#I KEEP TRYING TO ROUTE HOLE-IN-ONES OR AT LEAST OPTIMAL ROUTES

[refractedglade]

i cannot stop thinking about PINGOLF

[chrysalispen]

iv. never give the heart outright

AO3 link HERE Chapter under cut.

====

The day Aurelia Laskaris left Gridania dawned damp and foggy: as mundane and unremarkable a sendoff as one could possibly wish. The heat wave had relented overnight and the wind with it, and the trees’ leaves hung still and sparkling with droplets of dew. Pale rays of early morning sun filtered through the low-hanging wisps of cloud and collected dust motes and small insects in their wake. The quality of it reminded her of L’haiya’s lace curtains, the way their softness and the delicate patterns and filtered sunbeams had always framed the sitting room windows of her girlhood home.

The driver of the chocobo carriage aimed to set out from the city before full daybreak. Thus she stood in drowsy silence along with half a dozen other passengers set to board, watching the lalafellin teamster as he and the Canopy’s porters secured the larger bags. Barring any unforeseen incidents, the carriage’s route would take them south past Quarrymill, through the marshes near old Amdapor, and south into the high desert of northeastern Thanalan until they reached Ul’dah.

It had taken her all of three days to conclude her affairs: there was, after all, no property for her to sell, nor any anxious relatives to wheedle her into remaining.

Watching the small man loop his handfuls of hempen rope to secure over boxes and bags and other people’s assorted belongings, Aurelia felt a certain twinge of wistfulness that she had not expected. The forest city was not quite home, but it had served as the closest thing she had to one for nearly five years. But it was not enough to keep her. The excitement of the road ahead had not left her, and she faced the morning with bright eyes and a clear mind. The sun was up and so was she.

Keveh’to did not share her optimism, that much was obvious with a mere glance. The Miqo’te stood at her side with an expression one could only describe as pained. His ears lay flat against his fluffy hair, and his fawn-colored bottlebrush tail lashed emphatic and agitated beats against her leg.

“I know I’ve asked you half a dozen times now,” he said quietly, “but are you absolutely certain about this?"

Her answer was the same as it had been each time he had asked:

“As certain as I shall ever be.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“Yes, well,” she felt a twinge of annoyance at his pessimism surface at last, “as one recalls, ‘twas you who made the suggestion that I consider further study afield.”

"When you told me you’d give the matter some thought, I didn’t expect you to come back to Miounne’s place the same day with a letter of introduction already scripted and sealed.” His arms folded over his chest and he stared up into the canopy. “E-Sumi-Yan must have had that letter already waiting to give to you, whatever he said.”

“Perhaps. It’s not as though he would have told me if he did.” Aurelia looked down at herself and smoothed the pleats of her skirt yet again. All of it, from head to toe, was new. It felt so odd; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had new clothing. “Thank you again,” she continued, somewhat awkwardly. “For the traveling attire. It's quite fine.”

Keveh’to shrugged. A dull rosy flush crept up the sides of his neck. “It’s Ul’dah,” he said. “They’ll toss you out the gates on your arse if you show up looking like a beggar.”

“Hells below,” she tried to make a jest of it with a soft laugh, “you make it sound as though they’ll have a fashion inspector awaiting my arrival.”

“No. But I’ve known my share of that lot, and ‘tis not unlikely they’ll hit you with a demand for a hefty bribe at least once.”

“Yes, I’ve heard stories from some of the others.”

“And for goodness’ sake, Relia- please do yourself a favor and be careful about the company you keep. No one needs to know about you-know-what.” He tapped his temple with a humorless smile. “Ul’dah is a great deal more cosmopolitan than our humble little forest abode, but even they might balk at that.”

The stare she gave him could best be described as obstinate, with the hard set of her jawline. “...I might be ignorant of many Eorzean customs, but I should like to think I am not that much of a fool.”

“I’m trying to watch out for you.”

“Rest assured, I do appreciate the thought.” Still so glum. She frowned at him, “I thought that this decision would have pleased you. You made no secret you were tired of watching me mope about.”

“I- yes. But-”

He opened his mouth, stuttered into empty air, then sighed.

The other passengers milled about them in a somnolent shuffle, muttering to each other and passing bags back and forth. A pair of snowy-haired elezen twins in clothing as new and fine as her own brushed past Aurelia and Keveh’to without sparing a second glance, their identical braids and hair-ribbons stirring in a cool and sluggish breeze from the riverbank. She waited for the pair to pass well out of earshot before she continued, as gently as she could manage:

“This isn’t goodbye forever, you know.”

“I know.”

“They gave me honorary citizenship. I think I’m obligated to at least visit from time to time.” Another jest, one which failed in a like manner as the other to crack his solemn visage. “But I do fully plan on returning once I’ve completed my studies.”

“Right. I understand that. It’s…” His ears swiveled forward, then back, still flattened unhappily against his hair. “...Never mind. It’s not important.”

“No, go on.”

“It’s a trifling personal matter. Naught that you should worry about.”

“If you have something to say-”

That stony stoicism faded at last, relaxing into a smile, but it was as sad a smile as she had ever seen Keveh’to Epocan give anyone. “Matter of fact, I did. Once. But I see now that I’ve gone and waited too long,” he said cryptically. “Saying it now won’t change anything, and I wager I’d only feel worse if it did.”

“I’m sorry.” Aurelia worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “Truly, I am.”

His smile stretched into a grin. It made him look far more like the man she had come to know, the friend who teased and needled her and let her talk herself into momentous decisions. “You’ve no cause to be sorry for anything, my friend. The fault is mine own if there’s fault to be placed. I’m just being sentimental, I suppose. And, mayhap, a touch selfish.”

“Last call for luggage,” bellowed one of the porters. “If ye don’t bring it up now, ye’ll be carryin’ it yerselves! ‘Tis a long road ahead! Last call for luggage!”

Aurelia looked down at herself, then the bags at her feet. She only had the three pieces: her salvaged field kit, her herbal bag, and the pack which held in it those few trifling personal possessions she owned, including her mother’s memento mori. The field kit’s thick carbonweave strap perched on her shoulder, its tripartite-link imperial insignia long since removed by her own hand (Rhaya Wolndara’s angry reaction to the sight of it had been a valuable lesson in precaution) and its once-hefty weight now considerably lightened with even her most conservative usage of its contents over the years.

“Well,” he said after a moment, with transparently forced cheer, “let’s be about it. This lot won’t load itself.”

“The field kit needs to stay with me,” she drew out of reach when he stretched out a hand to take it from her shoulder. “Too many fragile items. Glass and the like. I’ll not trust it to the vagaries of a draught chocobo.”

“Fair enough.”

He picked up the others and made his way toward the waiting porter as the small collection of passengers began to mill towards the slatted steps. A Highlander man drowsed near the front of the carriage, hand wrapped loosely about a wine bottle and otherwise oblivious to the world. Aurelia double-checked the small leather belt she wore to make sure the letters Miounne and E-Sumi-Yan had penned were intact; a fine mess it would be if she were to lose them on the journey.

“Aurelia!”

The matronly Duskwight proprietress of the Carline Canopy stood head and shoulders over most of the passengers, and she quickly drew their attention as she made her way towards the small gathering with a swift and decisive stride. The Garlean offered her a small smile.

“Good morning to you, Miounne,” she said. “Come to see me off, have you?”

“I certainly have. I hope you weren’t planning on leaving us this morning without breaking your fast, girl,” was Miounne’s brisk reply, though she returned the smile as she held out her hands. In them, she carried a steaming tin cup and a small cloth-wrapped bundle. “I set aside one of my eel pies for you. ‘Tis a bit chilly as well, so I thought some hot tea might do you well on the road. Don’t worry about the cup; I have plenty of them.”

Touched by the gesture, Aurelia carefully took the cup and the wrapped pie, one in each hand.

“You didn’t have to do this-”

“I know,” Miounne said, a wry smirk tilting her lips. She wiped her hands on her apron. “But I did. The pie is heavy and should keep your belly full for a day or two. You’ll be changing carriages at the station in Highbridge to the Sunroad trail; you’ll want to get more supplies while you’re there-- make sure you have plenty of fresh water. There’s naught betwixt Drybone and the city save malms of scrubland, and this time of year the water holes will be too low to sustain travelers. I imagine the Calamity will have made the pickings slim for hunting as well.”

Aurelia nodded.

“Once you pass through the city gates, make your way to the Quicksand. That’s where the Ul’dahn Adventurers’ Guild operates; the proprietress’ name is Momodi Modi. I sent word ahead that she’s to expect your arrival within the sennight. All you need to do is give her your name and mine.”

“I... yes. I’ll do that.”

“And please, Aurelia dear- do take care in Ul’dah. It is a very different sort of city from ours. You are a kind woman with the best of intentions and there are those who would…” Miounne hesitated. “...Well. I’ll not fearmonger; I’ll wager you’ve heard enough of that. But I would ask the Twelve to watch over you nonetheless- if that’s all right, of course.”

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, she watched Keveh’to’s back, the way his officer’s overcoat pulled taut across the shoulders as he passed her bags to the porter, then cast her eyes down at Miounne’s parting gifts.

The sight brought back a memory of the last time she had left behind the familiar to set out for the unknown: fresh from her schooling, set to board a train at the capital’s processing center after she had enlisted in the imperial army. No one had accompanied her. Not to give her well wishes or helpful directions, or even to wave their farewells from the platform as the train departed for the tunnels bored beneath the mountains and into the heart of Castrum Pinnaculum. She had gone to the station alone, had left alone, and for the first few weeks of basic training, she had struggled alone.

But she was not alone now. Perhaps she no longer owned a marvel of a garden, or slept in a fine bed, or wore silks, but since coming to Eorzea she had made more friends in this past handful of years than in the previous decade. That had to count for something.

Aurelia stared into the steaming teacup and swallowed past the sudden constriction in her throat with considerable effort, then looked at the other woman with glassy blue eyes.

“I’d like that,” she said at last. “And thank you, Miounne. For everything.”

Before the woman could muster a response Aurelia had turned away and hurried towards the lowered carriage steps. She didn’t want to lose her nerve or shed tears, not today, and she still had one more farewell to give.

Keveh’to reached the steps first; he plucked the carbonweave strap from her shoulder and slung it over his own the moment she drew near. “Let me pass that up to you once you’re seated,” he said. “You can’t carry both your breakfast and this great bloody thing onto the carriage.”

She was the last to board. The wooden stair was showing its age and it creaked even under Aurelia’s slight weight as she made her way onto the covered deck. The platinum-headed Elezen twins she had seen earlier sat in the back near the cargo across from the last empty space: the one in blue was wholly absorbed in perusing a tome while the one in red dozed upon their companion’s shoulder. Neither of them paid her any mind as she set her teacup and snugly wrapped meal upon the open seat. Nor did any of the others, for that matter.

Mayhap this part was not so very different from that long ago train ride after all.

Aurelia chuckled aloud, though the sound lacked humor, and turned towards the other end of the carriage at the sound of swift footsteps. Keveh’to had come up behind her to deliver her remaining bag. The half-empty imperial field kit, still large and cumbersome for all it lacked much of the weight it once bore, smacked with a quiet dull thud against his thigh with each step. His expression was unreadable as he set it down at her feet.

“Suppose Mother Miounne already said it so I don’t need to,” he said, “but I will, anyroad. Take care of yourself and be careful who you trust. And if there is trouble and you need to leave for any reason, you always have a home here.”

“Keveh’to-” Before she could finish what she had meant to say his arms had wrapped about her shoulders in a heavy embrace, tail wound around her calf.

“Write to us once in a while, will you?” he muttered in her ear. “Just… just so we know you’re doing alright. Even if it’s something about your alchemy that I- I mean, we don’t understand.”

“Or care about,” Aurelia said wryly. She knew full well that Keveh’to was not asking her to write to Miounne. Her arms tightened about his shoulders in return, just for a brief moment. “...I’ll write as often as I can manage.”

“Good.”

The Miqo’te looked for a moment as though he wanted to say - or do - something more, but instead released her with all haste, tail flickering and ears swiveling with his discomfiture as he went. Aurelia said nothing further as she took a step backward and turned to the seat where her tea and morning meal awaited. It was easy enough to spare him his blushes, to pretend that her focus lay upon how best she might secure her bag under the seat. Once that was done she picked up the teacup and took a thoughtful sip, placing Miounne's eel pie upon her lap. She was too full of nerves to be terribly hungry but that would no doubt change within a bell or two.

His retreat down the narrow steps came just in time for the porter to lift and shutter the low-slung door behind him with a brisk snap. Aurelia felt her eyes prickle and burn but her composure held fast, and when she turned about and lifted her free hand to wave at her friend it was with a bright smile on her face.

Her minder - her friend, now - gave only a half-second’s hesitation before he waved back. At his side, Miounne too lifted her hand in silent farewell.

“Quarrymill!” the driver shouted. “Next stop, Quarrymill!”

Following upon the heels of the teamster’s call came the draught chocobos’ twin kwehs. She braced herself and her teacup a moment before she felt the sharp initial jolt of the carriage’s forward motion. Within seconds it smoothed into a sedate and seamless drift as the wind aether filled the balloons overhead, and they were off down the half-paved cobbles that led to the Blue Badger gate. In moments they would pass out of the city and turn onto the southbound road.

For the final time, Aurelia allowed herself a glance over her shoulder, back over the lip of the carriage and in the direction of the Carline Canopy. Keveh’to, it seemed, had chosen to remain outside the chocobo paddock. He stood stiff and unmoving save for the tail that lashed erratically at the air, his hands shoved into his deep pockets and his mouth turned in a downward bow she could see even from here.

His words drifted across her mind like errant clouds.

I’ve waited too long. Saying it now won’t change anything.

She kept her gaze upon the dwindling figure until the carriage had rounded the bend and that splash of bright yellow was no longer visible through the foliage.

~*~

Watching the commotion below from his perch upon a flight of corrugated metal steps, Nero tol Scaeva knew what was coming next. The cohort’s work had come to a screeching halt and several of the engineers had gathered about to investigate the rear quarter panel of the left leg. None of them seemed to know what orders they were to give or be given if any, and the resulting confusion left them milling aimlessly about like ants puzzling at a stray piece of food someone had dropped on the floor.

Thus it fell to him to restore order, as much as he would rather not: his presence alone would subject him to fearful kowtowing and stammered excuses. He knew he could be a hard man when the situation called for it, but he liked to think he was also a fair one, and even the greenest of the signal corps had no reason to fear his wrath so long as they could explain themselves to his satisfaction. Still, he was a Garlean, and the provincial fear of his countrymen was deeply ingrained into the army's conscripts -- ingrained when it was not beaten.

No help for it, I suppose.

He made his way beneath the iron scaffolding that surrounded the warmachina's exoskeleton at a brisk pace. The clatter of his sollerets upon the metal tiling set an easy and unhurried rhythm as he crossed the open floor until his stride slowed to a full stop mere fulms away. The engineers’ chatter, quiet but idle, dwindled into an anxious silence.

One of the engineers, a tiny Auri woman with her lavender-tinted hair bound in regulation braids, went visibly pale at the sight of his approach but to her credit did not make a show of flinching from him, and even had sufficient courage to offer up a salute as was proper. He folded his arms over his chest and peered down at her through the visor of his helm. They stood close enough that he could see how her forearm - still stiffly crossed over her chest - trembled at his proximity.

“Architectus,” he said very calmly.

“Y-yes, my lord?”

“As you were,” she dropped her salute, but her back remained ramrod straight and the tension did not leave her shoulders. He continued as if he had failed to notice, “I mark a number of you performing a very serious study of this warmachina’s leg joint, in lieu of performing your assigned tasks.”

Her swallow was audible even through his helm’s transceiver, but her stone-faced stare did not waver. “Apologies, my lord. There is-”

“I believe I have stated on multiple occasions that we have a schedule to keep, and not a terribly lenient one at that. Perhaps the cohort is in need of a reminder.”

“My lord, please,” the woman blurted, then winced almost immediately, “I am sorry to interrupt. But you see, there’s a problem.”

Shite and swiving hellsfire, if I never hear ‘there’s a problem’ again in my lifetime it will be too soon. Still, unlike sas Junius it was not in Nero’s nature to vent his spleen upon hapless messengers. He released a long-suffering sigh instead - only somewhat dramatized for her benefit - and watched those large ocean-blue eyes break their impasse at the sound. They flickered nervously up at his face, then down, then back out to stare at that fixed point past his waistline.

“Of course there is,” he said aloud.

“My lord?”

His own fault, he surmised, for expecting any other response to his bit of japery. “Never mind. Continue.”

“Yes, my lord. We ran the initial tests using the Vanguard H-1’s specifications, as dictated. The operating system ran as expected upon startup. But when we tried to proceed with full activation... well, we tried to switch over from the H-1 but it caused a power surge and nearly started a fire- as you see here. As it is we’re dead in the water. She won’t power on at all now.”

“I assume our engineering teams ran down their checklists for aught that might have compromised structural integrity, prior to attempting the activation.”

“Just so, my lord. Circuitry, fuel lines, motherboards-- it was all green.” She bit her lip. “If… perhaps we might speak to the quartermaster and requisition another part. Or perhaps a larger-”

“The next step up would be the specs for a low-velocity assault craft,” Nero interrupted dryly. “While I share your readiness to explore all possible options, I think it unwise to blindly run through every single spare part at our disposal hoping for a result. Aside from the obvious risks, ‘tis inefficient. We do not have a great deal of time to make what amounts to an educated guess.”

“I- yes,” she stammered. “I apologize, my lord, I should have thought-”

He waved an impatient hand. She fell silent as instantly as if he had slammed a door shut in her face. “Who is your immediate superior?”

“Valens nan Varro, my lord.”

“Kindly inform him that the activation test has been delayed pending an internal review. We will reschedule after I have spoken with the legatus.”

Now she was staring at her feet, her face pale once again. “...He will be sorely displeased if he discovers we have failed you, my lord. Sorely.”

“Ah, yes. A terrible burden indeed, the primus architectus' personal inconvenience. Unfortunately, we shall all have to bear it,” Nero said briskly. He did not care to argue the matter with a subordinate; such behavior would undermine his authority, and the engineers present were well aware that his word was the final say.

“But-”

“If nan Varro is displeased with the decision and wishes to contest it, then he may take his grievance up with me directly.”

Her shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly, not in relief but defeat. Beneath his helm, Nero raised his brows at the response but said nothing further.

“Yes, my lord.”

“And I expect an incident report on my desk by 0700 tomorrow morning. Posthaste.”

Her answering salute was stiff and formal, expression as stony and unyielding as a statue’s. Whatever emotion he had spied was carefully hidden now; the wall was back in place. Curious. Irrelevant. He had neither the time nor the wherewithal to waste in wondering after it.

Nero passed her without another word, her fellows hastening to clear a path for him as he approached the enormous back leg. There were scorch marks on the edges of the chassis panel, he noted; exposed copper fibers trailed from the opened casing like wilted ivy creepers. The ends were blackened and a thin line of smoke still curled in slender lines; the smell was acrid and familiar and the castrum's ventilation system would disperse it within a half hour.

One hand hovered just over the scorched plate as he studied the sight, with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

Retrofitting Allagan technology was not a precise art, as much as it pained Nero to admit it. Some artifacts worked so readily with Garlean magitek that the process was utterly seamless, as if it had been meant for their hands. Others were far more complex, and thus more time-intensive. The Ultima Weapon had been his longest project to date, and the tribunus laticlavius had to remind himself that the machina had been experimental even to the greatest scientists of its age: a groundbreaking anti-eikon countermeasure that partnered the arcane with the mundane. A seamless blending of aetherology and engineering, borne of man’s ingenuity.

Blended---

Ah.

“My lord?” a timid voice echoed at his back. The engineers were watching him; they had gathered a respectful six fulms away.

“...This is not a public spectacle,” his hand fell away from the plating. “See to this mess. I want the machina checked from top to bottom for aught that could possibly cause further delays. Exposed joints, chassis warping, blown fuses, exposed wires, all of it.”

"My lord, the test-" "Is no longer your priority," his impatience filtered through as a short, barked command. "Attend to your tasks. I will not ask you twice." The gathered cluster of engineers sketched their salutes and scattered like mice, scrambling to obey before any of them could experience the implied consequences for perceived insubordination. Nero watched them in silence for a few beats before taking his leave. He made his way back along the catwalk and up several flights of steps, to one of the administrative bays that oversaw the hangar. Once he was certain of his privacy, he removed his helm with a soft and relieved sigh. It was a mere press of a button after that to open the transceiver link and set it to a specific frequency. Static hissed in the confines of the empty office for one second, two, before the link became stable and there was smooth air and Gaius van Baelsar's gruff baritone:

“State your business.”

“Lord Gaius. Have I interrupted something?”

“Yes, but naught of particular importance. For a small blessing.” The legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion sounded vaguely put out, but not irate. An encouraging sign which meant he was like to be at least somewhat amenable to the discussion Nero wished to have. “I take it you have something you wished to discuss.”

“I do. The activation test failed. I should have an incident report within the next 24 hours that will list the particulars.”

“Again?”

“Indeed. This is why,” Nero took a deep breath, “I should like to request that the Weapon and all hands involved in the project be transferred to the research facility in Agelyss Wyse.” “The Vylbrand coast? That is not exactly shouting distance from Gyr Abania. And there are certain dangers present which make your proposition quite risky.” Refusal to take risks will not garner the results we seek. "With all due respect, my lord, you did not assign me this project with any fond hopes that I would remain complacent,” he could almost feel his commanding officer bristling at his bluntness, “and these failed tests have made it abundantly clear that - as you will recall that I posited, against protest from certain quarters - ceruleum combustion alone will not be sufficient to bring the Weapon back online. Not at full capacity.”

“What do you propose?”

“I will get to that eventually, but first and foremost: I need data. Current data. Simulations and conjectures will only get us so far.” He glanced out the bay window at the massive machina, a dormant monster, each opened claw the size of a juggernaut. “The Weapon was designed to do far more than subdue eikons, and we have merely scratched the surface of its capabilities. But scratching is all we will manage if we remain here.”

Nero managed - only just - to keep the excitement out of his voice. The Black Wolf of Garlemald was a straightforward man, he knew from long years of experience: interested in results, not theories.

“I understand this, but you are also asking to upend our timetable for the sake of a hypothesis.”

“A hypothesis with its foundation in the methods the Allagans used to create and maintain Dalamud- as Lord van Darnus would attest, were he still with us. I think it a safe assumption that the Ultima Weapon operates upon a similar methodology.” Van Baelsar’s only response was a sigh of consternation. Nero continued, “And yes, it would move our overall timetable forward a few weeks. I admit it.”

“Nearly two months,” the legatus said sourly. “You understand that even if I agree to your proposal, it is not something that can be immediately enacted.”

“I would not expect to presume thus, my lord, of course.” There was bureaucracy involved, and the logistics of moving entire teams between castra -- not to mention the machina itself. Well, Solus zos Galvus had not built the Empire in a day, either. “I realize there are protocols to follow. I only ask for consideration-”

“And due consideration will be given, tribunus- in due time. At the very least I must needs contact the Occidens praefectus and discuss the matter. We will speak on this anon.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He could afford the wait. In the meantime, there was much yet to be done- and new plans to be made. When the legatus called for him again, as he inevitably would, Nero would be prepared to explain what must be done ere their goals could be met. Allag’s mighty Weapon would awaken from its slumber by his hand, and he would receive his fair due at last. There was no one and nothing now to keep him from reaching forth to take what was rightfully his.

This victory shall be mine and mine alone, he thought. And you, old friend, will be as chaff in the wind. Discarded and forgotten.

Beneath his twin veils of tempered glass and chromed crimson steel, Nero tol Scaeva began to smile.

[foxtophat]

hello hello hello

i got thrown off my groove for a month there doing irl shit but i finally sat down and posted this piece of mercy fic that i’ve been sitting on for like a month. it’s all about john and kim hanging out and bonding so that’s fun!!!

i have a couple of ideas for stories but i’m not QUITE SURE how many of them are going to actually get posted. i might do like a yearly synopsis and put it in the series, writing out what happens between stories and stuff so when i reference shit it isn’t out of the blue, BUT ALSO i am lazy and it’s a miracle mercyverse has gotten this much from me, so lets not try to rock the boat huh???

anyway this is a story about john and kim falling into a cave. it’s like a bottle episode except the bottle is like a large intestine.  i hope you like it!!! if you do, consider reblogging this post, or sharing the link, or kudosing or commenting or liking or subscribing or SMASHING THAT BELL

as usual, the story is under the cut for those of you who want to stay on tumblr for some godforsaken reason

Kim had thought that she was doing Nick and John a favor when she first offered to go cache-hunting with them. After all, Grace and Carmina had their hands full working on the yard's shooting range, and there hadn't been anything better to do than dig a couple of holes out in the woods. She'd figured, why not? An extra set of hands could speed things up, and she could keep them focused on digging instead of bickering.

Of course, now that she's out here with them, she regrets ever having offered. As it turns out, their method of cache-hunting involves incessantly goading one another into a fight, trading places between aggressive pessimism and irritatingly fake optimism whenever it might serve to piss the other off more. She's given up on trying to stop it; after all, it's not too much worse than what they say while mending fences and hauling scrap. It's just that the distance between them means that they're arguing at a headache-inducing level.

At the very least, Kim had hoped for some kind of method they could fall back on, but at three hours in, they've all but given up. She supposes the first two caches had been pretty easy to find, being in areas where the terrain hasn't changed much — but this neck of the woods has definitely seen some shifting. Between the rock slides and massive knots of collapsed trees, the steep hillside looks more like a beaver dam than the picturesque hiking trail it probably used to be.

"I'm starting to think that Jacob was full of shit," Nick says, as if he hasn't been reiterating the sentiment for the last thirty minutes. "There's no way we're gonna find anything out here."

Nick might be right, but Kim isn't about to gang up on John right now. She's been mostly staying out of it as the two of them argue about Jacob's map coordinates; why get involved now?

She ignores them and instead picks her way up the hillside towards one of the many uprooted trees nearby. Just like the last dozen trees she's checked, this one doesn't hold a barrel in its roots, nor do any of them have any damn sign indicating where they should be looking. Whatever marker Jacob might've left, paranoid bastard that he was, it's definitely been destroyed by the apocalypse.

"I told you that this wasn't going to be easy," John says. "There's half a mile of trail to search, and there's only three of us. This isn't some pasture outside town —"

"When I asked you if we should bring Grace and Carmina along, you said they would just get in the way! Now here you are, telling me we need more people!"

"If they were here, who do you think Grace would blame if Carmina got a goddamn splinter or scraped her knee? How do you still not get that she is actively looking for a reason to shoot me?"

"At this point, I'm looking for a reason, so I don't know what you're expecting!"

Kim has to admit, they're both making pretty good points. She just wishes they wouldn't make it sound like the start of a fistfight.

John's sigh is especially theatrical, and Kim hears the leaves crunch underfoot as he begins to stalk up the hill after her. He's probably going to try passing her, just to get space from Nick, but he really shouldn't bother. They should at least stop for something to eat and some water, and then they can figure out whether or not expanding the search zone is a good idea. They should probably reconsider their current "poke around and hope" method, too.

Setting her sights on a stout, dead tree with its roots partially torn up, Kim decides to make that the last straw. If she's got any luck at all, the cache will be tangled up in the tree's roots, and she'll be able to gloat about finding it for the rest of forever.

"Don't get too excited," John says, catching up to her as he runs away from Nick.

"Too late for that," Kim teases. "My hopes are at an all-time high. I'm about to be crushed by the disappointment."

"Fantastic," John grunts, rolling his eyes.

He lets her take the first approach on the tree, which juts awkwardly out of the ground at an acute angle. Its scraggly branches are covered in dry needles, and the partially exposed root system seems to have rotted from rain. There are no other trees for a good couple of yards in any direction, so this tree must've gotten the brunt of the worst nuclear weather.

"We should take a break," Nick shouts from halfway down the hill. "I need a goddamn drink!"

"I told him this would be a waste of time," John grumbles. "We could have taken any other location, even the one at the goddamn compound, and had better luck than out here."

"Well, we're here now," Kim replies. "Come on, maybe the cache is tangled up in the roots or something."

John reluctantly follows Kim as she tests the spongier, damp soil around the rotting tree's base. It's clear he's already given up, but that only makes Kim more determined to find something worth the trip out here — at the very least, so that she can rub it in John's pessimistic face. He can't be a sour bastard forever.

No barrel in the root system, of course. All Kim finds is molding wood and the flash of exposed rock. It's just muddy enough that Kim's going to have to scrub her boots when they get back. From here, she can see the slope of the hillside, and the trees that slump with their tops pointed in her direction. It's like they're telling her, go back!

"Please talk Nick into giving this up," John insists, lingering right behind her and scowling at the roots that have betrayed both of them.

"I mean, we've only been out here for two hours. There's plenty of time to find something." Kim crouches down to check the rocky substrate for anything interesting. "Look on the bright side, at least we don't have to dig."

"I think you two are blinded by that bright side of yours." John sighs, leaning against the tree and glaring down in Nick's direction. "You know that the interstate is only a half-day hike from here, right? This is the exact sort of place Jacob would've stashed passports, money — bug-out kits to abandon the county, that kind of thing. It's not like he buried more coffee and rice out here."

"So is that your new theory? Jacob was planning escape routes for you guys?"

John frowns. "It's one of them."

Kim stands and comes around to join him by the trunk. She debates on invoking Jacob's memory any more than she already has; he seems to have a habit of upsetting John even from the grave. She gives the tree trunk a little kick as she considers pressing him, knocking some mud from her boot tread.

Her curiosity takes a backseat as the world lurches uncomfortably beneath them. She catches herself against the trunk and looks towards Nick, who's picking his way up towards them. Only now does she notice that the trees in this direction also lean inwards, towards the lone tree they're currently beside.

John catches on at the same time, hissing under his breath before hollering a warning. "It's a goddamn sinkhole, Nick, watch out!"

The inconvenience turns into real fear as Kim considers the terrain. With all the caves littering the mountains around here, there's no telling how deep the void beneath their feet might be — five feet, twenty? Or, God help them, more?

Kim struggles not to panic as Nick makes no effort to hide his own. "Come on, you guys," Nick calls from between two jutting evergreens, "Just cut across before the whole damn thing gives out!"

There's not a second to spare, but even as Kim starts to move she knows it's too late. She gets one last look at Nick's horrified expression before she, John, and the dead tree crash down into the empty space below.

Kim lands hard on her side, her arm taking the brunt of the blow and blossoming in radiant, white-hot pain. The world around her, suddenly dark and unfamiliar, tunnels alarmingly out of her vision, her blood rushing into her ears until she can only vaguely hear her own pained crying. Trying to move only causes daggers of pain to shoot right up her arm and into her brain, but she only finds that out as she rolls off of her definitely broken arm. At least, Kim's pretty sure it's broken. She's terrified of looking over and seeing her bone poking out, or something even worse — she knows that she won't be able to stand it, that she'll pass out, and she can't do that down here in this goddamn cavern!

Vague, warped voices vibrate through her as John appears abruptly by her side. The left side of his face is covered in a smear of blood from a deep wound scored over his brow. His mouth moves like he's trying to speak to her. God, her fucking arm!

"Take a deep breath," John commands once again, and this time Kim hears him and abides. The pain doesn't subside, but at least the panic that comes with it is softened as she struggles to calm down. As she does, the background noises begin to come into focus; the crumbling rubble settling, the sharp, birdless silence of the air, and most importantly, Nick hysterically shouting her name from above.

John puts a hand on the shoulder not currently delivering mountains of pain. "Another one," he says, and Kim obeys. It's while she's trying to catch her breath that John steps away, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting up, "Kim's broken her arm!"

"God damn it, what happened — never mind, just —! Stay put! I'll go get help!" Nick's voice cracks as he realizes aloud, "Shit, there's nobody to get help from!"

Kim sucks in a deep breath. There's no way that John is going to be able to handle Nick's mounting panic by himself, and so she steels herself and tries to steady her voice. "It's gonna be okay!" she shouts. "I'm fine!"

"Bullshit you're fine, that looks like a two-story drop from here!"

John swears under his breath. "I don't have time for this."

"He's going to try and jump down if we don't talk him out of it," Kim hisses, closing her eyes as a wave of painful pins and needles washes up her arm. She keeps accidentally moving it, and the feeling of the bone scraping is enough to make her want to vomit.

John clearly decides she's right, changing tactics as Kim desperately tries not to start sobbing again. "It isn't bad, Nick!" he shouts, "But I need rope if I'm going to splint it! Get the cord from the glove box!"

Nick is quiet for a moment. "Y-Yeah," he calls down shakily, "I... I guess you got plenty to work with — hold on!"

Kim lets out a breath she hadn't meant to hold, then bites back the scream that threatens to rip from her throat. "Please tell me you can do this," she moans as John crouches down beside her broken arm. "I can't look — is there bone?"

"There's no bone," John replies. His voice is tight and unhappy, but at least he isn't lacking in confidence when he tells her, "I know what I'm doing. Try to stay conscious, and don't move. The last thing I need is to be stuck alone with Nick."

"Excuse him for worrying," she groans, staring up at the sky through the fifteen-foot-wide hole above her. She counts down the seconds until Nick gets back, if only to focus on something other than the pain.

John leaves her to it, making his way over to the tree that's joined them here in the cavern. There isn't much else down here besides them and the vegetation that came down with them; the sinkhole must have joined with a cavern somewhere along the way. The rock here probably hasn't seen daylight before — when she glances around, she spots a dark crack in the wall that implies there might be more, unlit caves to explore beyond.

Boy, she really does not want to go into that creepy tunnel, and she especially doesn't want to do it with a broken arm. Thankfully, Nick returns before that worry turns to panic.

"Everything okay? Actually, never mind — look, I got the rope, and the first-aid kit!"

Anything Nick decides to throw down is going to stay down here, and so Kim quickly stops him. "You keep that, Nick! If you get hurt up there, you'll need it!"

"We need it more," John points out, returning to her with a few branches that he clearly intends to use as a splint. He's not wrong about the medkit; the cut over his eye is a nasty one, and Kim could use all of those expired painkillers about now. Not to mention, there might be more injuries they've missed.

Still. "I'm not leaving Nick without supplies," she says.

John doesn't reply, but his scowl speaks volumes.

After a minute or so, Nick is ready to throw the cord down. They coordinate the hand-off just fine without her, which is great, because Kim needs to reserve all of her strength for what's to come.

Nick's bundled a few of the medical supplies into his worn-out flannel, along with the crank flashlight and one of the ultra-dry military rations, all tied off with the paracord. Kim is both touched at the thought and horrified at the idea that they might be here long enough to get hungry.

"This is good, Nick," John calls. "We're in a cave — there's got to be another way out nearby!"

"I'll go look for a way in!"

"No," Kim shouts, her voice cracking, "You might get hurt, Nick!"

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Kim! I'm not gonna leave you down there!"

Kim has never in her life imagined that she would say her next words, but that doesn't mean she doesn't mean it. "I'm going to be okay! John's down here with me, I'll be fine!"

John doesn't seem to have expected her to say that, either, boggling at her with open confusion. But... well, come on! If John can trust her enough to gun down Peggies trying to kidnap him, then she can at least trust him to help her limp out of one of Hope County's many caves. Sure, it's not an ideal situation by any means, but Kim's just happy not to be stuck looking for a way out by herself.

"Are you sure you can even walk?" Nick calls uneasily.

"I can handle it, Nick," John replies for her. "We'll look for a way out — if we don't find anything in an hour, we'll come back here and try something else!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!"

John pauses long enough to look at Kim, but since he seems to have more ideas than she does, she defers to his judgment. "Circle west around the hill and look for any entrances to call from! There's going to be a cave opening somewhere nearby!"

"I don't like any of this, Kim!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose, leaving Kim to answer, "It's the only plan we've got!"

The silence from above stretches out. "We don't have time for this," John mutters, abandoning his attempts to reassure Nick. "There's no telling where a way out might be, and I'm not wasting more time because Nick can't trust me."

"It's not about trust," Kim snipes in return. "He's trying not to panic."

John only grunts in return, settling on his knees next to her as he prepares to do the hard part for her. That leaves it up to Kim to encourage Nick to get a move on; she really doesn't want him sticking around for the painful part. "Nick, be careful, I don't want you to fall in another sinkhole! We'll be okay!"

Nick is frustratingly silent for another moment, but eventually, he relents. "Okay, fine! Remember to mark your path! And don't trust any ropes or ladders you see! And stay outta any water you find, you don't know how deep it is!"

"Jesus Christ," John mutters.

"Oh, shut up," Kim tells him, lifting her strained voice to call back. "Alright, Nick! We'll be careful! We'll see you soon!"

Kim makes John wait another minute after Nick leaves before she lets him at her arm. Despite his sour expression, John manages to be nothing more than stern, and surprisingly gentle. "Careful," he tells her, as if she needs a warning as he adjusts her broken arm. She's unable to decide if the burning sensation or the stabbing sensation is worse, but they're both vying for the spot as John examines the fracture. God, she hopes he knows what he's doing. She hopes it heals clean. She doesn't know what she'll do if she loses the thing.

John jostles her a little too abruptly, and a gasp of pain tears her from her downward spiral of worst possible outcomes. If John notices, he doesn't comment.

"It's not so bad," he says, although Kim's still not sure if she trusts his judgment on the matter. "It seems like a single fracture. I'll splint it, and... Well, there's somebody in town with medical experience, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Kim gasps, head reeling, "Maybe?"

John sighs. "Well, at least you'll survive."

"You better hope so," Kim jokes, or tries to anyway.

John rolls his eyes, but thankfully he's not in a vindictive mood as he prepares to set her arm. "You'll want to scream," he tells her. "Try breathing through your nose instead."

He sure isn't wrong. Kim can't think straight for a minute after he's finished, her face wet as the pain forces her to tears, but John is utterly detached and methodical as he binds her arm to one of the branches. It's reassuring at first, but Kim can't help but wonder just how many people suffered broken bones and serious trauma at his hands, only to see the same dispassionate bedside manner afterward? God, assuming they even survived what he put them through.

"Catch your breath," John tells her once he's done, standing and turning back to further investigate the tree. "The cave systems go on for miles down here, but there are dozens of openings in the hills. As long as we stick to the larger tunnels, we should be able to find one of them."

Kim watches him pick through the tree, sizing out larger branches and dismissing them one by one.

"I'm surprised you're not more freaked out," she says as he picks out a four-foot branch. "You know, being underground and everything."

John furiously breaks the branch from the trunk, then roughly cleans it of dead sprigs and foliage. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Sorry, I just meant —"

"I know what you meant," he says. "It's fine. I'm not... Like I said, these tunnels are hardly inescapable." He strikes the branch against the ground and seems satisfied by the sound. "I spent a lot of time studying the cave systems out here. We considered using them for passage between the gates, but that plan never went anywhere. It left me with enough useless knowledge that I'm not prone to panic down here."

"Useless until now," Kim points out. "Now help me up and let's get the hell out of here."

John helps her to her feet with her good arm, careful not to jostle the splint as she tests her balance. The world heaves for an uncomfortable second or two before righting itself, although it's mostly shock and adrenaline keeping her moving. She's not sure how long that's going to last, but she sure hopes it's long enough to reunite with Nick.

"I should probably lead," John says, looking unhappy about her tentatively upright position.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm in the position to trail-blaze."

"You're barely in the position to walk," he replies. Casting one last look around the sunlit cavern, John turns towards the dark crack in the wall that leads further into the system. "Try not to pass out."

"No promises," she says, staggering her way to their only exit.

She can feel the cool, musty air from here, oddly relieving against her sweaty face. She wishes she hadn't watched The Descent so many times before the apocalypse, because that is really coloring her perception of this situation. Of course, they're more likely to run into a wolverine or bear den than they are to be hunted by a pack of cave-dwelling mutants, but that doesn't stop her from considering it.

John starts forward. Kim, anxious and trembling in pain, tries to joke. "Just avoid stepping on any weird symbols carved into the ground, okay?"

"Christ," John groans, the same way he does every time somebody tries to rope him in with a pop-culture reference. He winds the flashlight up and the beam of light cuts a sharp swath across the dark tunnel "Will you two please let that Hollywood bullshit die already?"

"Oh, relax," she replies. "Tropes are older than L.A. and you know it. They aren't going to disappear just because civilization got nuked."

"One can dream," John snipes dryly in return.

Of course, even with the attitude, John keeps close to Kim, sticking to her uninjured side. Kim imagines her slow pace must be irritating the crap out of him, but he impressively manages not to sigh or stomp like a passive-aggressive toddler. He's been getting a lot better about letting his exasperation get to him, although she bets it's got a lot to do with exhaustion and survival instinct right now.

The silence stretches for a time between them. Kim imagines John is lost in his thoughts, but she's been hyper-aware of every distant sound of rubble shifting or oddly-shaped rock formations that are easy to mistake for humanoid shapes in the dark. The tunnel is only about eight feet across and somewhat taller than that, but that's plenty of room for Kim's imagination to play tricks on her.

"I always thought your anti-Hollywood thing was some kind of shtick," she admits. "Maybe you got scorned on a screenplay or something, I dunno. But you really believe that all of the entertainment industry deserved to get firebombed out of existence?"

"It deserved a reckoning," John replies.

"You mean something like nuclear annihilation?"

John's frown deepens. "Maybe," he says stiffly.

Normally, Kim would try to dig into that more, but she's not in a position to make much sense of it right now. Honestly, the conversation is irrelevant — she just needs something to keep her from fantasizing about monsters in the dark. Or, you know, passing out. Whichever would be worse.

"So I guess you don't have a desert island five, then."

John huffs loudly at that. "I wouldn't be able to remember it."

That just tells Kim that he does have one. She bets American Psycho or Fight Club was on it. Maybe Fear and Loathing?

"Okay, well... say you had to pick a movie to watch as soon as we got home. What would it be?"

Even without looking, Kim knows he's rolling his eyes. "Seriously? Is this really the time?"

"Humor me."

He groans in annoyance, but Kim doesn't miss the short stretch of silence that follows as he thinks it over.

"I don't know," he finally grumbles.

"Come on, you've got to have something."

"I only ever saw a handful of movies growing up, and I lost interest in the medium in college."

"God, you must have been a pretentious bastard."

Despite himself, John chuckles at the jab. "Oh, you have no idea," he replies.

The conversation dies, just like John had probably hoped it would. Kim tries to find something else to distract her, but there's really not much to look at. They've only found one offshoot that John had been able to fit in, but it had ended only a few yards in. They've been exploring for maybe fifteen minutes, though; there's still time for a miracle. Until then, she's got moss to look at, and the distant trickle of water from somewhere far away. With the way the land's shifted, there may be a new river forming somewhere up on the surface. In a few decades, it could swallow these caverns entirely.

"How does your arm feel?" John asks, his voice bouncing off the walls and breaking the silence.

"Not... great," she admits, still trying not to focus on the numb agony of her arm. "I wouldn't mind lying down and sleeping for a few weeks right about now, but I think I can keep it together until we find a way out."

She hopes, anyway.

"Good." John takes a moment to crank the flashlight before it can go out, then picks up the conversation as though Kim weren't even there. "There's nobody in town that I know of that has serious medical experience. With the gates destroyed, there's no telling where the experts we'd vetted for the Project wound up. Dead, probably. Or worse, still involved with Joseph. Hell, even a vet would be better than nothing."

He's definitely more anxious than he wants to let on. Kim doesn't believe for a second that being in this endless, dark tunnel is any better than being trapped in a bunker, save for maybe the space. At least in a bunker, you know which way is out, and you know what's going to kill you.

Now Kim is the one who starts to ramble. "I mean, there's got to be an eagle scout out there somewhere. And there were a couple of doctors still working when I had Carmina — one of them might've survived, right? Somebody out there will know enough to check your handiwork. For the record, though, I think you did a pretty good job for a guy stuck in a pit."

John shakes his head. "I've set plenty of broken limbs." There's a weird sort of challenge in his voice as he says, "Of course, I was the one who broke most of them."

"And I think you feel pretty shitty about it, so I don't know why you sound so smug."

"I'm just reminding you of who you're trying to compliment."

Kim rolls her eyes, her exasperation carrying over in her voice. "I know exactly who you are, John. Quit trying to rile me up like you do with Nick, it isn't going to work."

He huffs. "Sure," he says, then promptly shuts up. Of course he does. No wonder he only ever wants to talk to Nick — it's like he doesn't know how to hold a conversation without trying to start a fight.

Well, Kim needs something to distract her, so she'll carry on with it herself. "I've sprained my ankle a couple of times, but the only time I've ever broken a bone was in soccer camp when I was... thirteen, I think? It was my big toe, and the humiliation was way worse than the pain."

"I can't imagine," John drawls, distinctly unenthusiastic.

Kim opens her mouth to ask the obvious question, then catches herself. Asking about John's past is essentially opening Pandora's box; every time Kim has gone digging, she comes away with something new she wishes she could forget about. The breadcrumbs of information he's given her over the past year or so have honestly kept her up some nights. She probably doesn't want to know anything about the number of broken bones John's had. She definitely doesn't want to know how.

John looks over at her, daring her to ask. It's only when Kim manages to contain her curiosity that he parts with a few terse details. "The first time was when I was eleven. It was a powerful learning experience. One I... try not to revisit."

"Sure," she says. It sounds reasonable enough, anyway.

The flashlight's beam cuts across the wall further ahead, revealing the first major fork that they've come across. They're forced to take an impromptu break as John tries to determine their best way forward. John scowls at the darkness in either direction, but it doesn't seem to help make a decision. Meanwhile, Kim takes the opportunity to rest against the cold stone, swallowing down the nausea that's starting to build. It's a miracle that she's made it this far without fainting, but she doesn't think John's in the mood to hear that.

Frowning, John turns the flashlight back the way they came, sweeping the light down the forking path. "Strange," he mutters.

"What?"

"It's nothing," he says, sweeping the light down the way they came. "Except... see this?"

He steps closer to highlight a uniformly rectangular notch in the wall, just about hip-level. Moving the light reveals more, equally spaced notches, continuing along the wall of the newest fork in their road.

"There were guide ropes installed at one point or another. It doesn't seem to be an active mine, though — it must've been for dumb tourists, just in case of lawsuits."

"I hate to tell you, John, but right now, we're the dumb tourists."

"Unfortunately so. I guess that means we should take the left."

It's smaller, and it looks just as untouched as the rest of the cave has so far, but John's made a compelling point about the seemingly man-made notches.

"You're the expert," Kim says, "I'll take your word for it."

"Alright," he says, not as enthusiastic as Kim would have hoped for. He eyes her somewhat critically, then asks, "How are you doing?"

It's probably the pain making her delirious, but she's surprised at John's concern for her wellbeing. She really shouldn't be. Of course he cares; even if he weren't actively trying to be less awful, he's too smart to leave Kim down here and risk Nick finding out. But still. She's pain-addled enough to be touched by the sentiment.

That doesn't mean she's in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "I'm surprised I'm still standing," she says. "Let's just hope we find Nick before I pass out."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy seeing me carrying your limp body out of the abandoned mine."

Kim laughs, regretting it as it sends an ache jolting through her body. "Oh, I bet. Just don't be surprised if I tap out at some point."

"You're stronger than that," John remarks. "Follow me."

Now, following John Seed through a dark cave tunnel with a broken arm seems like it would be a bad time. If this were ten, eleven years ago, Kim's sure she would be hunting for a weapon or looking for her own escape route. That is, of course, assuming he hadn't left her to die down here. No doubt that her survival would've banked on how much he would have needed her.

She's glad that's not the case now. John is a reliable navigator, slow-going and cautious as he leads the way, testing suspect rock formations and ducking into narrow crags that don't go anywhere. Honestly, he's probably being more cautious than they need to be. It's already been a half-hour or so, and they're going to need to turn back before much longer.

John has other concerns to bother him, though. "I wonder what happened to the anchors," he says at one point. "You'd think we would have found one by now."

"Maybe they took the rope down before the Collapse," Kim points out. "Lots of tourist traps weren't exactly up to code. Earl probably got here way before we did, back when he was trying to crack down on these kinds of things."

John frowns thoughtfully. "Maybe."

"It's not like people are down here renovating for the next season."

"We don't know that," he points out grimly. "Survivors might've hidden from the radiation down here. Or maybe some angels got lost after Faith was killed."

"Come on, John," she groans.

"Nick's always wondering where the mutants are. Maybe we'll be the ones to find them."

Kim side-eyes John just in time to catch the remnants of a smirk on his face, and she can't help but elbow him with her good arm. She tries to admonish him, telling him, "Knock it off," but she can't help laughing as she does.

"You're probably right about the code violations," John chuckles at last, lifting the light to check the ceiling ahead as it dips low enough for them to need to duck. "Not a lot of these cave systems were what I'd call safe. It's one of the reasons we decided against using them as tunnels. The work involved was too expensive, and the chance of cave-ins was too high. And, as we've found out, they weren't guaranteed to stay underground."

"So, what was going to happen instead? Were you guys going to rely on radios, or what?"

"It doesn't matter what we decided," John points out, more weary of the conversation than irritated. "The gates were barely finished before the Deputy destroyed them, and we never got to find out what might've happened."

They follow the notches through two more forks, and Kim starts to worry that they're only going deeper into the old attraction. Well, at least they're taking the easy way. With a smooth floor and a ceiling that rarely drops lower than eight feet, Kim gets the impression that they're in a manufactured mine, and not an organic one. For all they know, some crazy prepper dug this tunnel out to make a quick buck for his bunker-building hobby. Of course, if that's the case, it's a miracle that nothing's caved in yet.

They pass underneath a lower segment of the ceiling, and the tunnel abruptly opens up into a massive cavern. Defunct light rigs are scattered amongst the stalagmites, with several hanging stalactites covered in chipped fluorescent paint. The rest of the rock outcroppings are covered in lichen, which disappointingly fails to glow in the dark. As John sweeps the flashlight across the large, empty space, Kim gets a good idea of the cheap edu-tainment that was offered on short hikes through the mines. Somewhere in here, there's probably a storage closet full of Halloween decor waiting to liven up the otherwise boring cavern.

"Well, this wasn't worth the twenty dollars it cost to get in," John grouses.

"Don't forget the thirty-dollar iron-on tee-shirts they print off at home," Kim reminds him with a laugh. It's enough to make her lightheaded, and she doesn't quite regain her balance, even after she braces herself against the wall.

"We can only rest a minute," he warns her, sweeping the light in the direction they need to go. Any more huffing and puffing on his part is diminished as the light glints off the rounded edge of something metallic. When John refocuses the light on the object, neither of them really know what to say.

Lying amongst the rocks, battered and dirty, is one of the dark green bliss containers they've been looking for. Kim looks up, but the ceiling is rooted in darkness, and she can't see any sign of another cave-in or sinkhole. The idea that Jacob might've come this far himself crosses her mind, but if that were the case, why is it sitting out in the open like that?

"John, wait," Kim calls as John steps off the path. Suddenly, all her jokes about booby traps seem tasteless, especially with John charging into the unknown like he is.

Of course, this isn't Indiana Jones, and there's no pit of spikes or tripwire to trigger. John doesn't wind up with a face-full of poison darts as he picks up the dented canister; the only thing he's forced to sacrifice is a good grip on the flashlight, which shines at an awkward angle and only illuminates a useless part of the floor. His slow pace and the bad lighting leave Kim to imagine what he's found inside — remnants of supplies, or a dead animal? Indications that something chewed through the rubber sealant, maybe?

John drops the barrel between them, the clanging metal causing Kim to jump. John doesn't notice as he reorients the light, leaning over to illuminate the barrel's contents. The interior is flaked with rust, and whatever sealant had been used is all but completely worn away. The only thing left inside is an empty, smashed bottle of liquor and a few wrapped, moldy packages of cigarettes.

"I don't know if I'm disappointed or not," Kim says.

"I know I am," John replies, grimly reaching into the empty barrel to check for a false bottom. The screech of metal rises up into the cavern, bouncing off the far ceiling and turning into an ugly birdsong. Kim leans back against the wall; if she keeps looking down, she's going to end up toppling over like a broken Weeble-Wobble. John glances her way after a moment, before lifting a clump of wet paper out from the depths of the barrel.

"Of course he buried documents here," John mutters. Kim can't quite pin down whether he's upset or resigned to the bad luck at this point.

"Anything salvageable?" she asks.

"Doubtful. I'll... bring these along, I guess." He checks again, digging out what he can. Other than the loose papers, there's a water-logged manila envelope and an equally soaked box of ammunition. John tucks the box away in his front pocket, holding the papers uncomfortably in his hand. "We'll worry about what these are once we're out of here."

Despite the pain in her arm giving her full-body tremors and John's dismal mood, Kim is nearly upbeat as they exit the cavern. They're still in civilization, after all, even if it's a defunct tourist trap, and the knowledge that they're clearly on their way out is the main thing keeping her moving. If they're lucky, they aren't too far from the truck — if they're really lucky, Nick will have found the entrance before them.

They eventually find a few anchors that are still moored to the walls, a knotted bit of rope still attached, and Kim breathes a sigh of relief. The sigh quickly turns to a groan of pain as she rattles her arm, but at least it isn't enough to knock her off her feet.

John hesitates in front of her, slowing just enough so that he can offer his arm to her. "We can't stop now," he tells her.

"I know," she pants, wiping sweat from her forehead that she hadn't realized was gathering. "Okay. We're nearly there."

She gives up on pretending entirely, leaning heavily against John as they continue forward. Lying down and resting for, oh, a hundred years or so sounds great right now, but first, she needs to make sure Nick hasn't had a heart attack waiting for them. He's probably convinced himself that they've gotten killed somehow, and John isn't going to be able to talk him down on his own.

They approach what will hopefully be the last fork in the tunnel, only to find that both directions have anchors. The newest offshoot seems to curve pretty severely downwards, though; it's clear even as they stop that they should stick to the path they've been on.

"I don't like this," John says, looking first behind them and then ahead, down the new path.

"Fine," Kim groans, "You can choose the next tourist trap we get stuck in."

"I'm serious, Kim." John turns the flashlight down the new path. The air coming from that direction is thick and stagnate — Kim's imagination unhelpfully supplies a few images of killer clowns and deformed mutants to lurk down in the dark that way. God, why did she have to like horror movies so much? Why couldn't she have enjoyed normal, safe entertainment that wouldn't have filled her imagination with monsters and a deep-rooted fear of the unexplored dark?

It certainly doesn't help as John says, "I keep getting the feeling that we're being watched."

"Okay, that's it," Kim snaps, desperately trying to bury the surge of fear the suggestion fills her with. "I'm done being creeped out."

"I'm not trying to scare you —"

"Well, you're naturally gifted, okay? Look, let's just — we know that's the way out," she says, nodding towards the safer route. "Let's just go that way. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Agreed," John grunts.

John adopts a brisk walk that Kim has some trouble keeping up with, but she's not interested in slowing down for anything. She feels vindicated by their choice of exit as they pass a faded safety sign lying on the ground, as well as the decidedly fresher air coming in from what Kim expects to be the exit. There are a few moments where John has to resist breaking out into a jog; Kim can't exactly blame him, but his jitters are amping up her own anxiety, and now she's trying desperately to listen for chasing footsteps behind them. It's hard to hear much of anything over the blood pounding in her ears.

It's a massive relief when John finally slows down. "It must have been an animal," he says at last, casting one last look behind them. "God, I fucking hate being underground."

"Well, let's hope we aren't leading the mutants to the surface world," Kim jokes. It probably would land better if she didn't sound completely wiped.

John frowns at her, but the dark makes it hard to pin down his expression. "We're almost there," he says, which sounds alarming like a reassurance.

Her spirits lift as they pass an overturned rail barricade, but the wind is immediately taken out of her sails as they find the path blocked by a chained and padlocked gate. The thick gauge chain-link fence has been welded to brackets on the wall; the bottom has been bent outwards, likely from some angry animal forcing its way through. Unfortunately, it's too small for either of them to get through.

"For fuck's sake," John hisses between gritted teeth.

They're not going anywhere, and Kim's nausea forces her to find something more solid than John for support. She manages to stagger to the nearest wall before falling against it, but it's enough to make her regret moving at all.

At least she manages a weak thumbs up when John anxiously asks, "Are you alright?"

"Just — giving you room to work," she gurgles, staggering a few feet back down the path before throwing up.

John swears under his breath as Kim tries to coax her headache back to something more manageable. She can hear him tearing at the gate behind her; if she weren't feeling so miserable, she'd probably be flipping out on it, too. As it is, she takes her sweet time to turn around and start back for the fence, watching as John tries to widen the gap left behind by some tenacious wolverine. It's going to wreck her arm to try and weasel through the hole, but Kim is willing to try anything at this point.

"How far are we from the truck?" Kim rasps. "Maybe Nick can hear us?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" John snaps, well past the end of his rope. Kim has to admit, she's surprised he made it this far. "God damn it, I don't know where we are any better than you!"

"Okay, point taken," Kim says — after all, she's in no position to argue with him. As it is, it's taking most of her focus to keep from sinking to the ground. As soon as she's sitting, she's going to pass out, and she's not in any position to be doing that yet.

Thankfully, Nick's voice reaches them before she can give up. A tidal wave of relief floods Kim at the sound of him calling her name; she staggers forward, gripping the chain-link with her good arm.

"Nick!" she shouts. The sound of her own voice bouncing off the walls only amplifies her pounding headache, but it doesn't stop her from shouting his name a few more times in desperation.

John grabs her good shoulder. "Careful," he says, "Take it easy."

"You take it easy," Kim snaps as Nick's voice bounces off the far-away cave entrance. Trying to glare at John is a mistake, as vertigo nearly sends her to the floor. The only thing that keeps her upright is John's grip on her arm, easing her back until she finds the wall for support.

"Let me handle it," he says.

Kim has no choice but to follow his orders, reeling against the wall as he picks up the impromptu game of Marco Polo. She's not sure how much time passes between her slow, long blinks, but all that matters is the moment that she sees Nick appear with the lantern held high. It's enough to bring her to tears — well, that and the dizzying pain — and from Nick's tearful shout, it's having the same effect on him.

"Oh, thank Christ," he gasps as he reaches the gate, rattling it with his free hand as if he could just pry it back. "Kim, you're alive! Are you okay?" He turns the full force of his relief on John, concern furrowing his brow. "Jesus, John, are you okay? We needa get that cut looked at."

"It's fine," John says. "You didn't see any keys anywhere, did you?"

"Let me go check the ticket booth," Nick replies. "Don't worry, you guys — I'm not about to let a goddamn padlock stop me."

Nick jogs back down the tunnel and Kim finally sags, sliding to the ground with a tired groan.

"Okay, John," she sighs, "Mission accomplished. Wake me up when we get home."

"Kim, hold on," John replies, but frankly there's no stopping her now. This was as far as she'd hoped to get on her own two feet, and honestly, she's surprised that she made it that far.

She does rouse briefly as Nick begins wailing on the padlock with a steel pipe, but that's something the boys can handle without her. Here and there, she registers hands on her, and dappled light flashes over her face as they finally escape the caves. The fresh air brings her back long enough to help Nick get her settled in the truck, but she's already dozing off by the time John and Nick start arguing again. The rest of the trip, for better or worse, is completely lost on her.

————

When Kim finally comes to, she's immediately met by the familiar sight of her room at home. She can't tell what time it is, only that it's late enough for the lamp to be lit. Judging by the voices downstairs, everyone is still awake — and going by the sling and bandages, they've had some company since she was last conscious. She allows herself to imagine the whole thing was all a horrible nightmare, just for a second, but the throbbing in her arm is already reminding her of the unfortunate truth. At least she can check "escape mutants in a tunnel" off of her bucket list.

She doesn't have long to focus on the slowly returning pain; it's not even a minute later that she hears boots on the stairs, and Nick pokes his head in not long after.

"Hey," is about all she can muster up before she has to clear her throat, but it's enough.

"Christ, Kim!" he exclaims, throwing open the door as he rushes to her side. The worry breaks on his face as he crouches beside her, careful not to jostle her broken arm. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Uh... not awesome," she admits, shifting in an attempt to sit up. Nick hurries to help her, and she can't help but smile at him as he piles the pillows behind her. "Better now, though."

"That's what I'm here for," Nick laughs, "That and making everybody else uncomfortable. They kept tellin' me not to worry, but you know how hard that is."

"They?"

"Well, John mostly, until Jerome and Grace showed up. Then I had to keep it together for Carmina, so that helped. Uh. How much do you remember about gettin' back here?"

"Not much," Kim says. Now that she's more conscious, she's able to discern the late evening light for what it is; it's been hours since she was last aware of where she was. "I... remember getting into the truck, I think? And then... Nothing. Why? What did I miss?"

Nick shakes his head, smiling fondly at her. "Nothing much, honest. Most of the ride back was me and John arguing about what to do. He radioed Jerome for help while I got you up here and settled in, then I called up Grace so she could keep Carmina busy until Jerome showed up with some help. I guess Winona, y'know, down at the Eagle? She was getting her nursing degree, or license, or whatever, so Jerome brought her over here to help out. She said it looked like a clean enough break, and John did a good job setting it, so we just had to make sure you wouldn't be accidentally moving in your sleep." He chuckles. "You know, real exciting stuff."

"Oh, boy," Kim groans, "I bet I scared the crap out of Carmina. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Worried about you, obviously, but Grace gave her a pep talk and we kept her busy downstairs. Figured you oughta be awake before she came to see you."

"Good call." Kim briefly debates whether or not getting out of bed is worth it, but she quickly decides against it. Even if she weren't wiped out, Nick looks like he'd fall apart with worry if she tried to exert herself. "You might have to go get her, because I don't think I could move if I wanted to."

"Don't even think about it," Nick says, pointing at her as he gets back to his feet. "You're on bed rest until tomorrow at least. I'll be right back."

Kim dozes for the few minutes that stretch between Nick leaving and Carmina coming up the stairs. It's impossible to fall back asleep, but the rest is good enough on its own. She makes sure to perk up when she hears Carmina coming up the stairs, smiling wide as her daughter enters the doorway.

"Hey, honey," she says, her voice rougher than she'd expected it to be.

"Mom!" Carmina exclaims, careful to avoid jostling Kim as she climbs into the bed on her good side. "I was so worried!"

Kim folds her arm around Carmina's shoulders and gives her a squeeze. "I know, sweetheart. I didn't mean to spook you."

"What happened? Dad said you and John fell into a cave!"

"That's pretty much it," Kim laughs. "We fell through a sinkhole into an old cave system. It used to be a place people could visit, though, so it wasn't hard to find our way out."

Carmina frowns, picking at a loose thread in the comforter. "But it was probably really dark. And your arm was broken, and John busted his head open, and..."

"First of all, his head wasn't busted open," Kim says, reaching up to ruffle Carmina's hair. "He probably needed a few stitches, sure, but he knew what he was doing, and we both made it out okay. And your dad got the flashlight to us, so we had plenty of light to see by."

Obviously, Kim never wants to go back to that awful place, but she needs her daughter to learn not to panic now, in case she ever has to go into those tunnels herself. There's no summer camp to enroll her in that will teach her how to be mindful of caves, so Kim's going to have to do it herself... She just wishes she'd gotten to it before she'd had her own scary experience.

Carmina huffs, frowning briefly at the door. "You were lucky John was there," she says.

Kim bites back on her knee-jerk reaction to scoff at the idea. "You're right," she admits, a little more reluctant to do so than she really should be.

"Nobody else thinks so," Carmina grumbles. "Grace got mad dad left you two down there and then Jerome got mad at John for getting you hurt and Winona was really mad that she had to give John stitches. I wanted to say something but dad wouldn't let me."

"That's because they have good reasons not to trust him," Kim points out, although that excuse is starting to wear a little thin, even with her. "They just need time."

Carmina groans. "I guess. I'm... just really glad you're okay."

Kim squeezes Carmina's shoulder. "Me too."

Carmina sighs. "So... what was it like?" she asks, unable to resist her curiosity any longer.

That's okay by Kim — she could use the distraction. "Well... it was dark, and chilly. It was really quiet — the only thing we could hear was water dripping on the walls and our footsteps. The tunnel wasn't very interesting... but there was a big cavern in the middle where we found the cache, covered in stalactites and stalagmites. You could see where they used to have lights rigged up, and they'd painted some of the rocks to glow in the dark."

"You didn't see any animals?" Carmina frowns. "I always thought animals would hide in the caves."

Kim absolutely will not be telling her daughter about John's creepy sense of danger, thanks. "You know, we didn't. There isn't a lot of food for rabbits or cougars in there, though. I think they usually prefer little caves, not big ones."

There are plenty more questions for Carmina to ask that Kim only barely knows the answers to. Thankfully, geography and natural history are easy to teach hands-on; while she's not about to go back to the cave they just escaped, there are a couple of old attractions she remembers visiting that might do the trick. Places with good gift shops and little museums and educational plaques everywhere to help Kim explain how basic geology works.

"If you want, we can do some cave exploring of our own one day," Kim offers. "I'll need some time to get better, first. And I'll have to find the right place. But when we have some free time..."

"That sounds fun," Carmina says. "Just don't fall into another one first?"

"I'll do my best. We'll, uh, teach you what to look for so you don't make the same mistake."

They talk for a little while longer about the cave systems that litter Hope County, but it's not exactly Kim's favorite topic right now. It's a relief when Carmina declares that she needs water; even more so when she offers to bring some up to Kim. She considers asking Carmina to relay her thanks to John, but it can honestly wait until morning. Hopefully by then, she'll have adjusted to the makeshift cast, although she suspects she'll have plenty of time to get used to it. How long does it take a broken bone to heal, she wonders? Probably a few months, at least. She's really going to have to take it easy, and hope that nothing catastrophic happens while she's down one working arm.

[homeboundrunnerfive]

Zombies Run Secret Santa 2019!

@notforconsumption​ HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM YOUR SECRET SANTA! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! I had this idea about a “5 times...” including Five, Sara and Sam at about 5000 words similar to what I did for Secret Santa last year. But this was too much fun to write, and I couldn’t bear to end it before I felt that it was properly finished, and this piece wanted to be more than 5000 words. So therefore, I make this pledge to you: have this smaller preview of my ZR/pokémon crossover as your present for this Christmas Eve, and send me a scenario that you would like to see added in the final version of this piece and your Secret Santa will make it so! And lastly: big thanks to both you and @runnerzero for organising this wonderful Secret Santa exchange! 

Fandom: Zombies, Run! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply  Relationships: Runner Five/Sara Smith Characters: Sam Yao, Sara Smith, Runner Five, Simon Lauchlan, Janine DeLuca, Maxine Myers Additional Tags: Female Runner Five, Spoilers for Season 1, Mild Language, AU - Pokémon, Preview (or: remember that time probably at least a year ago when the fandom discussed the ZR/pokémon crossover?) Summary: Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little. The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special. ”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M01 The transfer from Mullins Military Base to the smaller settlement of Abel Township is not starting out well. Five is a little disappointed in herself for actually being just the tiniest bit surprised by the fact that every single thing that could have gone wrong today has.

To be fair though, being shot down from the sky with a rocket launcher is a rather uncommon occurrence, so maybe she can’t take the blame for not predicting that one.

Which is a right shame, because what she can predict, Five will prepare for. For example, she knew that that arriving without a pokémon would elicit reactions and she had prepared herself for it. Pity and commiseration from some, assuming it was lost or killed in the chaos of Day Zero. Distain or suspicion from others, trying to rationalise how someone able to secure a spot at Mullins for themselves could be so negligent as to not provide for their pokémon. 

Others are just confused at the sight of someone without a pokémon in these trying times. Who wouldn’t want an immune companion to not only protect you, but to also love you and keep your spirits high?

Five had prepared for that eventuality. She had not prepared for parachuting out of a helicopter, nor arriving to Abel in a mad dash chased by one of the faster zoms she’s encountered so far.

Inside the gates she’s greeted proper by three individuals, though a lot of people attempt to quickly wheedle information or supplies off of her the moment she stumbles through the gates

“Hey! Good to see you in the flesh… the totally-unbroken, skin-not-bitten-by-zombies flesh, right? Step back, step back everyone, don’t crowd! Give Runner Five some space!“ She recognises the voice as the man guiding her from the crash to the gates, radio operator Sam Yao. ”You alright there?”

He’s a younger Asian man in his mid-twenties or so, with dark hair and friendly eyes. The vibrant orange colour of his hoodie sticks out in a very striking manner, and a Flaaffy and Minccino is peeking out from behind him. Five feels like he fits the image of what she had imagined someone with his voice would look like. Rather soft, unpretentious and… boyish. The chinchilla-like pokemón looks rather downcast, sitting on top of the Flaaffys woolly head.

Next is an African-American woman in a white lab coat, immediately relieving Five of the CDC files and giving her a bite check before welcoming her to Abel Township. Five catches a glimpse of pale gemstones and notices that the woman, Dr. Myers as she introduces herself, has a rather small Sableye clinging to her hip underneath the lab coat. The pokémon is watching Five cautiously, showing the slightest hint of teeth.

Last is a serious-looking woman with a stern face, dressed in practical clothing. While the doctor is performing Five’s bite check, the woman is speaking quietly with another equally impressive woman, seemingly a bit older, who is accompanied by a weathered Lucario. The older woman is carrying a firearm, discreetly hidden by her loose shirt in a holster strapped to her belt. Five only notices because she has gotten into the habit of looking for threats, no matter the surroundings.

”Welcome to Abel Township. My name is Janine De Luca,” says the serious-looking woman. At her feet, an Umbreon is standing at attention like a guard dog, staring Five down. ”We have much to discuss.”

Five knows better than to hope for good things by now. But so far, so good, she thinks.

— S1M07

Only a few weeks into her transfer, disaster strikes.

Janine De Luca, one of the authorities of Abel Township, had sent her out on a mission to make contact with a member of a supposed rebel group within the neighbouring settlement of New Canton under the guise of picking up a cache of electrical supplies. Unsurprisingly to at least Five,  who has learned to expect the worst of every situation given the state of the post-apocalyptic world, the rendezvous ends up with her having to flee for her life in the completely opposite direction of Abel Township while dodging automatic gunfire.

It takes a solid hour of running through extremely taxing natural terrain before Five feels confident that she is out of the woods, and by that point she is out of the scanner range Sam was talking about. Her headset took a hit when she smacked into a low-hanging branch in her hurry, and it seems to have been damaging enough to disable her transmitter. To further emphasise the vulnerability of her situation, the sun has now fully set beyond the western horizon and midnight is closing in. The moon working its way across the starry sky provides some light, but not enough by far.

”Runner Five… I don’t know if you can hear me. Our scanner’s down,” Sams voice starts again over the headset. He’s been checking in periodically, voice growing more and more despondent each time he goes without a response. Something bleats weakly in the background, and Five imagines Sam stroking the soft coat of his Flaaffy as he flips between monitors. ”It never works that well at night anyway, and a couple of bits of equipment have broken down, so… so there’s no way to see where you are. Truth is, I… I don’t even know if you’re alive. Odds aren’t good, right?”

He would have lost sight of her the moment she fled into the dense forest, Five thinks, so for all he knows she could have been shot dead the second she exited his camera coverage. The odds for her survival, as he said, were certainly not optimal.

Mustering what little strength she has left, she forces herself into a slow jog towards a more defensible position to take a much needed rest to catch her breath. On a hill, about half a kilometre away, under the roots of a large tree growing on the incline Five can see something similar to a makeshift burrow. It isn’t ideal, but the surrounding trees are much too bare for her to climb without some sort of equipment, so a dirty hole in the ground to keep her back free will have to do for now. After listening intently for a moment, she feels certain there are no zombies nearby. No groaning moans, no shuffling steps and no crinkling leaves.

”You’re not even my second Runner Five, you know that? You’re my fourth. I guess there’s no better reason you’d make it back than any of the others,” Sam sighs, and Five thinks that even if her transmitter wasn’t smashed, she wouldn’t respond to that. It’s true. She’s no more likely to survive the night that anyone else in her position.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t going to try.

Five pulls the axe from her back, keeping her pack on, before sitting down on the ground and leaning back against one of the thick roots. Her legs are almost numb, and her breaths are still coming out ragged. For the moment she feels very warm, but Five knows the sweat on her skin will soon cool and bring her body temperature down. She can’t allow herself to stay still for more than a few minutes, but that will be all she needs. In her head, she’s already mapping out the route back to Abel.

Something hard hesitantly pokes her lower thigh. Her muscles tense instantly and she chokes up  the grip on her axe, bouncing into a defensive crouch.

In the dark, she can only make out two narrowed eyes staring suspiciously at her and a small silhouette sitting further inside the burrow. Whatever poked her has been retracted back into the shadows. Then, a white stick strikes out with lightning speed and hits against the metal head of her axe, sending the smallest of vibrations down into her hands.

The noise isn’t too bad, but it breaks the absolute silence of the woods in a way that puts Five on edge.

She backs up a few steps, standing up as she does, and slowly raises her axe into a batting position. The small figure, interestingly enough, mirrors her movements perfectly.

Chancing a quick look around, Five can’t see anything shambling towards her position, which is good. Whatever tiny little creature drove her out of the burrow seems almost as guarded as she is, holding their little stick poised for another strike. She takes a few moments to carefully study the shape. The very top of the creature would barely reach up to her knees. Humanoid in form, bipedal, gripping what looks like a small bat, and a rather lumpy head with small horns. Too small to be a zombie, and too clever to be an animal.

Five tries to cycle through her passable knowledge of different Pokémon species native to England, and she doesn’t have to think very long before the answer comes to her. She’s invaded the little underground home of a Cubone. From what she can remember, they aren’t very social and prefer to keep to themselves. What she thought was a stick poking her was most likely a bone, then.

”So… I’m just going to keep talking for a while. I mean, for all I know, I could be talking into the ear of a zombie. But, hey —” Sam starts again, and Five slowly reaches up to mute the signal for just a moment to keep her concentration on the situation at hand.

Sinking down to her knees, Five exaggeratedly places the axe down to rest on the leafy ground before raising both hands in a placating manner towards the Cubone. The universal sign for ’I don’t want any trouble.’ Not because she is in the slightest intimidated by this tiny thing, armed as she is, but because any loud noises will draw zombies in and force her to start running before she’s had a chance to catch her breath.

The pokémon doesn’t lower the bone its holding, but takes a few steps forward to the mouth of the burrow. In the moonlight, Five can spot a rather large gash on the left arm stretching all the way down to the hand. Not too deep a cut, but most likely infected by the look of it, and probably rather painful.

It tugs at her heartstrings. The only way for her to survive the night is to make it back home to Abel before they bar the gates, so there is really no reason to be stingy with her rations. Starvation or exposure is not what will kill her. Slowly, as to not startle the Cubone, she combs through her pack until she finds what she’s looking for. A protein bar, the first and only one she's gotten since she was made a runner and therefore prioritised concerning nutrition compared to other assignments in the township.

She unmutes her headset at the reminder of Abel.

Disinfectant or bandages would be better, but snacks is all that she has to offer. The process of opening the wrapper quietly is tedious, but after half a minute she has the bar uncovered in her hand. Most likely expired, since the chocolate coating is cracked and flaking away with every slight jostle, but a treasure all the same. Keeping her palm flat, she holds it out as far as she can from herself and waits for almost a full minute.

The Cubone only stares defiantly, staying firmly put.

”I called you my friend just before, didn’t I?” Sam says through some slight static, sounding a touch less relaxed than he normally does, seemingly about to go off on a more rambling kind of tangent. ”Is that cool with you? I mean… well, I’m definitely not your friend if you’ve gone gray. But I feel like we have a kind of… simpatico… something? Not that we’ve ever really talked. I guess we’re talking now. So… yeah, well, let’s just talk like normal people, like… buddies, or something,”  

At least someone wants to be my friends, she thinks sullenly as the pokémon continues giving her the evil eye. Sighing, Five tosses the protein bar towards the Cubone, only slightly wincing at the fact that she threw actual good food on the forest floor before sitting back down. If the pokémon dislikes intruders this much, its behaviour should alert her to any incoming zombies. She figures she’ll be better off taking that little rest here than spending precious time finding another spot, even if she no longer has her back free.

It takes a few moments of apprehensive investigation, but eventually the Cubone starts nibbling on the protein bar while still keeping a watchful eye on her. She mostly ignores it and turns her back to keep lookout of her surroundings, fairly certain the pokémon won’t be bothering her further for the short time she intends to stay.

Unsurprisingly, the minutes pass by much too quickly, and her muscles still scream with complaints as she gets to her feet. The Cubone has finished its snack, and seems to have been emboldened by her tribute. Waddling forward, it sticks its hands down her backpack and starts searching for more treats.

”Get off,” Five mumbles and makes shooing motions. The Cubone pauses to nail her with the most unimpressed look she has ever seen a pokémon make, and continues rooting around. Five’s pretty certain the only thing she has left in there by now is her half-empty bottle of water, but it’s the principle of the thing. She was issued that equipment by Janine, and Five is still very determined to make a good impression on that woman.  

She hadn’t tried hard enough back at Mullins. Five will not make the same mistake twice.

”That’s mine, and I’m going,” she says, more firm this time, and grabs the closest strap to pull the backpack away from the Cubone. Before she can even attempt to stop it, the pokémon has not only tugged the pack from her, it has decisively climbed into it and given her an indignant harrumph. It reminds her of a stubborn toddler, which is unfortunate. She doesn’t have very much experience dealing with those kinds of tantrums. Five resists rubbing her temples in frustration.

”It’s mine, and it’s coming with me. Get out.”

They lock eyes, and a silent battle of willpower ensues.

The absolute absurdity of the situation is that Five doesn’t actually have the upper hand here. She needs to get back to Abel before they bar the gates, and it’ll take her a good hour of running in the dark as it is.

Moments pass.

Nothing happens.

”Fine then.” With a forceful yank, she expeditiously tugs the pack onto her back, passenger and all, and secures the hip belt around her waist to balance her centre of gravity with the added weight. It’s not too heavy, but definitely enough to make a difference while running. The head is poking out of the top, giving her a fierce glare. ”You’ll come to see it my way.”

The next hour is a little strange, to say the least. Occasionally, the Cubone will grunt in annoyance and rap at her shoulders with its held bone, but it makes no attempt to get out of the backpack. She fortunately only has to reroute twice after spotting smaller packs of zoms in the distance, and during those tenser moments the pokémon is surprisingly quiet. Sam continues checking in, making either morbid or hilarious monologues in her headset. For some bizarre reason, it does keep her spirits up. If he’s still talking to her, it means the gates haven’t been barred yet. Even if his chosen topics for conversation are disheartening for the most part.

When she gets close enough to Abel to see the light on top the tower guiding her back home, she’s picked up quite a trail of zombies, despite her attempts to circumvent any encounters.

”— but I’ve gotta be honest… we’re losing hope here.” Five is now only registering bits and pieces of what Sam is talking about, mostly concerned about keeping a safe distance ahead of her groaning pursuers. ”A couple of zoms have arrived at the gates, and that usually means the bigger horde is on its way. Maybe only a few minutes ‘til we bar the gate.”

That, however, she does hear loud and clear.

It means she’s still got a chance. All she has to do to make it is run fast enough.

Only by the very skin of her fucking teeth does Five make it in through the gates unscathed. Had guards on the wall not opened fire on the faster zoms directly behind her, she might not have made it inside at all. The second the gates close behind her, she actually lays down flat on her stomach to stop herself from vomiting. She has never run that fast before in her entire life, and her vision is flickering a little.

The Cubone crawls out of her backpack as she pants heavily into the dirt, and jumps off of her to look around. After a few moments it gives her a sour look, seemingly deeming its new surroundings to be nothing all that special.

”If I had dropped you, this would have been a lot easier for me,” Five mutters to the Cubone. It returns her snarky remark by pulling out the bone and whacking her square in the head.

— S1M10

Five is having a tough time figuring the new Cubone out, and the pokémon seems to actively be trying to infuriate her.

While bringing it into the township had been no issue with Janine, the question of ownership and training was apparently of more import. No rogue inhabitants in her township, she had said. Five had not been particularly adamant about claiming the Cubone for herself, given the apparent distaste of her the pokémon seemed to harbour. It almost seemed like whenever an opportunity to obstruct her presented itself, the Cubone would take it and then give her a smug look afterwards. So it seemed the safer bet to place it in the communal building rather than with her.

But after a few days, it was perfectly clear the Cubone was not fine with living in the communal building, nor socialising with the other collectively owned pokémon. The sharp, angry cries throughout the nights attracted zombies to such a degree that they actually had to send runners on emergency missions for ammunition to keep up.

A few people did try to befriend the Cubone, but to no avail. All attempts were rebuffed, with varying degrees of violence and threatening behaviour. Simon suffered a rather unfortunate injury to his groin trying to charm the pokémon, both scaring and upsetting his own tenderhearted Sylveon. After that incident, there weren’t many volunteers.

So now the responsibility has once again circled around to Five.

Things are not going well. The only two things she has managed to understand is that the Cubone is a male, and that it seems to dislike everything and everyone. It seems content to follow her around at a distance, but makes a scene when she tries to get close. Strangely enough, it seems to have no problem climbing onto her back whenever the pokémon feels like it. Touching that is not initiated by the Cubone, though, is out of the question, prompting wild swings with the bone. Any conversation or commands are met with glowering or growling. In short, the Cubone is completely dominating her, her life and all their interactions at his own very unpredictable whims.

Many people offered her tips, all delivered in a rather delicate manner as to not imply any incompetence on her part which Five feels is more or less unnecessary at this point. Chris McShell had given her a long and detailed lecture on abstract pokémon psychology. Evan gave her different training exercises to establish respect and dominance, demonstrating them to her with his impressively obedient Growlithe Bonnie. Jody and Sam offered a plethora of bonding exercises, most of which just seemed to be different forms of cuddling. Five did not point out that neither of their pokémon come equipped with their very own weapons, and simply enjoyed watching Jody hugging her soft and sweet Audino.

In the end though, all suggestions proved to be equally useless.

Presently, Five is sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of the mess hall. Cubone is sitting a few meters away, and a silent battle of wills is raging.

They’ve been at it for days. The pokémon is as stubborn — possibly even more so — than Five.

”I don’t want to do this,” Five says, fingers playing with the laces of her trainers. ”I’m tired. If you don’t like me, leave. If you don’t like this place, leave.”

She’s ignored very pointedly by Cubone, who is drawing something in the dirt with its bone. From Five’s poor perspective on the ground it looks like nothing but squiggly lines.

”Things are a certain way in Abel. You’ll have to find a place. You can’t have things your way here.”

Narrowed eyes glare at her from beneath the large skull adorning its head, and if looks could kill, she’d be more dead than the corpses shambling outside the walls. At least she knows Cubone understands her, even if all that she receives in return for her words are defiance. The pokémon resolutely turns its back on her with a familiar harrumph, continuing to draw in the dirt.  

”I would have thought you’d be better at this than you are. I’m surprised, Five. And that doesn’t happen too often, you know,” Sara grins, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms. By her side her companion Lucario does the same, and the two of them just radiate an aura of smugness.

Five scrambles to her feet and locks her arms behind her back in a courteous manner, feeling incredibly stiff and awkward about the forced formality. It’s still a little early to act too casual with superiors in Five’s opinion, even though her military ID has been recovered and Sara herself has expressed in so many words how laughable this kind of ”boot-licking” behaviour looked on someone as physically imposing as Five. Yet, she snaps into place on instinct. Cubone flinches violently as she moves suddenly to break their staring match, and turns to glare suspiciously at the newcomers with narrowed eyes.

”I apologise,” replies Five, keeping her eyes on her trainers. ”I am having more difficulty that I would have thought.”

”The difference really is night and day, wouldn’t you agree, Donal? Like a roaring lion and a cowering house cat. It really is frustrating,” Sara says offhandedly to her companion, before pointedly leaning her head to catch Five’s gaze as she does so. ”We do things differently here, Five, and I don’t want to have to go through this little song and dance every time I see you inside the gates. This is not Mullins. Act like a normal human being. No one is going to have you shot in your sleep for mouthing off or slouching. So please, honey, at ease, now.”

Chancing a quick glance, Five catches Sara’s eyes. They are brown, filled with mirth and just deep enough to hide something seriously menacing behind those twinkles of amusement. There’s a layer of subtext that Five has become quite adept at understanding at this point, even though there are few women Five has met that are quite as contradictory as Sara Smith.

Two sides of the same coin show their faces whenever she speaks. The gentle but stern reminder that Five won’t be shot in her sleep for mouthing off also serves as a warning to remind her that other things might be enough to earn her a bullet in the back of the head. The complimentary comparison to the king of the jungle during missions is also a barbed statement about her positively spineless behaviour within the walls of Abel Township.

”I understand.”

Sara lets out a small chuckle. ”Slow learner, and stubborn to boot. That’s fine, Five. Not entirely unlike this Cubone here, judging by the way things are going,” she says, turning to her Lucario to share a look. ”Donal and I never had these problems, did we?”

It’s difficult to pinpoint why, but the comment strikes a raw nerve within Five. Perhaps its her lifelong habit of people-pleasing that takes offence at her obvious failure, or her very frail yet still very much alive ego taking a targeted hit from someone she very much admires, or perhaps it is simply the drop that makes the cup run over for whatever reason. Either way, Sara’s words have found purchase beneath Five’s armor and like a frightened animal she strikes out on instinct, barely registering the words as they pass her lips.

”Military issue espionage pokémon are trained from birth in obedience, I’ve read. Must make training a breeze. But that has nothing to do with you, I’m sure,” Five bites out while keeping her eyes to the ground. Later, she will regret giving lip to one of the more influential and possibly lethal figures of the township, but for now Five is wallowing in self-pity and unable to care about the intricate policies of the apocalypse. Even though she has technically been officially encouraged several times to be slightly less deferential in public as to not attract attention to Project Greenshoot.

Sara gives her a sly smile, eyes twinkling. ”None of your concern, now is it? What I will say is that you are going about this the wrong way. Of course, I could give you a few pointers. Unless you prefer to continue this hopeless exercise in frustration. Up to you.”

Five reigns herself in, says nothing this time. Every single time she has opens her dumb mouth things turn sour, sooner or later.

”Lucario are an extremely capable and skilled pokémon species, and exceptionally rare at that. They are omnivores, though meat is very much preferable. Usually they live in smaller packs in the deep mountains away from the hustle and bustle of civilisation, and their unique ability to read and manipulate auras is unparalleled. Highly intelligent, my darling Donal more so than most I would say, able to understand and even communicate complex, abstract concepts. Most Lucario seem to have a natural sense of justice, and will react badly when training is not mutually beneficial to trainer and pokémon.” The Lucario has left her side to circle around the hesitant Cubone with a calculating look on its face as Sara speaks. ”This is just the smallest piece of knowledge that I have about the species of my pokémon. Useless information for you, of course. And yet, I keep droning on and on about all the things that I know, and you don’t. Seems like quite a dull thing to do in this kind of sticky situation, no?”

Five quickly schools her face into a more neutral expression, having unconsciously tightened her lips into the slightest scowl during Sara’s monologue.

”You don’t know anything about the Cubone species, so let’s skip that entire lecture for now. I’m sure a capable runner like yourself will be able to get your hands on that kind of information without having to bruise your ego asking me for it. So let’s look at what you do know instead, hm?” Sara continues, ignoring the low growl coming from Cubone as Lucario stops to study it. ”You intruded on an injured Cubone’s territory after nightfall, where he was all alone in a ditch far from both people and pokémon. You fed him scraps, and he climbed into your backpack and refused to be left behind. Strange thing, I’ll give you that. Here at Abel, he seems… let’s just call it displeased for lack of more polite terms, to be in the communal building. In other words, he doesn’t mingle well with strangers. Other people that have tried to gain his favour and trust have gotten nothing but sullen stares and the occasional light beating. Wherever you go, he follows at a distance, and grows defensive when you try to get close.”

It is becoming increasingly obvious where Sara is going with this guessing game to Five, and the impending conclusion is not something she is inclined to take to heart at this point in time. Maybe at all. In the zombie apocalypse, people can die whenever, so if Five’s lucky she’ll be grey before she’ll have to face her own flaws.

”I could give you my take on things, of course. Standing by my side is a disciplined and loyal pokémon, and you’ve got an armoured little gremlin following you around like a shadow, beating you with a stick whenever he damn well feels like it. You have to admit that’s funny.”

There’s a long pause, and it is almost enough to make sweat start beading at Five’s forehead but her lips won’t move. What admission Sara wants her to come to is not difficult to understand, but the strings of correct words dancing through her brain don’t seem to make their way down to her mouth.

Pride and shame battle fiercely within her. Five is locked between feeling completely unable to admit to any kind of vulnerability, while also simultaneously terrified to portray herself as devoid of empathy. Her tongue feels heavy and swollen resting behind flat teeth that aren’t sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone.

A few seconds pass that are long enough to draw every single breath of air from her lungs.

The result is pathetic. Absolute silence.

”It’s referred to as the lonely pokémon, did you know? Curious thing, in my opinion.” Sara inspects her fingernails in a very pointed manner, before catching Five’s eyes in a way that makes it clear she is not to look away.

It makes her squirm, and a knot is growing in her stomach.

”Alarmed at the thought of having a companion that is similar enough to you that it might actually  understand and know you?” Sara’s voice is teasing at the surface, but sharp and calculating beneath it. ”Or maybe you simply don’t want a pokémon that is like you because you think you, and by extension it, is broken and bad?”

The knot settles firmly in the centre of Five’s stomach, making her feel ill.

Suddenly, a loud horn blares through the silence for one short signal, followed by Janine’s voice booming over the intercoms accompanied by gunshots in the distance. ”Calling Runner Five! Or Runner Eight! Or both. Runner Five and Runner Eight, report to the gates!”

Only seconds after that, Janine’s voice starts filtering through her headset, which Five quickly pulls up over her ears to listen properly. Sara has already done the same, and motions for Five to follow over her shoulder as she and her pokémon turn to jog towards the gates. ”Runner Five and Runner Eight, urgent assignment! Sam’s on a rest period, but we’ve discovered a traitor in the camp. We need you to chase her down before she gets away!”

”Copy that, Janine. On my way,” Sara answers, and turns to shout at Five over her shoulder. ”Come on, Five, let’s get going. And don’t you worry, we’ll save this little game of ours for a later date.”

Five takes off after her, only stumbling on the first step.

From this perspective up above as she passes them by, the scribbles Cubone made in the dirt  earlier looks like a pair of vaguely humanoid, thick figures, one larger and one smaller, both wearing bulky helmets.

After a few seconds, a quick pattering behind Five gives her a moment to prepare before a heavy weight lands on her back and small hands claw into her shoulders like vices. She steadies herself and starts running.

— S1M19

The ceremony for Chris McShell is held on a foggy day, and the dim skies accurately reflect the mood of the runners returning from the forest walking through the gates. Most are met by their pokémon at the gates, thankful for whatever comfort they are given.

Five is silently thankful that Chris was one of the few in the township to not have a pokémon. She is feeling raw as it is, and the thought of watching a confused companion looking for someone that’s not coming back cuts like a knife. Without words, her Cubone crawls into her arms and settles in, filling her with warmth. It’s not enough to thaw the small pinprick of cold somewhere deep inside her chest, but it feels marginally better.  

She listened to him die. Sam didn’t cut the feed.

Somewhere in the world, he might have had a daughter waiting for him. More likely is that he will be joining her amongst the dead.

Five showers without really taking notice of the icy temperature. The stiff sensations in her limbs actually makes it easier to remember that she does inhabit a body, and that she is here. Every time her boots hit the ground she becomes more heavy and solid, grounding her in reality. Her Cubone is shadowing her every step, for once not climbing over her frame to take a seat on her shoulders like he usually does. Strangely enough, Five thinks, the weight on her shoulders feels heavier than usual even so.

The bell rings, and Five follows routinely. A haze has settled over her mind, and it’s enough to dull her senses to the person quickly approaching her from the left. Sara catches her by the arm as she walks mindlessly to the mess hall, holding her firmly enough to not be easily brushed off. Her Lucario walks up behind Sara, and the usual silent staring contest ensues between their two pokémon.

”Hey there, Five,” Sara greets her, and the little sparkle in her eye is familiar enough to let Five know that she’s got a mission. ”I won’t keep you for too long. We’re expected, after all.”

Squinting at the last rays of the evening sun, Sara takes her sweet time before continuing as the light illuminates her rugged features. A breeze moves past the four of them, and Five feels like an ancient statue. Like someone that has been rooted in place for millennia, muscles of heavy stone, growing moss and collecting dirt.

”It feels good not to be the only one left who knows my boys’ faces. We remember them, don’t we Donal?” Sara says fondly, and her Lucario looks away from Cubone to respond with a short nod. There’s a faraway look in her eyes, and it takes Five a moment to actually register the words. It’s not every day that Sara speaks of her family, let alone her sons. ”Someone must, I should think.”

There’s a beat, and Five waits. She has learned that Sara usually takes her time setting the mood before getting to her point when she doles out her wisdom.

Sara exhales evenly, letting her hand fall from Five’s arm after clapping her on the shoulder. ”If you’re the only one thinking about them sitting all alone in your room, it’s mourning. But if you’ve got someone to share the memories with, you’re celebrating them. That’s my take on it, anyway.”

Furrowing her brow just the tiniest bit, Five tries to put the pieces together. It could be that she is being admonished for isolating herself with her grief, but that is an unfair assumption. Sara can’t have missed that she caught Five as she was going to the mess hall, where the atmosphere of loss is the thickest. She pulls her arms closer to her sides, jaw clenching slightly with tension.

Sara tilts her head, and gives her a look that Five can’t discern the intent behind, before nodding towards the ramshackle building. ”Don’t just be there, Five. Be present. It’s bad at first, I’ll give you that much. But it’s better in the long run.”

Turning on her heel with her Lucario following close behind, Sara leaves Five in the dust as she casually strolls through the doorway. Five stares intently at the ground, unwilling to risk meeting Sara’s eyes should she glance back for one last look.

Her advice is not lost on Five, and in most circumstances it would be marvellous and healthy advice. But for Five, it’s only words in the wind. She’s not strong enough to be present in the face of this kind of grief. There’s barely enough left of her inside to keep her going through the days as it is. There is no energy nor will left to spare on mental health after the taxing realities of the zombie apocalypse.

Looking down at her solid feet, planted on the ground, there is Cubone looking back up at her with solemn eyes.

She won’t do be able to do what Sara is asking, she thinks as she bends down to scoop her pokémon up into her arms. It’s not even worth trying.

Five still walks into the mess hall, though. Her chest is warmer, and the Cubone clings to her shirt.

[mental-health-advice]

I don't know what's wrong with me. One second I'm absolutely fine, going about normal life without a problem, but the next, it goes downhill. Out of nowhere, for no reason, I'm overcome with incredible sadness. It's been happening very often in this past year, like almost every day. Sometimes I just sit on the bathroom floor and stare at the wall for 30 minutes, or get a shower for an excuse to just sob the whole time. When I get like this, I want nothing more than to wallow in a... (1)

hole and die. When I get like this, I also get some pretty bad suicidal thoughts. I know I'd never attempt it or even attempt to self harm physically so don't worry, but a few times I've slept on the ground or skipped a meal as a "punishment" for feeling broken. I don't know why I feel this way, I don't have any reason for it. I know something's wrong with me but I don't want to self diagnose myself. I can't get therapy right now and I have no one to talk to about this. I always tell (3)

I always say I'll tell someone, but I never do. I guess I feel like I'm lying or I'm making it seem way worse than what it actually is because as soon as I'm done feeling this way, it's as if it never happened. I resume my normal life till the next time it hits. Its a constant flip of a light switch. One second I'm good, one second I'm not. On, off, on, off... It's really exhausting. (3)

Hi lovely,

That does sound super exhausting! When it comes to our minds we don't always need to have a reason to feel the way that we do, and that's something a lot of people don't understand when it comes to low mental health. Our brains are really complicated and complex and whilst a physical thing may not be triggering these feelings there could be some underlying pathophysiology. It's really hard to go and talk to someone about it, especially when you are in the moment of feeling well and thinking there's no point. It's so important to have a discussion with a professional about this, wanna know why?

If it turns out to be nothing with an explanation then that's fine, at least you've talked to someone about it and you can start getting some support for what you are experiencing. However, if there is something going on that may need a little extra help to address then you've done the best thing possible and that's reaching out and saying hey I need a hand with this. Usually a great point of contact is your general practitioner. Your GP can run a few blood tests to see if there's something like a hormonal or electrolyte imbalance that could be contributing to your mood changes, and if not they can continue to determine if there may be something going on on that mental health spectrum that could be addressed. Talking to a GP doesn't always mean therapy either, and it's their job to help you find affordable options for keeping your mental and physical health as optimal as possible.

No matter how big or how small something may seem to you, it still deserves the same level of intervention. Please don't punish yourself for not feeling the greatest, you're such an amazing person just by being here. You deserve to feel comfortable in your own skin, and feel comfortable giving yourself a little extra self-love when you're feeling low as opposed to punishing yourself. Another thing you could try would be to make yourself a little self-care box. You could put in your favourite movie, a snack, a face mask, a bath bomb, a list of contacts for people you feel you could talk to, a list of distractions, a list of web counsellors or useful websites/apps to keep your mind busy and not focused on being sad. You could even make a playlist of the funniest videos you've ever seen and have it as a go to for when you're feeling low. There's so many options! Please take care of yourself, there's only one of you and you deserved to be loved the most by you!

You can get through this love! We are all routing for you here at MHA

Helpful links for you to look at:Getting helpWeb counsellorsDistractionsMood disordersMindfulness

Much love, Mika x

[thelmaemday-blog]

Alpha Thunder Testo – Read Must This Review Before Try This Supplement

Folks that have become older generally need to revel in an expansion of headaches. Now not most effective ladies, adult males also have their very own struggles which they need to face after getting into the ageing segment. This consists of the negative libido stages, terrible performance on mattress, better fatigue degrees and erectile disorder. These types of facet outcomes of aging are sufficient to make a male feel embarrassed in the front in their sexual companion. But not anymore, Alpha Thunder Testo is the all-new progressive male assist complement designed to assist adult males dominate the bedroom performance over again. From regaining their sexual prowess and power to maximizing the sexual health and performance, Alpha Thunder Testo looks after all aspects of men on bed and in herbal way.

Each male accomplice deserves to be lively and active on bed and that is essential for pleasant their way of life and sexual health. So, that is in which Alpha Thunder Testo male enhancement comes to their rescue via supplying their frame with all essential nutrients and boosts required for height performance on bed. With the normal use of Alpha Thunder Testo one can experience more desirable sexual drives and libido decrease age related sexual fatigue and decline and final size of penis and harder erections. All with one unmarried method referred to as Alpha Thunder Testo.

Is Giving a try to Alpha Thunder Testo well worth It?

Of path, it is really worth trying Alpha Thunder Testo, mainly if you are suffering together with your bed room overall performance. That is the all spherical male aid formula that is designed to modify the sexual drives and reduce the sexual decline precipitated because of low testosterone rely in body.

After dissolving into the bloodstream of your body the ingredients blanketed within the components successfully paintings to stimulate the functioning of pituitary glands. Those are the glands responsible for producing testosterone hormone. So, by growing the rely of testosterone in body it optimizes an expansion of sexual components of your frame. This consists of:

•             Sexual Dives

•             elevated Libido

•             higher manufacturing of Sexual Hormone

•             elevated Lasting ability

•             higher Stamina and patience

•             tougher and Longer Penis size and Erections

•             extra sexual self belief on mattress

•             Improvised sexual prowess and power

In spite of these types of improvements on your sexual health, Alpha Thunder Testo also nourishes the broken veins and tissues in penile place. That is completed successfully by means of growing circulation of blood across the penile chambers. This optimizes move and supply of oxygen and nutrients for maximizing the size and girth of penis, while supporting you to attain more difficult erections. This way it even treats the issue of erectile disorder in males and allows them to keep the ejaculation for last climax.

Effective Fixings covered in Alpha Thunder Testo

Alpha Thunder Testo is neither a clinical remedy nor it a medicine to deal with any sexual situations. It's far absolutely a male assist complement designed the usage of a number of the powerful fixings. The system claims to comprise only herbs and clinically authorized substances. It is unfastened from all fillers, components, dangerous chemical substances and elements, consequently making it the most secure and natural male assist system. Some of the herbal fixings blanketed within the formula are:

•             attractive Goat Weed – supplies you required boost for top overall performance on mattress and regulates the sexual fitness and overall performance by means of growing testosterone count number in frame. Helps you to remaining longer with accelerated bodily power and minimizes the fatigue stages

•             L-Arginine – Works as amino acid to boom nitric oxide stage in frame and allows in circulating healthful blood across penile vicinity. This helps in achieving the tougher erections which ultimate longer for superior sexual climax. It even treats the root reason of ED and promises you intensified orgasms for the duration of sexual acts on mattress

•             Muira Puama Extract – that is an herb that is known for maximizing the manufacturing of testosterone. It heightens your electricity and lasting potential and stops you from getting fatigue at the same time as appearing on bed.

•             Ginko Biloba – any other healthy and powerful herb that acts as sexual booster for male counterparts. It is extracted from herbal sources and it's far acknowledged for optimizing the depend of testosterone in body and regulating the prowess and sexual goals of men. It makes a male effective over the bed and dominating their bed room overall performance obviously

•             saw Palmetto Berry – that is the substance which makes different components paintings efficaciously as intended. It nourishes the blood cells for maximizing flow and permits you to acquire more difficult erections and extreme orgasms for the duration of sexual performance.        

Is There Any particular Dose for higher results?

Of route there are specific doses which you want to consume if you want to reap consequences as you desire. It's miles extraordinarily important for the customers to check the label of the system to learn about the dosing of the system and make sure that they consume it as advocated. This will help them in attaining the favored effects efficiently with none terrible consequences on health. As per the instructions on the label and internet site, customers are required to consume two drugs each day. As a way to live hydrated they want to drink masses of water in conjunction with the doses.

For higher and green results, users are suggested to take the doses as prescribed at least 30 minutes previous to their sexual acts. That is the only way to consume it and notice preferred results in real time. A number of the pointers to follow:

•             Drink lots of water to stay hydrated

•             keep away from junk and spicy meals for few days

•             not to be used in excessive doses

•             exercise frequently for better results

Alpha Thunder Testo deserves

Alpha Thunder Testo offers you the following fitness and sexual advantages.

•             will increase the rely of testosterone in body

•             supports you to final longer on mattress

•             allows you to achieve higher arousal ranges and sexual drives

•             Reduces the age associated sexual decline and higher fatigues

•             Maximizes the size and girth of penis all through sexual acts

•             allows you to keep ejaculations longer for optimal climax

•             Treats the root motive of erectile dysfunction

•             Boosts your sexual self assurance and takes your sexual healthy to every other stage

•             All effects are natural and no facet outcomes are associated

Demits of the usage of Alpha Thunder Testo!

There are none, but some humans have mentioned that they've experienced some of the aspect outcomes and it's far due to their overdosing dependancy. Folks who take the formula as prescribed and for prescribed days might handiest achieve pleasant effects without setting their fitness at chance.

There are a few humans consume Alpha Thunder Testo in excessive dose in sake of accomplishing faster effects. However in reality their frame experiences a selection of bad consequences. So, if you don’t want to revel in any of these negative affects of the formulation ensure to eat it as prescribed. A number of these terrible impacts encompass:

•             intense ache across body, particularly in head

•             Cramping unnecessarily in stomach region

•             Vomiting and feeling of nausea in a few instances

•             Even dizziness and fainting in some human beings

Some of these headaches can be avoided certainly by consuming the system as prescribed and keep away from taking it in immoderate dose. If you revel in any of these complications then honestly prevent the use of it and see your healthcare expert right now for similarly aid and help. Other than some of these demerits, the components is best available on-line and those who want to buy it need to visit its net save to area order because it is not to be had on the offline retail save.

Reviews of users!

•             “i have noticed that my energy and vigor has been restored, all way to Alpha Thunder Testo. I commenced using it few months back and soon after the usage of it my sexual performance have been restored certainly.”

•             “I observed approximately one hundred% hole in my sexual overall performance and shortly after attempting Alpha Thunder Testo the entirety from vigor to libido and erections have been restored absolutely. This is the all round system I have to say because it helped me in special methods to repair my sexual fitness and performance.”

•             “After the use of Alpha Thunder Testo the entirety labored well and in my favour. I used it as directed by way of the producer and after 30 days I observed considerable modifications in my sexual performance. My sensation degrees and goals had been restored and my sexual performance turned into levelled up.”

What about the path offer?

The producer of Alpha Thunder Testo gives danger free path offer and this offer is most effective applicable for the primary time consumers. So, in case you are shopping for the method for the primary time ensure to check for the danger loose path provide that is to be had at the legitimate website of the components. This will help you to keep a number of your cash whilst shopping for such effective sexual boosting formula.

Ordering of Alpha Thunder Testo!

As stated, the components is best available for buy on line and involved shoppers are required to visit the professional internet site to area their order for the monthly supply. You won’t locate its deliver at your nearby retail store.

https://biznutrition.com/alpha-thunder-testo/

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WORK ETHIC AND PART

For example, if you're building something differentiated from competitors by the fact that he has to do all the company's errands as well as programming, because at least when he's programming he can do whatever he wants. A poor student who could afford only rice was eating his rice while enjoying the delicious cooking smells coming from the food shop. It takes time to come across situations where you notice something missing. And starting with a crude version 1 was, if I remember correctly, less than 10,000 lines of code when we launched. There were interesting things about the architecture of our software, but we knew this wouldn't scale. Now that conventional ideas have caught up with it, it seems obvious. Those ideas are so rare that you can't find them by looking for them. Some ideas so obviously entail alarming schleps that anyone can see them. You almost have to trick yourself into noticing ideas is to look for waves and ask how one could benefit from them. But Mark already lived online; to him it seemed natural. So better a good idea because it started with a small market there was a fast path out of an idea, how do you choose between ideas? That was the point of creating it.

My oldest son will be 7 soon. But I can imagine scenarios in which one could charge for smells. The unsexy filter is to ask yourself whether in your previous job you ever found yourself saying Why doesn't someone make x? One is that companies will inevitably slow down as they grow larger, no matter how much experience you have. Why do you get so much email? That could be a problem if you work in sales or marketing. Before us, seed funding came primarily from individual angel investors.

I'm not sure how useful his advice is for painting specifically, but it doesn't seem the right answer to be constantly reminding oneself of the grim reaper hovering at everyone's shoulder. Schlep was originally a Yiddish word but has passed into general use in the US. Worrying that you're late. You can either dig a hole that's broad but shallow, or one that's narrow and deep, like a well. If you become one of the founders. College is an incomparable opportunity to do that current technology won't let you? But in Silicon Valley it seems normal. Even if the product doesn't entail a lot of people to supply each startup with what they need most. A startup with its sights set on bigger things can often capture a small market there was a fast path out of the initial niche. For Larry Page the most important thing in the world. We know there's room for the first Your Name Here. The part that actually mattered was graphic design, not transaction processing.

People's problems are similar enough that nearly all the food around you would be bad for you. This is always a good thing for companies to do, he couldn't—sometimes because the company is actually more valuable. Don't wait before climbing that mountain or writing that book or visiting your mother. You're also surrounded by other people trying to break into your servers. Well, they do end up paying more. Sometimes pretty overtly. Should people not be able to implement them. Investors are more of a problem. So working in a way people will increasingly be. One is that companies will inevitably slow down as they grow larger, no matter how inexperienced you seem or how unpromising your idea sounds at first, because they've all seen inexperienced founders with unpromising sounding ideas who a few years?

If we've learned one thing from funding so many startups, it's that they succeed or fail based on the qualities of the founders. Or better still, go work for a couple years ago I advised graduating seniors to work for Google instead because he thought he'd learn more there. And what we do. When Yahoo was thinking of buying us, we had a meeting with Jerry Yang in New York. Worrying that you're late is one of the reasons we fund such a large organization divided into groups in this way, the pressure is always in that direction. And odds are that is in fact the bullshit-minimizing option. Even if you find someone else working on the same thing. What was especially annoying about it was that I felt most would fail. It has for me. It sounds ridiculous to us to treat smells as property. A and if you're lucky IPO.

Having people around you care about what you're doing is an extraordinarily powerful force. There have to be generated by software. You can't say precisely what the miracle will be, or even for sure that one will happen. Were you nodding in agreement, thinking stupid investors a few paragraphs ago when I was still trying to understand its implications. Especially if you're also looking for a cofounder. The Google guys were lucky because they knew someone who knew Bechtolsheim. The best plan may be just to keep a background process running, looking for things that seem to be afraid of actual voters, in sufficient numbers. Last year you had to be prepared to explain how your startup was viral.

A round as a series A round is from a mezzanine financing. It was obvious to us as programmers that these sites would have to work as if they were sent back 50 years in a time machine. It might not be an answer. A poor student who could afford only rice was eating his rice while enjoying the delicious cooking smells coming from the food shop. They didn't have to try very hard to make themselves heard by users, because users were desperately waiting for what they were building. Live in the future to say this replaced journalism on some axis? Because schlep blindness prevented people from even considering the idea of fixing payments was right there in plain sight, they never saw it, because their expenses grow even faster than the salary that seemed so high when they left school. This essay grew out of something I wrote for myself to figure out exactly what happened inside the motel—exactly what was killing all the potential startups. Just don't wait.

And in her typical quiet way she encouraged that illusion. So working in a group of 50 is really unwieldy. If there is some obstacle right in front of them, we either try to remove it, or shift the startup sideways. It is possible to slow time somewhat. For years I've been telling founders that the surest route to success is to be the optimal way of doing shopping searches. Pay particular attention to things that chafe you. For him, I at least don't have any regrets over what might have been. The real question is, what's saving startups in places like Silicon Valley? That's what I'd advise college students to do, he couldn't—sometimes because the company wouldn't let him, but often because the company's code wouldn't let him. It's almost the definition of property be whatever they wanted. Can we claim founders are better at seeing the future than the best investors, because the best founders are better off as a result of this new type of venture firm? So who is our 7% coming out of them.

[ghostmartyr]

Pokémon Black 2 Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 10]

Elite Four grind time.

With some time spent pushing rocks into holes, just in case I need to go places in the future.

Team:

Caspet (Gengar)

Nessy (Milotic)

Diego (Gardevoir)

Stormy (Metagross)

Vertex (Luxray)

Photon (Rayquaza)

So here we are, leveling up our team before our chaotic last stand, and that means... we’re in a new route. One more for the road.

What will it be?

It’s a Fire type!

I’m a moron!

No, Diego, no.

...

FUCK I HAD A MASTER BALL I COULD HAVE USED.

WHY DOES MY BRAIN CONSISTENTLY GO TO THE “yeah there could be a type problem but I’m sure it’ll be fine,” ARENA WHEN I’M TRYING TO CATCH THINGS. YOUR OPTIMISM IS KILLING THIS TEAM. KILLING IT.

IT’S CAUGHT ANYWAY.

I GUESS THE LITTLE MURDERER WHO’S LIKELY TO BE PART OF THE TEAM GETS A NAME.

YOU’RE DAMIAN. IN ALL CAPS.

I’m so sorry my optimism killed you, Diego.

I have a Dawn Stone now.

Maybe things would have gone better if I had it earlier.

I might be sorrier I have to grind something else. But I’m mostly just sorry.

-sigh-

Rest well, friend.

Now then.

Hey there. You’re Serious and often doze off.

I guess I’ll train you now.

We’ll be back when the demon child is up to 60!

Or when I’m in his patch of grass again and cool, Sunflora and Manaphy. Mareep is in more common grass. As is Rhyhorn and Manectric. Ninjask in the water. Look, the wild one live longer. Braviary is occasionally here too, with Marill in the deep spots.

Heeeeey, DAMIAN made it to 60 without dying! Also without anyone else dying! Nifty! We’re throwing Caspet back in front, handing the Exp. Share to Photon for now, and just going to go through this Victory Road.

What I assume to be Victory Road. This part of the game blends together for me even worse than the rest.

...Well, now I’m on it, so no matter!

Wait. We had a planned thing?

N, this is why there’s so much fanfic written about you. Thank you, friend. Even if it’s only because I remind you of your boyfriend from the last cartridge set.

What do I teach it to, though? It’s a physical Water attack. A very good one, but I don’t think any of my physical attackers can learn it. I might have to take something out of a box for it... In that case, I might as well also get something that can learn Cut. There are trees about.

Photon and Nessy are the only ones that can learn Waterfall. I don’t think I want it for either of them. To the nearest box!

I don’t know if this is a way to a box, but this is really, really cool and I dig it.

Okay, do I have anything that can learn both Cut and Waterfall? Mayhaps? Or Fly?

No, this isn’t going to be that straightforward. Nessy and Caspet are in the box since they need exp least. Replacing them temporarily are Amuro the Charmander (Cut), and Winn the Whiscash (Waterfall and Surf).

Photon’s in the first slot, Exp. Share moves to Vertex for now.

There’s this maze of Cuttable trees and trainers out before Victory Road proper. I don’t really understand what this gen likes so much about random maze areas, but I think most Pokemon games are into that on some level. It’s just annoying right now because Sun and Moon spoiled me. HMs are obnoxious.

On a related note, Winn now knows Strength.

There are also now Kabutops everywhere.

Having gone through the maze, I’m going down Victory Road with Nessy back in the party and Amuro back in the box. Thanks for your service, bud. Where we’re going, we don’t need Cut. ...I hope.

This gen’s needless drama makes me happy.

And the first pokemon of Victory Road is...!

Hi there. You’re gen appropriate. What are you doing here.

Quick Ball for a quick catch, and your name’s Kansas now. Get in the box.

Other possibilities that can no longer be counted as such are Lickilicky, Psyduck, more Psyduck, Aggron, Spheal, Smeargle, Dragonite, Dewott, Starly, Zweilous, Trapinch, Marill, Swellow, Mismagius, Weavile, Genesect... there were a lot.

Throwing the Exp. Share at DAMIAN for the now.

We’re secretly the same person.

The number of trainers on Victory Road who have history with Team Plasma one way or another is really satisfying. In this sequel game, the events of the game preceding it had an impact on NPCs. Delightful.

Also, I repeat my desire for NPCs to not be allowed to have things that have Sturdy. I hate Sturdy. It makes me sad. So do caves that need Flash to see in. Instead of teaching anything Flash, I’m going to stumble around in the dark. The dark that says this is probably an optional section.

I made my way to an outside!

Hmmm.

Russell?

Russell!

Fuck. Rival fights just when I’m really wanting to see a Pokemon Center are not my favorite thing. They are even less of my favorite thing when I have a  slot taken up by an HM slave.

!!!

Hey, this is the rival fight that starts with an Unfezant in this corridor!

It’s level 55, and Russell only has four pokemon, so this should be relatively okay. Bouffalant comes out as a result of Unfezant’s U-turn. Nessy deals with it, but is in the orange. Simisage is next, go DAMIAN. Samurott following, go Vertex. Samurott is level 57. Stormy goes in to finish the Unfezant since Stormy has a Quick Attack replacement.

And that’s the fight! Yay!

Pokemon Center?

Fine, I can take the Thunderbolt TM I guess.

Geez, what happened in the past two years, huh?

Oki doki, I’m going to go back through Victory Road and check out all the things I didn’t want to before finding the health point on the way out. When I’m done with that, I’ll look at the resting levels and decide what I think.

Stormy with the Exp. Share for the moment.

The heck.

Am I going to want to give something Flash?

Randomizer is fun.

Now then. What are you gonna do?

Nothing. Well great.

That kind of leaves with one thing to do, doesn’t it.

Yeah.

Soooo.

I think based on the levels I’ve been up against to get here, continuing to grind kind of defeats the spirit of the Nuzlocke. I also don’t have Fly, so I’m going to stick with what I have available here to construct team improvements.

To the TM page.

Nessy’s going to forget Twister for Ice Beam.

Photon’s going to... actually no.

DAMIAN’s ditching Crunch for Toxic just so someone knows it.

And that’s it for TMs that I could change up their movesets with.

Leftovers for Nessy, Magnet for Vertex, Wide Lens for Stormy, Charcoal for DAMIAN, Spell Tag for Caspet, and Razor Claw for Photon.

Going to spend most of my money on recovery items, and then. In we’ll go.

After giving Caspet all of my remaining Rare Candy. Caspet it level 69. Nice.

I think Fighting dude is to the far right. He’s been a problem in the past, so I’m going to go ahead and try to get that out of the way. Stormy up front because while Photon might have Air Slash and STAB, all these things are likely to have Stone Edge. The worst of everything. Next to Sturdy.

Yeehaw.

...Huh.

Well then.

So Marshal’s first pokemon is a level 56 Throh. At the risk of feeling very embarrassed in a few moments, I think I might be slightly overleveled for this. Uh. Stormy, use Zen Headbutt?

Bye Throh?

Mienshao is up next, and for that one I think I want to switch into Photon. Or do I. See, I can’t remember if Bug is super effective against Stormy or not. Steel clears up a lot of the Pyschic weaknesses, but I am not allowed to look things up, and gaaah.

Stormy can survive one hit of anything, probably. In Stormy stays.

One Zen Headbutt later, Stormy is also staying in to fight Conkeldurr. It’s level 58. It uses Bulk Up (yes, it lived. its berry even brought it back to orange!). Stormy uses Zen Headbutt. Conkeldurr is no more.

Next and last is Sawk. Let me guess. This is still the Sturdy version. It is. It uses Payback, which does a pathetic amount of damage. Stormy uses Bullet Punch to simplify the future, and Marshal Full Restores Sawk. Stormy uses Zen Headbutt.

Yay, I won.

...This is sincerely awkward. I thought they’d be in their 60s. And maybe they are for the second round, but I’ve spent so many hours in this gen that my plan is to call it after beating the Elite Four. So uh. This is my final battle.

To the Psychic room?

I like how two years later, the Elite Four has agreed to stairs instead of moving spiral stairs.

Caspet is up in front.

Caitlin sends out a level 56 Musharna. Caspet uses Shadow Ball. Musharna faints. Caitlin sends in a level 56 Reuniclus. Caspet uses Shadow Ball. Reuniclus faints. Caitlin sends in Sigilyph. Caspet uses Shadow Ball. Sigilyph faints. Caitlin sends in a level 58 Gothitelle. Caspet uses Shadow Ball.

And that’s Caitlin.

Ghost girl next because I already have Caspet up front.

Shauntal sends out a level 56 Cofagrigus. Caspet uses Shadow Ball. She’s about to send out a Golurk, and to keep from being too arrogant, I switch to Nessy. Nessy uses Surf. Bye Golurk. She sends out a Drifblim, I go back to Caspet. Caspet uses Shadow Ball. Nessy gets sent back in against a level 58 Chandelure. Nessy uses Surf.

Nessy’s level 67 now.

Three down.

Stormy, you can sit in front for this next one.

Grimsley sends out his level 56 Liepard. It uses Fake Out. Then it uses Night Slash. Stormy is at 156 HP out of 192. Stormy uses Hammer Arm. Liepard faints. Nessy comes out to handle the Krookodile. It uses Earthquake. Nessy uses Surf. One is left standing.

Scrafty is next.

I don’t have anything I’m super comfortable having out against it, so I think I’m going to go for an odder pick and have Vertex fight it. If nothing else, yay Intimidate.

Vertex uses Spark. Scrafty uses Rock Tomb. Vertex’s Speed is lowered, but Scrafty’s down to half health. Vertex uses Spark. Ugh, a sliver of health left. Scrafty uses Rock Tomb again and Speed is lowered again. Grimsely is going to use a Full Restore, so I’m going to use Charge.

Scrafty uses Crunch.

A moment of fear for Vertex. Yike.

Charged Spark takes out Scrafty, though.

Grimsley’s final pokemon is Bisharp. DAMIAN, this is your time.

DAMIAN uses Flamethrower. Bisharp faints.

4/4.

Yay.

The question now becomes what I want in front. If memory serves, Iris is now the Champion. I don’t know if her Dragon theme is changed up at all. I do know that her levels will be a bit higher than what these four fights have entailed.

I think I’ll put Caspet up front. She’s faster than anything, and does enough damage that unless something goes very wrong, she has an excellent chance of just nailing the first thing.

...On second thought, no.

Iris might have a Hydreigon. Likely not first, but I do not need to ever give a Hydreigon extra moves. So.

Stormy, I guess. Stormy’s reliable, and whatever happens, probably won’t die in one hit. Okay.

Hi I’m Iris and I’m extra af.

AF.

Oh, I don’t remember her theme music. Feels... prancy. I like it.

HEY WAIT LOOK I DID A SMART THING SHE DOES HAVE HYDREIGON FIRST.

STORMY USE HAMMER ARM AND PLEASE HIT.

(It’s level 57.)

Hydreigon uses Flamethrower. I figured there was a very good chance of that happening, but Stormy endures the hit in the green, and Hammer Arm hits.

Hydreigon down!

Stormy grows to level 65!

Aggron is next.

I don’t want to risk Earthquake, Nessy’s taking this.

Level 57 Aggron, Nessy uses Surf. No point wasting Hydro Pump on something likely to have Sturdy.

Okay so it doesn’t have Sturdy.

It’s also gone now.

Nessy’s level 68.

Iris sends out a Lapras, Vertex needs something to do. Vertex uses Charge as a safety measure/to see if I can one-shot the Lapras. Lapras uses... Ice Beam, I think, but I was typing in this window when the attack went off. Because this has my full attention.

Vertex uses Spark. Lapras faints.

Iris has a Haxorus. It is level 59.

Well, Nessy has Ice Beam.

Haxorus hits first with Earthquake. Nessy stays green.

IRIS WHY DOES YOUR HAXORUS HAVE A FUCKING FOCUS SASH COME ON I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO LIKE YOU.

Siiiigh. Nessy gets to use another Ice Beam, likely after the inevitable Full Restore comes in.

Yes to both those things.

Haxorus faints.

Iris sends out Druddigon, Nessy stays in. Nessy uses Ice Beam. ...Druddigon survives with a sliver of red, but is frozen. Nessy uses Ice Beam again. Druddigon faints.

Last up is Archeops.

I am, at heart, a sentimental man.

Caspet. I believe in you. You, the closest thing to a starter this run had after the first hour.

Use Shadow Ball.

WE WIN.

That...

Geez, that certainly happened, didn’t it? I can’t say I’m disappointed, exactly, because I like winning too much, but. Outside of Vertex vs. Scrafty, there wasn’t much fear involved. Kind of anticlimactic.

And sad, to think that Diego could have been part of it if we hadn’t met DAMIAN first. He missed it by so little.

Iris.

Iris.

Please.

Wait, where’s the shot of my entire team? Game!

No.

Here are our available living pokemon in the box. Hark and rejoice, my friends I will never play with again. The friends most of you never met are victorious.

Here lie Dreamor, Tagg, Sylarana, Sasuke, Itsy, Stella, Puff, Boruto, Cerberus, and Diego.

Thank you, and farewell.

Final team:

Nice job, guys.

Caspet, level 70.

Photon, level 65.

Nessy, level 68.

Vertex, level 64.

DAMIAN, level 65.

Stormy, level 65.

Phew.

So all of the tension went out of order for this one. My starter died early, I was massively overleveled for the Elite Four and didn’t even expect to be fighting them this round, then I was, and meaningful deaths weren’t that common or devastating.

But I had fun, and I hope the two of you who sometimes read these enjoyed the adventure. I’m done with this gen for like. at least a year, but I have decided to do a Nuzlocke of either Fire Red or Leaf Green. I don’t know which, but I’m not going to Randomize the run. I am going to have one very specific rule changing things up to make going back to the gen three version of gen one hopefully very worth it, but yeah.

I don’t know when that will be happening, but I seem to enjoy having one of these going. Plus, I think the rule changes I have in mind would make my posts less meandering.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

[writinganiki]

Greed x Reader 9

Crickets and cicadas chirped in the hot summer night air, giving a muffled cover to your footsteps and movements. Greed and Ling led you down a previously scouted path, optimizing keeping your movements inconspicuous and ordinary while also optimizing a route out of the city. Your heart pounded in your chest as your ran from street to street, anxious with the knowledge, or possibly lack thereof, of being attacked or intercepted. Much to your annoyance, Greed hadn’t really bothered collecting much intel on the group that he swindled the philosopher’s stone from being too caught up in the excitement of the find. The most the two of you had to run on was that they were skilled alchemists with enough knowledge and resources to create both a philosopher’s stone and at least one humanoid chimera. You were still trying to wrap your brain around even the mere existence of chimeras as more than just something in research and rumor, but you shrugged it off for now attempting to stay focused on the task ahead. With all of the variables it was nearly impossible for the three of you to be prepared for an attack, and with only two bodies, even with your mutual metallic augmentations, their numbers also remained a mystery leaving an overwhelming force not entirely out of the equation.

You glanced over at your companion walking swiftly alongside you, he was moving calmly but with purpose, his eyes focused straight ahead, obscured slightly in the darkness of the night. Looking down slightly, you assumed it was Greed currently in control, catching glimpses of the dark gunmetal coating hiding just beyond the edges of his sleeves, ready to extend of his hands to become weapons at a moment’s notice. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, Greed wore a determined look on his face, his lips lightly pursed in a balance of focus and thinking. He was clearly managing to both keep a strong watch around for danger while also coming up with constant plans for attack or escape, even if it was aided by the extra ‘head’ he had with him, it still amazed you. Unexpectedly, he turned his head, nearly catching you staring a bit, but you managed to quickly switch your expression to a more concerned and inquisitive one. “You’re anxious about an attack aren’t you? Don’t try and strain yourself keeping an eye out, I can easily take care of that, just be ready in case of something happening, ok?” To your surprise, it was Ling who spoke despite your assumption of Greed being in control due to his power being active.

A brief moment of surprise passed along your face before you nodded in affirmation. Catching that Ling had noticed your look, you spoke up first, “I was surprised to hear your voice Ling, I had thought Greed was taking the lead.” You motioned slightly towards his arms.

“Oh! My apologies, I guess I didn’t explain it properly. Greed and I kind of share everything in a way, abilities, ideas, body, not much hidden between the two of us.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Greed spoke up, “And the kid’s right. Don’t worry your head over keepin’ watch. We’re friends now and I don’t let anything happen to my friends.” He gave you an enthusiastic pat on the pack, complete with exaggerated arm swing, the force of which caused you to stumble a step.

You giggled, not minding the action, “You know Greed, you’re a pretty nice guy once you drop your whole tough guy shtick, I think I like this side of you a lot better than the one from our first time meeting.”

Greed grumbled a little bit, “Yeah well maybe I like actin’ that way, huh?!” He responded excitedly, but not angrily, like the two of you were long time friends who were just sharing an old inside joke that was a rib at his expense. He was without mistake still a jerk, but not in a bad way, and as much as he’d try to deny it when confronted directly, he was a really caring person.

You were clutching yourself with laughter when Ling chided in with a laugh as well, “He’ll never actually admit to being nice, don’t bother trying. Also, keep your voice down idiot, you’re supposed to be the one with the most experience on this little team and here you are getting all worked up over a girl teasing you.” He chuckled again, giving a little smile and wink over at you that you couldn’t help but turn slightly flush at. Greed crossed the pair’s arms and just grumbled back like a husband in an old married couple knowing he’s lost an argument.

The two of you continued to walk, mostly in silence save for the occasional comment back and forth before Ling stopped and held out an arm in front of you. He looked around surveying the surrounding area. The buildings in the city had long faded in the darkness, with very few lights towards the edges of the city flickering softly and dimly in the distance, most likely no more than some fireplaces and desk lamps shining through the windows of those who enjoy working or learning through the night. From this distance they were but tiny dots, almost hard to separate from the stars hanging just above in the purple-black night sky.“Do you hear that?” He turned to ask you.

You focused your hearing, trying to zone in on all the different directions around you. The usual insect chirps could be heard off in various directions, the loudest coming from the lightly wooded area close to the east. “No, I don’t think I hear anything besides the usual sounds of the night.” Ahead of you was the dry terrain the surrounded rush valley, flat save for the many rocks and sudden steep mountain formations all around. Not even the wind blew through the natural channels laid out by the stony terrain, the night was calm.

“Exactly, I think we’re far enough out that we can find a place to hole up for the night.” The response and the smile could have come from either of the two boys, and at this point, to you, it didn’t really matter which. Greed was brash and loud but absolutely put his all into everything and everyone around him, and Ling had a heart of gold but still knew when to turn face; they were a reliable pair for sure, and you had started to grow quite fond of traveling with them even with the current circumstances. The pair of you scouted around the area, looking for a good spot to set up for the night when you found a small overhang caused by a large flat rock that had fallen at an angle off of another creating a small tent-like structure. Greed walked up and checked for any signs of it being a wild animal den, and after the coast looked clear, you crawled in first, huddling underneath it up against the flatter wall. Your companion followed shortly, reaching into his pack and pulling out a small lantern and setting it up. He sat down next to you, one leg on the ground as though he was going to sit cross-legged and the other’s foot planted flat on the ground with his knee pointed upwards. There was a silence and stillness between the two of you, the tension in the air feeling a little awkward as the many emotions of the entire situation hung thick between you. You still had so many questions about what was happening, many of which wouldn’t have answers until the two of you continued further. The expression on Ling’s face showed the same, wanting to discuss the plans, the future, each other. Deciding to break the silence, your voice popped up quietly, “Thank you again, for everything you’ve done for me, and I really mean that. While this whole thing, top to bottom is mostly because of things that you did, you could’ve just ignored me and traveled right to Central or even back home.” You found yourself talking much more than you anticipated, words that you had been holding back in the chaos spilling out freely, “But you didn’t, you kept an eye on me and stepped in to save me even when I could have defended myself. You listened to me honestly and openly multiple times and you haven’t hid anything from me that I know of. Even leaving for this trip, I felt like an actual partner and part of the plan, not just someone who needs to be escorted or protected. And do you know what the funniest part of all of this is?” You held your fist to your mouth for a small giggle. “I don’t even really know which one of you I’m talking about right now.”

Your head turned to the side, finding the man next to you much closer than you thought. He looked back at you, those same soft kind eyes were there, burning ambition and determination right behind them, not hidden, but conveying a man who had seen extreme pain, suffering, and sadness but still continues to fight on and counter everything bad that he can. Without even a thought in your head, you found yourself leaning in, closing your eyes slightly as your chin pointed slightly more towards him. The moment your eyes shut, almost as though he had swooped in suddenly and slowed at the last moment, you felt the gentle softness of another’s lips on yours. As you leaned into the kiss, a smile couldn’t help but peek across your lips slightly as you pulled away slowly, how many girls dreamed of growing up and kissing a prince from a storybook, something most grew up to never believe to be possible, and here you were. You couldn’t help but let out a pure happy laugh as you pressed yourself lightly against the body beside you, your lips moving back to his, his lower lip gently pressed between the two of yours, the both of you opening your mouths slightly on the kiss. He pushed in a little more aggressively and passionately at this, kissing you deep as his arm wrapped around your back pulling you closer. At this put you had full lost yourself, both arms wrapped around the man’s neck, as his free hand reached up and carefully held your cheek. His kisses came both rough and caring, passionate but careful with each one, making it uncertain to you who even was in control between the three of you at any moment, but that just made your heart pound all the more in your chest as the revelation came that you didn’t even care.

Pulling away for a small breath, a moment of your senses returned to you and you felt your face burn red hot as you quickly buried it in your hands. “I’m… I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over..” Before you had a chance to finish, a warm hand pulled your own away from your face.

“It’s okay, I think there was a lot unsaid between us that we both felt.” Ling’s smile slowly came into view as your hands left your face, the infectious genuineness of it setting you at ease a little as Greed chimed in as well.

“Don’t worry girly, we’ll take care of ya, and we ain’t goin’ anywhere either. When I make somethin’ mine, I don’t ever let it go.”

You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes, throwing yourself against their shoulder and wrapping your arms around tightly. A soft, “Please don’t” was muffled into Ling’s coat as both his arms wrapped around to hold you tightly, one gently stroking your hair.

“Like I said, ain’t nothin’ to worry about.” Greed’s voice was quiet and soft this time, his words holding a weight of promise as you sunk further into the pair’s hold, the events of the last few days finally catching up to you as you drifted off with the both of them holding you.

[livingcorner]

Raised Bed Gardening | Best Soil Recipe| joe gardener®

The GardenFarm raised beds in all their producing glory.

In this podcast, we continue our discussion on raised bed gardening. In case you missed it: I had invited my email group to send me any questions they hoped I would answer on the topic of raised bed gardening. I received a huge response, many from folks who plan to start raised bed gardening for the first time this season. If you would like to join the conversation and contribute to future topics, click the red “Get Free Updates” button at the top of this page.

You're reading: Raised Bed Gardening | Best Soil Recipe| joe gardener®

Last week, I covered benefits and drawback of raised bed gardening as well as site selection, layout planning, material selection, and site preparation. It was rich with information learned through my many years of raised bed garden experience (also detailed last week) and a lot of research. If you haven’t checked out last week’s podcast, I strongly recommend you start there.

Building healthy growing medium is a process that starts with the right foundation “recipe” and quality ingredients.

This podcast explores some recommendations for the bed construction, but especially, the construction of the soil. Yes – good, healthy soil needs to be constructed, but it’s easy to do. Let’s get started.

Building Your Raised Garden Beds

As mentioned in Part 1 of this series, it’s best if your space is fairly level. How level depends on the materials you are using. Concrete blocks, for instance, are pretty unforgiving in structural soundness on uneven surfaces. If using a metal trough, the trough itself will need to be level, or you can level the soil surface inside the trough.

If you can’t dig, use wood supports, stone retaining walls, etc. – depending on the grade with which you are working.

Regardless – when all is said and done, you need to end up with a level soil surface. Why? Primarily, the movement of water. Whether during a rainstorm or when you’re irrigating the bed, that level surface will prevent erosion – protecting tender plant roots, keeping nutrients where you want them, and preventing the need for extra maintenance.

If using wood, I really recommend that you use all-weather wood screws (at least 3” long) rather than nails. Screws are more forgiving if you make a mistake or if – for any reason – you need to remove the board. They also provide better overall stability.

To prevent splitting wood boards, I also recommend pre-drilling the holes for your screws. For those of you new to the DIY world, small drill bits are available at any home improvement or hardware store to fit your power hand drill. Drill bits are inexpensive and will make quick work of the job.

Before adding raised bed garden soil mixture, I like to break up the ground surface underneath to give roots all the growing room they want, even when it’s deeper than my beds alone provide.

The moist soil and plant material being held will put pressure on your bed side walls. Depending on bed length and the material you are using, it may be wise to add some wall support. To prevent those walls from bowing out, I recommend adding a 2”x4” or some other center post, driven securely into the ground and placed against the wall on the interior of the bed. (It helps to cut the bottom end of the 2”x4” stake into a point to make it easier to drive it into the ground).

Since wood has the potential to bow or warp, note the direction of the grain at the end of each board. Over time, boards will warp in the direction of the grain, so position the boards with the grain pattern pointing in, toward where the soil will be. By placing each board facing inward, the ends won’t pull away from each other but toward each other instead.

Consider using mortar if you are building with concrete blocks, bricks or stone. It’s certainly not a necessity, but it will add to the longevity of your bed structure. If you don’t use mortar to adhere your concrete blocks together, I recommend using rebar, which can be driven down through the hollow cores or using some other method of staking to better hold up to the bed pressure.

If you are building on top of your native, non-contaminated soil; break up the ground surface before adding soil to the bed structure. The healthy raised bed soil will infiltrate and improve the health of that subsurface over time, and regardless of how high you are building, it doesn’t hurt to offer your plant’s roots the opportunity to reach down even deeper.

For those of you building on hardscape or over contaminated soil, don’t feel like you are missing out on not being able to break up the surface. Having that subsurface available for root growth isn’t a necessity, by any means.

Additional Structure Considerations:  If you are dealing with gophers or other subterranean root-chompers, these burrowing pests are best prevented during the raised bed construction phase. Consider adding a layer of chicken wire or other metal mesh to the bottom of your raised beds. The most durable option is galvanized hardware cloth with ½” or 1” squares. Stainless steel hardware cloth reportedly lasts even longer than galvanized.

Burrowing rodents are crafty creatures, so extend your mesh barrier up, alongside the sidewalls of your bed structure. Picture a sort of basket along the bottom of the bed. Be sure to attach the edges very thoroughly to the side walls.

You may also want to go a step further and start with a layer of hardware cloth underneath your raised bed structure, extending into the ground outside your bed borders. Yes, this can be a lot of work, but you’ll only get one shot at this preventative measure, without having to deconstruct your raised beds down the road.

I’ll dive more into pest control in Part 3 of this series, but obviously, your best opportunity to prevent pests from getting through the bottom of your beds is while the beds are empty.

Add hardware cloth to the base of your raised bed structure to protect your crops from gopher, vole, mole and other burrowing critter damage.

Regardless of the size you are building, the depth you are creating, or the material you are using; I don’t recommend weed cloth.

You might think it’s a neat and tidy improvement to place that clean, black weed cloth at the base of your garden bed. Weed mat – regardless of material – provides no benefit and will hamper drainage as the pores eventually clog.

If you are trying to block the growth of weeds or any other undesirables in your garden spot, weed cloth is just not necessary. The depth of the soil you will be adding will smother most, if not all, undesirable growth. What little does make it to the surface can be easily pulled out. This little bit of maintenance will be well worth having soil that drains properly.

The only time I would consider an exception to this rule and risk drainage loss is when fighting Bermuda grass. Check out Part 1 of this series for details.

Garden Comfort & Accessibility:  If you are building your bed at a height which will allow you to sit and tend to the garden, consider incorporating a flat ledge area on which to perch. Having 6-8” to sit on is particularly important if you have back issues or other health considerations.

I will cover more on design considerations for adaptive gardening in Part Three of this series

Now – on to the best part, the soil!

Why is Soil Health so Important?

The soil is the anchor in which you secure and feed your plants. The soil, itself, doesn’t really feed the plants in the commonly-understood sense. Instead, the soil is the environment that promotes a healthy ecosystem below the surface – that can facilitate (or hinder) the ability for air, water and nutrients to be utilized by plants and their roots at an optimal level.

As gardeners, we can engineer raised bed soil to maintain proper hydration and create an environment that sustains a myriad of life, called the soil food web.

A healthy soil food web is busy with billions of microscopic organisms as well as larger creatures, like earthworms, all working together. Healthy soil promotes the processes of nutrient development and delivery (to plants).

In other words: Don’t feed the plants. Feed the soil so it can feed the plants.

Even back in the days on set for the DIY Network series (+61404532026) Fresh From the Garden, I was already perfecting my raised bed soil recipe. Here, I’m adding composted cow manure. Just underneath you can see the granite dust from mineralized soil. After three years, 52 episodes and 52 crops, I never had a failure.

A soil food web is complex, so building that healthy ecosystem doesn’t mean a trip to the home improvement store, buying lots of bags of garden soil to fill up all your raised bed space. Sure, you can go that route, but it will be expensive, and it won’t provide you with robust growing medium. You build a healthy growing medium.

Building Your Garden Soil

Over the years, I’ve developed a mixture of elements that has brought me abundant gardening success. The method I describe here isn’t like a recipe for souffle’. I won’t tell you to be sure you add a teaspoon of this or 12 oz. of that. My method is – like my soil – organic. It varies a bit each and every time I follow it. These are estimated percentages that work well for me, but they don’t need to be exact.

I use a mix of organic material to create a diverse blend. As mentioned earlier in this series, your soil is not the area in which I recommend cutting corners cost-wise. One thing I learned early on is that you get what you pay for. Your biggest investment is in your soil. The health of your plants and success of your crop depends on it.

Don’t expect to have the perfect soil straight out of the gate year one. Building great soil is a process over growing seasons. The method I describe for you here will build a healthy soil foundation, from which bountifully-rich soil will develop in seasons to come.

I do recommend that, when you are initially filling your raised beds, mix all the ingredients together. Incorporate it well, so that the elements can be properly introduced to each other. As I get into soil maintenance later, you’ll learn why I don’t mix up established soil, but to “get the party started” – mix and mingle everything well.

The U.S Composting Council encourages all gardeners and growers to “strive for five.” This refers to the goal of making the organic matter in your soil 5% of the total (by weight).

The rough estimate to make that 5% happen is to include organic material of about 30% by volume to the total. All references here are by volume and – again – only approximate. So with that in mind, here’s how I achieve those magic percentages:

50% High-Quality Topsoil: This makes up the bulk of your bed.

Read more: Eight Eggplant Recipes You’ll Love

Purchase topsoil in bulk or bags. If you purchase in bags, buy a trusted brand and look at the ingredients, which will often be regionally-sourced.

If you need over a half pickup truck load, I suggest buying in bulk. Find a reputable landscape supplier by getting referrals. If you don’t know someone to offer a recommendation (or even when you DO get a recommendation), take the time to talk with the supplier. Ask questions as to what goes into making their topsoil. I even go so far as to inspect it by smelling it and giving it the Squeeze Test (okay, I’ve been known to give it a taste test once in awhile, too).

The Squeeze Test is simply taking a handful and squeezing it. It should hold together but, then, break apart easily when you run your finger through it. If it’s sticky or hard to get apart, it’s too heavy. Excessively sandy soil won’t hold together in the first place.

Good topsoil should not be sticky or sandy. It should tend towards the darker side of brown vs. gray or clay in color, and it should smell earthy – not rancid.

Whenever possible, it’s well worth the time to inspect the quality of a supplier’s topsoil before you buy.

Note that I check bagged soil in the same way. I never open a bag. I look for a bag that has already broken open – there’s usually at least one.

If in doubt, look for a mark of certification from some nationally-recognized organization which indicates the soil contains certified compost. With certified compost as an ingredient, you can feel confident that the topsoil will be good quality too. You don’t want to make the same mistake I once did – not checking quality beforehand and then not being home for delivery. I found a pile of fill dirt on my property – not the topsoil I had ordered.

It’s not that uncommon for suppliers to provide fill dirt as “topsoil,” and you don’t want to start your beds with fill dirt.

30% High-Quality Homemade or Certified Compost: Use what you can make, but source the difference from a reputable supplier.

I make a lot of compost at home, but it’s never enough. Therefore, it’s very likely you’ll need to purchase compost beyond what you make as well. Not all compost is created equal.

My suggestion is to do your homework. The supplier may have some printed information regarding their product. If not, take the time to talk with the supplier here too. Ask questions as to what goes into making their compost. Questions like:

Where does their feedstock come from?

What materials do they accept?

What don’t they accept?

How do they make their compost?

Your common sense will help you identify any red flags. Don’t be afraid to walk away from a supplier who can’t provide good answers. Compost is an investment, so choose wisely.

An easy way to play your compost purchase safe is to find a supplier that offers Certified compost, as deemed by the U.S Composting Council. Their website offers some solid advice and a database of composter members.  It’s how I buy my bulk compost, and I have never been disappointed.

Quality compost comes from quality ingredients, so vet your supplier. While you might not have a backstage pass to the daily deposits, companies that make and sell compost should have plenty of information to share with you.

It’s no secret that I love compost, but is there such a thing as too much? Actually, yes. Compost is fantastic (I’ve even lept into glorious piles of compost – don’t miss the end of that linked episode), but it doesn’t provide all the complex elements (like minerals) necessary for healthy, balanced soil.

We’re down to the remaining 20% of your raised bed soil volume. What’s next? Think of this 20% as a cocktail, and it’s up to you to concoct your signature mix.

There are many great mediums you can select from and six I consider favorites. Any four of these can be added in increments of about 5% each. You could use 10% of one and 5% of two others, but I like the results from keeping each of these to around a 5% individual rate.

Top Six Organic Materials to Add to Your Topsoil and Compost:

Leaves:  Well-aged, shredded leaves are one of my favorite additions. They are free (I’m a frugal guy, so I love that), and they add great bulk. So, what do I mean by well-aged? I shred the leaves, wet them down well and, in six months to a year, they are rotted and ready to be incorporated.

If you don’t have access to plenty of leaves, ask around. I guarantee friends and neighbors will be happy to share their supply.

Mineralized Soil Blend:  Here’s another case where finding a good landscape supply company is important. Years ago, I discovered the value of adding soil containing minerals. It made a noticeable difference to the success of everything growing in my garden.

Minerals are the most important ingredients that no one seems to talk much about. You can check out a lot more on mineralizing your soil in my podcast on the subject.

Mineralized soil blend is widely-available and, typically, locally-sourced; so it’s make-up will depend on your area. Here in the Atlanta area, granite is everywhere, so most mineralized soil blends here are made of granite dust. Azomite is another common and great option.

Vermicompost (Worm Castings):  I have seen dramatic differences in my garden when I’ve added worm castings (aka worm manure). If you can find this in bag or bulk, buy it. While it’s not readily available, nor is it inexpensive; it’s worth it. Fortunately, a little goes a long way. You won’t need much to make a big difference.

Worm castings are significantly higher in all the primary nutrients your plants need to thrive. In fact, worm castings add five times the nitrogen, seven times the phosphorus and ten times the potassium than ordinary topsoil.

Castings add one more layer of complexity to overall soil makeup. Suffice it to say; this medium is one of my secret weapons to creating highly-productive garden soil.

Adding vermicompost (composted worm manure) to your raised bed gardens will provide another layer of organic richness. It’s been one of my not-so-secret weapons for soil success for years.

Mushroom Compost:  This dark brown, pliable organic material isn’t made of mushrooms.

It’s the byproduct of ingredients in which the mushrooms grow – what’s left over after mushrooms have been harvested.

Mushrooms are grown in mixtures of natural materials like hay, gypsum, corn cobs, cottonseed hulls, etc. But by the time that material has been composted, bagged and sold as mushroom compost; it’s light and crumbly. It contains about 3% nitrogen and potassium, a bit of phosphorus and other bonus elements, like magnesium and calcium. Since it’s a neutral pH (6.5-7.0), it won’t have an impact on your soil pH.

Ground Bark:  There are many varieties of ground bark from which to choose, but pine is the most commonly available. Although pine bark is slightly acidic, I’ve never found that to have much effect on the overall pH of my garden soil. Be sure to use aged bark for this application. Freshly-chipped wood will rob from rather than benefit your soil during initial decomposition.

Ground bark is a good carbon source. It will break down over time, and its coarse texture provides space for the movement of water and oxygen through your garden beds. Topsoil, compost and most of the other ingredients I’ve listed here are similar in texture. Ground bark brings a diversity of particle size that can really amp up your plant health.

Composted Cow or Poultry Manure:  Well-composted animal manure has been a mainstay of organic soil fertility for thousands of years because of the nutrients, organic matter and variability of particulate matter that it adds to complement overall soil make–up. That hasn’t changed. What has changed are farming practices and the resulting risk of manure.

Composted manures added to today’s garden soil can contain synthetic herbicides that are still active, even in well-composted manure. For that reason, I recommend you use cow or poultry manure but not horse manure.

Purchase composted cow or poultry manure by the bag and from a trusted source. If it’s an off-brand or you are buying in bulk, buyer beware. Many people have poisoned their soil with killer compost (including me), by inadvertently adding herbicide–tainted ingredients usually found in horse manure.

I do not add horse manure – anymore – because horses are more likely to consume hay which may have come from fields sprayed (or oversprayed) with persistent herbicide. Persistent herbicide doesn’t break down for several years. It passes through the horse’s digestive system and goes through the composting process without losing any of its killing power. The traces of herbicide (no matter how minute they may be) will kill or severely disrupt the normal growing habits of many garden edibles as effectively after being composted as the day they were manufactured.

There may be a source of horse manure you would really like to use. In that case, you can perform a bioassay test. Perform this simple test before you ever let the manure come into contact with your plants, soil or compost pile. I didn’t perform a bioassay test on the horse manure from my GardenFarm, and I suffered the consequences for four years.

Worm castings are significantly higher in all the primary nutrients your plants need to thrive. This image demonstrates an important visual of how worms break down organic material to create a soil profile that helps bind soil particles in a moisture-rich environment.

Those are the “ingredients” I use. Here are the ingredients I do not use:

Horse Manure:  It bears repeating. If tempted to use horse manure, be sure to check out the link for the bioassay test. That little bit of time could save you years of grief.

Peat Moss:  This may come as a surprise. Peat moss is, however, not a sustainable material. It takes hundreds of years for peat to develop in peat bogs.

Did you know that peat moss can defeat your soil’s ability to take in moisture? Ironically, it’s often recommended for its water holding ability. It can aid water retention, but once peat moss dries out, it is difficult to re-hydrate. Have you ever watered a dried out container, but the water just rolled off the surface? Often, that’s due to peat moss in the container soil.

Artificial Fillers:  Although it may be tempting to take up space with fillers as you first build those raised beds, I advise against them. Although they might save you some initial cost, even organic fillers can be problematic. Over time, they will break down, and the surface of your garden bed will sink, requiring you to add more soil later.

Most importantly, fillers can hinder drainage. That’s counter-intuitive, I know, but the research has proved it. I performed my tests using containers so that you can see it for yourselves. Whether in a small space like containers or a large space like raised beds, the science remains the same.

Fill Dirt:  This, too, might be tempting as a cost savings, but it will hinder all your other efforts to build that healthy growing environment.

What is fill dirt? It’s the stuff that lies under the first few inches of dirt on the ground. That first layer of earth is topsoil; and it’s been built up naturally – to varying degree of health – with organic matter, access to light and air, and other good stuff that happens naturally near to the ground surface. Fill dirt is underneath the topsoil and includes none of the inherently good qualities of topsoil.

Some additional materials worth consideration as additives:

Biochar:  I’ve heard good things about Biochar. I’ve only recently begun adding it to my garden, so it’s too soon to give you any personal observations. Biochar does have some nutrient value. It’s a pure carbon source that doesn’t break down, but it does help make existing soil nutrients available to plants.

Biochar – a pure carbon source that doesn’t break down but does help make existing soil nutrients available to plants. (Photo: Mark Highland.)

Fire Ash:  I recommend against putting any fire ash directly into your garden beds. If your fire ash is all wood-based, it can be a good addition (in a small quantity) to your compost pile. Don’t use charcoal fire ash, as that can include some ingredients that aren’t good for your organic garden.

Mycorrhizae:  This fungus is very popular as a soil ingredient in bagged products. Healthy native soil typically has this fungus already (but don’t use your native soil in your beds). Adding mycorrhizae to your soil may provide a benefit. At any rate, it won’t do any harm.

As with containers, raised beds can leach nutrients more quickly; so as a final step, it’s a good idea to add some slow-release, non-synthetic, nitrogen-based fertilizer – like Milorganite – to the mix. It’s like the dash of cocoa powder on a great latte – adding a little extra kick.

Maintaining Healthy Soil

Building that initial raised bed garden environment with quality ingredients will provide you good results the first season. However, those crops you grow will be making non-stop nutrient withdrawals from those beds.

Just like with your bank account, it’s critical to make deposits that keep up with (or better yet exceed) your withdrawals. How do you do that? Amend your soil once or twice each year with organic nutrients (like those I described above) – not synthetic fertilizer. By amending your garden beds, you will see better soil in season two, great soil in season three, amazingly rich soil in season four, and so on.

Good soil is like fine wine; it will get better and better with time.

Before you amend your soil for the first time and about every couple of seasons, I recommend that you get a soil test. You can contact your local county extension office for that, and the tests are pretty inexpensive ($20-30). A soil test will determine the pH levels and deficiencies of your soil to help guide your amendment choices.

The nutrients you provide the soil will be most optimally taken up by your plants when the soil is at a neutral pH. So, it’s important to understand when and how your soil pH is off and how to get it re-balanced.

Living in the Atlanta area, I grow all year round, so I amend my beds at the end of each main season after I’ve cleared the beds of crop materials. In early September – before I plant my winter, cool-weather crops – I topdress with an inch or two of compost. In late March – before I plant my summer crops – I do the same. Since the beds are clear, it’s easy to spread the compost and let it go to work.

Amend your soil once or twice each year with a topdressing of quality compost. An inch or so goes a long way to keeping your soil productive.

Sometimes, I lightly scratch the compost into the bed surfaces, but I usually just lay the compost on top, cover with mulch and walk away. Why? Remember that microbial party we got started when first building the bed soil? Well, all those microorganisms are getting along by now, and they can’t wait to meet more. So, they will naturally and quickly work all the compost back down into the party with the rest of them.

If I were to “disturb the party” by tilling in my compost, I would be doing a disservice to the existing soil food web. I would be:

Breaking up existing networks being utilized for the transfer of nutrients

Disrupting drainage space

Introducing lots of oxygen (which would burn up much of the existing nutrients)

When I’m amending my soil with ingredients other than compost, such as worm castings or mineralized soil; I prefer to add the ingredient(s) to compost and, then, add the mixture to the bed surfaces. On the off-chance something undesirable has made its way into those mediums, compost works as a buffer to help neutralize any potential negative effect.

Rejuvenating Old Garden Beds

Perhaps, you are working with existing raised beds that have been depleted and don’t have all of that microbial action going on. Many of you asked if you should remove the existing soil and start all over. To that I say – no.

Replacing your existing bed soil is laborious, expensive, and time-consuming. Unless the soil has become contaminated somehow, it’s best to revitalize the soil through amendment. You might be surprised at how quickly garden beds, even those that have been neglected for years, can be rejuvenated.

If this is your situation, I still recommend against tilling the soil. Instead – using a pitchfork or a broadfork, stab the garden soil deeply and wobble the fork around to create a little space around the tines. Then, fill those spaces with compost. Here again, I highly recommend you start with a soil test, so you have a better understanding of what you need to “deposit” into those stale beds to get them ready to be available for “withdrawals.”

A broad fork is a good tool to provide deep access for amendment penetration in existing raised beds and bring new life to tired and compacted beds. It’s any gardeners best tool of choice for opening up soil space and a much better option than a tiller for maintaining soil integrity.

Other Garden Bed Maintenance Questions

Are your beds too full to amend? If your bed surface is plumb up to the top of your sidewalls, remove any debris – if possible. If there isn’t any debris to remove, but your bed is filled with organic soil and materials; don’t worry about amending this season. That organic material will break down over the season and should provide at least enough space to amend by the next season.

Read more: Was the ‘forbidden fruit’ in the Garden of Eden really an apple?

Should you add fertilizer when you plant? I received many questions asking if fertilizer should be added to planting holes. Nope. When you build your soil the right way – slowly over time – everything your plants will need will already be in the bed.

If it really makes you feel better to add something at planting time (I can respect that), just add more compost. Adding fertilizer puts you at risk for burning your plants. What you place in the planting hole may be more than the plant can handle, and it will suffer or die rather than thrive and produce.

Mulch and Its Many Benefits

If there is one thing I love almost as much as compost, it’s mulch. I love mulch! Why? It protects the soil from heat, erosion, and pests. What’s more, mulch improves the soil by breaking down slowly over time and adding the resulting nutrients.

Mulching will reduce evaporation and the amount of supplemental water you need to provide. An exposed soilbed – especially in a raised bed – dries out. It can develop a crust that can be resistant to water, and the exposed soil can blow away. Mulch will solve that problem.

A free and ample grass clippings supply kept my $25 Victory Garden Challenge garden mulched.

Did I mention that mulch significantly reduces weeds in the garden bed? Yep – that too. And thanks to the multi-benefit mulch protection from above, the microbial party will remain happier and healthier under the surface.

Also, it just looks nice. We all like our garden to be beautiful to look at – even if we don’t all broadcast our successes and failures on national television.

A one– or two-inch layer of wheat straw, arborist wood chips, shredded bark, grass clippings, composted leaves, etc.- anything natural is okay here. Shredded leaves happen to be my favorite mulch and are just another key to the success of my or any garden.

I recommend against rubber mulch for the same reasons I recommend against using tires as a container (check that out in Part 1 of this series if you missed it.)

Mulch is to soil above ground what compost is for plants below ground. I can’t imagine any garden under my watch without both.

Efficient Irrigation

It’s true – raised beds can dry out more quickly. How quickly depends on the depth and width of the beds as well as the sidewall material and thickness. Good soil and mulch will reduce drying, but good irrigation is also important.

Life is so busy for all of us these days. So, having a good watering system in place will make it much easier to reap abundance in the garden. Myself, I go a step further and take full advantage of some quick, easy and inexpensive tools to automate the irrigation of my beds.

Depending on your set up and spacing; emitter tubing, soaker hoses or a drip system will provide the perfect moisture level. These methods deliver water slowly and directly at the roots of your plants – where that water does the most good!

A side-by-side comparison of plants grown with and without biochar. Clearly, this amendment can benefit plant growth. (Photo: Mark Highland.)

I have all the details on the why’s, when’s and how’s of watering in my upcoming Efficient Watering Resource Guide (stay tuned!) Each of these options are inexpensive, easy to use and available at any home improvement or garden center. If you are on a well, you will appreciate that each of these systems are low-pressure. Here’s a brief rundown:

Soaker Hose:  The flexibility of soaker hoses make them great for raised beds. Soaker hoses are porous, allowing the water to seep out slowly along the entire length into the surrounding soil.

Not all soaker hoses are created equal. I love to recycle, but I don’t love to use soaker hose made out of recycled tire rubber. Most soaker hoses are made that way, but I have concerns with chemicals from that recycled rubber leaching into my soil.

I prefer to use food grade, polyurethane hoses from Water Right Inc. They’re lightweight and durable. I need my garden to be television-ready, so I also like that they come in various earthy colors that look good without standing out.

A bonus tip: Place your soaker hose under mulch for extra water efficiency.

Emitter Tubing:  There’s quite a bit of technology that goes into these unassuming tubes. Non-porous emitter tubing is similar to porous soaker hose, except it waters with an even pressure from the beginning of the tube to the end of the tube and, often, at every 18”.

Emitter tubes are also flexible and low-pressure (8.5-60psi). They self-flush to prevent clogging and have copper shields around each opening to deter root penetration. At around $20 for a 50’ length (they come in other lengths as well), emitter tubes offer a lot of watering flexibility, since you can also tap into them to add supply tubing to direct water to specific areas.

Emitter tubing is a high-tech, efficient, and affordable choice for watering raised bed or in-ground gardens. (Photo courtesy of Rain Bird®.)

If you’ve ever used soaker hose and had it spray up onto your plant foliage, you’ll be happy to hear that non-porous emitter tubes don’t have that problem (although if you add a layer of mulch, errant water spray won’t occur from soaker hose either).

You may be concerned that the water is dispersed only every 18”, but research has shown that soil capillary action transports water horizontally as well as vertically. That means, water from each emitter will spread across the bed toward the water from other emitters, and any roots in between will receive moisture.

Drip Irrigation Systems:  These systems can include drip tape or drip line. Most commonly, drip kits include a lightweight, flexible tube with an emitter at its end so that you can direct water to a certain plant or small area. For most raised beds setups, emitter tube or soaker hose are your better options.

Easy Automation:  Each of these watering methods can be easily automated, which gets me back to my original point. We are all busy, so why not automate irrigation? A battery-operated or spring-loaded timer, a quick connect coupler and a quick shut-off valve are all you need.

These accessories are all inexpensive and readily available. By adding them to your watering system, you can completely control the level and timing of water delivery. The process will be automated, so it will happen whether you’re home, stuck in traffic, or on vacation. Your plants will thank you.

Automatic timers are inexpensive and widely available. They are an easy way to simplify getting the right amount of water to your plants. They’ve put my irrigation life on autopilot.

Ode to Hand Watering:  I must admit, though, I love watering. Throughout the garden season, I periodically hand water even though my plants are being watered automatically.

Whether it’s because I want to enjoy the therapeutic benefits (I know, not all of you find watering therapeutic), or because I notice a plant looking droopy and needing a little extra help getting through a hot, dry week; I like to turn to my wand attachment.

The wand attachment provides a gentler spray than most other sprayers, and the extension pole makes it easier for me to get that water delivery right down at the base of the plant. Since I don’t have to stoop over to target the base, I’m able to multitask and spend watering time looking over new growth and inspecting the plants for signs of pests or disease. The earlier I can spot those troublemakers, the better.

The Final Resort:  I don’t recommend the overhead watering method – using a sprinkler. Delivering water from above the plants increases the evaporation of your water, and the wet plant foliage is at higher risk of disease.

Now before this upsets you sprinkler users, I will share with you that I often watered my Fresh from the Garden beds using a sprinkler. When I did, I made sure to run the sprinkler early in the morning.

Sometimes, overhead watering is your only option. I get it. If that’s the case, just be sure you are watering in the early morning to decrease evaporation and allow your plant foliage the remainder of the day to dry off.

What is Sufficient Moisture? How much should you water your raised garden beds? In the absence of rain, provide an inch of supplemental water per week. Emitter tube or drip emitters will allow you to calculate when you’ve watered an inch because the watering rate is predetermined for you.

Otherwise, there are two easy ways to determine sufficient moisture level:

Tuna Can Test:  Place the empty can in the area being watered and, once there’s an inch of water in the can, you know there’s also an inch of water in your soil.

Finger Test:  Stick your finger into the soil, down to about the second knuckle. If your finger comes up dirty, there’s enough water in the soil. However, if it comes up dry and relatively clean, the soil is too dry, and it’s time to increase watering levels.

There are still some questions that need answering in Part 3 of this series, so I encourage you to check back next week for all that information. Which questions are being answered? More of the questions submitted by the members of my email group! If you aren’t a member, I encourage you to join the conversation. Joining is easy and fast – just scroll to the top of this page, click the red “Get Free Updates” box, and enter your email address.

You might also be interested in joining my Facebook group. We have some great conversations there, so I hope you’ll join us.

If you haven’t already done so, listen to the podcast recording for this episode. It’s linked at the top of the page and includes some stories and bits and pieces not included here. May I suggest you listen in while you start diagramming out your raised beds and plant locations?

Links & Resources

joegardener Blog: Backyard Composting: A Simple Recipe for Making Great Compost

Podcast episode 028: The Role of Minerals in Making Great Soil

Podcast episode 029: My Five Biggest Gardening Mistakes of All Time (and What I Learned From Them)

Podcast episode 042: Raised Bed Gardening, Pt. 1

Podcast episode 044: Raised Bed Gardening, Pt. 3: Animal Control & More

joegardenerTV: How to Get the Best Drainage for Your Container – Why What You’ve Been Taught is all Wrong 

GGW episode 106: Composting-From Grand Scale to Your Backyard

GGW episode 410: Weedless Gardening

Join the joegardener Facebook Group

U.S Composting Council

Milorganite

Water Right Inc.

University of Nebraska-Lincoln Institute of Agriculture and Natural Resources: Cropwatch: Using High-Carbon Char as a Soil Amendment to Improve Soil Properties

CobraHead: Broadfork

Rainbird® – Our podcast episode sponsor and Brand Partner of livingcorner.com.au

Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/raised-bed-gardening-best-soil-recipe-joe-gardener/

[docfuture]

The Maker’s Ark - Chapter 42

     [This is a chapter from my latest novel, a sequel to The Fall of Doc Future and Skybreaker’s Call.  The start is here, and links to my other work here.  It can be read on its own, but contains spoilers for those two books.  I try to post something new about every two weeks, with short stories and vignettes if I don’t have a new chapter ready.  The next update is planned for the week of February 26th.]

Previous:  Chapter 41

      "It isn't a particularly good time," said Stella.  "But there was never going to be one."       "Agreed," said Doc, thinking about what his self-analysis had uncovered.       They had moved to a secure room, with mind screens and assorted other esoteric anti-surveillance countermeasures active.  Stella leaned back in her chair.       "We have a lot to go over, but we keep getting interrupted, and I have a serious personal problem.  You did something supremely arrogant that has caused me a number of difficulties.  Some are short term, others aren't fixable for the foreseeable future.  And you appear to be unaware of how angry I still am about it, and why.  Our options are restricted because of potential political consequences."       Stella raised an eyebrow. "Finding a way to for us to continue to coexist professionally is necessary, and you really don't know enough about me.  It's not the only reason you keep making assumptions about me that are wrong, but it isn't helping.  And my old identity is likely to be uncovered eventually.  I don't want you to get blindsided."       Doc looked down at his hands.  "Your brain was viable.  If you didn't want me to try, it would have been useful to let me know beforehand.  Survival of self was your priority when I stood watch for your patch replacement."       "It most certainly was not.  And I gave no affirmative consent.  Margie was right to object.  You of all people should understand how bringing someone back can be a threat."       "DASI said you were changing, and that was--"       "DASI was operating on a secondary node, with a slightly out of date backup, and her protections from outside influence were disrupted.  So she chose to obey your override orders, despite the fact they were seriously outdated, rather than withhold information from you. We've dealt with those problems, but I'm still stuck with the result.  The changes she saw were those Three required to adjust to living in a new set of bodies.  A lot like some of the changes I've had to make for this damned--"       Stella clenched her fist, then unclenched it.  "This fine body, skillfully optimized for many things other than being me.  By far the most relevant problem with it is that it still has a human brain."       "No point in bringing you back at all without that.  I put in as much capability for you to shapeshift and adjust to the rest as I could," said Doc.       "Yes.  But even if we take a humanoid body as a given, this one would have suited me much better when I was seventeen and hunting full time.  I'm thirty, and my main job is to act as an auditor and figurehead for the effective caretakers of Earth--DASI and Three.  The adjustment capability is the only reason I'm still marginally sane."  Stella smiled wryly.  "Though that point is arguable."       "I based the snakes on your own telepathic self-image."       "Those snakes on a humanoid bio-remote I could inhabit when I chose would have been a wonderful indulgence.  They are indeed marvels of function and form.  But Stella Three is much happier than me, despite not having any--because she was able to retain continuity of identity as the person I wanted to be."       "She agreed.  And Yiskah didn't object."       "Yiskah had good and sufficient reason to pass on the call.  She shouldn't even have been conscious, let alone trying to make life or death judgements.  Three was who I wished to become and stay.  Not who I am now.  We could spend all day just on her decision tree.  She couldn't rule out the possibility that all your reasoning was wrong, your motivation rationalized--but your actions were still a time-loop driven necessity for this worldline to escape an existential trap.  She decided that agreeing was the least bad choice.  Among other things, Flicker was inconveniently witnessing your argument and was enthralled by the same mythological scenario as you, which may be relevant soon.  And Three knew she'd get to stay in the ships, no matter what happened to me."       Doc stared at the surveillance screen status monitor.  "Wrong but still necessary.  Definitely possible.  So you disagreed with my assessment of the risks inherent in giving up a biological body deliberately?"       "You had an applicable nightmare about yourself, correct?"       "Yes."       "You overgeneralized.  The Grs'thnk found considerable individual variation in biogestalt cohesion.  I augmented with a specific goal of identity stability.  You did not.  You were on the unstable end even before you augmented, and many of your adaptions match categories that make Grs'thnk more vulnerable to biogestalt problems."       "Not a coincidence.  I knew I wasn't going to go down the cybernetic route, so I optimized for other methods.  That's why I stay away from neural interfaces.  Your way does seem more robust."  Doc took a deep breath.  "But Three sure acts like she thinks of humans as amusing pets."       "She does.  Including me.  But so do I, and have for a long time.  Less amusing now that I lost what was probably my last chance to personally escape."       "There were others?" said Doc.       "To break free of the limitations of my first body, my first brain?  Oh, yes.  Didn't it bother you a bit that my little adventure in Milan turned out so messily, despite all my preparation?"       "Yiskah's original personality--"       "Was unexpected, but not an insurmountable problem, as Yiskah currently demonstrates.  I could have coexisted with her.  But I told you the day we met that I didn't want more than one body at a time, and I wanted hers.  What did you think I planned to do with my old one?"       Doc winced.  "You must have figured out Flicker was watching while you were still in the room."       "I did.  There was an extra mind nearby that Yiskah could detect but not localize.  And Flicker was absolutely not going to watch idly while my old body died in a hail of gunfire to cover my transfer.  No matter what I might say.  So I had to adjust my plan on the fly and accept a number of compromises, some of which wouldn't stay tenable for long."       "Is that why you needed my help with your patch?"       "Yes.  I hadn't planned on still having my old body.  And if I'd botched it, I would have lost a big chunk of continuity and seriously disrupted Yiskah."       "Okay.  This seems obvious now.  Why wasn't it before?"       "Yiskah thinks your initial analysis memories were in the small area that got wiped when I stopped the anti-tamper trap on your mind block from killing you.  You could have revisited it, but you never did.  You already trusted me, so why bother?  That's a problem."       "Accepting that you'd tell me anything relevant is a problem?"       "It sure is if you don't make time to listen.  And Flicker wasn't respecting your privacy, so there were things I could not push until I was sure she was stable or we had a truly secure privacy setup.  Preferably both.  I also wasn't sure how much you were still being influenced by Golden Valkyrie.  And there's a distinction between acceptance and not caring enough to learn, and you've been on the wrong side of that line for quite a while."       Stella closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath.  "Okay.  Scratch that.  This isn't about blame, but I'm not willing to hide my anger any longer.  Do you understand that we do have a problem?  And that doing something constructive about it should be a higher priority than refining models, whatever our personal inclinations?"       Doc nodded. "Yes.  Still listening."       "Good.  Let's talk about how I got the way I am--the parts you don't know, or have wrong."       *****       Journeyman had good reason to keep his front door closed, and Flicker was trying to learn to respect that.  She closed it after coming inside, then went to his study.       She slowed back down next to Journeyman, who was sitting on the couch staring at his phone.       "Hi," she said.  "Greta is handling things in the Nine Worlds--the pool will be ready if I come back in bad shape.  But I stopped to talk with Ashil, and she has a really solid idea that I think we--"       Flicker stopped as she belatedly started paying attention to body language and other cues.       "You don't look okay.  What's wrong?"       He looked up and smiled weakly.  "Too many things happening at once.  I needed a break from black hole physics, and it looks like I might get the physics part.  The break part--not so much.  I have a hypothetical question for you, forwarded by Three from Learning.  Could you psychologically cope with 24 hours of deep space travel on board Learning if you had to, with support from his biogestalt team and me?  If not, how about 16 hours?  Or how about if Donner came along?"       Distance, time and acceleration were life and breath to Flicker.  She didn't have to calculate; the numbers were just there. "Sixteen hours to Europa?  Learning can pull a hundred g's?"       "Hypothetically, his maximum acceleration might be a Grs'thnk military secret, not to be revealed casually to Earthlings except in an emergency.  Which this isn't.  Yet."       "Okay.  Um.  Sixteen probably, a full day maybe.  It would be rough, and I'm not sure what kind of shape I'd be in when we got there.  I don't think I'd even dare try to sleep, because if I turned on my inertial damping by reflex, it might blow Learning's inertial compensators and everyone else would get flattened.  If I panicked and tried a momentum transfer to local mass, it might blow his main drive."       "His safeties would cut acceleration before anyone else got hurt.  And what if there were a special room with no inertial compensation?"       "That would make things easier.  But why can't you just port us?  That worked fine last time."       "Not... exactly.  The Floaters object to the 'No, you really don't want to time-travel--oops, too late' club.  Strenuously, and for what appear to be good reasons.  Enough that their top communications priority is making sure I don't do it again.  They only have one guy talking now, and he's been patiently scaring the hell out of me.  From the other end of a long lag communications channel and across a nasty translation barrier."       "Is he a magician?"       "We don't think so.  As near as we can translate--and by we, I mean DASI, Three, and Learning--he's a safety physicist.  And he's scaring me with the questions he's asking.  Way too many of my answers are 'I don't know', 'We didn't think of that', or 'We did think of that, but had no reliable way to measure, so I just had to try and see'.  I feel like a fourteen-year-old with a fission pile in his basement trying to explain that criticality incident was no big deal because his friend is really fast with the control rods.  Even I don't believe it."       Flicker frowned.  "If it was so dangerous, why didn't the Grs'thnk warn us?"       "Learning did.  But they've mostly been following a policy that they don't know enough about Earth yet, so they're watching and documenting disasters before they object too much to anything specific.  They don't have some of the sensors and theory the Floaters do, and have translation problems of their own."       He smiled mordantly.  "But I have some good news--you're off the hook for 'Doomed us all'."       "They accepted that I had to do what I did?"       "Apparently, but that's not why.  We made a wrong assumption during the first try at translation.  Doomsayer was referring to our stupid portal tricks mishap, not your ballet for five million rocks and a universal reset button during the Xelian invasion.  And they weren't talking about you; they were talking about me."       *****       "...realized I wasn't even making a dent," said Stella.  "Eleven targets in almost two years?  That was down in the noise--and wouldn't make any long term difference, because they weren't getting caught; they were just dying.  But I did learn a lot about poisons, psychology, social engineering, and cultural assumptions.  And I didn't get caught, or even suspected, which I found increasingly puzzling, despite all my precautions.  I'd assumed I'd eventually get unlucky, or miss something because of inexperience."       "That was an entirely reasonable assumption," said Doc.       He was acutely uncomfortable with what he was hearing--but that was irrelevant.  Emotional distancing was not an option.  She was his partner.  He would listen.       "Another reason to stop was my age."       "Your age?  But--"       "There was an interesting legal loophole; if I managed to make it to 18 without dying or getting caught--which was starting to look possible--I couldn't be charged as a juvenile because I wouldn't be one anymore, and couldn't be charged as an adult because I was too young when the acts were committed.  Even for crimes without a statute of limitations, like murder.  I was still naive enough to think that mattered.  But that protection went away when I turned 13.  So I quit.  For then."       "I see."       "I had a number of new options open up, because my parent's divorce battle turned nasty enough I was able to get my legal guardian changed to my aunt.  She had a minor drinking problem, but was quite canny, had a good idea what my home life had been like, and was willing to cover for me as long as I remembered to eat and excelled enough at my home schooling that she could overwhelm the child welfare people with true stories of my academic performance.  Which I did."       "Ah."       "That's when I started studying you and planning my augmentation.  I was also finally beginning to suspect my sexual orientation might be something more complex than 'serial killer'..."       *****       Flicker studied the summaries projected on her visor.  She'd expected them to become clearer, with better defined probabilities, after everyone had time to analyze the data from the portal test mishap.  That hadn't happened.  DASI was now refusing to even give numerical estimates for some things, noting that they would be misleading.  And the error bars on the rest...       She slowed back down.       "DASI thinks your Floater safety guy has a very good point.  We've been focusing on what happened with the portal, without considering that it might be inseparable from what happened on the port home."       Journeyman leaned back on the couch and sighed. "Heh.  Maybe.  He's made clear that he doesn't know what happened, neither do we, that's a big problem, and we don't even know how big."       "The local and global causal disconnection scenarios are pretty scary."  Flicker pulled the Skystone out of her carrying pouch.  "Could you refasten this?  I took it off last night, but DASI thinks it might have been crucial that I didn't take it off for the first time until we were back together in Doc's med center, and I'm feeling uneasy about it now."       He looked at her for a moment, his expression hard to read. "Okay," he said.       As he fastened the clasp of the necklace, Flicker felt her sense of his presence and well-being snap back into place.  He seemed to be fine physically, but...       "You're pretty upset," she said.       He met her eyes.  "Yeah.  Personal stuff piling on top of everything else."       Flicker struggled with conflicting emotions.  "How bad?  Is it anything that telling me about would help?  I know your magical message drop system got accidentally DDOSed yesterday--did you miss something important?"       "I don't think so.  But a bunch of magicians found out the hard way that most chain-contagion assassination deterrent spells depend on the ultimate target being biological. They backfire badly if the chain ends with Black Swan.  From what I've heard so far, only a few really sloppy or reckless casters died, but it put quite a few others in tight spots.  Some of their former employers left standing orders to kill the magician if they died and their spell failed.  Occupational hazard of working for mobsters.  Everyone wanted to make sure I knew about it, though, and the messages piled up.  I checked with Reveka for more details and she gave me an earful."       "You still... talk to her?"       Journeyman gave her a look over the top of his glasses.  "I did learn enough tradecraft to stop taking a phone with me.  She hears a lot about what goes on in the Balkans and Eastern Europe, and we swap gossip regularly.  She personally was careful, but she has a deserved rep as one of the best, so she had a lot of clients.  Three of them died within five minutes of each other.  That's a lot of backlash.  Fortunately she's very good at life magic.  I brought a useful potion for her and helped with a few things.  When I left, she was marginally less angry with me."       "Why was she mad at you?"       "Because I didn't warn her.  Nothing I could do; I wasn't anywhere near Earth, and Black Swan didn't warn me.  Besides the personal inconvenience, Reveka's professional rep is going to take a hit, because her former clients are dead and Black Swan is still flying around.  But she'll cope--she's been rolling with change since before the First World War."       Journeyman took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, still looking upset and distracted.  Flicker changed her mind about the question she'd been about to ask.       "I'm glad you were able to help her," she said instead.  "Was this after you talked to the Floater safety physicist?"       "After the first round of translation and clarification requests, before the second.  Then I ported around a bit reassuring some of my contacts who don't trust UPPfones yet, let alone the garbled news reports.  Took a while.  Hearing things through the grapevine can be exhausting when you're the one that has to move the grapes."       "Yeah."       "Then I got the third round of translations, along with that helpful scenario from Learning."       "He's been right about a lot."       "I know."  Journeyman stared down at his hat.  "But that didn't exactly make it any more reassuring to find out that time travel was only the second scariest thing we might have done that day, trying to get back home before your hand exploded.  When I thought about it."       Flicker frowned.  "How so?  Time travel is scary enough.  But I don't blame you.  We ported so quick I didn't have time to stop pushing with probability manipulation, so it might have been my fault."       "And it might not.  You were pushing for survival with data at the test portal.  I pushed safe and fast for our port home.  Hard as I've ever pushed a port.  And holy shit did we get fast.  We got forty million miles in negative seventeen seconds fast.  And yeah, that's scary, even with Novikov self-consistency."       "There are a lot of--"       Journeyman looked up and interrupted her.  "But you want to know what's scarier?  It seems like I jumped us back in time.  But I could have jumped us sideways too.  Not safe to safe.  Dying to not dying.  I asked DASI how we verify that we arrived in the same universe we left, and... we don't.  We just don't."       He waved his arm.  "Then Novikov goes out the window, there's no telling how different our past is from everyone and everything else, and for the rest of our lives we could be finding holes where there should be things that only the two of us remember, because they never happened here."       "Um..."       Flicker sped up.  "DASI?  Is this possible?"       "Please do not become alarmed.  Yes."       She slowed back down, still thinking.  "Okay.  So we can't rule it out.  Is there any evidence for it?  You've been porting around for a long time without anything like that happening."       "That we know of.  But that whole time, Golden Valkyrie has been around.  We all know she can do more than predict the future--she can change it.  Shape it.  But we've never been sure exactly how.  What's the mechanism?  Too many possibilities."       "Here's the one that's been bugging me.  I think it was number seven on Doc's old list."  Journeyman waved his arm again.  "Quantum many worlds, right?  Lots of copies of everything.  How many?  Don't know, so use Doc's measure scale.  Only relative measure matters.  Now Golden Valkyrie decides what she wants in some collection of worlds.  She portals out, to somewhere not causally connected to home.  Takes a look with her Sight.  Then comes back... But only to worlds where the thing she wanted happened."       Flicker frowned.  "What keeps her from appearing multiple times in the same worldline?"       "That weird quantum amplitude addition thing that Doc likes to go on about when he talks about cross-world interference.  She doesn't come back more times, she comes back more likely.  Probability over one?  That just forces the whole worldline to become more likely compared to others.  And there's Doc's measure transfer, which is another thing we don't know the mechanism for."       Flicker stared at the window.  "Shit.  There is some potential evidence now.  I don't know where she was most of the time when I was hunting the Wanderer.  And she was off rescuing The Volunteer during the Xelian attack.  She could have chosen to only come back to where we'd won, both times."       "Yup.  And remember what a big deal she made about me being the one to fasten the Skystone?  Like, maybe, to make sure we could find our way back to the same universe if we got separated?  There's some global causal disconnection for you.  And one hell of a problem if there's more than one driver at a time, and they overlap.  But the Wanderer is dead, Doc has stopped watching Apocalyptic Nightmare Prophecy Theatre, and Golden Valkyrie herself is gone.  So it's at least possible that someone else could manage a shaping without hosing our worldline."       He took a deep breath.  "If I haven't already botched it."       *****       "You weren't tempted to look, after Flicker's Database search for a potential friend and mentor found me?" asked Stella.       "No, I wasn't," said Doc.  "Flicker asked me not to go beyond the minimum needed to make sure you weren't spoofing the Database safety metrics."       "I was spoofing your metrics, and had been for years."       "Not the safety metrics.  DASI could tell you'd done something, but it wasn't her job to find out what.  There were plenty of others who went to extreme lengths to protect family and friends during the Lost Years.  Many of them had no compelling reason to trust me.  And my superhero family safety program started out rough enough even for those who did.  Not respecting your own efforts would have been rude as well as dangerous."       "Unless I was a threat."       "Yes.  And your threat index was negative.  Whoever or whatever you actually were was irrelevant.  You were making things better, not worse.  I was more worried that you'd react badly to Flicker finding you, so I insisted that she respect your privacy and listen if you said no."       "She worried that she was making me more of a target.  When she was inconveniencing me for entirely different reasons."  Stella shook her head.       "So what did happen to the original Stella Reinhart?"       "She died on that boat off the coast of Honduras, along with her parents.  I tracked down the saboteurs because that was what she would have done if she had become anything like the person I intended to be.  All the supernatural overtones were misdirection.  At least at first."       Doc nodded.  "You fit the supernatural vigilante or avatar profile very well.  But I'm curious about something.  The similarities required to make the swap possible made it tremendously unlikely.  If you did enough research to understand the superhero probability distortion effect, you must have also discovered how it can snap if pushed too far.  What was worth that risk?"       "Family.  It was still the Lost Years, and not all of my relatives were evil sociopaths.  Both my aunt and the cousin who trusted me had been through far too much already."       "Why keep the same first name, then?"       A humorless smile.  "I didn't, quite.  My original full first name was Estella.  My mother named me after the character in Great Expectations.  A big clue about several of her issues.  I was happy to stick with Stella because it let me spoof both database reconciliation and naming magic attempts to uncover my original identity."       Doc frowned.  "One-eyed Jack warned me that naming magic was probably used to uncover several people in my program.  But how did keeping a similar first name protect against it?"       "The only version most magicians know implicitly requires the form of name change to be uncommon.  Marriage name changes swamp the signal from mine.  And DASI can tell you all about my database spoofing legwork.  That was what convinced her I was suitably competent.  Didn't make me any happier about being drafted the way I was, but at least she warned me."       "Wait, what?  When was this?"       "She didn't use her name, but she was allowed to contact me under your privacy protocols as soon as I became a potential target for Flicker's search.  And she did.  She didn't tell you because--"       "You weren't a threat.  I see.  Would this be part of the 'relevant but non-urgent background' that she's been dutifully reminding me about for a while?"       "Barely scratches the surface.  But we aren't done with my relevant background yet, which is urgent."       *****       "Mike, it doesn't matter," said Flicker.  "We're still here, there isn't anything you can do about it now, and everyone is still talking reasonably, even if we don't know exactly what they're saying.  And we won't do any more deep space ports together unless it's life or death."       She smiled at him as he looked back up.  "And obsessing over accidentally ending the world is my thing, not yours.  I've got way more experience at it.  So trust me, okay?"       Journeyman snorted a laugh.  "Okay.  What was the good news you wanted to share?"       "Oh!  Ashil thinks she's found a way for me to catalyze the black hole without ever having to physically enter the construction space, based on some of the earlier test data."       "What?  How would that work?"       "Um.  It's easier to explain with a holoprojecter. Science room three at Doc's?"       "K.  I'll meet you there in a sec."

      Flicker ended up mostly listening, because Ashil had been practically bouncing with eagerness to explain.       "Yeah, I can put the active portal area right on the subspace boundary without reopening the portal," said Journeyman, slouching in one of the chairs.  "That's actually easy.  And yeah, I can make it time variant with increasing tension.  But nothing can get through if I don't open it.  I may not know a lot of physics, but I don't see how the subspace gets any smaller after it reaches thermal equilibrium.  There's no way for heat to escape."       "Is way," said Ashil triumphantly.  "Can push on boundary, this side, affect quantum interactions both sides.  Subtract entropy inside.  So boundary can shrink, because of tension.  Lots of energy, entropy outside, but we handle."       "It's like an interdimensional equivalent of Hawking radiation," said Flicker.       Journeyman frowned.  "Wouldn't that be a tiny effect?  And if it isn't, you'd have to have really fine control to keep anything from propagating to the portal edge and collapsing it on this side."       Flicker held up her hand and wiggled her fingers.  "Fine control right here.  And the effect increases with pressure.  Want to know how hard I can safely press on something that isn't made out of matter and doesn't interact with the strong nuclear force?  Really, really hard.  Yes, my hand will heat up, but we'll still be in orbit, so I'll have all of Europa as an entropy sink."

      Half an hour later, Journeyman was still scowling at the technical details of the subspaces he would have to create.  But it was the scowl he got when he was thinking through everything that might go wrong with something he was seriously planning to do.       "Okay.  I'll need to test that and that," he said, pointing at the display.  "And retest that.  And no offense to you and DASI, Ashil, but I'm not willing to say go until Doc at least gives this a once over.  But yeah, there's nothing here that looks impossible."       Flicker let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and found she was blinking back tears.  Not impossible after all.  She hugged Ashil, then Journeyman.       "Thank you.  Both of you.  For figuring out how to make Skybreaker's Forge."

Next:  Chapter 43

[redemptale]

REDEMPTALE (Chapter 2)

“Have you heard the legend of Mount Ebott?” Beatrice whispered to the children. It was nightfall, and her turn to tell the children a bedtime story tonight. “Mount Ebott?” A child questioned. “We’ve heard of that place, but…” “There’s a legend about it? What is it?” Another asked. Beatrice gave a soft smile. “Well…” She continued. “Many, many years ago, human beings, us, were not the only ones living on this planet.”

“Well, yeah! There’s animals and plants and...!” Delilah interjected.

Beatrice giggled a little.

“Okay, okay, besides those," Her tone turned wispy. “Long ago, humans and other beings lived on this Earth, together. Let’s just call the other beings ‘monsters.’”

“Humans and monsters lived together in peace and harmony for many years, until a war suddenly broke out between the two species. After a long battle, humans were victorious, and they sealed the monsters underground with magic," She looks around at the children.

“They say that those who go to the mountain never return…”

“What do the monsters looks like?” Luna suddenly asked. This surprised Beatrice. “Oh, uh, no one has seen a monster on the surface ever…” Beatrice scratches her head. “But you have to remember… it’s just a legend.” Beatrice lets out a sigh.

“But if it helps, think of... spooky scary skeletons and ghosts!” Beatrice gave a little chuckle, then stands up.

“Okay everyone, sleep well!” She leaves the room as the children lay down to sleep. ‘Monsters in Mount Ebott…’ Luna quietly thinks to herself as she slowly drifts to sleep.

Snow.

That’s all the little girl could see for yards in front of her, in a forest of pine and spruce. She looks behind her, only to see a large door, with some sort of rune at the top. She looks up to see an illusion of stars covering the ceiling of a very large chasm. The girl then looks back down at the snow.

“Hmm…” the girl picks up a handful of the snow and balls it up, only to place it back down on the snow. She gets another handful, a bit less than before, balls it up and places it on top of the other. She grabs a couple of nearby stones and places them on the front of the first ball. She smiles at it with tired eyes.

“What else…?” The girl looks around at the bottom of the pine trees. “Ah…!” She spots a couple of twigs and walks towards them.

*swshhh*

“...?” The girl looks at the spot where her little snowman stood. It had been knocked down; Luna stares at the small pile of snow. She frowns at the small pile of snow, and decides to continue along the snowy path. A tune pops into her head, and she walks to its pace, a small grin forming on her face.

*swsh swsh*

“...” The girl comes across a large branch upon the path. She simply hops over it, and continues on, walking to the music.

*CRACK*

“!!!” She spirals back in the direction of the branch… which had broke. Wide eyed, she turned back towards the path and continued again, her pace quickened. Eventually, she slowed back down a little. She seemed like she had calmed down a little. She looks back at the trail behind her uneasily.

“Huh…?” It seems a trail of roses are following the girl. She kneels to the level of one of them. It’s covered in snow, yet its white and cyan colors seem to compliment its surroundings. Her eyes light up a little with curiosity, but she shakes her head and continues down the trail instead.

*crch crch*

“?” the girl looks back, but she sees nothing. She continues forward, again quickening her pace.

*crch crch crch*

“?!” She whips back, catching a glimpse of a silhouette of… something, only for it to disappear with a flash of cyan. Only one thing pops into her mind…

...run.

The girl bursts forward into a sprint, her fear building with each step. Soon, she sees a distant gate; she pushes her tired body forward. Her breathing gets heavier as the gate gets closer.

“Almost… there-” she manages to huff out before tripping on the massive amount of snow.

“AUGH-!” She lands hard on the icy mass, her arm breaking her fall. She scrambles up, only to fall back down.

“It... hurts...!” The girl struggles up, pain shooting throughout her arm. She looks in front of her to see the gate, several feet in front of her. Holding her arm, she limps over, only to suddenly stop. She tries to move, but her feet feel too heavy to even lift…

The crunch of snow under feet returns, but the girl looks as if she’s given up. She collapses onto her legs, shivering at the pain and the cold. As the footsteps close in, she feels her body weaken more and more.

The footsteps stop…

* H u m a n . . . * D o n ‘ t  y o u  k n o w -

The pain is too much… Luna collapses onto her side.

* ?! * k-kid, you okay? * ...kid...?!

A few years passed. The orphanage saw children come and go. Luna grew like a blossom, though she never saw past the doors of the orphanage. Her beautiful garden of flowers and vegetation, used by the orphanage, kept her happy and at peace. Strangely, however, a peculiar ring of rose bushes lies at the core of the garden. Though they were colorless, there was something mystic about their presence, as if they were meant to be there for some greater reason…

Those years were quite active for the orphanage, for not only business, but for the sisters who facilitated it… and the tragedies that would befall them.

The first tragedy fell upon the eldest sister, Phoebe, on a Sunday morning…

May 17, 2009, 10:59 AM

“OH MY GOD!” Beatrice shrieked. She was loud enough for some of the children to hear. They rushed to the source from the dining hall to the source of the sound.

On the floor was the body of a woman. She had fallen from her chair at a table that supported a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and a single pancake. There lay a fork on the floor, and stray chunks of egg around the face of the woman. Beatrice frantically shook the still-warm body, hoping for a response.

“DELORA, CALL 9-1-1 – PHOEBE’S NOT BREATHING!!!”

The body was rushed to the hospital, where the eldest sister was declared a lifeless shell of a woman, who bore integrity and kindness, because of cardiac arrest. Her funeral was held the following week, where sorrowful hearts stand as flowers amongst the plains.

The following months saw deterioration in the orphanage. Beatrice assumed the roles of her sister, despite it being Delora’s new responsibilities. The youngest sister tried to keep optimism for the children, though it was quite clearly visible that she was not okay herself.

“Miss Beatrice…” Luna confronted her one day.

“Yes, my little Luna?” The woman looked at the young girl’s distraught face with weary eyes. Suddenly, the girl hugged Beatrice, surprising both of them.

“I know everything has been hard…” Luna murmured, looking up at the sister. “...but I want to help you.”

Beatrice frowned at the girl. “Luna, no, you don’t-”

“Please!” The girl interrupted. “You’ve been doing too much, and- and-” She shakes her head, tears starting to form.

“I don’t want you to be the next to go…!”

There was sorrow in the woman’s eyes. With a shake of her head, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay… but I will have to teach you quite a bit...”

For the following month, Luna learned basic housekeeping skills, from dusting the fans and furniture to cooking simple foods like pastas.

For a small amount of time, it seemed as if the orphanage was improving once again...

...until Luna found Beatrice hung from the ceiling fan in the lady’s room.

Jan 9, 2010, 8:30 PM

The eleven-year-old experienced more trauma than the woman who had found her sister on the floor… as if she was having a nightmare she’d never awaken from.

Like her sister, the woman was rushed to the hospital, to have been confirmed dead, like her sister, by asphyxiation…

She was buried next to her sister the following week, a smaller group of children mourning the loss of the enthusiastic ray of sunshine that had been snuffed out of their lives.

With the death of Beatrice came a downward spiral into chaos, run by Delora.

The children were suffering under her oppression. Some ran away, never to return, others sought foster-care, where at least they would live better lives than the hell they were suffering through for several years…

...yet a select few sought to disappear to Mount Ebott.

June 5, 201X, 9:50 PM

“Mount Ebott? Why?” Luna asked the two girls, Laila and Delilah.

“Luna, you know we can’t stay here anymore…” Delilah answered. “Especially when SHE is running this hell-hole.” Laila nodded.

“But what about-” Delilah stopped her, the girl’s light blue eyes staring at Luna’s heterochromic ones.

“There’s nothing here for us," Delilah said, sorrow in her eyes. “Please… don’t try to stop us…”

“...” Luna looked crestfallen. But she shook her head and forced a smile on her face.

“Okay. I just hope you guys will be alright.” The two girls nodded, and turned towards their escape route, when suddenly Luna stopped them.

“WAIT! I need to give you guys something, what here!” The girl rushed outside to her garden, grabbing a pair of pruners. She looked for some flowers to give them, but found none, until she passed by her rose bushes at the garden’s core. On two of the bushes, amongst the white roses, were a single rose of a different color. On one grew a cyan rose, whereas the other grew an indigo rose. The girl took her pruners and snipped off the roses and ran back to the awaiting others.

“Here…!” Luna handed Delilah the cyan rose and Laila the indigo one. They both stared into their roses, then looked back at Luna with thankful smiles.

“Thank you!” The girls whispered, and gave Luna a hug.

“Be safe, okay?” Luna whispered back once she was released. The girls gave a curt nod, and turned to leave. Delilah adorned her hair with the rose, which accompanied her red ribbon, while Laila tucked hers in the loop of her tutu.

“See you on the other side!” The two girls bid farewell.

Having escaped, Laila and Delilah were never seen again…

Others followed them as the months passed. A pair of boys bearing fake pistols and a frying pan left 3 weeks later, who received a yellow and, strangely, an olive-green rose, respectively.

“Good luck to you!” They bid adieu.

And finally, a girl wearing cloudy glasses, and a boy, named Cameron, who wore gloves, were the last to leave. Violet and orange were the roses that found them that day.

“Stay safe yourself, k?” Cameron saluted as the other waved.

“I will…!” Luna responded.

A few years passed, and few children were left in the orphanage.

Delora neglected the children most of the time, leaving the responsibility of caring for and feeding them to Luna.

The only thing that kept the girl happiness at this point was her garden, with its multicolored center of rose bushes, save for two that continued to bear pure white roses.

August 17, 201X, 3:30 PM

Luna had wandered into the forest just beyond her garden. This was the day that she decided that it’s time to stop staying cooped up in that damned orphanage, and actually see what’s outside for once. The girl was gleeful with the things she saw: bluebirds hopping from branch to branch in spruce and oak trees, where small squirrels skitter up and down the trees in happy playing on the beautiful day.

The girl happens upon a stream, its bank holding sands and gravel. She nears the stream and sits down, resting her bare feet in the cool currents. She sighs with pleasure as she watches the flow.

*shff swff*

“?” The girl looks downstream, where a small object floated near her. It appeared to be a rather large bulb of some kind of flower… She reaches out and manages to catch the bulb in her hands. It was the size of her palm, soft and delicate. Gingerly, she steps out of the stream and treads back to her garden, the bulb cupped in her fragile hands.

“I’ll find you a home…” Luna looks for a suitable planting space for the bulb, and her eyes fall to the ring of rose bushes. She pads over to it, and steps to the center. She stares at the bulb again, then places it in the spot.

“Let me get you a trowel, and then I can plant you here…” She said to it briefly before pacing over to the shed.

“Okay let’s see…” she opens the shed and immediately darts for the drawer of trowels and pruners. She grabs one and exits to find a peculiar sight.

It seems that, while she was gone, a sort of pond had formed. It began from the center, and created a ring around the rose bushes. And at its center was a large unbloomed lily, rotating indefinitely as if there was a current. Luna simply stared in awe. To her, it seemed as if the garden was completed a little bit more… She checked the rose bushes, making sure none of them were submerged. The formation was so perfect that none of them were submerged. In fact, it had not only created a ring around the rose bushes, but the bushes themselves were set on a dry ring of dirt themselves.

“Wow…” Luna stared in disbelief once more before returning back inside the orphanage.

“...?” For a brief moment, she felt the earth under her feet vibrate, though it felt… unnatural. The feeling felt as if there was some sort of otherworldly force at work… or quite possibly…

...magic.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 (You are here) Chapter 3

[drundertalescum]

A Ficlet, kinda

I just noticed that @itsladykit tagged me on the last sentence meme as well, so I decided to pull the last sentence of another WIP, but then i remembered this, which was the first draft for the first chapter of that Underswap/Underfell idea I mentioned. I actually decided to go another route entirely for the start, so this is mostly never getting used. I don’t love it but hey, why not share it now? I could definitely be putting out more content.

This part only takes place in Underswap, and it’s also my closer-ish-to-canon-personalities Underswap, so as usual for that AU, Papyrus is a massive, massive dork.

This is a little under 1000 words iirc

————————————–

It was an otherwise unnoteworthy Tuesday afternoon. Monsters went about their business as usual. They worked, as usual. They played, as usual. They spared, as usual. They each lived their lives, as usual, and in a “laboratory” built beside a house in Snowdin, a skeleton came face-to-face with his overwhelming fear of failure, as usual.

Papyrus cracked his joints, all of them he could manage, one by one, magic that flowed invisibly between them popping and sparking to life with flickers of light and color.

He’d been working hard on this project, and now… now!!

Now it might actually be done, soon!

And that was… that was…!!! That was…

…scary.

The project itself, of course, wasn’t scary.

Well, it was, if he thought about it hard enough, it was certainly scary, the concept of punching a hole through the fabric of reality and unleashing a permanent tether to the unknowable beyond. Yeah, okay, that was definitely very scary.

But that was only scary if it worked.

And Papyrus was scared that it wouldn’t.

If it didn’t work… well… Well…!!!

Absolutely nothing would happen.

Everything would remain as it was. Reality would continue to exist as it had, and his life would remain as it was, and no one but him would ever know that he failed, because this project was very, very secret.

Regardless, the thought terrified him.

It was tempting, really, to give up now. It wouldn’t really be giving up, of course. No, definitely not. He wouldn’t call it giving up, at least. He would just… take a break. Maybe not a “break.” A breather. Yes, a breather. A step back. A re-focusing. Yeah, that was it. Papyrus wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t a quitter. He didn’t take breaks. But a re-examining… yes, yes he could do that. Absolutely.

The prospect of failure made completion of the project a looming worry, so the thought was very, very tempting. Don’t finish, and it cannot fail! ((And it cannot succeed). There was a dumb physics thing Undyne was fond of bringing up, constantly and without context or prompting, that Papyrus thought would likely be well suited to his current attitude, but he was fairly certain she just liked to gross him out and share anecdotes about the cruelty of humans gassing helpless animals in their dimensional boxes of horrors, so he refused to think of it now.)

Papyrus felt his shoulders slumping, starting at the machine, the button. All he had to do was press it. That’s all that was left. He didn’t want to press it.

“I SHOULD JUST PRESS IT,” he muttered to himself.

He didn’t press it.

His shoulders slumped further on his hesitation. He was getting his coccyx kicked by a switch he installed himself. His brother was off learning how to join the Royal Guard, sparring without a bit of hesitation or fear with one of the scariest individuals Papyrus had ever encountered, all scales, scars, and muscles, and here Papyrus was, in the shed, too scared of looking bad to himself to power up his own project.

Dad was so, so wrong about which son was the success story. Dad must have always been crazy if he thought Papyrus was the one who was going to do the name proud.

Haha, what a terrible thought! He was not going to think about that!

Nope!!! This project wasn’t about Dad!

It wasn’t about Sans, either. It wasn’t about Undyne, and it wasn’t even about Him, anymore.

This project was about Papyrus!

How foolish of him to have forgotten that!

This project was about taking on something difficult and extensive that would distract him for a while, give him purpose, give him drive, give him life!

He’d been rather lacking in all of that for quite a while, now. He didn’t sleep, but he had a hard time getting out of bed. He was restless, yet he rarely did anything. He was bored, but he just… he didn't…

…He just didn’t.

But then he did! He did a thing! He started the project! He worked hard! Just like he used to! And it was going to pay off!

Yes! Because even if it didn’t work this time, he could keep working! He could keep moving! He could pick himself up, dust himself off, and try again until it did work! It wasn’t a failure if he failed the first time! It was only a failure if he stopped trying!

So he couldn’t quit now! He couldn’t fail now!

Straightening himself out, and puffing up his chest, Papyrus took advantage of the burst of unexpected optimism. He knew it wouldn’t last for long if this didn’t work, but it couldn’t work unless he tried, right?

Without allowing himself another moment of doubt, Papyrus allowed himself a deep, unnecessary breath.

He pressed the button.

At first, there was silence, then the whirring of fans and components, the lights on the consoles and monitors turning on, one by one.

A surge of power ripped through the building as the rest of the lights flickered out, and Papyrus held his breath. This was a failure point, drawing on enough power from the CORE. It could short circuit, it could fail right here.

The power was probably out across Snowdin, but the machine showed no signs of strain.

The young engineer watched closely at each monitor, waiting for the moment where it all went wrong.

But it never came.

Papyrus watched intently, bouncing lightly on his soles, almost vibrating, too stunned to be happy, too excited to be still.

A bright light filled the room…

…filled all of Snowdin… … filled everything…

…and everything c h a n g e d.

[omnybus]

The Red Marble

A creepypasta I wrote for @bogleech​’s 2017 Creepypasta Cook-Off, and one of the semifinalists!

Comments and critiques are very much appreciated.

The craft had appeared one midsummer morning, hovering quietly over the ocean.

How it arrived without any warning was just one of its many secrets- it was a gargantuan thing, smooth and toroidal in shape, stretching across nearly half the visible horizon when viewed from the nearest beach. At first glance it looked as if it were made of crystal-clear glass, but further observations found it was made of some kind of highly reflective metal that mirrored the sea below and the sky above, and had no visible doors, windows, or seams of any sort. Even viewing it myself from the lighthouse, it seemed almost unreal, like an amateur CGI model of a perfectly smooth, colossal chrome donut hastily pasted onto the sky.

For four days straight, it simply hovered there, never moving, never making a sound. Cargo ships and commercial airplanes were re-routed at great expense and inconvenience to go around the mystery craft, as none dared to approach it too closely. Speculations over the crafts' pilots (if it was indeed piloted) and their intentions sparked heated debate both on the internet and amongst the leaders of the world. There were many attempts at communicating with the craft, both from military forces and civilians (despite the former's attempts at keeping the latter away), mostly through radio broadcasts. Greetings, questions, and threats all went unanswered. Several amateur pilots attempted to land on the craft, but were never heard back.

On the fifth day, another craft appeared, identical in size, shape, and suddenness of arrival, hovering over the Indian Ocean. Another two crafts appeared over the Pacific some time later, followed by four more circling the Antarctic. More and more appeared without a single noise or warning, simply "poofing" into existence in the blink of an eye, until nearly a hundred of them were scattered above the Earth’s oceans without any recognizable pattern.

After several hours of nothing, a great and terrible noise roared throughout the atmosphere across the globe - a low, metallic rumble like the chugging of a train engine slowed down to a thundering bass, kicking up the waters below and blasted nearby clouds away, followed by a blinding, blue beam of light blaring down out from the hole in the center of each craft. From my window I watched with curiosity as the sea below the craft nearest me began to foam and spiral. Curiosity turned to horror as the waters were quickly lifted in a spiraling cyclone of water, sucking up into the craft's middle from below, but not emerging from the top. Before long the cyclone became a massive, twisting cylinder of water wider than a mountain, rapidly lifting up into the craft's eye without any sign of stopping. From the beach, I watched the water being dragged from the shoreline like a carpet, and never rushing back. Whatever these machines were, their purpose was clear: they were draining our ocean.

Needless to say, the world panicked. More fruitless pleas of mercy were broadcasted on every frequency, even pulses of x-rays and gamma rays were utilized with the theory that perhaps our visitors communicated on a different frequency. Temples and churches around the globe all bowed and prayed to their respective gods for help. Some mad individuals took boats out to where the ocean was being drained, perhaps to communicate with the crafts or simply to fulfill a death wish. Either way, their boats were all crushed within the waves and sucked up into the cyclones, never to be heard from again.

Every military force on the planet turned their guns on the alien invaders- missiles, jet fighters, drones and more relentlessly bombarded the machines with everything they could, even our nuclear stockpile was unleashed out of desperation. But new footage revealed that anything that attempted to strike the crafts' hulls simply vanished into nothing mere yards from the alien machines- no explosions, no re-directing, not even a puff of smoke; just disappearing from view as if deleted from existence. All attempts at landing on the craft ended in a similar fashion. When that failed, the remaining military forces simply focused on securing whatever land-locked lakes and rivers remain, as they were unaffected by the draining machines.

Before sundown, the ocean was almost entirely drained, according to satellite footage. From my vantage point, what was once the Atlantic Ocean was now a vast, rapidly-drying desert of sand and rocks, stretching out for miles in every direction. On the horizon, the shimmering craft and its titanic cyclone of water was silhouetted against the sunset, continued its robbery of our waters unabated.

For the longest time I just stood and stared at the thing, thinking and feeling nothing. I had turned off my radio, TV, and internet long ago, having grown tired of hearing the same reports of mass deaths, panic, and chaos repeated ad nauseam.

By midnight, our oceans were no more.

When the last bit of seawater vanished into the craft's center, the blue beam dimmed, and its metallic roar ceased, but the craft remained, reflecting the stars and clouds beneath the moon. It was almost eerily beautiful, an awe-inspiring distraction from the utter destruction of our most precious resource. For a moment I thought about hopping into my jeep and driving out along the sea bed to see the craft up close- a foolhardy quest, no doubt, but considering how the world as I knew it was now no more, and my job as lighthouse keeper was made obsolete in the most insane way possible, what other possible goal in life could I have?

My thoughts were immediately interrupted by another great and terrible noise from the craft, not an ear-shattering roar but a low and slow whooshing, gurgling noise, like the stomach of a titanic, hungry beast.

The center of the craft lit up once more, now an angry red instead of blue, followed by a column of something suddenly pouring out of the craft like an unplugged sewer pipe. I could not tell from the darkness and distance, but I assumed it was water, hoping perhaps that, whatever these things were and whoever sent them, had some benevolent gift for us. Perhaps these aliens took pity upon us humans and decided to clean up our oceans for us, undoing centuries of pollution with their wondrous technology? Was this a gift from beyond? A token of peace? I would take any glimmer of hope at this point.

Once it approached the shore, however, my optimism was immediately snuffed out as my lighthouse's beam swept over the craft's "delivery".

This was not water. This wasn't like anything on Earth. This was red. This was thick and viscous, bubbling and heaving and folding over itself again and again like lava, or freshly-ground meat. Dark red waves with crusted, scabby skin stretched and smothered over each other in their race to the shore. Soft, pale pink tendrils coiled and uncoiled from the creeping mass like tongues. Translucent yellow pustules, some as big as cars, bubbled and jiggled with a dark fluid before rupturing violently, great rivulets of crimson custard spewing forth in every direction. The stench- oh dear God in heaven the stench- washed over me like a tsunami, pouring down into my lungs like hot, rancid soup.  

As I knelt down to retch, I watched as a long, flat tongue of the red slop slid it ways up the beach and pooled around my bare feet. It was unpleasantly warm and wet, and rippled and probed along my soles and between my toes, like some big toothless dog was gnawing and slobbering all over my feet. It was enough to finally send me over the edge, and with a great heave I painted the crimson wave with the contents of my stomach, which immediately foamed and swirled into the surface of the red goop, releasing thick red steam as it gurgled. I finally gathered the resolve I needed to leap out of the intruding sludge and high-tail it back to my lighthouse, sealing the doors and windows for all the good it would do. I washed my feet as best as I could (they were slightly pink where the sludge had touched them, but otherwise normal-looking), and immediately dove into bed, trying to forget everything I saw.

In the morning, the craft was gone, but the ocean I was hoping to see was replaced with a vast expanse of red. Its scabby surface rose and fell in waves and ripples, but with a motion more akin to a breathing animal then any body of water.

I looked at my feet, hoping they at least had recovered from touching that stuff, but they had only gotten worse. From the ankles down, the skin was mottled crimson, shiny and rugose with thin patches of pale, crusty scabs all over. My toenails, once thick and only slightly yellow, were now a deep burgundy, heavily wrinkled and brittle like burnt bacon. A faint smell, like a fainter version of what I had smelled before, wafted from my afflicted flesh. I felt no pain. In fact, below my ankles, I felt nothing.

When I turned around, I saw that I had left a trail of blood-red footprints on the floor the other night. My sheets were stained a similar color. They would have to go.

Before anything else, I checked the news on my computer. Perhaps the nature of this new red ocean was revealed.

The very first search result on Google was a single image, taken via satellite of the planet Earth. I saw the world I now lived on.

A red marble.

[airship-full-of-dragons]

Infection - Part 2: Questionable decisions

In this installment of lore, a bunch of things go wrong. And somebody wakes up.

Read the introductory part here.

Links: Part 1, Part 2 (you're here), Part 3 (not yet)

You might also want to read Tau’s prologue, which happens roughly between part 1 and 2, but is otherwise standalone.

Dragons appearing: Yivree, Shijuni, Linidane, Melladion, Gilnar, Kyrsten, Tau, James, the bog robot, the stranger

Yivree sat at the edge of the nest, clutching the the small shade-touched ridgeback, trembling. She looked up to Shijuni, who was trying to sign something. But her eyes were too watery to read it. She shook her head and tried to dry the tears, but more just kept coming.

Shijuni stopped trying to talk to her and came closer insted, worried look on his face. He took hold of her chin and gently moved it down. Yivree let him, and very well knew what will follow. They rested their foreheads against each other and closed their eyes.

Her breathing slowed down and the shaking eased up, but the tears stayed.

They sat like this in silence for about a minute before Linidane landed next to them.

"Yivree?" The orange imperial took a deep breath, slowly pulled away from the comforting gesture and looked at the newcomer. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head. Linidane's brow furrowed in worry. Not like it wasn't furrowed enough already, considering that she never saw Yivree crying like this before. "What's wrong?"

Yivee slowly uncurled from around the tiny ridgeback with black beads on her skin, who was already asleep. Linidane's response got stuck in her throat and her eyes widened. She looked at Shijuni with a silent question. He nodded. "Oh dear." She immediatelly puled Yivree and the hatchling into a hug, or at least into something similar that could tundra manage to do with dragons of their size. "It's gonna be alright. Gilnar is gonna help you through this, I'm sure."

Yivree let out a silent sob as she embraced Linidane back. It took her a few moments before she managed to scrape together a response. "I- I sure hope so." she said in a raspy, tired voice.

Melladion took a deep breath, tried to regain some of his usual optimism and gave Kyrsten a reassuring thumbs up. Or at least, it would be reasurring, if he wasn't shaking that much.

He was really trying to hold it together and look confident, though.

"Alright. Let's do this." He dove into the remains of the arcane bot as Kyrsten and Gilnar watched. "I sure hope the lil' fella survived this."

Gilnar came little bit closer, trying to locate the coatl that basically vanished in the scraps. "You're sure you don't need help? I'll-"

"Aha!" Melladion suddenly jumped out, yelling victoriously.

Gilnar didn't move an inch, just raised her eyebrow. Theatricals.

"Y-you ruin the fun." Melladion pulled out a small, wyvern-like robot. "He survived! What a sturdy fella this golem is. Well, well. Lightning-quality casing is-"

A powerful glare from Gilnar stopped him in his tracks before he even gained any speed. He sighed and climbed down from the tower of bot remains. "Okay. Just let me turn him on."

He plugged the small golem onto his gauntlet and took another deep breath. Closed his eyes. He concentrated onto the magic center in his chest and carefully redirected the lightning energy into the gauntlet.

The robotic wyvern came alive with a zap and flew up, now only a translucent string of magic connecting it into the gauntled. It hovered in the air with silent buzzing and a twitch now and then. Melladion sighed with relief. Now he just needed to keep his magic consumption low, as he didn't exactly have huge magic reserves but definitely had a lot of ground he needed to cover. "Alright, where do we start?"

Kyrsten decided to chime in. "Let's start with the infirmary. Nebula's there and we don't want her to come back unprepared. Or even better, we don't want her to come back here at all." She tried to ignore the urge to add "because one medic down is enough". Her head was starting to hurt quite a bit. Not an exactly good sign.

"That's probably a good idea. We can work out an optimal route while you're getting it there," Gilnar nodded.

"Alright. Seems like a good plan. Don't poke into me much, long-distance driving is pretty difficult," chuckled Melladion with a slight voice crack and closed his eyes.

Then he swung the arm with the gauntlet and the small golem zoomed out of the room.

Meanwhile, a certain brown-blue tundra was staring from outside of the silvery barrier at one of the baterries that were powering it. It took her long enough to find one, and now she had to break it. She stared an her cerdae with a toothy, but very much genuine, smile.

"This is gonna be a pi-ece of cake for us. Come on, I'm gonna need your help, Euler." She gestured at her familiar and then the baterry. "We need to make it resonate. Just try to uniformly aim your magic at it, and I'll tell you if you should add some power or not. Alright?"

Euler didn't seem to be cooperating. He just raised one of his eyebrows and stared at Tau with his head slightly tilted to the left.

"Come on, for me?"

The cerdae gave up. He came closer to the barrier, bowed, so that his horn touched the barrier right in front of the baterry, and closed his eyes. Tau came next to him and put her paw on the barrier.

A weak, yet stable flow of magic was pulsing at the tip of Euler's horn.

"I think we need a higher frequency. Quite a lot." Tau put her paw a little bit more firmly on the barrier. No noticable change in behaviour or pulsing yet.

The flow got significantly stronger.

"More."

"A bit more- Okay, okay, alright." Tau could feel the barrier start vibrating. Not enough, though. "We're gonna fine-tune now. Just slowly add power and I'll tell you when to stop." Euler nodded.

"STOP! An now, just hold it!" Tau was getting excited. The magical barrier was starting to shake, tremble. And the baterry too. You could actually see it. And the movement was getting more violent every second. Euler could feel it too, but was too scared to open his eyes. "Here we g-"

With a loud bang and a burst of blinding light, the baterry shattered. The shockwave tripped over the cerdae and sent Tau rolling a few meters back.

Little bit ruffled, she got back on her feet with a wide grin. The missing baterry created a hole in the barrier big enough for basically any dragon, imperial or tundra, to go through. Tau jumped through it without hesitation.

"We're in."

"Melladion, you don't look so good." Kyrsten stated the obvious, finally leaving the laying stranger's side and coming closer to the coatl. He was wheezing through his teeth and eyes closed with concentration. "Are you alright?"

The coatl's arm quickly changed position again. "Yeah. I think I might be finished soon, though. But I haven't seen James yet." Melladion's voice basically gave out by the end of that sentence. "He... he has to be at the Tinker club."

Kyrsten looked at him with a worried look. He was obviously straining himself. The thin line of magic connecting him to the golem was almost invisible at this point, but somehow he was still going. "Don't overdo it. We can find a different way."

"Don't. Don't worry. I'm almost there. Wait. Wait, I can see James!" Melladion sprung up. "He's alright so far! I just need to-"

A black bolt split the air in the hall with one of the loudest noises anybody in the room ever heard, overloading everybody's senses for a few seconds.

The moment Kyrsten recovered, she dove right next to Melladion, who was writhing in pain on the floor, gasping for air. "Shit! Hold on!"

As Gilnar was still trying to regain control over her senses, Kyrsten quickly grabbed the twisting coatl and started conjuring.

Gilnar squinted onto the two as she felt the familiar pressure of a magical seal being prepared. But something was wrong. The aura felt different. "Kyrsten, I don't think you should-"

The fae huffed as she tried to tame her own magic with a splitting headache. It was squirming. "Stay back. I've got this under control." Kyrsten growled as the ribbons of pink around her turned into sharp edges, circling her with alarming speed. "Shit. I might-" The inviting pink turned black and flew out in all directions.

James carefully stepped down the stairs leading to the main Tinker club complex, his alchemy equipment clinking with every move. Finally he came upon a door and slipped through, sighing with relief and carefully stretching his wings. While the halls theselves were adequately roomy, the hallways definitely weren't made with guardians in mind.

Goddamit, why are all the tech savvy dragons in this clan so tiny.

James turned on the lights and looked around. He was in Melladion's workshop, which was filled with several tabes with a mechanical mess on top of them. The middle table was occupied by an iron, vaguely dragon-like skeleton with a scramble of wires and tubes for it's insides. Judging by the blueprints it was laying on, it was Melladion's current project. Then there were some tables under the small, high windows that were leading out and aboveground. These were mostly filled with papers, tools and drawing equipment, but there were also two... things covered with a black fabric. One of them had a yellow post-it note stuck to it.

Oddly enough, Melladion was nowhere to be found.

James started making his way to a door on the other side of the room, clinking with every step. Perhaps he was in the training hall again, wrestling with one of his robots.

A silent buzzing stopped him. He turned around to see Melladion's golem floating right behind him. What was it doing here?

With a pulse of black energy and alarming strenght, the golem crashed into the suprised guardian's face.

James woke up laying on the floor with a basically scrapped golem in front of him. He squinted and frowned.

What was he doing here? What happened? His head definitely hurt.

He slowly stood up and checked his alchemist equipment. Thankfully, none of his vials or bottles had broken. He looked around. Maybe he'll figure out what was he doing here. Was he supposed to run an errand or something?

The weird lump on one of the tables with a post-it note on it caught his attention. He walked closer and looked at it.

"Out of order. Extra energy core needed. Possibly malfunctioning?"

James took off the black cloth. Underneath, there was a carefully put-together robot that resembled a dark green-skinned bogsneak. There was a multitude of glass-like green gems scattered around it's body. Actually, that and it's neck were mostly covered in some sort of rough fabric. James carefully moved it away to reveal an circular slot in it's chest. It was empty.

James looked back at the wreckage that he woke up in. Strangely enough, the glinting blue orb that was the golem's energy source, seemed to be intact.

He didn't realise that was strange. What he realised though, was that he could use it to fix this bogsneak robot.

In the main hall of the Reed Shelter, the stranger finally woke up. He slowly stood up, surveying the surroundings. Three unconscious dragons: a fae, coatl, and a guardian. A giant hole in a wall. Lots of scrapped metal and golem parts. His mask, thrown on the floor next to him.

A huge puddle of black goo that he was standing in.

"Eww!" the ridgeback jumped up and exclaimed in a strangely raspy voice. It would be pretty unnerving, if anybody could actually hear him. "I can't believe I started leaking. What an embarrassment. Better clean up after myself."

The black fluid flew up into the air in millions of droplets that quickly vanished.

The stranger's eyes went from dark red to pure black. He picked up his mask and put it on. "There. Much better."

He looked back at the three unconscious dragons. He startled cackling, until he interrupted himself with a very loud fit of coughing. He came closer to them, basically leaning above the fae. "You're all fucking idiots."

[sopping-wet-sibling]

Once More, A Third.

In the world of Pokemon, a realm populated by beasts large and small capable of extraordinary feats, it’s often been theorized that the typings they share might relate to humans as well. Of course, man is incapable of calling down thunder or changing the tides, but perhaps they have a type all to themselves, one that can accept the gifts of a greater power. The gifts of something... Legendary.

To the average Unovan, there are few things scarier than Lacunosa at night. Sheer stone walls, locked doors, shuttered windows, and cold air seeping through the streets from the nearby forest. Indeed, all locals knew the legend of the beast that terrorized the town ages before, and lived in fear of the darkness here. Cress, on the other hand, wasn’t scared as he passed through the cold, empty streets.

He was absolutely terrified.

He’d been returning from business in Opelucid and forgot both his Drifblim and wallet at home, which ruled out flying or taking the train home. Instead, he had wanted to cut through Undella and Black City to get back to Castelia, as it was the route he knew best, but it wasn’t until after the sun went down that he realized he’d never gone this way at night. So here he was, shivering as he traversed the town’s main avenue, both out of fear and cold. On the plus side, there was no one else on the streets, so at least he didn’t look like a total fool for forgetting a jacket, too. Wait... Might’ve spoken too soon.

Someone was walking his way through the mist, hunched over and guiding themselves with one hand on the wall. They looked like they were hurt, and as Cress got closer, he realized they were bleeding waaaay too much for a normal person. Their hand on the wall left a trail of red behind it, and judging by the crimson pooling on the ground behind them, they were running out.

Without a word, he ran forward, the stranger recoiling at first, but accepting whatever he had in store for them. After all, they were on their way out, anyway. When the ex-Gym Leader caught up to them, they slumped against the wall, defeated. Cress grabbed hold of them to keep their head from hitting the pavement and ran his hand over their torso, checking to see how bad the wound was.

There was a massive hole through their right side, as if they’d been impaled on something large, and the blood around the wound was freezing over in the night air. They sputtered and coughed, trying to speak, but Cress put a finger to their lips.

“I-it’s fine now, you’re going to be okay, I’ll call for--”

“NO!”

The injured being’s yell echoed throughout the empty town, and they clenched up out of pain.

“N-no, child. There’s no saving me...”

“I refuse to accept that. Let me call an ambulance, or a doctor, or something.“

He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t in his pocket. It’d been stuck to the wall, held in an ironclad grip by a patch of ivy that... Was that there before?

“Child... I admire your optimism, but... It’s time.”

The dying stranger placed their bloodied hand over Cress’s uncovered eye, and a flash of light erupted from the palm. In an instant, Cress felt alive and dead, young and old, active and stagnant, a myriad of conflicting emotions all at once. In the beauty of it, he didn’t realize the corpse in his arms had vanished, and he now sat in a patch of blooming zinnias and hyacinths.

From the fog, an equine figure turned and fled back into the woods.