ii-thiscat-ii

[ii-thiscat-ii]

To you who has found these words, I am sorry. There is no way out of this place. These endless hallways lead only back onto themselves.

My name is Mint Castere. I am the last architect of Makhri-fe, The City of Walls. I am the woman who built this maze. I am the woman who ended this city. I am the woman who killed you.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

Makhri-fe was a large city in a small space. We were deeply proud of our architecture, which let us build towering, spiralling buildings around and on top of each other, but it depended on our locus. You might have felt it when you entered this place, the way gravity listens only selectively, and the way stone changes at the will of a mage. Without it, our art could never exist. It is a small locus, that which the Sun has granted us, and our buildings grew tighter to one another, our alleyways narrower. There is only so much one can build in a space constrained in all directions, and we were a city of architects.

In a city of architects, I was one of the best. Do not take my words for arrogance. My skill has come with age and obsession, my obsession came from madness, and my madness grew as this city did.

We were stagnating. Every smallest building had been turned into a marvel of stone, and there was no more space to use. I remember those days in my youth as grey. Our art had not yet found its pinnacle, and there was a fear in us that it never would. Not unless we tore down our old wonders and began anew, and there were no more wonders we were willing to tear down. Makhri-fe was aching to grow, and had no space in which to do so.

The Stone Seed, then, was our salvation.

It was found in those grey days, hidden away in a crack in a tunnel wall, deep at the bottom of our locus. The tunnel wall was barely a foot thick, and the crack was just wide enough to slip a hand through, and yet, the space within the crack was large enough for a grown man to stand upright.

The Stone Seed itself looked like nothing, like a simple river rock, small enough to sit comfortably in someone’s palm, grey with black marbling, slightly heavier than its size would imply and always colder than the surrounding stone, but otherwise unremarkable.

Unless you were a mage, like me, like every architect of Makhri-fe. Draw magic through the Seed, and it allowed you to shape space itself. Anchor your work in stone, and the alterations became permanent.

It was a marvel, a miracle, the solution to all our problems.

Within our gleaming city of spiralling marvels, the greatest thing yet built was a small stone shed, barely larger than its own door on the outside, but on the inside, it opened up into a great hall.

I remember vividly the first time I saw it, the first time I walked through a simple door into vast darkness.

I was delighted, I was awed, and I was terrified. It was the largest room I had seen in my life, and the Sun through tiny windows seemed so horribly far away. It gave me nightmares for weeks. It consumed my waking thoughts. The fear seemed so insignificant, compared to what we might do with this. I was young, and I was feeling the first touch of obsession. We all were.

Makhri-fe could no longer grow outwards, and answering our pleas, it gave us the ability to grow inwards.

Our art bloomed in a vibrant explosion of new ideas, new techniques, new understanding. We put no constraints on the Seed’s usage. Why would we? It belonged to the city, and the city’s architects were its heart. Every new idea was a new delight. Every new creation had the space it deserved to shine.

Only the darkness limited us, those first few years. Natural light was always a scarce resource between our twisting towers, and now that we built castles with no more windows than the single room of space they occupied, the Sun was no longer sufficient. We had infinite stone, but lamps were expensive. How can a room shine when you can’t see its ceiling?

Then we learned to utilise it, to make art out of darkness, do justice to vast halls with a single handheld lamp. We worked around our limitation, and our craft grew stronger for it.

We built wonders in those first few years. Cultivated spaces flowing seamlessly into the outside world in some places, in others, hallways twisted around and around upon themselves in the space of a single pinhead. It took time to learn, but we learned from one another, fed on each other’s ideas, built upon the shared.

The fear faded during those years. We spoke about it, about the instinct of humanity to shy away from what they couldn’t understand. That was all it was. All it took was getting used to it, and you could ignore your fear of the dark and the impossible, to see nothing but brilliance.

Sometimes we would nest spaces, even in those early years. We would create a cultivated space within a cultivated space within a cultivated space. We learned quickly to avoid it. Three layers deep, even the rules of the Seed became unreliable. Space might shift while you weren’t looking. Doors might close, tunnels change their entrances, rooms switch places. In the early years, we didn’t understand it, couldn’t use it, so we feared it, as humanity always fears the unknown.

And then, as humanity is wont to do, we learned to understand it.

Fluctuation was our greatest breakthrough since the discovery of the Seed itself. The ability to predict it, control it, let us solve the problem of distance. Living in a space the size of a castle may be beautiful, but it is hardly practical. Once we mastered fluctuation, we could make doors that let you travel from one end of a cultivated space to another. After this point, we started nesting everything, made every outside door at least five layers deep, with vast unused shells of cultivated space between each layer, just to dig deep enough for fluctuation to work. Within the walls of Makhri-fe, space was twisted and stretched so far you could feel it, but we barely noticed. It felt normal to us.

I spent weeks at a time in the darkness, those years. The Sun felt strange and alien the rare times I ventured outside. The air felt too heavy. I walked the abandoned streets of my beautiful city with my head down, only to get to another door and dive into the old, comforting darkness.

When I was a child, Makhri-fe was a beautiful sight. It was a marvel of architecture, reaching for the sky and digging for the roots of the world.

After three decades of cultivating space, most of us had forgotten our spires and towers, only remembered our old basements and tunnels as pale echoes of what was to come. We forgot it, forgot previous arts and wonders. Three decades in, obsession had consumed us all.

Once we learned to harness fluctuation to tunnel from one cultivated space to another, how to make doors that would take you not only to the other side of your house, but to the other side of the city entirely, everything outside became… insignificant.

After that, I don’t remember how long I spent in the dark. Ten years, fifteen. I must have forgotten what the Sun looked like. I must have forgotten it existed at all.

I think we all did. I think it’s why we didn’t notice.

We got visitors still, occasionally. There were tourists, sometimes, coming to see the wonders of The City of Walls, the heights and depths of Makhri-fe. They came pale and quiet and left quickly. How many of them found their ways out of our doors without help, I do not know.

One of them, before he was lost, was the one to put the thought in my head that something was wrong. Before he left, or was consumed.

Where does your magic come from, he asked me, cold and shivering in a dark hallway. All magic comes from the Sun, but your locus has outgrown itself, and there is no more sunlight left for you. Where does your magic come from?

I didn’t understand at the time, but the question stuck with me.

Nest space five, six times and fluctuations let you go anywhere. Nest it twenty, thirty times, and you can twist space itself to give you light. We made structures too massive to see all at once, all lit up from impossible angles, but we lived in darkness still.

If you are reading these words, you understand. You have seen it. You have felt it. I am sorry.

We were losing people already. I do not know when we started losing people. Makhri-fe was a big city in a small space. There was no way to keep track of everyone. Perhaps we had been losing people since the beginning.

Once the thought had been planted in my head, that something was wrong, I couldn’t put it away. I began to notice.

We only ever found one Stone Seed, yet it always seemed to be in use in so many places. It was never hard to get a hold of. In a whole city of architects, any one of us could get our hands on it whenever we wanted. Always available, never in use when you needed it.

Fifty, sixty nested layers deep, time seemed to flow differently. Maybe it always did. Maybe we only needed to go that deep to notice it.

People were disappearing, walking through the empty hallways and never coming out.

I began asking. Who? When? Where?

Never architects, I learned. Never mages, no, never mages who had touched the Seed. Or at least, none that hadn’t walked into the dark of their own volition.

The number of that latter category didn’t surprise me as much as it possibly should have. Even then, I felt the pull.

What hides in the spaces between spaces between spaces?

The deeper you went, the sooner you disappeared. Never when anyone was looking for you, but deep enough, always, if no one were.

Even beginning to raise concerns was met by immediate anger. Anger explosive enough that, were I not a respected senior architect, I fear would have killed me. The Stone Seed was safe, they insisted, and I agreed, I wanted, longed to agree. The Stone Seed was safe. Our art had still not reached its pinnacle. Makhri-fe was a city yearning to grow, and it was our duty to make it so.

I agreed. I agreed, and I knew, deep in a corner of my heart that still feared the dark, that it was too late for any of us.

What hides in the spaces between spaces between spaces?

Nothing. Vast, incomprehensible nothing. By its nature, humanity fears nothing more than the unknown. And I fear nothing more than anything.

The worst thing is how easy it was.

My worst crime was not to kill the city, it was that I did it without thinking. I was hit by an idea, and ideas in Makhri-fe were there to be chased, not questioned.

I found a door to the outside, and looked into the sky for the last time. Glimpses of blue shone between abandoned, twisted towers. The Sun was brighter than I remembered. It hurt my skin, weighed on me like a physical thing.

I bowed my head towards the stone and returned to the dark, and I locked the door behind me.

A simple fluctuation. Walking in would do as it had always done, but trying to walk out would lead you back where you began. Seamlessly, unnoticeably, I made it impossible to find this door, among the thousands of the city.

It didn’t seem significant. By the rubble and dust on the floor, it was clear no one had used the door for years.

Then I continued, and every door I found, I sealed the same way.

When I was done, I had sealed every exit of the city, and there was no way left for anyone to get out.

It did not seem significant, at the time. Anyone could escape, using the Stone Seed, and anyone could get their hands on the Stone Seed if necessary. It would always be possible.

Days passed, and no one did. We dug ever deeper, built ever larger, and no one ever seemed to notice they were trapped.

Or at least, none of the architects did. There were still people in the city other than us. Thousands of them, still. A week after I sealed the doors, there were riots through the endless halls of people who could no longer get their food and water. No one was starving yet, but it was clear they would be, were the doors not opened.

I realized I did not remember the last time I ate.

What hides in the spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces between spaces betw

I took the Stone Seed and I painted around the riots, around the city, around the architects, around every grand wonder we had produced in fifty years of growing inwards.

I took the Stone Seed and I did not give it back.

I wanted to. I wanted to let it go, give it up, let someone else have their turn.

I shattered hallways into fractal fluctuations, made them go everywhere and nowhere. I changed door connections, closed some and opened others, connecting it all in a single spiral. Every door and hallway leads you deeper. None will ever lead you back.

This is when I killed the city.

They hunted me, of course, once they realized what I was doing, but without the Seed, there was nothing they could do.

I do not know how many hundred layers deep I am. How deep you are, if you are reading this. Time and space apply only in the abstract, here. We will die never, or in an instant, or forever. I dug a hole with no bottom and dropped the Seed in to fall.

There is no way out. I am sorry.

Even if you had the Seed, even if you were a mage, only the architects of Makhri-fe ever knew how to use it without tearing themselves apart.

Even then, we did.

The light you are reading this by is of the dark as well.

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

As time loops go, this one isn’t so bad. It’s a whole month, not so long it’s hell to get through, but not so short it’s hell to live.

You’ve heard about people getting stuck in time loops only a few hours long for too many loops and completely losing track of their connections to other people. With a month, people do reset, but they’re still people to you. After the first day or so you lose the ability to predict them. It makes you feel less alone.

That would pass eventually, you know, but you have faith you’ll escape before you get that far. A month is a good while, but it’s not so long it’s impossible to sort things out to find what went wrong and what needs fixing. Not like ones that last years, or decades.

You’ve heard the horror stories of generational time loops, people falling back into their ancestors’ bodies and needing to make it out by relying on nothing but letters left by their time-travelling past selves. Compared to that, being stuck reliving May a few times is nothing. You can handle that.

The weather is even good. Not too hot, not too cold, mostly sunny, with some heavy rain a couple weeks in. It gets unpredictable towards the end of the month, butterfly effect or something, but it’s always pretty good.

Sometimes you can even find it in yourself to appreciate the looping.

Sure, it’s existentially horrifying and the threat of not finding your way out and being stuck to the point of insanity as the endless repetition eats away at your psyche and leaves your body intact is there, but it’s also quiet in a way you’re not really used to. It’s relaxing.

Sometimes you just take a day off to rest in the sun, catch up on books you were meaning to read, get in touch with friends you haven’t spoken to for years because you need a new perspective and also why not. There are no meetings you’re scheduled for that you haven’t already sat through, and you’re pretty sure they’re required to give extra vacation days for stuff like this anyway. It’s like sick days, but for the fabric of reality. It’s pretty neat.

Almost all of May. 28 days and five hours. You’ve been through them… how many times by now?

Ah, whatever. This book you’re reading’s just getting good.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

Sometimes you see something and you just gotta draw it

Winged bull. Picture was snapped as the bull was chased by a crane at Keoladeo National Park, in Rajasthan, India. Photo: Jagdeep Rajput

[ii-thiscat-ii]

i’ve been rereading/enjoying something borrowed yet again and saw you’d said on a previous ask that it’s possibly discontinued for good. would you ever consider posting something like a short summary of how you intended things to end? you have so many interesting threads going in terms of plot & character arcs, and i’d love to know how you planned on things ending for izuku & co.

Maybe someday. Not sure I can be assed to. I’d have to dig up my myriad of post-it notes from wherever the fuck they got off to

[ii-thiscat-ii]

This tumblr is mostly dead and I don’t feel like going to the trouble of scanning this, but I wanted to post it here anyway.

This game has taken a hold of me and not let go.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

Hello! I know you're not in the transcendence au fandom anymore but I want to say I really love Static Worms, especially the static worm creature itself and the nightmares and dreams visiting at the end!!! And I wanted to thank you for writing it and all the other amazing fics and characters you wrote for Tau over the years. They're all so lovely! And I hope you're enjoying One Piece!

While I’m answering asks, thank you. I am glad you like my writing.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

Umm...

I just wanted to ask, are you going to continue the rosewood affair? I really love it but I don't want to bug you about it if you aren't still in the tau fandom.

Anyways, would be great to know if I still have to reload the page every ten minutes just in case.

Every ten minutes is really going too far considering it last updated early 2018. In fact, it’s been well over three years since I wrote ANYTHING for TAU. I’m pretty sure a cursory glance at recentcomment responses would make it obvious enough that I’m thoroughly out of the fandom, if the several years of fic for other fandoms on my Ao3 page or this dead tumblr didn’t.

No, I’m not going to continue writing it.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

So I was sitting on the couch when suddenly I heard a loud bang like a bird crashing into a window on the other side of the house, and I was like ‘holy shit, did it die?’

Turns out, yes, but not for the reason I thought. Turns out this hawk was chasing a thrush, and successfully killed it by way of glass window, which is impressive enough on its own.

Then the magpies arrived.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Jimbei knew joining Luffy’s crew would be worth it.

He knew it would be challenging, that they would be sailing headfirst into the most dangerous waters of the world with no option to turn back.

He knew it would be fulfilling, that he would get to work and live with people he would be willing to give his life for, if it ever came to that. He already counted Luffy among that number.

He never knew it would be this much fun.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

“Ah, this is quite a lot of flowers, isn’t it,” says Brook.

Robin smiles as she pins another rose into the growing bouquet on his head. “Yes, but you have quite a lot of hair.”

“So I do! Yohohoho!” he laughs.

She waits patiently for him to stop, so he can remember to bow down and keep still so she can finish working.

“You do look stunning,” she says.

“Ahhh, thank you,” he says. “I was hoping the corset would help lace in my waist, but then I remembered I’m a skeleton, so I don’t have a waist! Yohoho!”

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

“That,” Nami says, “is incredibly inappropriate.”

“Eh?” says Franky. He’s been distracted looking at the arena being set up on the town plaza. It’s good construction, clearly made to be easy to set up and take down, and yet more than sturdy enough to use year after year. He needs to talk to the person who built it.

Nami gives him a long look up and down. “...Nevermind. But if I find out that’s one of my bikinis, you will regret.”

“Of course not! What do you take me for? I bought my own.”

“Then do whatever you want,” she says, and walks off.

Hopefully the festival will raise her spirits a little.

The arena is meant to be for exhibition matches and contests of skill and strength throughout the festival, he’s pretty sure. It’s well-built, but it could really use a retractable roof of some kind in case of rain.

Yeah, he wants in on this, he thinks, so he runs off to find whoever’s in charge.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Robin is having what is easily one of the best days of her life.

Almost every culture has solstice celebrations, and she’s studied so many of the traditions, living and dead, but it’s something quite different to participate.

This one reminds her of a masquerade, in the way everyone is meant to take on a new role, in the way your past is temporarily set aside, even wanted criminals free to walk the streets while the festival is on.

The results of a culture with very strict norms, putting them aside only once a year. It’s fascinating in theory, but mostly it’s fun.

And the roses, well, she only found them being sold alongside other accessories, but they remind her of the flower festivals of her home she was too young to truly remember. She’s happy her family is so willing to play along.

She wonders if any of them know that every flower she hands them means love.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Gender is a bit of an oddity, Chopper has learned. Sure, he’s a human man, and sure, he’s a reindeer bull, and those both have their traits. It’s all the societal details and nuances that are lost on him.

He knows guys aren’t meant to wear dresses, but he never really understood why, just followed other people’s lead and hoped he wouldn’t make a mistake somewhere.

People are weird, he thinks. Humans are so incredibly odd, but they sure know how to throw a party.

As the preparations for the festival are being finished all around him, he figures, yeah, this week, he’s just going to be as adorable as he wants and eat as much sugar as he can get his hooves on.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Sanji spends the morning grumbling loudly to everyone who’ll listen as he goes through the necessary grocery shopping.

Then he gets back to the Sunny, sits down in a quiet corner of his kitchen and has a panic attack.

Starting with the sheer waste of throwing tomatoes at people for fun, this island starts bad and gets worse. He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t want it, and he should be stronger than this but he can’t... he can’t.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, but he isn’t paying attention, doesn’t realize he’s not alone until someone is suddenly right there, and he nearly swallows his heart in surprise, but it’s just Usopp.

It’s okay if it’s Usopp. Usopp doesn’t judge.

Usopp also has roses in his hair and a look of concern on his face. “Hey, man. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” says Sanji in probably the worst lie of his life.

Usopp doesn’t even call him on it, just sits down next to him. “You know no one’s gonna force you to wear a skirt if you don’t want to, right?”

Sanji has to suppress a shudder at the phrasing. “I’m not gonna be stuck on the ship for a whole week,” he insists, and then, before Usopp can say anything else, “And it’s fine. It’s a stupid thing to freak out about. Everyone else’s doing it anyway.”

Usopp gives him a long look, and then says, “Sanji. I don’t know what your deal is with this stuff and I don’t really care, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal. You’re allowed to be scared of stuff, okay? And it’s better to deal with that one step at a time. I’ve got some ideas you might like, if you want.”

A few hours later, Sanji is looking himself in a mirror.

The jacket has a definite feminine cut, the pants hug his legs much more closely than he’s used to, and the shoes... but it doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel great, but he’s okay. Like this, it’ll probably be okay.

(Robin slides a blue rose into his hair with a smile, and yes, he’s going to be just fine.)

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Okay, he’ll admit it, Usopp really didn’t know what to think about this festival to begin with, but now? He’s having the time of his life.

This town has everything. He didn’t even know dresses could have this many pockets, but he genuinely loves this one, and he hasn’t really done much with his hair since Mom died, but putting it up like this just feels nice. He might keep this hairstyle up even after they leave, and with the roses Robin gave him worked in as well, he looks good too. Hell yeah, he’s Usopp, god of fashion.

He has his pockets full of ammo and various odds and ends he’s come across on a shopping trip that ran for a lot longer than he expected it to and took him around most of the town, and at this point he’s lost track of everyone else.

The festival doesn’t actually start until tomorrow, so he should get back to the ship and put this stuff away. Everyone will come back for dinner at some point either way.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Nami isn’t too happy about this.

Sure, it’s funny, and it’s not a problem as such, but to go without her skirts and bikini tops for a whole week, in the middle of summer? No, she’s not too thrilled.

At least it won’t cost her anything as long as she’s willing to do some work. She can hardly imagine Sanji complaining about her stealing and re-fitting one of his suits.

The boys are for the most part off looking around town, so the ship is quiet, and she gets a little lost in the steady movement of the needle through fabric, where she sits in the girls’ bedroom. She’s not sure how long it’s been when the door opens and Robin comes in, smiling, with her arms full of decorative roses.

Robin seems to be at least as happy as Luffy about the whole affair. That is, a lot.

“I thought you were looking for an outfit?” Nami asks.

“I was, and then i found these,” says Robin, beaming like the sun. She hands one set of roses to Nami. “Wear these for me?” she asks, and then she leaves without waiting for an answer, practically skipping.

The roses in Nami’s hands are the same orange as her hair, and glued to a pin, so she can fasten it to her lapels. It seems Robin is colour coding them.

And Nami laughs. Trust her family to find enjoyment in the strangest of things.

[ii-thiscat-ii]

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Nami] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Chopper] [Robin] [Franky] [Brook] [Jimbei]

Zoro doesn’t focus on the past. What happens happens, what has happened is not something he can change.

But the thought strikes him, as he wanders streets lined by a seemingly endless procession of clothing and jewelry stores, that Kuina would’ve loved this.

He can almost hear her laugh, teasing and joking with the boys at the dojo. “Oh, you can’t do it? Is it too hard for you to dress up? I bet you’re just scared your manliness will crumble if you touch something pretty.”

She’d think it was hilarious.

Zoro grins too, hand resting on Wado’s hilt. Well, he wouldn’t want to disappoint her. If he’s going to do something, he might as well go all out.

The inhabitants of this island seem more than willing to help outsiders get their look together for the festival. Now where can he go to get his makeup worked out in a place like this....