so drop it!”

Listeners, Doug Biondi is about six foot tall. With an unsettlingly… long smile and dark nightmarish eyes. If you see him, contact the Sheriff’s office immediately. If you do not see Doug Biondi, then close your windows, hold your family close, and repeat a mantra that will clear your head of all outside thoughts.

Stay tuned next for a meditative oummmm. A single oummmmmm. For one full hour, uninterrupted by breath and commercial free.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

23:07 time traveler 30:32 pottery class

[inatowncalled-murphy]

CIA-0014██ - CONFIDENTIAL

You step out of a government-issued vehicle, squinting at the shape in the distance, distorted by the heat emanating off the sweltering earth. The bright sun burns your eyes despite the sunglasses perched on your nose, but the shape on the horizon is unmistakable: a sparse little town with a tall, dark mass at its center. You duck back into the car and look over at the driver, nodding.

"That's it," you affirm, pressing the cigarette lighter on the dash. The man behind the wheel takes a deep breath, adjusts his spectacles, and turns the ignition. Irritation prickles across your scalp with the knowledge that the lighter wasn't getting hot until just now. However, the hot vexation behind your eyes quickly simmers into lukewarm bewilderment as the engine whines and fails to start; once, twice, thrice... You're soon out in front of the car and looking at its innards as though glaring at the great wad of tubes and chambers will spontaneously start the machine.

There is nothing wrong with the vehicle save the mysteriously unyielding engine. In a sudden fit of rage, you swear violently, kick the bumper and chuck your sunglasses as far as your arm allows, rousing your counterpart from the car. After a long pause, he gestures tentatively to the now half-buried sunglasses, small against the rippling sand,

"D'you want me to fetch those?" Your temper bubbles up in your head like a kettle, making your already very hot face even hotter and you shoot him a nasty look. Even so, you refrain from shouting at him because he doesn't deserve it; he isn't stupid and knows just as well as you do the situation that you're both in. You're stranded, with no transportation, in the middle of a desert with only one option in the face of death by heatstroke under the hateful sun.

You slam the hood of the car and peer over your shoulder at the horizon. The small, far off blob feels somehow sinister, a solitary monument in the oppressive, burning ocean. You steel yourself, beckoning to your partner, and abandoning the obstinate vehicle.

You follow your ill-tempered partner - his unlit cigarette now tucked behind his ear - less than 100 paces before you hear a long, pitched sound from the direction of the car. Your brain is computing in time-lapse as you command the attention of the stout man, now 10 paces ahead of you. He looks back at you scathingly and you feel safe enough to stop and look back at the car, still struggling for air in the near-distance. Just as you turn, the time-lapse of manuals, internet searches, and general knowledge flickering through your mind locates the most likely cause of the ghost-vehicle. As your head swivels, however, the solution slips from your mind like a bar of soap. The air is silent and heavy, and the car, which should have been well within line-of-sight, is gone as though it had never even been there. The desert before you now in that direction resembles nothing that you saw driving up. No dilapidated dirt road, no distant sign, not even the little boulder that would have been near the car - just the vast expanse of sand and heat as though you have always been here. You turn back to your partner and, to your dismay, he too is completely gone. The only thing in all directions is the inanimate undulations of the desert and the single far-off shape of your destination. You are alone now.

You get a strange unshakable feeling, as though you're underqualified to be here, like an archeologist standing before a great and terrible monument that whispers secrets about god. The world around you feels as though it's looking at you as you trudge onward.

The town can't be that far, can it?

You feel like you've been walking for hours upon hours – or has it only been 20 minutes... The sun hasn't budged from its boiling throne in the center of the sky and after so much time, patches of your exposed skin are feeling hot and tender beneath its glare.

It should at least be night by now, but the sun is anchored to its place high above you and you are so tired. Your feet sink deep into the sand and it takes all of your energy to push away again and keep walking, rather than sink further down, down into the dark, hot earth.

When you look down, your feet indent the sand the way they always have. You reassure yourself that you will not be pulled below the blistering waves and that there is nothing below you but dirt.

Blisters are rising on your hands and feet, and probably your face. The sun takes no pity and neither does your destination that grows no closer. You weep dry sobs with no tears, suppressed back into silence by the heavy air.

Every grain of sand, every particle of the cruel, heavy sky watches you like a suffocating beetle in a mason jar.

You awaken. When did you fall asleep? You stand still on hard, smooth sandstone at the edge of a precipice. It is so deep that you can't see the bottom even in the glaring sunlight, and a cool current can be felt brushing past you, down into the vast pit. It smells old.

The hole is a wide ring of near-white sandstone and from its bottomless depths rises a massive obelisk covered in small etchings that must be runes; however, you cannot discern what kind. The obelisk, also made of what seems to be sandstone, reaches high into the burning sky, it's long, dark shadow stark against the white sand.

You look at the shadow as the wireframe of your glasses burns hot against your already blistered skin, but something feels wrong about it. Something feels wrong about the entire monument. Voices echo distantly from the depths of the pit – you think.

You want to get a closer look. You feel like, perhaps, you may be able to see the bottom if you stand just a little closer to the edge – push your luck a little for the payoff of seeing just what's down there – maybe hear it a little more clearly.

The world is so loud. You can feel the particles of air moving past your ears, up to the sky from the searing sand beneath your tired feet - like rushing water.

You are so thirsty, the cool air flowing in and out of the chasm reminding you of what water must have once felt like against your now-cracked lips.

The tugging of dread in your stomach sends gooseflesh prickling down your arms and across the back of your scalp. You yearn desperately to step forward just a little and down, down into that cool dark abyss. The chilly upward flow of air as you fell would soothe your burns and at the bottom-

You would die.

Your gaze traces the tall pylon from its very point - silhouetted against the angry star, ever at its peak in the suffocating ocean above and around you - to what you think to be its midpoint where it disappears into the hole.

The distant overlapping voices from below continue their siren’s song and you allow your tired eyes to slide shut for just a moment.

Fractal shapes spiral in and out of existence behind your eyelids, imagery flickering through your mind. You take a deep breath of the cool air, opening your eyes again, and turning away from the site.

In all directions is the same bright, hot sand. You scan the horizon for your destination, finding nothing but dunes.

You once again begin to walk – a simple straight line away from the sculpture, returning to the oppressive heat.

You resume the repetitive trudge across the barren ocean, the flickering images and thoughts in your mind now slow, as though not thinking might preserve what little energy you have left.

After some time – you no longer worry yourself with such things as the exact amount of time that has passed – you come to a large dune and begin your steep and mindless ascent.

After a while, it becomes so steep that to keep your pace constant, you must crawl.

Your hands sink deep into the soft, hot sand, and below you can feel your fingers barely brushing something before you pull your hand out again and continue to climb.

You can feel your body getting tired. The scorching tomb coaxing you beneath the earth is somehow inviting. You could just lay down and sink beneath the sand.

But you get the feeling something awaits you at the top of the dune – not that your intuition has been much help thus far. Even so, you have nothing else, so you keep crawling.

At the apex of the massive sandbank, you stop and look forward across the desert.

However, there is no desert, and below you isn’t sand but concrete – asphalt, precisely. You look about you wildly enough to give yourself whiplash.

You now kneel in the middle of a long, paved road, and before you – albeit a little way down the road - is your destination: what appears to be a ghost town. From your position, it looks to be mostly residential except for some strangely shaped buildings surrounding what you and your partner initially came here for, the tall black cathedral at what looks like the center of the town.

As you shakily get to your feet, you can better see how the colossal basilica dwarfs the rest of the buildings in town, it's tall, skeletal spires puncturing the stifling heavens. You are instinctively afraid of the structure, even at this distance.

A door chimes and you look, startled and confused, to find a gas station only about 100 paces in front of you that you somehow overlooked. Exiting the gas station is your partner, looking exactly the way you last saw him. He holds a 99-cent lighter and a bag of chips and has a brooding sort of look on his face.

He spots you almost right away standing in the middle of the road, and drops his cigarette, begins swearing, then makes his way over as quickly as his stout frame will allow.

He begins to question you about where you’ve been for all these hours, and you stop him.

“I’ve been gone for days,” you assert, staring at him. He looks bewildered and shows you his watch, displaying the date you both arrived.

It feels like so long ago when you stopped to check on the car – more than a week. Could it have only been a few hours?

Your mind scans the events in your recent memory, and the sun begins to set behind you, a cool breeze blowing across your back and through your hair. You find no logic in the recesses made by your possibly imagined struggles, no rhyme or reason.

If you imagined all of that, then where were you? You stare down at your hands. They’re no longer blistered, but when you recall, you can remember the pain deep inside your skin – the hot tightness that rendered your fingers useless stubs.

You squeeze and release your hand, contemplating.

“It’s getting dark.” Your partner's voice pulls you from your thoughts. His cigarette is now lit and glowing in the dim twilight. The scent is the single familiar thing in this unfamiliar wasteland, and it grounds you.

You nod, gesturing down the road toward the town. You both begin to walk.

[threadofdestiny]

The opportunities we may take

(The Picture was a comission I odered from a friend. Check her out -> Fantasiamind_art)

Part 2

Sinbad x OC

Soukmate AU

Reaching out to him

---- Sacred Island of Dalmasca----

Calmly, Salome listened as the waves continued to hit the stony cliffs underneath her. There she sat bathing in the warm sunlight, her legs tucked next to her body. She looked aimlessly across the sea, waiting for a sign that told her what to do next. The Rukh flew in circles around her body, never to drift too far away from her. They were silent at the moment, just like the girl they were constantly following. Her hands rested in her lap as she clutched a small round object. After playing carefully with the small ball for a few moments, she lifted it towards the sun and let the rays break on the smooth, glassy surface. It's turquoise color shone softly in the light, while the breaking rays made rainbow-colored spots dancing on her soft rose colored skin.

"Tell me, Alexander, what should I do?", Salome asked softly, her gaze briefly scurrying to her wrist. The golden bangle shimmered in the midday sun, but there was no reaction from the djinn inside said object. Salome frowned as she turned her gaze back to the small ball in her fingers.

"A few days ago the rukh said, that he had decided against it again, that he is on his way to build a kingdom. I wish I could just take a boat, sail to him and ask him why he is such a coward. Or why he doesn't care as much about this link as I do", she continued, speaking to the bracelet.Slowly she lowered the round shiny object in her hands to her lips, placing them softly on the smooth glass. "I'm sure he feels it too", She murmured, eyes closed, while she let her arms sink into her lap again. Her heart, which was heavy in her chest, pulled painfully together. "I- I know, I know... Maybe I should just accept it. He had the opportunity to come. Maybe it shouldn't have been. But maybe...", she broke off the sentence in order to let her gaze wander over the sea again thoughtfully.

Maybe she could take the chance once to reach out for him.

Absent, Salome raised her free hand and reluctantly stretched it out in front of her, as if she were trying to reach for something invisible that was there on the vastness of the sea. The golden little birds made motivating noises as they danced wildly around her outstretched fingers, making the girl smile.

"I finally came to a decision, Alexander! The waiting has come to an end. I will send it to him. Perhaps this is how I can at least tell him those few sentences, which I would like to give him on  his way", She explained to herself, throwing the little round crystal up in the air and catching it contentedly with both hands. Motivated, Salome got up and turned around herself once. The wide white skirt of her simple dress was playfully fanning out as she moved.

"And then, you and I will try to save as many as we can. I'm counting on you, Alexander, I'll need your help soon", she declared in a determined tone. "You are going to help as well, right?", she asked the rukh, which flew undeterred around her. With a searching view, she turned her back to the sea and sadly looked at the small town that was located down in the valley of the island. "The priests and blessed ones have already begun to evacuate the citizens. But some do not want to leave their country. We need to protect them at all costs, do you here me?", she muttered as her gaze glided over the ships, which were carefully loaded. From her high position, the people looked like little bustling ants as they went about their day's work. To her left, the holy temple of Solomon towered over the small land like a dormant watchman. Its walls integrated into the white stone of the sleeping volcano that makes up the middle of the small island. In the distance, she could see some people moving in her direction leaving the temple, but she did not pay them any further attention because they were still too far away.

Yes, she decided, she will do her best

Determined, she nodded to herself, turned to the cliffs again and approached the edge carefully. Deeply inhaling, she raised her arms to fold her fingers in front of her chest, the small glass ball tightly enclosed within both hands. "Please, make sure that my last words reach him", she whispered quietly while she kept her eyes closed in concentration. As if acting on command, Solomons rukh danced around her in an euphoric rhythm, confirming that they would comply to her wish. Happy with their answer, she stretched her hands over the edge of the cliff and slowly opened her fingers. With shiny turquoise-green eyes, she watched as the round crystal slowly slipped out of her fingers, only to witness how it plummet and then sink into the deep blue sea.

"Fare well!"

A strong gust of wind shot around Salome and tugged at her dress as she stepped back to eventually turn away, when suddenly the sky darkened over her. The rukh now in panic, warning her to get away, she heart screaming from behind her.

"Salome, watch out"

Before she could react, two magical projectiles hit each other. The pressure that came from it caused her to lose her balance and make her fall to the ground. As she raised her gaze, she stared into a cloud of black-colored Rukh, swirling around a person wrapped in equally black fabrics.

They were far too early. How had he been able to overcome the barriers?

Looking to the sky, it confirmed that the protection had not been breached. So how could that be? She struggled to stand up while keeping her eyes firmly on the dark figure. Her thoughts raced for miles per second as she pondered what to do. She had to protect the people in the valley, so much was clear to her, but how? Carefully Salome got up as her friend's steps behind her grew louder and louder, signaling her, that they were getting closer. Determined, she firmed her stand as her trembling fingers snaked around the metal vessel on her wrist.

"You are not welcome here! Go away!"

----Heliohapt----

"You are strong. You have courage, intelligence and power more than anyone else!"

"You can never truly become a king"

"Marry me"

Like a mantra, the rose haired princess's words echoed in his head, tortured him hours later, after the day slowly tilted to its end. For an eternity he had been lying in bed and licking his wounds like an injured animal. Uneasy, Sinbad rolled from one side to the other until he finally lay on his back, an arm placed over his throbbing eyes. The pillow, actually pleasantly soft, felt like a brick against his neck, while the soft hotel bed didn't provide him any rest. Despite the fact that it wasn't very late, the room was already shrouded in complete darkness. He hadn't bothered to turn on a lamp when he entered the room some time ago. Even the tray of food that Ja'far had brought him before, he had left untouched on the table in the corner of the room. Sinbad didn't want to eat anything. He just wanted to sleep, but he seemed to be unable to find some rest.

He had failed. This little pampered princess had twisted his words in his mouth and made him look stupid in the end. She actually snatched the djinn away from him right under his nose.

"Marry me!", she said.

Angry, he snorted as the words reverberated again in his memory. No! Definitely not! Unnerved, Sinbad groaned as he abruptly sat up and let his face sink into his callused hands. Hot, with every passing second he got hotter as the frustration within him rose. As if he were marrying someone just to get his Kingdom. No, he didn't need a princess from any scarred country to achieve his goals. It felt wrong just to think about marrying someone to get power. He was a free man. He wouldn't give it up, not if he could see that he didn't need it.

At that very moment, another person's silhouette appeared before his inner eye. Her brown hair pulled in a long braid resting gently on her back. Her face was hidden by some loose strands that fell into her face, while her folded fingers touched the contouring of her lips. Slowly she shook her head and muttered something he couldn't hear.

The heat formed beads of sweat on his neck, which became so unpleasant that he began to pull at his collar. He opened his eyes and stared uneasily into the empty room as he tried to scare away the images in his head. He needed fresh air, it was far too stuffy in his room. Hastily, he got out of bed while quickly opening the buttons of his tunic to free himself from it. Taking a deep breath, he dropped the garment to the ground when he finally pulled it off his body. With quick steps, he approached the only window in the room and ripped it open. His airways filled with cooled desert air as he rested his hands on the window sill, while he let the pleasant air glide over his sweaty torso.

"Damn it!", he growled, as his fingers cramped over the wood. "I'm not the right man for a romantic relationship. Leave me alone", as if he wanted to convince not only himself, but also the two women who haunted his consciousness. Serendine's voice fell silent and left him at peace, but it was as if the girl unknown to him was shrugging before his inner eye as if he had beaten her. It was as if these words had actually reached her. He directly regretted them, but why? It wasn't real! She wasn't here. Exhausted, he raised his eyes to the dark sky as he wiped his arm over his damp forehead. A bitter taste spread to his taste buds as he pondered why his thoughts kept wandering over to that one particular girl. Was it because it would be an inaccurate variable in his life? Was he intrigued by that fact? Or was it something else? Not wanting to pursue those thoughts, fearing what these feelings might trigger in him, he concentrated, looking out into the night without registering his actual surroundings. No, he had to be sure that he was still on his right track. Serendine was not the way to reach his goals, he could see that. She would accompany him for some time, cross his paths occasionally, but at some point she would no longer play a role in his life. He stared crampedly at the lines that emerged before his eyes. Everything was as it should be. Today was an unpleasant failure, but it did not distract him from his actual path. Everything was in good order.

So why did he catch himself looking for the path that leads him to that brown haired girl, then?

But, wait! Where was she? Sharply, he breathed in the cool night air, his wild gaze drove over the individual lines, while he searched for that specific one. "W-What?", he breathed, panic spreading in his chest. It wasn't there. Where was she? Why could he not discover her path. Breathing heavily, he leaned further out of the window, as if he could catch a closer look at the waves in front of him. Nothing. Gone. Shocked, he felt his heart beating heavily, when he realized what this would have mean. He felt the blood in his veins froze as a suffocated sound escaped his lips. What was that? Why did he feel like he had lost something important? Trembling, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the girl figuratively. But when he did, he could only observe how she dissolved right in front of him into thousands of small golden birds. "No...don't leave. I come and get you. I swear", he whispered hoarsely, When he realized that he couldn't reach her anymore. His hands shot forward and grabbing into the void, catching nothing but cold air. He had not taken his opportunity and now he is going to pay the price for it.

That was the night he vowed that he would never going to marry someone else

[erinptah]

The Secret Commonwealth review: It was...pretty underwhelming, mostly

Finally got the audiobook of The Secret Commonwealth checked out from my local library!

(Here’s my review of its predecessor, La Belle Sauvage, if you want to start there.)

It’s 20 hours long. Whoof.

As for the contents…look, it was well-written prose. I didn’t get bored while listening. (Rereading that last review, I realized I’d written the same thing about the previous book, too.) But in retrospect, there sure was not a lot that happened in those 20 hours. Some notable action bits, in between a lot of padding.

And my reactions mostly consist of…complaints. Not “this is hideous, time to ragequit the series, this is an unqualified anti-rec” complaints, more a low-level churn of frustration.

(There’s one scene I know has made someone else outright refuse to read it, though, and I think it’s totally reasonable. More on that later.)

So I’m gonna try to unpack a bunch of it here. Hopefully in enough detail that, if you haven’t read it yet (and don’t mind spoilers), it can help you make an informed decision about whether it’s worth spending 20 hours of your life on.

Spoilers start here!

The Story

We open with Lyra as a 20-year-old student at St. Sophia’s, a women’s college in Oxford. She’s made some kinda-friends, including former booty calls that she’s still on good terms with, but she’s badly estranged from Pantalaimon.

Their rift is exacerbated by a couple of books she’s read that are popular with young intellectuals lately. One is a philosophy book, one is a novel, both of them seem broadly Ayn Randian in the sense that “teens/college kids get really into these books and decide it’s smart and fashionable to adopt their moral framework, ignoring both the logical failures and the ways in which this turns you into a horrible person.”

She’s been staying at Jordan between semesters, but political drama forces her to move, and that’s when Oakley Street swoops in to make contact. They’re the secret Magisterum-thwarting spy organization that Hannah Relf worked for in La Belle Sauvage. Employees now include Alice Lonsdale and Malcolm Polstead, who fill Lyra in on the events of the previous book.

Lyra crashes at Malcolm’s parents’ inn for a bit, but her fighting with Pan gets so bad that he takes off, leaving a note. He’s going to confront one of the authors of the fashionable/terrible books — who lives in Germany, so this could take a while.

Since Lyra can’t just hang around and go through the motions of a normal life while her daemon is visibly missing, she takes off too. First on a detour to the Gyptians, then on a sorta meandering cross-continental journey of her own.

Along the way, both Lyra and Pan keep uncovering new details about this ongoing side plot:

It turns out there’s a place, I think somewhere in the Middle East, where daemons can’t go — same as the area in the North that witches use for separation ordeals. If a human crosses that area, they arrive at the growing-place of a type of rose that won’t grow properly anywhere else, whose oil has the same effect as the seed-pod sap used by Mary Malone in the mulefa world — you can use it to make a Dust-viewing lens.

This rose oil can also be used to make all kinds of super-cool products, like the World’s Best Perfume and the World’s Best Rosewater, so it’s valuable for lots of reasons. But a few researchers have caught on to the Dust-viewing power, and the Magisterium has caught on that some dangerous research is happening with roses, so they’ve started destroying every rosebush they can find in the general region — wreaking havoc with the global economy in the process.

(They’re also trying to convince the general population that God Says Roses Are Immoral now. If this book had come out 5 years ago, I could’ve made some great connections with “there’s widespread successful Magisterium propaganda about how nobody should like or respect the work of botanists.”)

And there’s a related plot where Lyra’s uncle (she actually has one! Mrs. Coulter had a brother!) is playing a long game to re-consolidate as much Magisterium power as possible under a single individual. It gets us some good dramatic sequences…which I feel no need to break down here, because they’re exactly the ones you would imagine, with exactly the outcome you’re already expecting.

One of Uncle Wannabe-Pope’s employees is Bonneville Junior, the son of the miniboss from La Belle Sauvage. He’s a trained alethiometrist, but is more interested in his personal vendetta against Lyra than his actual job. Takes after Dad in that he’s not very deep or complex, just a straightforward fun-to-hate villain.

Pan eventually makes his way to the Terrible Author’s home, where he discovers that things are weird and creepy, but not very specific. Doesn’t achieve anything in particular, either. Disheartened, he sets off for the Region of the Weird Roses, with the idea he’ll meet Lyra there.

Lyra, meanwhile, has a notebook they recovered from an explorer who went to the Region of the Weird Roses. It includes a list of other (non-witch) people across the world who’ve been separated, because apparently they’re more common than you’d think, and have a secret support network. So she visits a few of these people along her trip, with an endgame goal of Weird Roseville.

Malcolm also makes his own journey toward Weird Roseville. I think it was part of an Oakley Street investigation into “what does the Magisterium have against roses these days?” In the middle of it, Bonneville Junior confronts him (Junior is having trouble finding Lyra, but has a secondary vendetta against Malcolm for killing his dad, so this is almost as good). Malcolm talks him down.

At last Lyra, Pan, and Junior all hit the same “creepy deserted town in the general area of Weird Roseville.” But none of them manage to interact before the book ends.

…In my LBS review, I said it had serious middle-of-the-trilogy syndrome, a whole lot of setup for no payoff. TSC spends very little time following up on any of it. To be fair, the Original Trilogy has happened in the meantime and this book also tries to address some of the events from that, but the vast bulk of it is even more setup for no payoff.

Complaints, Broadly Organized By Theme, In Loosely Chronological Order

Lyra at St. Sophia’s:

I really like how the opening sequence involves Lyra noticing a friend is in distress and helping her out! (Friend’s dad is in the rose-using business, and his company is going under.) And then…that’s the last we see of any connections with female friends her own age. In the entire book.

One of the Terrible Rationalist Books is spreading the idea that “daemons are a collective hallucination.” This is not a “rational” idea in this world! It would be like saying that faces are a collective hallucination!

And Lyra is the least likely person in this world to buy into it, because she’s visited a world without visible daemons, and got empirical proof (via Will’s and John Parry’s separation ordeals) that even under those conditions, they still exist!

I can appreciate the idea of Lyra and Pan being traumatized and scarred and having trouble, but this, specifically, is a nonsensical thing for them to argue over.

The book also gestures (not very hard, thankfully) toward the idea that Lyra is doubting the existence of magic in general. Which, again, is the equivalent of someone from our world deciding it’s rational to doubt the existence of weather.

Also, it seems like Lyra/Pan haven’t had any contact with witch society through these years. Why not? If anyone’s going to have sympathy and understanding and support groups for their separation-related trauma, it’s the culture where every single member formally goes through the same thing! And I’m sure Serafina would be delighted to see them! But they don’t even consider the idea.

Lyra and Malcolm:

Yes, they’re being telegraphed as a future couple, and yes, it’s just as creepy and unappealing as the internet has been saying.

And, look, I’m not going to say “20-year-old Lyra is too young to date anyone she wants.” Not after we got through all of Original Flavor HDM without saying “12-year-old Lyra is too young to go on an interdimensional journey with no adult supervision and save the multiverse.”

But he was one of her teachers when she was 16, and his POV includes remembering how he had to actively shut down sexual interest in her then, and here in the present Lyra still thinks of him as kind of a distant authority figure, and that’s weird, okay?

They only have a couple days’ worth of actual interaction before being apart for the rest of the book. That’s not enough time to believably develop their dynamic into something believably-potentially-romantic. So the narrative doesn’t try.

…but it still has multiple people ask Malcolm if he’s in love with Lyra afterward.

The foreshadowing on Lyra’s side is all in how she keeps thinking about how similar he is to Will. (Cat daemon, killed someone when he was a tween, etc.) Because that’s what we all want for Lyra’s romantic future, a knockoff Will-substitute, amirite?

Separately: Malcolm and friends tell Lyra the whole backstory about the magical boat trip from La Belle Sauvage, but it doesn’t seem like she tells them anything about “that time I went on an interdimensional journey, built a group of allies from multiple worlds and species including literal angels, killed God, and permanently rewrote the nature of death.” I feel like that should’ve come up!

General daemon stuff:

There’s a moment in the early chapters when Pan, wandering alone at night, considers eating some small critter (the kind that an ordinary pine marten would eat). It’s not like he’s going through a species-identity crisis, either. It’s just written as…a thing a daemon might do. So that’s weird.

In the original series, daemon separation is a major, improbable ordeal. Under normal circumstances, a human and a daemon being dragged apart past their distance limit will just kill them. At Bolvangar they figured out a severance method that would leave you physically functional, but dead inside. Witch-style separation only happens at this special daemon-repelling place in the North (you don’t have to be a witch to use it, see John Parry, but they usually don’t tell non-witches it exists), or on the shores of the World of the Dead. So far, so good.

In this series, we find out that there’s another place on this Earth with the same daemon-repelling properties. It’s also remote and isolated and associated with Cool Weird Stuff (the cities in the Northern Lights vs. the Dust-revealing roses). Again, so far, so good.

…And then we find out that random people can just kinda do a separation ordeal anywhere. Okay, it already happened to Malcolm in La Belle Sauvage, but now it’s all over the place. Lyra keeps spotting people on the street without daemons! Pan teams up with a kid who got dragged apart from her daemon in a shipwreck, and it didn’t kill them! It’s too easy. It’s unsatisfying. It undercuts so much of the monumental feeling separation had in the original trilogy.

It also makes it even weirder that nobody was able to hook Lyra and Pan up with a support group. Oakley Street couldn’t suss it out? Her friends among the Gyptians couldn’t catch an underground rumor and pass it on?

Related: when we saw daemonless kids in The Golden Compass, they were treated like horror-movie monsters. Like zombies, ghosts, bodies walking around without heads. But when people clock Lyra as being daemonless here, they treat it like it’s something immoral. Like she’s walking around topless and needs to cover it up.

There’s just a general pattern of rewriting HDM’s established rules about daemons, and not for the better.

And speaking of rewriting established rules…general alethiometer stuff:

There is a New Method for reading the alethiometer. It involves pointing all three hands at the same symbol, which already seems like a gimmick, not a useful way to frame a question.

And somehow, that gets you the answers in the form of…magic visions. No intuition or interpretation needed! The sights and sounds just get funneled directly into your brain!

The reason this isn’t a Plot-Breaking Hack is because it makes the user super-queasy. You can only use it when you’re in a position to be sick afterward, and people would rather not use it at all.

Lyra spends most of the story with the alethiometer, and without all the symbology books that go with it. She avoids using the New Method because of the nausea, but she also avoids using the Classic Method, on the grounds that it apparently can’t get her anything without the books.

She’s been studying these books for years now! Couldn’t she at least try to read it, and make her best guess at the interpretation? Maybe sometimes she gets it right, maybe sometimes she’s wrong and things go sideways and she realizes in hindsight which of the symbols she misread, maybe sometimes she gives up and gets depressed and puts it away without drawing a conclusion at all…but nope, she just flat-out doesn’t interact with it.

Midway through the book, Lyra gets a tipoff about a kind of truth-reading cards. That’s fine; we know there are other methods of truth-reading in the multiverse, including the I Ching and Mary Malone’s computer. Makes sense as a new tidbit of worldbuilding.

But towards the end of the story, someone helpfully gifts Lyra a deck of the cards. And she spends some time trying to infer answers from how the pretty pictures on the cards fit together. More time than she spends trying to infer answers from how the pretty pictures on the alethiometer fit together.

The alethiometer didn’t need a New Method or a total replacement in the narrative…but apparently it’s getting them.

And what was the point of Lyra dedicating herself to studying those symbols, for years, if she can get better and more-accurate data from a set of symbols she’d never seen before until this week?

Pan’s international voyage:

This all started when Pan got the idea that Terrible Author had “put a spell on Lyra and stolen her imagination.” Which sounds like a figure of speech at first, but no, apparently Pan thinks this guy is literally magic.

And yet, somehow, not magic enough to be dangerous, even for a single lone daemon whose only plan is “confront him directly and demand that he fix it”?

Most of the trip is uneventful, since it’s a long string of Pan successfully keeping out-of-sight.

There’s one clever part where, once he’s in Terrible Author’s hometown, he finds a school for the blind to ask for information. That way he can say “my girl is totally standing right over there, don’t worry about it, now, any chance you know where Terrible Author lives?”

…of course, the first person he asks has exactly the right answer and is happy to share. Convenient, that.

As mentioned, Terrible Author’s setup is suitably creepy and off-putting, but Pan doesn’t figure out anything about why. Doesn’t investigate. Didn’t come up with any kind of plan beforehand about how to coax Terrible Author into undoing his evil spell. Pan just confronts him, demands he fix Lyra, realizes this hasn’t fixed Lyra, and leaves.

There’s a bombshell much later on when Lyra finds out that Terrible Author is separated! And, although there’s a daemon who hangs around with him, they don’t actually belong to each other! This is fascinating and disturbing and would’ve been so much more satisfying if, you know, Pan had figured this out and was actively trying to bring the information to Lyra. Or, heck, if anything had been done with it at all.

Shortly afterward, Pan runs into this girl who just happens to be separated from her daemon, and is available and happy to team up with Pan, so they can head off to Weird Roseville together. Convenient. Again.

Lyra’s Bogus Journey:

Lyra has a much harder time staying out of sight than Pan, so she gets a lot more interaction along her trip.

Most of it is a long string of the same convenient “running into people who are helpful and friendly and have exactly the information she needs to move the plot along.” (More details on that below.)

When this happened in the original trilogy, it was the alethiometer deus-ex-machining her in the right direction, which worked! But here it seems to keep happening by accident. (She brings the alethiometer, but, as mentioned, she doesn’t use it.)

The Conveniently Helpful People also keep telling her (with minimal prompting, and what seems like total honesty?) whole backstories. All of which are more interesting than the actual narrative she’s going through.

They also occasionally mention God/the Authority, and Lyra doesn’t have much of a reaction. I wish, just once, she had snapped “it doesn’t matter what the Authority thinks! Or rather, what he used to think, since my boyfriend and I killed him when we were 12!”

The convenience also could’ve worked if Oakley Street agents were being cool and clever and actively tracking her journey in order to help. She does run into a few of them, but that seems to be by accident too.

And it could’ve worked if there was other magic steering her along — she keeps dropping the phrase “the secret commonwealth,” meaning the world’s hidden population of faeries and other supernatural creatures — but as of the end of the book, none of Lyra’s friendly helpers have been revealed to be anything other than human. (Some are modified in exotic ways, but they were human to start with, at least.)

Even farther towards the end of the book, after this long string of people being Conveniently Helpful For No Reason, she ends up in a train car with…and I wish I was making this up…a bunch of soldiers who are Inconveniently Attempted Rapists For No Reason.

That record-scratch moment your brain just did? That’s how it feels in the book, too. The attack comes out of nowhere, there’s suddenly a big action sequence with Lyra fighting back, their CO shows up and makes them let her go, and then she leaves the train and heads almost directly to the next bunch of Conveniently Helpful People.

If anyone wants more detailed spoilers, either to be prepared before reaching the scene or to decide whether you’ll read it at all, let me know.

To be blunt about one thing: from the in-scene descriptions I would’ve said none of these guys actually managed to get their dicks out, but a few days later we get the book’s first and only reference to Lyra having periods. And she doesn’t think “oh, thank republic-of-heavens, I’m not pregnant,” which suggests she knew it wasn’t a risk, but the whole Narrative Reason you write that in after an assault scene is because someone is afraid it’s a risk, so, what are you even doing, Pullman??

Okay, switching tracks.

Some of the people Lyra encounters, usually with personal stories that are way more interesting, and I wish they’d been [part of] the actual main plot:

A guy who meets her at a train station, says he has a friend who needs her help, leads her out into a maze of city streets where she explicitly thinks about how risky this is because she’s totally lost…but she does the mission and it’s fine and he leads her right back to the train station afterward.

The friend is a human who’s been modified by “a magician” to be some kind of fire-elemental person, and wants Lyra to help find his daemon, who was modified into a water-elemental form — a mermaid! This is cool and fascinating and scary and raises so many questions —

— and they get killed immediately after Lyra reunites them, and we never find out anything more about it.

The killer is the magician, who had been holding the water-sprite daemon captive. (And is possibly also the guy’s father? Finally, someone who can beat Marisa and Asriel in a “Bad Parenting Juice” drinking contest.) Which, again, is fascinating and evocative — how do you become a magician? Or are they born, like the witches? How many are there? What kinds of things are they doing in the world? —

— yeah, we don’t find out anything about that either.

Murderous Magician Dad just gives Lyra some helpful plot information, then sends her and the train-station guy off on their way.

A couple of guys who intervene when Lyra is being harassed at a bar.

They steer her outside, she’s prepared for a fight, but they hold up their hands and say they’re friendly, and also, they noticed someone steal the alethiometer bag off her earlier, so here, would she like it back?

They give her some helpful rumors, too. Don’t remember which specific ones, but they lead her to the next plot point.

A rich elderly princess who’s on the Daemonless International Support Group list, because her daemon fell in love (!) with another woman (!!) and eventually ran off with her (!!!).

Lyra thinks to herself that she’s seen other situations where a daemon and their human have different feelings about a romance. Just thinks it in passing, and then it’s gone. I want to see these situations! I want on-page exploration of multiple ways they can work! How do they correspond to the feelings of people in worlds where all the daemons are internal?

As for the princess, I already knew it was going to be a big scandal — two human women in that day and age could never be a couple, at least not in public, and A Literal Princess is a very public figure —

but then, in spite of the scandal, the princess moves in with the woman! And they travel together, they work together, they share a bed, she explains to Lyra that she played the role so thoroughly she made herself fall in love with the woman!

…and then it falls apart for some reason, and the princess leaves, but her daemon insists on staying. So that’s how they get separated. Deliberately walking away from each other.

There’s a brief reference to the idea of him wishing he was the other woman’s daemon, instead of the princess’s. How does that work? How do you get so disconnected from yourself, and in such a skewed partial-match with someone else, that you end up with that kind of yearning?

In case you can’t tell, I want to read this novel. I would trade the entirety of The Secret Commonwealth for this novel. No question, hands down.

Instead: Princess says “if you run into my daemon, tell him I’d like to see him again before we die?” Lyra says “sure, can do, thanks for the brunch.” And then, you guessed it, that whole scene is over and done with and we never get any follow-up on it again.

A pair of agents from Oakley Street, who say “hey, Lyra, have you considered using some basic disguise techniques, like dyeing your hair and wearing glasses?”

And then they give her a lovely haircut and a dye job and a spare pair of fake glasses.

This isn’t anywhere near the beginning of Lyra’s journey, by the way! This is more than 80% of the way through the book. There’s no special reason she needs it more after this point.

It’s like Pullman suddenly realized a disguise might help, wrote the scene at the point he had reached, and then never went back and edited to put it in a more meaningful location.

The stranger on a train who shows Lyra the deck of “exactly the same as an alethiometer” cards, gives her a demonstration of how to use them, and then leaves the whole deck behind for her to keep.

A married couple who don’t share any languages in common with Lyra, and don’t seem to have a lot of money…but feed her and let her stay at their house overnight, for free, even daemonless as she is. They also give her a free niqab so she can move around less conspicuously (she’s still injured from the fight with the soldiers).

A priest who invites her into his church, isn’t bothered when she takes off the niqab, helps treat her injuries, and gives her a motherlode of useful details about highly-illegal dealings he’s not even supposed to know about, but will unveil to this total stranger who just wandered in, because she needs them for the next plot point.

This when Lyra finds out that someone in this region has resurrected the Bolvangar method. But this time they aren’t kidnapping random children for it. No, they’re paying for it. If you’re poor enough, and desperate enough, and can’t spare any more kidneys, these people will buy your daemon to sell on the black market.

The city has a whole secret underclass of illegally-severed people working in the sewers.

Meanwhile, rich people who’ve been deserted by their daemons can purchase a stand-in. This is what Terrible Author did. Of course, it’s not a true replacement, but the dealers boast about their ability to make an excellent match.

There are also people who buy separated daemons for other scientific/experimental purposes. Details left to our imaginations.

This is a horrifying sinister mindblowing discovery, as much of a bombshell as the original Bolvangar was. I mean, it would’ve hit harder if Lyra had uncovered it by spying, or tricking someone into revealing the information, or anything more elaborate than “asking straightforward sorta-related questions and getting this whole sordid story infodumped by the first guy she asked,” but it’s still big.

So it’s gonna shake things up something fierce, right? Maybe Lyra won’t go full-on “calling in the cavalry to tear the place down” until Book 3, but this would be her new “stepping through the doorway into the sky” moment — where the horror of what she’s learned galvanizes her into making a pivotal decision, where she starts laying the groundwork for the revolution —

— no, of course not, this is where she starts going around to the hideouts of various undercover daemon-sellers and asking if they can help her find Pan.

Come on.

And this brings us to the end of the book. One of the black-market daemon-sellers guides Lyra to the creepy abandoned town where the final scene takes place.

In these last moments, the audience (but not Lyra) finds out that this guy has ulterior motives. Which would make it the first time in the whole book when “Lyra or Pan takes a Conveniently Helpful Person at face value with total credulity” turns out to be a bad idea.

(And, I mean, he’s a black-market daemon-seller. If anyone on that list was obviously an unethical scumball who shouldn’t be counted on….!)

Finally, a few things that don’t fit into any neat lists, but annoyed me enough to mention:

1) People curse in this book. Which is notable because they didn’t in HDM, and it wasn’t just the adults watching their mouths around tween Lyra — we got plenty of scenes that only had people like Mrs. Coulter and Lord Asriel in them. Those two would definitely be dropping f-bombs if it was a routine part of their world’s language, and this book reveals that it is.

So every time it happens it breaks your immersion, pointedly reminding you “this isn’t a real world, it’s a fake story where the author can switch the profanity-filter on and off at will.” Does it enhance the narrative in a way that’s worth the tradeoff? I don’t think so.

2) Before I read the book, I’d heard vague spoilers about “a character with a mermaid daemon,” and figured it was someone from a cool magical species — hopefully more expansion/exploration on the fairy from La Belle Sauvage whose daemon appeared to be “a whole flock of butterflies.”

But no, it’s a magically-modified human. His situation doesn’t get explored that deeply before he dies, or connect with anything else in the story. The fairy, meanwhile, does get mentioned when Malcolm tells Lyra about meeting her, but she doesn’t reappear or get any kind of follow-up.

In spite of the title, the only explicit appearance of any members of the “secret commonwealth” is some little glowing spirits, basically wights, that Lyra watches over the side of a gyptian boat one time.

3) There’s a scene where a bunch of people gather in a meeting hall to protest the Magisterium sabotaging their various rose-related livelihoods. A couple Magisterium reps are there. Malcolm is also there, and his POV basically goes “huh, looks like all the exits have gotten the doors shut. And barred. And suddenly they each have an armed Magisterium agent standing in front of them. That’s weird. Gonna keep quietly observing to find out what happens next.”

This guy is supposed to be a cool experienced anti-Magisterium spy! This is basically a giant neon sign flashing COMING UP NEXT: MASSACRE! (It is not a misdirect, either.)

And Malcolm sees it, but doesn’t read it, or take any action to try to subvert it, or even move to defend himself — it’s just like any cheesy horror movie where the audience is shouting LOOK BEHIND YOU at the unwitting character who’s about to get murdered.

Wrap-Up Thoughts

Whatever happens in the final volume of this trilogy, it might reveal things that redeem some of the problems in this book. But I’ll be honest, I’m not holding my breath.

And when I think about reveals that would address these problems, everything I come up with is stuff that should’ve just been in this book.

For example: let’s say the Fair Folk are directly involved after all, intervening to steer Lyra and Pan down the most convenient paths. In particular, the guy on the train who only appears long enough to give Lyra a set of alethiometry cards + a tutorial on how to use them — I really want him to be Fae. It’s so contrived and random if he’s not.

But the readers should know about it! Back in HDM, we would get scenes about the plans and activities of all the other factions at work. It might take a while to discover the exact details of (for example) the witches’ ultimate goal that Lyra was part of, but we knew they had a goal, and were supporting her in service of it. If the Secret Commonwealth is actively involved in the plot, we should’ve gotten that by now.

Semi-related: I feel like, if the rest of the book was better, then I’d have no trouble explaining a lot of the Lyra-specific issues as “she’s super-depressed, not in a place to make great choices or take a lot of decisive action.”

But it’s not like she’s drifting around in a trauma fog that hampers her ability to get things done. Her journey, while not perfect or threat-free, still comes together with improbable smoothness — as if the writing hasn’t noticed that she’s not being proactive and prescient and well-coordinated and overall super-competent about it. Meanwhile, other characters are underwhelming in the same way. (Looking at you, Malcolm “I Can’t Believe It’s Now a Bloodbath” Polstead.)

So it doesn’t seem like a conscious narrative choice to write Lyra this way. It just seems consistent with the complaints I have about everything else in the writing.

…let’s be honest, I’m almost certainly gonna read the third book anyway. I’m enough of a completist that it’ll bother me not to, I don’t have a lot of hard-stop dealbreakers that would make me bow out anyway, and, well, I do a lot of work that requires time-passing listening material. The Secret Commonwealth is nowhere near the most-frustrating audio I’ve used to fill that time.

But it hasn’t left me excited or optimistic or Shivering With Anticipation, either.

Mostly I just anticipate getting some useful stuff done while I listen, and then having a final set of reactions to work through in another one of these posts.

[jannaphia]

Can you tell us more about Ronan? Like some info about all the kingdoms and places? Your worldbuilding seems so fascinating I’d love to know literally everything *heart eyes*

Anon, you have no idea what a can of worms you opened up here :DSorry in advance, this will be long!

Empire of Asturia

The empire used to be a small state simply called Asturia, until its then King grew a bit too ambitious, decided to expand his realm and declare himself emperor. After centuries of warring, marrying the right people, annexing and bullying smaller states into submission, the empire has become the largest nation in the history of the continent.The empire itself is split into smaller counties, duchies & land- and margravines, loosely resembling the shapes of their initial sovereign nations.Right beneath the emperor in status are the Princes or Fürsten. None of them own land per se, but those are the people controlling the fate of the empire. The senate made up of ‘ambassadors’ from the various territories now contained in the empire has very little power, and is more often than not a farce to make them feel like they have a voice in the capital.Even though the emperor rules alone, there is one person whose words may weigh even more: a True Immortal called Salain de Avennes, who has made Karisan his patron city.

Bregón

Once the counterweight to an ever hungry empire, Bregón lost much in the last war. Among those things were control of the Harrow (the main pass accross the Wilds), two regiments of finely trained soldiers (they walked too far into the Wilds and never returned) and their reigning King (assassinated by what many believed to be an old lady - nobody knows because they never got caught). The twins who inherited the throne were too young and inept to say the least. Now the crown is struggling while the merchants’ power grows with every passing day. The trade with Koshar is lining their pockets with gold, gold which they increasingly refuse to pass on to the reign - even though the king has tried to better himself after his sister’s ‘hunting accident’ (what a classic).

Dornhan

Not much to say about Dornhan, as it mostly consist of salt marsh, normal marsh, a few windy islands off the coast, hungry peasants and at least two to three kings at a time. Generally nobody knows what’s going on up there and nobody cares. They say a Bregón king tried to overthrow Dornhan once and returned home after walking 10 feet into the country.

Altarath

In Altarath the sun is blotted out every midday by an obstruction in the sky they call ‘Okirin’. Basically, there is a small eclipse every day.It’s a dark, mostly barren and harsh land, ruled by a True Immortal called Ashishkaia Anaetta Kladia, Queen of Altarath, The Eye of Okirin, who is almost worshipped as a goddess by some. The Altheli are a reclusive people, they are rarely found on the continent, but they are easily discern-able by their white pupils.

Norotvoi Islands

South of Altarath, the storm tossed Norotvoi Islands are also under the shadow of Okirin. The Norotvoi are excellent seafarers and explorers and the only people who somehow made something like a democracy work. A new leader is chosen every 6 years at a special gathering and every citizen over the age of 20 is allowed to vote (unless they stand on the deck of a ship).

Fervir

Fervir borders on eastern Asturia, and is a rather rough and archaic land. Early attempts by the empire to overthrow the state were thwarted immediately and so a peace treaty was installed, which both countries have kept to this day. It might be, because Fervir is mostly mountainous, with little means to grow resources, and their most notorious export is a steady stream of fearless warriors (getting a Fervir body guard has become somewhat ‘chique’ in Karisan). The country is divided between Arls, who rule their lands in family clans. The High Arl is seated in Falkanger, and is a chosen member of one of the many Arl families. 

Lattvhila

Desperately cold and frozen, especially in winter. Nomadic families roam its tundra, who sometimes make the bothersome journey to Fervir, to sell furs, silver and whatever strange things they found under the ice.

Zaferya

‘The Bridge to the East’ is covered by steppe and desert, but that hasn’t stopped its people from building tall, tower-cities all over the planes. They always sit on top of a well, and the water is distributed evenly through a system that outsiders would describe as ‘this shouldn’t even work’.

Koshar

Koshar’s climate is rather subtropical, bordering on a desert farther inland. Its coast, however displays a much more temperate, mediterranean climate. Koshar is essentially a monarchy, lead by a man they call Adar-Malik. The Kosh are gifted artisans and craftsmen, and their pigments are in such a high demand that merchants travel as far as Norotvoi and Altarath to sell them.

Other important places..

The Wilds

The Wilds are a vast expanse of mountains and forest smack in the middle of the continent. They could almost be described as another realm, as nobody has been mad enough yet to claim ownership of them. That is why there is practically no border between Bregón and the Empire, except for a few mountain passes where the two nations meet.The Southern Wilds are a lot tamer, and not completely infested with everything straight out of your worst nightmare.

Norik

Norik, or formerly the sovereign confederacy of Norik, is now a province of the Asturian Empire, located in the north and bordering to Fervir. Its governmental system used to be similar to that of Fervir, only that it was ruled by Lords, who only chose a High Lord in times of crises. Such a crisis arose when the Empire came knocking on their door. Before the decisive battle, however, a treaty was strung up and the High Lord blackmailed into signing it, which turned out later to enable the Empire to take over the whole confederacy without compromise.

Naturally the entire population felt betrayed in such a way, that the first rebellion formed a mere week after the annexation. Ever since the Empire has been trying its hardest to gain control over its most unruly province, which continues to revolt.

Cara Reka

For some ungodly reason Cara Reka escaped the Empire’s notice when it was looking for new conquests. Maybe because the little kingdom was too small, or maybe because it lies even behind Norik and the generals just couldn’t be bothered anymore, or maybe because their cavalry is deadly and made up of Rivenhorses.

Kirchenfal

Kirchenfal used to be an independent, theocratic country, west of the Southern Wilds. They believed only priests are permitted to study and learn magic (it’s called the Pulse but that’s a whole other thing so I’ll just call it magic here), which put not only the role of leadership, but also their military and guard into the hands of their church. Back then the land used to be rich with Hakkon Silver - a mineral that shortly enhances one’s magical abilities - and when the Empire started expanding its eyes soon fell upon them.Led by greed, a general named Alos de Brevi raided the country, overthrew the trifecta church, ordered every priest and monk executed and mined the silver until there was none left to be found. Despite the Karisan court being in uproar over the cruelty of the undertaking, the money and power the silver brought soon quieted most critics and Kirchenfal has reluctantly been absorbed into the empire as county palatine, ruled by the de Brevis. Robbed of not only their main source of income, but also of their ruling class and any way to learn magic, the Falese soon surrendered to their fate, although sparsely uprisings occur and many young people flee west into Bregón or south into Koshar.

Taifa of Inezra

The little mass of land at the very western tip of the continent had been gifted to a Kosh general called Inezra al Yanin, who aided the King of Brégon in a battle against southern raiders. It was subsiquentially named after her, and when she retired from the army she set up residence in a small port she re-named Abderral. Under her patronage the small seaside town soon grew into a bustling harbour city and a haven for artists and scholars. Its library surpasses even the Karisan Archives in size and its five universities are renowned, not only on the continent, but also overseas.After al Yanin’s death, her son took over ruling the taifa, holding up his mother’s values.

...I think I’m gonna stop here lmaoYOU SAID YOU WANTED TO KNOW EVERYTHINGThanks for asking haha ♥ 

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 15)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Lewis POV, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Part 16: here

The first few hours on the road are almost relaxing. Lewis drives, Vivi and Mystery sit up front, and he has plenty of space alone in the back. Arthur doesn’t get carsick like Lewis does so he’s fine with sitting in the small, makeshift seat which he’s installed for this very reason, letting the engine vibrations calm his nerves. This set up has bothered him in the past. Now he’s just happy to watch Vivi and Lewis chat and joke together.

Everything is perfect right up until Vivi suggests, rather forcefully, that he take a turn driving up front with Lewis and Mystery while she takes a turn in the back. She’s been doing this a lot- trying to get him to interact with Lewis- and he has no idea why, only that it hasn’t been great for his anxiety levels.  Unable to really argue, not without seeming like a jerk, Arthur takes the driver’s seat wearily. At the very least, he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally making eye contact with his full attention on the road.

Gradually, he drives them through some nice-looking sloped ridges, almost mountains, following the road as it winds upward, higher and higher. Lush greens and dark browns are a nice change from the monotone desert he’s used to. Vivi seems to enjoy it, leaning over the middle seat divide, eyes fixed on the pristine landscape. Right. This is Vivi’s first time leaving the claustrophobic collection of small towns surrounding their even smaller township, of course she is going to find it fascinating.

Now, if only Lewis could be equally fascinated with the abundant natural beauty instead of fixating on Arthur’s profile. He swears he’s been acting as normal as conceivably possible, yet Lewis is still behaving like he’s got some strange dirt on his face.  Why? Why can’t they all go back to that easy friendship from his memories? Why is it so hard to just be himself?

“So I haven’t seen you online this last week?” Lewis finally comments, breaking his extended period of staring. There is a pause while he waits for Arthur to respond.

“Online?”  Arthur keeps his vision fixed on the slowly straightening road. They are now following along the top of one of the ridges.

“Your game accounts and chatrooms. You’ve been inactive lately. I was just wondering if there was a reason for that,” Lewis repeats, almost apprehensive.

“Oh yeah. Right…online games.”

Had he still been playing those at this point? He could have sworn he had drifted away from them by now.

“I’ve been busy working on this prosthetics project. I have this new idea on how to convert neuro-transmissions into electrical pulses, and I think it’s going to be pretty useful if I nail it,” Arthur can’t help but smile, happy that the excuse has a little bit of truth to it.

“That sounds…” Lewis pauses, surprised, “pretty big actually.”

“It will be once I get it working,”

It had been a somewhat significant breakthrough in his original timeline, a collaboration with researchers at the St Peter’s Medical Research Foundry, and his unhealthy work ethic. Now he is recreating everything solo and finding it a tad more difficult, especially with salvaged and sub-par equipment. As much as he had hated the hospital, the labs had been pretty cool. It’s also doing an excellent job at distracting him from his increasingly horrific nightmares.

“Still think a ghost detection device would have been cool,” Vivi pouts from the back, still mostly focused on the landscape rushing past. Out the window is a spectacular view of the adjacent valley.

Arthur grimaces, responding,  “Sorry Viv. You know I’ve been avoiding that sort of thing,” to keep with his ‘dislike of the supernatural’ image.

Vivi is now a lot more focused on the conversation because she quickly elaborates, “Oh no, don’t apologise. I’m just fantasising a little. Prosthetics are way more important.”  

Arthur is hit with a small pang of renewed guilt. Maybe, when they get back, and he finally gets to see that psychologist he probably needs, he’ll miraculously get over his fear, and they can go ghost hunting for real. A ghost detection device would actually be pretty useful for avoiding potential disasters.

Lewis clears his throat, “About that. I know you’ve said that you’re apprehensive about investigating superstitions and supernatural locations, but I was wondering, and I’m not accusing you of anything… but I’ve noticed that you seem to bit more…jumpy lately.”

“Eh?”  

That wasn’t good. So Lewis had noticed his aversions. His grip tightens around the steering wheel.

“If there’s anything I can do to help. Or if I can do anything, I don’t know, differently...” Lewis continues, speaking carefully, oblivious to his uneasiness, “You can always let me know. You know...”

This is not what he wants to be discussing.

He can’t tell if Lewis is disapproving or if he’s subconsciously adding texture where there is none. In his mind’s eye, he can almost see ghost Lewis glaring, angry and accusing. Everything is growing very hot and stuffy, van door and low ceiling pressing in on him.

Flames are drawing in close, licking at his clothes.

Crap. He needs out of the driver’s seat before he drives them to their deaths.

“Hey look! There’s a View Point. Let’s check it out,” He blurts, spinning the steering wheel with more urgency than strictly needed. Vivi cries out in surprise and Mystery yelps as he is flung onto Lewis’s lap. Everything rotates, left wheel briefly lifting from the pavement, and they rocket down a narrow exit ramp.

“Arthur! What the heck,” Vivi squawks from the back, popping back up from where she’s toppled over, slightly frazzled. His heart is beating exceptionally fast, and he slows the van to a more manageable speed. The last thing he wants to do is crash.

“A little warning next time. Geez. I could have died back there, ” Vivi complains when they pull into a small parking bay. She doesn’t appear to have noticed his unsubtle ploy to quickly end his conversation with Lewis. Ahead of them is a sheltered enclave, enclosed by rock walls which raise up to meet the highway they had just exited.  

“Sorry. Sorry. I just saw this turn and thought you’d want to stop and take a photo or something,” Arthur defends even as he’s leaping out the driver’s seat to get clear of both Lewis and Mystery. In the few seconds he is out of view, obscured by the bulk of the van, Arthur takes a moment to collect himself. He presses himself against the van's cool surface, hand over his chest, feeling out his heart and natural rhythm. Slowly, he counts his breaths, wrestling with a brief bout of slightly blurry vision.

“Wow!”

Vivi, who has flung open the back of the van, climes out, standing near him. She is staring happily out at the vast, open space. The brilliant blue sky stretches away infinitely and before them is a collection landscape, ridges, and valleys sprawling for miles. They have stopped at an official View Point, with several wooden plaks containing information on local frontier towns and an accompanying area map.

“Guess this is worth almost dying for,” She goes to give him a half-playful wack in the arm. The right arm, thankfully.

“Haha. Don’t joke about that,” Arthur mutters, trying to shake the lingering jitters as quickly as possible. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Mystery who is standing at Vivi’s feet. The dog is watching, head cocked to one side, considering Arthur with intelligent eyes. The appearance of intellect is broken when Mystery turns to scratch an ear with his back leg.

Vivi walks to lean against the railing, which cordons off the steeper part of the sloop down, pulling out her phone to take pictures. The wind pulls at, and whips about, her hair and short blue skirt. Arthur averts his gaze awkwardly and accidentally makes eye contact with Lewis who is walking around from the passenger’s side. The taller man is watching again, expression creased into a deep frown, slightly hurt. Arthur looks away guiltily. What, exactly, Lewis is thinking, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably nothing good.

“Hey check that out,” Vivi calls, “You can see the start of the desert from here.”  

“Guys,” Vivi turns when they fail to answer, taking in the awkward distance between them. A second and they’re all silent, listening to the wind rustle the branches of nearby foliage.  

“Come on then. Let’s take a picture together. First one of the trip.” Vivi motions for them to stand side by side, putting the wide vista in the background. Her eye’s move between them once again before she is distracted be a shiver brought about by another gust.

“It’s actually a lot cooler up here then it was done there.”

“Who would have thought,” Lewis teases, voice light with only a hint of unease from their standoff. Looks like they’ve all collectively decided to ignore the last few seconds of tension. For now anyway. He’ll find some time to talk to Lewis later when he’s in a better mindset.  Arthur lets out the breath he has been holding.

“You can have my jacket if you want,” Lewis is offering, walking up to the railing, sounding more natural. Arthur notes that that drop down isn’t particularly steep, being more of an incline.  

“Keep your jacket, you know I have a pack of extra clothes,” Vivi huffs, motioning them impatiently into a clump so she can take the picture. It is only somewhat uncomfortable. Good thing he’s practised smiling.

The rest of the drive goes smoothly with Arthur insisting that he return to sitting at the back, alone. It’s telling when Vivi doesn’t fight him on it, letting him retreat in peace. They lose three hours at another rest stop, this one bordering a wide forested area, when Vivi insists Mystery get a chance to stretch his legs. Arthur opts to sit in the bed of his van among their various bags, doors secure outward, giving him a view of Vivi and Lewis as they throw a ball for Mystery.

The fresh air, the smell of pine, and the gentle rustling of wind is familiar is a way he has come to expect, having lived similar scenarios on his previous road trips.  What isn’t familiar is the creeping isolation and disconnection from Vivi and, to a lesser extent, Lewis. Sure, he had often felt left out and ignored in his original timeline, but it had never been so defined. Not that he can complain, this had been his goal after all.

Note: I swear this is going somewhere. Bear with me.

Part 16: here

[gold-from-straw]

Frozen Heart - ch2

Tony makes an appearance! I’m going to tag anyone who liked/reblogged last time, if you’d rather I stopped, please lmk! And if you’d like me to tag you in the next chapter, please leave a <3 or a reblog!

And if you’d prefer to read on AO3 from the beginning, here you go!

Tony threw a handful of dried blueberries in his mouth and spun around on his chair, trying not to stave off the impending depression for just a little longer. Finishing a project was fantastic. Best feeling in the world. For like, five minutes? And then the boredom set in, and when the boredom set in, the depression was only a heartbeat behind. If Tony wasn’t actively doing something, he was not a happy bunny.

Then again, when he was actively doing something, he got super anxious, because he hadn’t finished yet, and it didn’t count as an achievement unless he’d finished it. Fucking goblin brain.

“JARVIS, bring up the list of unfinished projects, would you?”

“Of course Sir,” said JARVIS briskly, a file opening on the holo-viewer. “There’s a set of body armour you started for SHIELD.”

“Eh, archive that. In fact, archive anything I started for those bastards, they lost their TV privileges when they injected me with chemicals without my consent and tasered a man with a heart condition.”

“Thank you, Sir.” JARVIS made several files disappear with an obnoxious trashing noise. Tony smirked. JARVIS pulled up another file. “There’s also a prosthesis for--”

Tony was already shaking his head. “Nah, I replaced it with something better, remember? That neural transmitter implant which connects to a prosthesis so the kid doesn’t have to get used to a new one every time they grow out of a leg? Archive that as well.”

There were only three projects left. Tony felt a hollow fear start up under his arc reactor and rubbed his solar plexus, biting his lip. How had he let it get this bad? Was he losing his creativity? Was he going to have to… god forbid, be idle?

Something bleeped and Tony jumped, springing to the readout in the corner of the room. Behind him, JARVIS closed the holo-viewer and brought up a map in response to Tony’s touch. “What’s going on here? Solar flares?”

“NASA hasn’t got any solar flares of this significance predicted for the next four weeks, sir.”

Tony frowned at the map, replaying the readings of the last five minutes, but his heart was jumping with glee. The endorphins played a refrain of something new something new on his pulse and he grinned as he localised the readings to the New Mexico desert, not far from a little town called Puente Antigo. “Hey, JARV? Ready the mark XII, would you? I think we need a little break from the city.”

As the repulsors whined to slow his descent, Tony turned his head in all directions, gathering as much data as he could. It was obvious where the anomaly had been centred; a vast circle spread across the dirt, a little bit streaked to the south, as if a meteor had crashed at a steep angle. But the crater itself was like nothing he’d ever seen, a complex runic pattern burned into the ground and then overlayed with… “JARVIS, are those frost patterns?”

“Yes, Sir, the frost appears to have originated from the centre of the crater.” JARVIS marked the point on the heads-up display. “Perhaps you should talk to the people to the left of the crater, judging by the equipment they’re getting out of their van they seem to be conducting some sort of research on the crater.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised. “I’m always ready to talk science to new people,” he said, wheeling low and banking hard. “Except anti-vaxxers, if I wanted to be burned as a witch I’d have invented time travel by now.”

He landed gently and flipped his faceplate up. One of the women already had her phone out to video him, quietly muttering “holy shit, holy shit, it’s Tony freaking Stark,” under her breath. The other woman was tugging at her hair and having a nerdgasm at the patterns branded into the earth, and Tony knew immediately he was going to get along great with these girls. The older guy, maybe not. He looked at Tony as if he was a direct threat to the safety and wellbeing of all of them, which, while probably true, he didn’t need to be quite so obvious about it. Rude.

“Room for a little one?” Tony asked with his favourite media smile.

“Holy shit holy shit it’s Tony freaking Stark!”

“Yeah, hi,” he said, stepping out of the suit and waving at the girl in the glasses.

The other girl looked up at last, big brown eyes wide, as if she’d genuinely missed the noise of his approach. “Huh? Where did you come from?”

He jerked his thumb behind himself at the suit. “New York.”

She stared. “Holy shit, Tony Stark.”

“Yeah. Hope you don’t mind me butting in.”

She looked slightly pained. “Uh. Yeah, sure.”

“I mean, you’re on lead, of course,” he added quickly and watched her face light up again. “First come, first served.”

“Oh my God, really? I mean, you’re not gonna just… call seniority?” she said.

“I can’t call seniority, I don’t know you,” he shrugged.

“Oh, Dr Jane Foster, astrophysicist. This is Dr Erik Selvig, also astrophysics, and my assistant Darcy Lewis.”

“‘Sup,” said Darcy, apparently over her star-struck moment.

“Tony Stark,” he said again, pointing to himself. “No Doctor, so you definitely take seniority. What are we looking at?”

She turned back to the crater, her focus sharpening instantly. “I’ve been working on the spontaneous formation of Einstein-Rosen bridges for the last three years of my life - to the detriment of my entire career. The readings we picked up from here were literally off the chart, the frequencies alone were exactly the same as those the Fermi picks up from distant pulsars! But then we got here fifteen minutes ago, and it got weird.”

Tony followed her over to a rickety machine and looked at the readout over her shoulder. The screen flickered and she smacked it, hard. Tony winced and put his twitchy fingers behind his back. Not my machine, not my machine, no touchy!

Jane made a triumphant noise and pointed to the values as she scrolled up. “My array system here is picking up trace gamma radiation congruent with the kind of energy output of an atomic bomb, but it seems to have been entirely concentrated in this one small area, with no ill effects beyond the scorching of the soil here. And these symbols!” She turned, her hair flaring out and hitting herself in the face. “I mean, I’m loath to call them symbols, because that implies some sort of meaning, and obviously we have to be careful not to anthropomorphise, but it’s hard to deny, they look a hell of a lot like writing, don’t they?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and there was the actual alien, too?”

Tony turned towards her. “There was an alien?”

“Supposed alien,” Erik said, helping Jane with another machine that looked like it’d fall apart in a stiff breeze. These guys needed some engineering lessons, that was for sure. “I’d wager he was one of those crop circle guys, just… diversifying or something.”

“He was blue, Erik,” Darcy insisted. “And he had horns!”

“Amazing what they can do with prosthetics and makeup these days,” Erik shrugged.

“Yeah, but Erik,” Darcy whined. “He froze the ground!”

Erik shook his head, but the machine slipped and Jane yelped, and his attention shifted off them. “He froze the ground?” Tony asked, turning towards Darcy.

“Yeah, dude, like he was in the middle of the crater, having some sort of a panic attack or something. Jane ran towards him asking if he’d seen what caused the anomaly, because she’s a total dumbass and didn’t, like, notice he was blue or something? I dunno. Anyway, he looked at her like she was some sort of dangerous creature, held his hand out and frosted up half the crater, and then disappeared.” She shrugged. “I got a photo, but it’s really blurry, I won’t even bother putting it on Facebook.”

“Do you mind sending it to me anyway?” he asked. “I can see if JARVIS can clear it up a bit.”

“Yeah, let’s do that CSI bullshit,” she said, holding out her phone to him.

He came around beside her instead of taking it, putting his shades on and activating JARVIS in the lenses. “Oh, yeah, that’s a shitty photo.”

“I know, right?” she said cheerfully.

The snap was shaky and grainy, like she’d pressed the button before she’d got the phone in place. JARVIS reduced the noise and adjusted for motion, and slowly a clearer version began to resolve itself in Tony’s display. “Woah,” he muttered.

“What? What?”

“JARVIS, bluetooth it to her.”

“Holy shit, I’m gonna need your image software,” she yelped as the photo appeared on her screen.

The man - or whatever he was - had his hands thrown out in front of him. He was crouched over, like he’d just picked himself up off the ground, or like he’d been startled, and silvery threads poured from his blue fingers. His face was mostly hidden, but Tony could make out a snarl.

“He was just standing up when we arrived,” Darcy said, zooming into the cleaned-up photo. “Jane started yelling at him, saying he should get out of there, he was messing up the data, and he turned around - that’s when we saw he was all blue, with those horns. He freaked out, iced the place up and disappeared. Pooff! Just like that.”

Tony frowned down at the phone, and then looked out at the markings on the desert floor. “JARVIS, can you send the footage we got from the air off to Dr Foster here? And maybe shift the markings to account for the trajectory, if we get rid of the parallax error we might be able to get some information from the markings.”

“Do you think he’s really an alien?” Darcy asked, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Damn, that would be so fucking funny, you know, go work for a serious scientist and end up caught up in some conspiracy theory.”

“Could be,” Tony hedged. “I mean, just because we haven’t seen any evidence of aliens yet doesn’t mean they don’t exist. But it’s a long shot, so yeah. We should probably wait until we have more information.”

“Boring,” she said, scrunching her nose up and poking at the screen again. “I’m calling aliens.”

A cold wind blew across both of them suddenly, and Tony shivered. “What the hell?” Tony murmured. “JARVIS, is there a storm forecast?”

“All meteorological data up until the last hour have shown between an eighty to ninety percent chance of clear skies, no disrupted weather at all. However approximately fifteen minutes ago a low pressure area appeared localised to Mount Nahokos, eight miles north of here.”

Tony frowned as the satellite imagery appeared on his sunglasses display. “Is that snow?”

“Yes, Sir. The meteorological anomaly appears to be growing, causing exponentially increasing snowfall. The intensity appears to be decreasing in the inverse square law with the distance from the epicentre.”

“You had me at inverse square law,” Tony said. “Hey, Doctors, I’m gonna go find out what’s causing snow in a New Mexico summer, I’ve sent you my phone number, come play science with me, yeah?”

Jane stood up and tucked some hair behind her ear as he stepped into the suit. “Wait, are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he said, tapping his arc reactor. “And I know a bit about those bitches. I’ll send a jet for you, we’ll have fun.”

The face plate closed on him and he sighed, closing his eyes. “Too clingy?” he asked.

“They should be honoured, Sir.”

“Yeah,” he said, straightening up a little. “Yeah, damn straight. Or something. OK, let’s go find the abominable snowman.”

***

Tagging!: @red--thedragon @shoot-the-smiles @tkillustration @yohanzen

@senpaiweird @fallenlux @superwhojohnlocked @saturnjuice @individual900 @schmadfoot @mikeystealth01 @timekeeper31289 @tomlinchanel @angrysockpuppetnoises @unistudentinperpetualsuffering @rabentochter @oolaan @victoriagreenleaf - again if you want me to untag you just let me know! Or just don’t like the post and I’ll leave you alone lol! <3

[konan720]

Something Lurks

The inside of the Mall was huge, Silver dragged Puppetmon to the nearest food stall, as Sabrina watched. A small smile planted on her face, she remembered how happy she herself was when exploring the vast space.

“A mall.. in the middle of a desert.” It was still hard to grasp around. Nobody seemed to work here as she walked around the fountain and slight away from the other two. Everything seemed to be in working order on its own. The lights, the mall ambient music.. everything.

Suddenly looking up, the black haired girl felt like something.. or someone was watching her. However, nothing was there- shrugging, but not letting go of that feeling she walked around more to see what was really here.

—————

Silver’s stared off with stars in her eyes; all the food from back home was just lined up in the stalls! At least, the food you find at malls- it was difficult to even decide which she wanted to eat first.

“Hey, Silver..” Puppetmon started, his thoughts started bugging him “don’t you think it’s strange that this build just.. appeared?”

Silver innocents shined though, but of course it was a bit strange to her. “Yeah.. it kind of is..” scratched her head “I just got caught up- you know?”

“...you must really miss your home..”

There was silence for while, but Silver just smiled, changing the subject “you know- there’s always a toy store in malls! We should go find it!”

Perking up Puppetmon smiled “really!?”

Nodding excitedly, Silver pointed out “Of course! It will be like a scavenger hunt!” Then her stomach growled “..but first, we need to eat-“

————

This mall was definitely something, Sabrina was more used to the open air mall back in her home town. The girl had put back on her hoodie for the moment, she wasn’t expecting the air conditioning to work as well-

If felt nice earlier because of the heat, but now she was just cold. Sunglasses hanging on the neck of it, she continued to look around. Not once had she seen a mall director sign- but there seemed to be all kinds of shops here.

Mostly clothing, however.

“Maybe I should find a hat..?” Sabrina mumbled to herself, passing yet another clothing store. “Oh, Meramon.. I wish you came in side with us..” she sighed.

Stopping and sitting down on a bench, she stretched out her arms. It always felt strange sitting down in an uncrowded mall- listening to the distance music made you feel just how alone you were. Like you were the last person on earth.

“I’m starting to feel home sick.”

—————

“She was right with us, where did she go..?” Silver mumbled, looking around.

During their time eating, neither of them once thought something was off until Puppetmon had a sudden feeling of being watched. That was about the time they figured out Sabrina was missing.

“You don’t think..?” Puppetmon was suggesting someone had kidnapped her, but Silver shook her head.

“Puppetmon, you saw all the stalls-“ Silver started walking off “no one else is here, but us..”

Humming in disbelief “I won’t be so sure of that..”

“She probably just walked off on her own to explore!” She turned around to look and her friend, “I mean, look at all these stores!”

Silver spun around slowly, arms in the air; Gesturing to all the open stores up and above-

Then she caught sight of something out of place. Silver let out a startling gasp, indicating that it had been seen. With having been noticed though, the figure ducked down and ran.

“Puppetmon, you were right!” Silver hurried over to him “I just saw something big move-!” You could see the uneasiness in her eyes, making the Puppet pull out his weapon just in case there was a fight. “We have to save her!”

Puppetmon has charged forward, leaving Silver to think of what to do next; instantly, she ran to the front of the store.

—————

Sabrina finally found herself inside one of the stores, second story; there was a familiar arts and craft story she used to go to with her mother. A small smile was on her face as she looked through, thoughts of her mother complaining about always using coupons.

Her mother liked saving money when ever she can. She need to arrange a get together soon... maybe when all this ‘chosen’ stuff was over with.

Walking down an isle, Sabrina ran across the drawing book section; top to bottom there lined different styled made books. She personally liked the mixed media by canson.

“So, you like to draw I see-?”

The new voice startled her, in a fight or flight instinct, and her run in with that other crazy looking Digimon; Sabrina threw the slightly hefty drawing book at the voice.

Catching the book, but grunting all the same, he looked up with a smug smile “you got quite the throwing arm there!” He laughed.

Backing up and grabbing the same book, but as big as her midsection, Sabrina held it up ready to swing it around. “You think my throw is good? Wait till you feel the swing.”

She eyed the strange new person, seemed to be clad in mostly red and yellow- wore a big hat with googles on it, and a similar stitched mouth style. Grey skin, and had two large matches sheathed. One had a red tip, the other was blue. Under that hat, it seemed to be brown hair.

“I know you’re a Digimon, that much is clear-“ the black haired girl squinted “Who are you, and what do you want.”

“Name’s FlameWizardmon-!” He stepped closer, but all that did was make Sabrina step back. Slightly coughing at the sudden displeasure the human was looking at him with, he continued “and what I wanted was you-!”

He ducked in panic as the angry girl swung the book “Nonono-! Wait! Let me rephrase that-!”

“You’re just another creep aren’t ya?!” Sabrina yelled, then growled out “Well, you ain’t getting us.”

Ramming ahead with the book, she pushed him aside. Once she was out in the clear, Sabrina took liberty to shout as loud as she could- which was pretty loud even with the mall echoing. However a gloved hand clamps her mouth, along side panicked shushing.

“What are you doin!?” FlameWizardmon asked with fear in his eyes “You’re gonna call that Mega to us!”

Biting his hand, or a finger at the least, the new Digimon yelped in pain “that’s the whole point! Us humans got here not to long ago, and we were already attacked!” She backed up more, “not only that be we also received an eerie warning the morning, I am not taking any chances!”

“What-? No! You got it all wro-“ the Wizard tried to explain, However something shot through the air, making every part of him freeze. Bother the human and the Digimon slowly turned their gaze at the shooter.

“There you are.” Puppetmon shouted “Silver was worried about you, you stupid Digidestine!”

“Hello to you to!” Sabrina remarked, running over to him.

“Don’t you know it dangerous for a human to wonder off?!” The Puppet yelled, but still kept his eyes on the ‘enemy’ “you humans are to fragile.”

“Did.. did you just say..?” FlameWizardmon tried to utter out, but his words wouldn’t work as the two looked at him, but then he smiled “did you say, Digidestine?!”

“Wait, you didn’t know..” Sabrina trailed off

“I was interested in you humans, because you were.. well, humans!” He laughed “but it turned out that at least one of you are a legend among Digimon!” To say he was amazed was an understatement “this is the best day ever!”

Sabrina whispered to Puppetmon “I’m not sure to feel flattered, or freaked out..” the smaller Digimon nodded.

Suddenly running up to the two, Puppetmon took a swing, but the crazy wizard dodged and grabbed of the human, making her yelp in surprise. The Digimon was definitely stronger then a human, as FlameWizardmon held her and ran off.

“This is fun!” He smiled, jumping off the second story to the first, “come on, leave that mage for me! Let’s be partners!”

“Hey! Get back here!” They heard Puppetmon yell.

As the two touched down, Sabrina was about to speak up, but was a witness to FlameWizardmon getting punched in the face by a fiery hand. The impact made the Digimon let go, and was in saver hands with her actually partner.

“Meramon!” Sabrina smiled.

Meramon smiled down at her “Sorry, came as fast as Silver warned me..”

“It’s okay, big guy.”

The fire being set down his human, and watched the wizard get back up. “Who do you think you are, in trying to steal my partner?” Meramon crack his knuckles. He was ready for a fight, even if this Digimon won’t.

“Ugh..” FlameWizardmon rubbed his face, “wait.. your partner- I thought-? There’s two of you?!”

“The Puppet was just a tag along- now stand up!” Meramon yelled.

Putting his hands up, “whoa, whoa! I might have had a chance with the wooden fellow,” FlameWizardmon announced “but there’s no way I’m fighting a guy made purely out of what I fight with!”

“So, you’re smart.” Meramon flared up “get out of my sight, or I’ll make your hat look like it’s really on fire.”

“Hey, what’s that over there?!” FlameWizardmon quickly yelled, and old tactical destruction, as he ran off

“What- HEY!” Meramon yelled as he saw the other flee

“Leave him.” Meramon turned back to Sabrina with a look “I don’t think he’s actually dangerous..”

“Sabrina!” Silver yelled out “are you okay!” She had finally caught up with everyone else right as Puppetmon appeared. “The Digimon didn’t hurt you did it?”

Sabrina smiled, “No, I’m fine.. thank you” then she looked to the two others “thank you, the both of you.. sorry I wonder off on my own.”

Puppetmon crosses his arm “that was really stupid..”

Sabrina chuckled “I know.”

[minsyal]

[Mutual Feelings Pt. 7, Revali x Reader]

Part 6 

          “I heard you got your jimmies rustled.” Purah noted with a full-mouth – a bad habit that her mother so desperately tried to rid her of, but her attempts were futile.

           “Oh?” Robbie inquired, a curious eyebrow raising, “Your jimmies?”

           “I’ve always hated how you two talk.” Your eyes instinctively rolled, possibly so far that they’d surely never come back. “Impa doesn’t talk like that, where on earth did you two pick that up from? You’re not even siblings!”

            The two shrugged simultaneously, both almost mimicking one another as they returned to picking the bones from the fish and discarding them to the side of their plates. It was truly odd how similar they were. Yet, when the topic arose they would always deny it – possibly until the days that they died. Maybe Robbie picked up on Purah’s tendencies while training and researching along with her.

          “Anyway,” Purah spoke directed at you though her eyes never faltered from her dinner, “back to your jimmies.”

           “How did you guys even hear about that? It was a few days ago, news can’t possibly travel that fast.”

           “Oh, but it does when you’re a royal scientist.” She continued, “I heard Revali freaked out! What was that like?”

           “Is this conversation really necessary?” You pushed a mushroom around on your plate, watching as the small ashy flakes crumpled and wrinkled along the sides. Purah had a habit similar to that of her opened-mouth chewing; she was notorious for cooking far too much food. Being nearly 30 minutes into dinner, you would suspect that there would be little to nothing left on the family plates gathered at the middle of the table. Instead, a plethora of food was still stacked upon itself. Roasted mushrooms and leeks littered the table that would go untouched for the night, or possibly discarded.

           “Absolutely it is.” Robbie chimed in whilst stuffing another carrot into his mouth. “He never freaks out. Go on, spill it.”

           Letting a puff of air escape your lips, you dropped your utensils to the plate and rested your elbows on the table. “Well, I’m absolutely stuffed. Nice work, as always. Are you guys done with these?” You motioned to the plates sitting on the table. Both nodded.

           Carrying the plates into the next room over, all eyes were on you upon your entrance. Two men sat at one table, a half-played chess board between them. Another man had his head turned from the fire he stood before, their dinner cooking above it. The room was very much like the rest with hard wood floors, hard chalk and limestone walls that extended just above 7 feet, a fireplace in the corner to warm the area in the winter, and a few tables and cots.

           “Haven’t seen you here in a while.” The man by the fire spoke, Mannery.

           “I get around.” You took another step into the room. The soldiers returned to their chess game, one obviously contemplating over his next move. By the looks of it, he was losing.

           “You get around?” Mannery’s eyebrow raised suggestively, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. Face flushed, you closed your eyes and sighed. “You know what I mean.”

           “I know. Is that for us?” His head nodded toward the plates in both your hands.

           “Purah made too much.”

           “She always does.” He rose from his spot and crossed the room to stand at your side. Mannery was a tall guy, with a straightened back he was about 6 foot 4. His light brown hair was cut short and slightly spiked in the front. He was one of the knights positioned at the Royal Lab and had become acquainted with you after your visits. His wife worked in the castle and on occasion would join you on your voyage to bring Purah more books as if she didn’t have enough.

           “Enjoy, boys.”

           The night passed with frequent interruptions either from the guards or Robbie dropping something that would go clacking onto the floor followed by a whispered “oh shoot” or “dang it.” His footsteps would carry off in another direction soon after. You’d hear Purah shuffling around behind Robbie reminding him of things he knew to do. When the sun did finally decide to rise, you did as well. Leaving a note on the desk for Purah thanking her for her company and dinner, you slipped out the door and back to the trek toward the castle. Opting for efficiency, you decided to follow Regencia River back toward the path rather than waste time traveling through the Breach of Demise. The river rushed quickly carrying rafts of weary travelers, merchants, and the occasional bass along with it.

           Arriving in Castle Town, the morning dwellers were out bustling about to prepare for the busy day to come. The baker was at his window, kneading a soft pillow of dough to be stuffed into the blazing oven behind him. The sweet scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as his wife pulled a loaf from the oven. A jeweler was opening her shutters, a mother was shaking off a dusty rug in front of her general store, a young boy ran past chasing after his runaway dog, and a horse-drawn carriage brought goods all the way from Hateno. You could vaguely see the outlines of Hateno grain and Kakariko rice, even a pumpkin or two. The merchant hailed to a shopkeeper, joyfully greeting them and immediately going into their bargaining routine.

           The guards at the castle gates waved you in, greeting you formally upon your entrance. Nodding, you followed the path up to the first gatehouse where yet another guard permitted you to progress forward. Entering the same entrance as the knights, you ignored the murmurs of morning gossip as they dressed for the day. The air in the room was clean, not yet contaminated with the sour smell of sweat. Your room was a blessing, being one of the only places you felt like things were fully in your control.

           The work you had been focused on prior to leaving for Rito Village was strewn across your desk in haphazard organization that only made sense to you. A book on Gerudo was placed neatly on the bookshelf, its pages marked and noted. A sketch of that blasted bird was hung on the wall, next to one of Lady Mipha, Lady Urbosa, and Daruk. It was easy to capture the women’s beauty, as all they had to do was flash a smile to appear stunning. Daruk had opted to go for a stronger pose for his sketch, his arms flexing as much as a rock could, a large smile on his face. Revali, on the other hand, had refused a sketch saying that he had much better things to do with his time than assist in your “nonsense” research. He was easier to draw from a distance.

           At the time you hadn’t expected to become so close to the group, as you were only there to examine the technology and work on furthering the knowledge of their anatomy. While you hadn’t truly become close to any of them, there was a sense of acceptance. A note had been tacked to your wall, now torn and dampened from leaving the window open during a past storm. The paper was crinkled like an elder’s skin, the ink almost incoherent. It was from Mipha.

           Months back, she had written to you during a leave of absence as she became acquainted with her Divine Beast. She had expressed concern of the beast’s controls as she wasn’t quite sure what some of them did. It seemed that almost all the Champions had this issue but had gone overlooked by the other royal scientists. With Purah busied by the flying guardians, and Robbie concerned with the walking ones, it left you to deal with their requests.

           Sitting at your desk, you fell into another fit of immobility as work took precedence over all else. Your eyes wandered from books about plants to ones of the vast land that extended beyond the castle walls. While this was not directly related to work, it was just as important and it’s location was in the desert of the Gerudo Region. A peculiar plant grew in this region, it’s location varying with each passing year. It bloomed only one day, and finding it was essential to your most pressing project. Thus far, you had determined that this plant would not be in bloom for a few months, three to be exact. It’s location was the only missing factor.

           Your travels were lonely. Once again on the long path alone, you found yourself getting lost in thought quite often. Having stayed at the castle for a few days, you were given ample time to rest up and regain movement in your joints that had stiffened from lying in a bed for so long. Gerudo City was your destination. Seeing as Urbosa requested your assistance with Naboris, it gave you the perfect excuse to scout the desert to get a better idea of where you were going when the time came.

           Cautious of the travelers passing by, you kept your head down and small knife readily available. Yiga clan members had a tendency to roam this area, preying upon unsuspecting wanderers. A royal scientist would surely be like getting a golden metal.

           “Ah, [Name].” Urbosa greeted as you approached the walls of the city. She towered over you, a welcoming smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Are you fairing well after the injuries?”

           “Fairing fine.” You reassured her. “I came to look at Vah Naboris for you. There are a few things I’m a little curious about.”

           She looked to the desert beyond the outlook where the beast stood.

           “Of course, follow me.”

           Naboris was far different than the other beasts on the interior. It had three terminals that were controllable, each turning like a sifter. To gain entrance to the outside, one would need to stand in a certain spot and then activate the terminal. Interesting technology always seemed to be so difficult. The ground rumbled beneath your feet as you were hoisted upward, onto the outside platform. A steadying hand was placed on your shoulder as Urbosa reached down to hold you in place. Smiling, she beckoned you to the main platform that stood in the center of Vah Naboris.

           You traveled to see Mipha and Daruk as well, seeing as they would require similar updates to their Divine Beast. Though, you did not plan to spend as much time with them as you did in Gerudo. You had gained a descent amount of information in the two weeks you spent there and had a good idea at where you were headed.

           “Do you recall the stones we used while in the Hebra Region?” Mipha implored as she strolled next to you, heading back to the Domain after a long day of improvements to the beast. The two of you walked together down the steps of the retaining wall.

           “The soapstones?”

           “Yes!” She nodded, a bright smile on her face, “Sidon loved them. Quite interesting things they are.”

           Daruk was insistent on watching your every move as you fixed up Vah Rudania. He wanted badly to make sure he knew everything that was going into and coming out of the beast. Supposedly he “just wanted ‘ta make sure I know ev’ry thing I can ‘bout the beast.”

           “Hey kid,” Daruk raised his hand to slap at your back before retracting it. “Eh,” he let out a chuckle, “my bad!” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, “Almost forgot about that tumble you took.”

           “All healed up.” You assured him.

           “Good t’ hear! Wouldn’t want our little scientist get’n hurt.” Revali’s nickname for you had rubbed off on Daruk. His use of the term was different though, as there was nothing but sincere kindness in his words. This time he forgot to refrain from hitting you and his hand met your back, sending you tumbling onto the ground. Shocked and very apologetic, Daruk raised you up from under the arms and examined you to ensure he hadn’t hurt you one bit. Laughing, you brushed it off and guaranteed him you were just fine.

           The trip to Rito Village from the castle took two days with one stop at the Royal Lab to check in on your colleagues. Purah was the same, crazy and hyper all simmered into one concoction. Robbie had left for the castle to speak with King Rhoam of the walking guardians. He had uncovered more concentrated in Hyrule Field around the Garrison.

“Can you please let me up on Medoh?” You groaned, staring up at Revali as he hovered above you extended in the air.

           It had been two months since you last saw the bird. Having spent two weeks in Gerudo, one in Goron City, one in Zora’s Domain, two weeks traveling and two more in the castle, you had cherished the time without his looming attitude. When you first stepped foot in Rito Village, that blasted Rito was at your side pestering you as if the dynamic between you never changed. Ignoring his presence, you headed straight for Seoi’s.

           “Where are you heading to?” Revali implored as you climbed the steps.

           “Hi Seoi.” You entered the home and felt your heart drop to your stomach. Keumi was lying in a hammock hung low to the ground, much like the one you had been put into after your injury. Her eyes were big and puffy, her wings spread out, and a blanket hung over her tiny body. Using all her energy, she raised her head and focused in on you.

           “[Name]!” She exclaimed, her voice coming out as a creak.

           “Keumi, please rest. [Name] is coming over, there’s no need to shout.” Seoi brushed her feathers across the child’s face, attempting to sooth her blazing fever.

           “Can I have a moment with your mom?” You knelt next to her and fumbled with the necklace tied around her neck. Her eyelids grew heavy, blinking open and closed slowly as she exerted all her remaining energy to nod. Crossing the room with Seoi, you spoke in hushed voices so to not alert the young girl. Revali lingered at the door, observing the scene that unfolded before him.

           “Sweetheart,” Seoi wrapped her wings delicately around your face, brushing her feathers over your eyes. “They’re back. Have you forgotten to take care of yourself again?”

           “Me? You look exhausted.”

           “I’ve not slept in three days.”

           “Is that how long she’s been sick?” Seoi nodded in response, “Poor thing. I’ll work this all out Seoi. Keep her hydrated. It’ll pass like it always has.”

           “What if this time it doesn’t?”

           “Then I’ll work extra hard to ensure that it does.”  

           “Hmph.” He landed on the deck named after himself, his talons clacking on the cedar as he circled you. “Eventually.”

           “I have upgrades Medoh needs.”

           “What are they for?”

           “Your protection. Unless you’d rather die in a fiery explosion?”

            Revali was reluctant to let you step foot onto Medoh and even more reluctant to let you climb onto his back so he could get you up there. He zipped into the sky only after a ten-minute rant about how you shouldn’t hold onto his armor, how you shouldn’t dare to touch the Great Eagle Bow, not to grip too tightly around his neck, and not to go wandering off through Medoh upon landing. You were strictly instructed to also not ask too many questions, with him citing your “annoying voice” as a reason to not talk.

           “Thanks for that.” You smoothed your frizzed hair back. Walking with an air of arrogance, he motioned for you to follow as he began for the main terminal of the beast. While his tongue remained sharp, as it always had, he was more tame than usual. He didn’t make the same quips and insults, though one thing did remain. He never used your name.

           “I can’t carry both of you.” Seoi frowned, her eyes focusing on Keumi as she did her best to sit up straight. “Junil is out on patrol, otherwise I’d ask him to help.”

           “I suppose you could take me first and then leave me while you went to get Keumi?”

           “Why don’t you go ask Revali for an extra hand? After all, you did just spend the entire day with him.” Despite the circles around her eyes and a sick child at her feet, she still managed to keep up this idea of the two of you together.

           “I’d rather not spend another moment at his side.”

           “You didn’t leave Medoh all day.”

           “Because if I had tried, I’d have either fallen to my death or never heard the end of it from him. Look,” You ran a hand down your face, “lets just find someone else to help.”

           “Help with what?” The same crisp voice you had been subject to all day spoke, startling both you and Seoi. Keumi, regardless of her red eyes and sniffling nose, had a smile on her face and stars in her eyes as she looked at the Rito Champion.

           “Oh, Revali.” Seoi addressed him. “Perfect timing. I’d hate to inconvenience you, but would you be opposed to helping [Name] and I? We need to take Keumi to the Sturnida Hot Spring just beyond the Flight Range.”

           His focus homed in on you, an eyebrow raising as he leaned against the opening. Seoi was putting on that same “super sweet mother” façade, backing up to kneel at her daughter’s side. Revali pushed off the supporting beam and rolled his shoulders back, straightening his posture. He practically oozed an unwavering confidence.

           “Anything to help a beautiful mother and her child.”

           Mouth agape, you mentally rolled your eyes as you thought back to how he had just called them “urchins” a few months ago. Was he this determined to get at you in every way possible? The only time you felt completely at peace was with Seoi and Keumi, and he had to take that away from you as well.

           “Close your mouth, scientist. It’s not becoming.” A free wing pushed your chin up, closing your mouth. A small giggle was heard from Keumi, causing the slightest smile to appear on Revali’s face; a genuine smile. Quickly washing it away, he gestured to the door.

           “Shall we, then?”

[lushscreamqueen]

THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH on the Schlocky Horror Picture Show

Friday, September 05, 2008

📷Episode 28 Category: Movies, TV, CelebritiesOPENING: Hello, good evening, and welcome to the Schlocky Horror Picture Show. Some ideas are so self-evidently bad that you really have to marvel that anyone would actually bother to follow through on them. Somewhere not too far from the center of this category is the notion of making a movie about the end of the world on a budget so small that the tax break a producer used to be able to get for shooting in Puerto Rico becomes an economically compelling incentive. Also somewhere in that vast tract of territory is the idea of giving a just-starting-out screenwriter the extremely demanding job of writing a philosophical, character-driven script for a cast of only three people, most of which is confined to two rooms of a house and a deserted stretch of shoreline. Roger Corman was not daunted by such considerations, however, and thus it was that the world would have to contend with The Last Woman On Earth, the trash-movie overlord’s misguided attempt to do The World The Flesh And The Devil with three actors, an empty house, and a handful of loose change. BREAK: From the blackest pits of Hell, insatiable evil creeps forth to claim your minds and souls! Then after the ads we'll be right back with The Schlocky Horror Picture Show and The Last Man On Earth! MIDDLE: Welcome back to the Schlocky Horror Picture Show, and me, Nigel Honeybone. Antony Carbone, from A Bucket Of Blood and The Pit And The Pendulum, plays shady and arrogant businessman Harold Gernis on vacation in Puerto Rico with his wife Evelyn, played by Betsy Jones-Moreland, of Creature From The Haunted Sea and The Saga Of The Viking Women And Their Voyage To The Waters Of The Great Yada Yada Yada. Evelyn is not having a good time. For one thing, her husband’s idea of a romantic evening out is to take her to see a cockfight before moving on to the craps table at the casino on the first floor of their hotel. For another, Harold seems incapable of disengaging his mind from his work for more than a few minutes at a stretch. Thus when the Gerns are accosted at the cockfighting arena by lawyer Martin Joyce, played by screenwriter Robert Towne, Harold abandons his wife completely to talk with Martin over the latest indictment pending against him back home. Truth be told, Martin isn’t terribly happy with Harold, either, for despite his nearly monomaniacal dedication to his business, he can’t seem to be bothered to pay attention to whether or not his latest scheme for furthering it is actually legal. Through an odd chain of events, Martin and Evelyn wind up consoling each other up in the hotel room while Harold pursues his oscillating fortunes in the casino, and Martin gets brought along for the ride the next morning when the Gerns head out on their yacht for a bit of scuba diving. As it happens, that frivolous little excursion means that Harold, Evelyn, and Martin are among the very, very few who survive the end of the world. While the three of them are down below, locked in mortal combat with the fearsome cow-nosed ray of the Caribbean, some unexplained bad business causes all the free oxygen in the lower atmosphere to disappear for a bit less than an hour. Cost-effective? Yes. Cinematic? Hardly. Our heroes get wise to the trouble when they climb back aboard the boat and start feeling faint the moment they spit out the mouthpieces of their air tanks. Returning to Puerto Rico with breathing tubes firmly back in place, they find the island devoid of all human and animal life. For that matter, there are precious few corpses in evidence, despite Martin’s alarmed pronouncement that the stench of decay will render the town where they had been staying uninhabitable within a day or two at most. Nor is there anything coming in over the radio to suggest that the mysterious catastrophe is confined to Puerto Rico. So far as Harold, Evelyn, and Martin can see, there’s a strong possibility that they may be the last three humans alive on Earth. So, let’s take a moment now to assess this situation in some detail. First of all, we’ve

got two men among our survivors of the apocalypse, but only one woman. Second, one of those men is married to the woman, but we’ve seen reason to believe that she would honestly prefer to be with the other one at this point. Finally, the two men have also established that their philosophies of life are more or less mutually antithetical. What do you suppose all this might mean for the remainder of the film? You got it! it's a virtual non-stop three-way argument consuming nearly the whole of the remaining running time. How perceptive of you! Nothing ever gets resolved, really, even after one of the three survivors is killed at the end of a climax that seems to have been written mostly so as to take advantage of a location which Corman didn’t discover until the final days of the shoot. The endless bickering and circular philosophising lead absolutely nowhere, the two bursts of action devolve into chase sequences that attempt to substitute scenic interest for dramatic urgency, and in general, The Last Woman On Earth enjoys the distinction of being among its creator’s most pointless and uninteresting movies. If you’re left with the impression that Corman probably made this turkey solely as an excuse to take a two-week vacation in Puerto Rico, you’re not alone. CLOSING: The Last Woman on Earth is a surprisingly literate movie. By saying literate I mean that The Last Woman On Earth has the feeling of a filmed play. A post-apocalyptic Tennessee Williams, a J.G. Ballard feeling pervades the proceedings as the trio faces desolate cities strewn with corpses. However, the movie’s low budget origins are very much in evidence: the screenplay has a rough feeling to it, as if it needed another rewrite. As is to be expected with the topic matter, The Last Woman on Earth makes for rather morose viewing, especially since director Corman wisely underplays the screenplay’s sensationalist aspects. One woman named Evelyn...get it? And two men! The ending is also rather heavy-handed in its unexpected sermonising. Still, if you were expecting something as trashy and light-weight as Corman’s Attack Of The Giant Leeches or The Wasp Woman you’ve be pleasantly surprised...or disappointed, depending on your cinematic preferences. I suppose I was a bit of both. The Last Woman On Earth has a stolid science fiction premise and some okay directing and acting behind it, even if it wasn’t exactly a whole lot of fun to watch. Anyway, please join me next week when I have the opportunity to burst your blood vessels with another terror-filled excursion to the back side of the Public Domain on...The Schlocky Horror Picture Show. Toodles!

by Lusscreamqueen