#IMAGINE IF I HAD AN ELECTRIC WATER FILTER

[thenineofus]

Well I most certainly do feel vindicated in my extreme fear of a complete blackout that therefore lead me to create a home where I can still mostly have a life without electricity. However I still have not found a fridge with solar power and I have a bunch of stuff in my freezer so I would really love it if now that's been 4 hours the power could please come back

[aikoiya]

DPxDC - Bell Above the Box

Dude, they used to put bells above graves in case someone was accidentally buried alive so that the interred could just ring the bell & be saved. Basically, if this happened to you, then you were supposed to feel around for a string inside the coffin, then pull. Or they'd tie the string to a toe so that if the buried begins to move, it just sets off automatically. Now, I get that this custom was originally for lead poisoning, but it feels pertinent here as well.

Now, imagine if Bruce, be it out of some vain hope, had had one installed, just in case, with a sensor that would alert the batcomputer, Alfred, & Batman if it were ever pulled. Never actually expecting for it to happen. Only for, in the wake of Superboy gutpunching reality, it does.

Because of this, Bruce is there as quickly as possible, before the League gets a chance to take Jason from him.

Jason is only half there & Bruce has him at home. But the confused boy tends to wander off.

It's because of this that Jason eventually wanders to a nearby swamp & finds what's called a "blue hole," though it looked more like a green hole to him.

The glowing green water that bubbled from the stone outcrop & filtered into the swamp felt somehow familiar. The closer he drew to it, the clearer his thoughts became until he fell in.

He's submerged for a moment, not really realizing what was happening, until it was as if someone had suddenly flipped a switch inside his head. His mind was clear & there was this strange, almost comforting energy in the center of his chest.

That's when Bruce reaches in & pulls him out.

Jason becomes a very low-grade halfa with only a few powers that he now has to practice at.

Things like advanced healing, increased strength, speed, & flexibility, intangibility every once in a while (like, he can't use it willynilly), the ability to actually grab & hit ghosts, night vision, able to walk silently, even the power to see the regular, non-GZ DC ghosts like Deadman & the Gentlemen Ghost. Not able to turn invisible, but he is able to affect people's perception of him similarly to ghosts. So, he can manipulate not only a person's sense of object permanence when in regards to himself, but he can also make himself unnoticeable. Like, he can basically do what the Chameleon Circuit does. Like this:

Spectral Acknowledgment

However, because he's not a very good ratio of halfa, his anti-gravity center isn't fully developed, so he can really only slow his falling. Just stuff that gives him an edge & a few benefits, while not taking away from his fighting style.

He also gets slitted pupils, pointed ears, tapetum lucidum, & fangs, as well as a core element once it's fully developed. I'm thinking an electric primary & either a fire or shadow secondary, but he can only really cover his body with the elements to give him an edge in combat.

The Pit Rage was much more manageable because the Lazurus Water he bathed in had actually been cleaned in the last century unlike the one in Nanda Parbat. At the same time, it isn't just that Ra's doesn't clean his bath water, it's also that Nanda Parbat's pit has been intentionally corrupted by dark magic & especially necromantic energy. Luckily, this one had recently (like, within the last 50 years) been purified via the same prayer used to make Holy Water (which is the proper means of neutralizing black magic from water). This helped to stave off Gotham's many curses from corrupting the water fully.

In the end, instead of becoming Red Hood, because he has no reason to, he becomes the Cardinal.

Not much difference in the costume to be fair. Instead, he wears the red vest (but it reaches his ankles like a trench) with an actual hood & a black mouth guard.

But, he does tend to use the All-Blades more often. Don't know how he gets them here, but he does because they're awesome!

One change to them, though. They don't only appear in the presence of pure evil & also work on paranormal beings. They are, however, only deadly to those who are evil. They can hurt those who aren't, but can't kill them.

However, despite Bruce having actually been there for him, the fact that the Joker was still walking around & killing people... stung...

The thing is that Bruce had been there for him. Had actually found him. Had kept him safe once he came back. And hadn't replaced him. So, Jason couldn't hate him entirely. But in a lot of ways, that's actually worse because it hurts even worse.

And because of this, he can't bring himself to trust Bruce.

And whenever Jason sees the Joker, it's like he's right back there in that chair being sold out by his own mother. Screaming for Bruce to save him.

You see, a ghost's killer is an extreme source of stress & anxiety for them. If they are still alive & able to continue on with what they do, it is a consistent source of trauma that can send the ghost spiraling if you're not careful. It is an IMMEDIATE & INTENSE trigger. Like, we are talking some serious PTSD! The sort that triggers the fight or flight instinct. So, even though it appears similar to Pit Rage, the source isn't rage, it's fear.

The only upside is that Dick is actually treating him like a brother now.

Then, one night, Jason hears Dick & Bruce arguing & learns that Dick had actually killed the Joker & that Batman revived him.

It shattered him.

He couldn't stay with Bruce anymore & went to live with Dick in Bloodhaven.

Edit: I also just learned that, apparently, due to being part of the All-Caste, Jason also has some basic precognative abilities, though he can't use them very long before they start causing migrains. As well as the apparent ability to just shut off people's powers.

I'm thinking about making Jason the resident magic-user/supernatural hunter in the batclan. Just as a treat!

I mean, does his love of literature also extend to research on ancient mythology & legends, even those of other cultures? Because if so, he could end up being a natural.

For those who don't know, I'm talking about the Supernatural-type hunters.

DP Character HC Masterlist

[disgruntledexplainer]

easy answers to the "fERmI PAroDoX"

the fermi paradox is fucking stupid, and this is why:

IT'S NOT A PARADOX.

there are SO MANY possible solutions to this "paradox" its maddening to think that so many people think it IS one.

(btw i'm not saying that alien life, or even intelligent alien life, doesn't exist. i'm just saying that all this hullabaloo about "not finding it yet" is ridiculous. we'll find it when we find it.)

the most basic solution to the paradox is a variation on the "great filter": that we are just seriously, completely, hillariously overestimating the chances of life coming into existence in the first place. The fact of the matter is that we still don't know for sure what the circumstances were that led to it's emergence; some likely answers might include the emergence of proto-cells from a kind of primordial soul of organic molecules stimulated by lightning. if this is the case, the circumstances on earth would have to be PERFECT for life to emerge at all. Earth is vast, and it's climate varied, but it was still a long shot. this life would have also needed to survive long enough to evolve and adapt to it's surroundings well enough to survive changes in it's environment.

lot's of fuss is put out about how many "earth-like" planets we have found, but in order for life to emerge in the first place on those worlds it would have to have already had centuries of evolution under it's belt. worlds that are baking on one side and frozen on the other are NOT good candidates for life, nor are ones that are covered in magma, nor are ones that are gigantic oceans with little in the way of organic molecules to feed on, nor are worlds that have no liquid water whatsoever. most of the "earth-like" planets that have been touted about would NEVER have been suited for the emergence of life, though life could conceivably evolve to live on them. People always forget that the evolutionary process takes time, and that in order for it to occur at all some members of the original forms of life have to survive the conditions that killed everything else.

the "natural" assumption that evolution has an arrow that points to the emergence of intelligence, and further, civilization. if biodiversity on a planet is low, the chance that any biological lineage would need to evolve a survival strategy as convoluted as intelligence is also low. why evolve a big brain when you can evolve a big mouth with lots of pointy teeth? a form of intelligent life might emerge that is a solitary predator, like an octopus, unwilling to work with others of its kind for any reason. they could fail to develop a complex language or the means of expressing it. they could have short lifespans that curtails the accumulation of experience and the ability to pass it to the next generation. they could completely lack hands or tentacles, and thus be unable to build technology. or they could develop beaks for manipulating objects, but as a result be completely unable to manipulate radioactive, poisonous, or explosive materials without killing themselves. they could evolve as an aquatic-only species, and thus be unable to develop fire or metallurgy, barring them from developing aircraft or spacecraft entirely.

at the next level up, low biodiversity could actually curtail scientific development. numerous technologies on earth have been inspired by, or even copied directly from, other living organisms. we copied the battery from the electric eel's physiology, and we were inspired to learn to fly by birds and bats, even if the methods of flight we eventually developed turned out to be vastly different. without these inspirations, i believe technology would develop much slower.

at the modern level, we got nukes. if the cold war had gone differently, it would have sent us back to the stone age, or worse. imagine a species that just keeps doing that, over and over again; they reach 20th century tech, nuke their respective civilizations to bits, start all over, get back to the 20th century, and nuke themselves all over again. Why do we imagine that alien life would be any more enlightened, any less warlike, any less xenophobic or self-destructive than we are? perhaps we haven't seen radio signals from them because the window of time where they knew how to transmit radio signals was so short.

how about space travel? a couple of decades ago space colonization seemed inevitable, but now? it honestly seems more likely that we will achieve world peace than reach mars with a manned expedition. there are just so many reasons why NOT to do it, from money to politics to sheer indifference. without the rabid patriotism of the cold wars to drive us, it seems the entire world has settled into comfortable inactivity. sure, some billionaire might start space tourism, but that's unlikely to take anyone out of orbiting hotels. it would take about seven months to get to mars from earth with our current tech, and unlike in previous generations of exploration support from the "mainland" would not likely be forthcoming. fuck, even if we DID manage it, the supply lines could be cut a couple months into the mission due to political infighting or a war. again, if this is our reality, why do we assume the aliens have it any better than us?

ftl travel. what will it take to get it through people's heads that it's NEVER GONNA HAPPEN. on that note, without ftl how many people do you think are actually going to volunteer for an expedition to proxima centauri, all to settle on a world that just looks like the moon, but bigger than earth. again, WHY SHOULD WE EXPECT ALIENS TO ACT MORE ALTRUISTICALLY THAN WE WOULD? WHICH AMONG YOU WOULD TRADE THE BEAUTY AND BIODIVERSITY OF EARTH FOR A DEAD ROCK?

that would take 6300 years BTW, and that's our closest neighbor. discounting the fact that all the original crew will die in that time if we don't develop actual functional cryogenics, SO MUCH can go wrong during that time. consider, for example, if the ship is diverted EVEN A LITTLE BIT from it's course. we could end up with the ship running out of fuel and power light years away from it's destination, and then everyone dies. or a disease could spring up. or the ship could be hit by a micrometeorite and completely decompress. all that before anyone knows if terraforming proxima centauri b is even an option. WHY SHOULD WE EXPECT ALIENS TO TAKE THIS RISK?

terraforming. a pipe dream. preparing a world in our own solar system for habitation would take multiple lifetimes, and that's a generous estimation. it would also be prohibitively expensive and would require resources from other worlds to do properly. do you think this is something a government or a corporation would try to accomplish? to please who? the shareholders would fire any CEO who tried, and just imagine a politician trying to explain to his voting base that all their tax money went to terraforming a distant rock instead of social services or national defense? it wouldn't benefit anyone for so long, and would likely be abandoned part-way through. WHY SHOULD WE EXPECT MORE OF ALIEN PEOPLES?

honestly, the fermi paradox strikes me as less an actual "paradox", and more of a way to cope with the utter loneliness of the human race in a purely rationalistic universe. it's a case of us expecting evidence, not finding it, and forming convoluted theoretical conspiracies to explain why the evidence we expected was erased, like how 7-day creationists try to explain away prehistoric fossil evidence with "the devil did it".

we'll find life when we find it, if we find it, and in such a case we will probably just find some parallel to archaebacteria or, if we're lucky, protists. sentient life almost certainly exists. the universe is just too vast for it NOT to exist. but that vastness includes galaxies we will never explore or send probes to, in clusters far outside the scope of our imaginations.

so no, the fermi paradox isn't a paradox. it is pure copium.

[strangefellows]

okay like one or two people said sure so here we go!

sephirah + roland / angela / ayin / carmen pokemon teams and my reasoning for them under the cut~

Malkuth

The first two are pretty easy-- Vespiquen for Queen Bee, and Bewear for Happy Teddy; for the first two of the Sephirah's Pokemon I tried to lean into the Abnos on their Library floors. I made Bewear shiny because the color fits Malkuth's color scheme better. As for Pikachu, that one's based off Malkuth herself. She seems like a very Electric type personality, and Pikachu seems just as cute and excitable and energetic enough to fit her.

Yesod

Klinklang could be good for both Singing Machine and Helper, and Inteleon is for Der Freischutz. And Seviper...well, we all know Yesod's nickname. I thought about Ekans or Arbok for a moment, but honestly Seviper feels like the better choice when it comes to snake Pokemon. Heck, it even has viper in its name!

Hod

Ariados for Spider Bud and Swanna for Black Swan (god that its shiny isn't black is a crime). Hod seems very Fairy type, and Mimikyu, the sweet little guy hiding a lot of darkness that just wants to be liked and seen as something helpful and lovable...it really fits her.

Netzach

This one was...pretty tricky, I can't lie. Bellossom is Porccubus, while the red Florges is Alriune. And though for his personal Pokemon I'd initially thought of Smeargle, Grafaiai has that Poison type and the slightly different take on 'art' that really suits Netzach that much better.

Tiphereth

This one was one of the first ones I'd thought of, honestly. Sylveon for Queen of Hatred, Absol for Knight of Despair, and Plusle is hers, and Minun...well, Minun was Enoch's. I knew she had to have a matching set with her brother, and giving his to her in Ruina era just hits somewhere real good doesn't it?

Gebura

Mightyena for Big Bad Wolf, and Zangoose, our scarred little bitch of a mongoose-cat with a grudge for Red Hood. And her personal pokemon was really, really, REALLY hard because I knew it had to be red bc in this hypothetical I can't imagine Color Fixers not having a signature that matches their color. It took me about three scrolls through the red Pokemon before I settled on Bisharp due to sharp and pointy, but if y'all can think of a red Pokemon that works better (I am not good at recalling red shinies), hit me.

Chesed

Golurk for Tin Woodsman, Cacturne for Scarecrow, and is anyone surprised that I went with Milotic the beautiful fancy water type for his personal Pokemon? It works perfectly for him vibes and aesthetic wise and I can see it being Daniel's partner even before all this shit happened. Sadge that there's no coffee Pokemon honestly, I'd have gone with that.

Hokma

Shiny Spiritomb looks a lot like Blue Star, and shiny Trevenant is closer than regular to Burrowing Heaven! And there were a few really good depressing choices for Hokma's signature, but Houndstone, the dog that is so fucking loyal it literally came back from the dead to be with its master, kinda....yeah. No notes.

Binah

Rookidee for Punishing Bird and Bombirdier for Judgement Bird. I tried, okay, the bird trio were a bit hard to get perfect matches for. Anyway, is anyone really surprised Binah's signature is Polteageist? You would think it'd be something scarier but no. Sips tea. She doesn't need it to look scary for it to be scary.

Angela

Rotom the tech ghost and Porygon Z the corrupted data Pokemon, those fit her very well. And the shiny Eevee to represent her endless potential as an AI, shiny to fit her color scheming a bit more and emphasize how special she is, and for one other reason you will see in a little bit.

Roland

Houndour is Roland's OH YEAH I'M TOTALLY JUST A WASHED UP GRADE 9 FIXER YEP TOTALLY Pokemon, while Zoroark is his actual Black Silence level ace, with its illusions like that cogition filter. The Shiny Aegislash was Angelica's, also shiny for Black Silence reasons, and uhhhh...well. I don't think dead wife guy needs to explain the Yamask. Beyond the mask part. Haha.

Ayin

And here is where I explain why Angela has an Eevee! Ayin's original partner Pokemon was an Eevee, jazz hands at the parallels. It evolved during the timeloops due to being Ayin's only companion, and Umbreon fits the darkness and also has the Big Bird colors for that extra symbolism that I love so much. Cosmog....he needed a legendary, and the cosmic galaxy Pokemon that could evolve into either the sun or the moon and is heavily tied to alchemy themes and light (see: Necrozma)...it fits best, at least I think so.

Carmen

So yeah, the emotion-reading Pokemon that is all sweet and cute and elegant and nice but will beat your ass if it doesn't like your vibes? Pretty Carmen if you ask me, though I might be a tiny bit biased. As for her legendary, what better than the Pokemon that can grant your wishes? That's what she'd like to do, after all, make everyone's dreams come true...bonus for the star symbolism.

[self-indulgent-paw-patrol]

Would Rocky and/or Zuma be VSCO pups? Also also, are the pups' and Ryder's vehicles green vehicles(eco-friendly vehicles)?

I never heard about VSCO before in my life. Had to look it up. I'm guessing you mean an app where the users take photos, edit and publish them? Where I live, the popular app for this was Instagram and for a short while, Snapshot.

I'm guessing maybe Zuma might be into taking photographs, he's got plenty free time to do whatever he wants and he's one of the few pups who's shown to go out on their own, to mind their own business pretty often, like how he goes windsurfing regularly without necessarily bringing anyone else with him. I can see him seeing something, taking a picture, publishing it. He would like to share his world as he sees it, he's the type who loves nature and wants to share his experiences.

As for their vehicles, sad to disappoint but they're almost all fuel-driven. It's clear none of them is electric or whatever just by their engine noise. The most I can say for that is that maybe they use alternative fuel, like maybe corn-based or soy-based fuel. Maybe diesel, Idk. Ryder and Rocky may have adapted a bunch of filters and stuff to make sure they'd pollute less, but it doesn't change the fact they're run by regular fuel.

I'm putting the rest under the cut, first because this post got long AGAIN, secondly because I have a dear friend who didn't watch the Mighty Movie yet and I'll talk a bit about something from the movie with screenshots too soooooo I don't wanna spoil their fun 💜

The exceptions are the Mighty Vehicles. Those are fueled by the pups' own energy once they're powered up with the Meteor energy. I imagine this would maybe drain the pup's strength at some point if they spend their energy to drive those vehicles for too long, but neither the show nor the Mighty Movie had anything about that.

Also it's important to note: In the show, their Mighty vehicles won't work once they run out of power. They stop glowing, they stop hovering, they just stop working altogether, meaning they don't have an alternative engine/fuel to work without the Meteor power up. You can see it happening in the episode when the Copycat steals the Meteor from their tower while they're out on a rescue mission.

In the Mighty Movie, however, Ryder apparently accounted for the possibility of that being an issue and had engines installed with emergency fuel from beginning, so they can still be driven normally even when not powered up - they only lose ability to use the weapons/tools that are to be energized by their powers. The best way to notice that is if you look at Zuma's hovercraft: It doesn't have propellers! Instead, it's the Meteor's power swirling where the propellers would have been that gives the Hovercraft the impulse it needs to move. Once the power is out, though, you can clearly spot a motherfucking turbine just between them-- Ryder, my man, that's ONE WAY to make a Hovercraft move for sure XD

The good news is that Zuma's hovercrafts in general are literally NEARLY 100% green and the most eco-friendly a vehicle could ever be and that's simply because it's a hovercraft! These vehicles have little to no friction against surfaces when moving, barely any contact at all, be it over water, over grass, over a road, over a swamp, whatever. No friction against surfaces means that the engine doesn't need to produce much strength/power to make the vehicle move in the first place, which in turn means way less consumption of fuel and energy. A full tank will make those orange bad boys go daily for months, while the others will need to refill their gas every other week XD

[modern-inheritance]

"Why the hell would I be there?" –Brom, a supportive father figure

Arya squinted up at the leaves above. Dappled sunlight filtered through, dancing with the gentle breeze that rustled the branches. The air held a late spring chill but the sun was warm. Like life and fresh water and perfect afternoons after long battles, laying out on the grass as the sun’s rays seeped into her bones. 

Her ribs hurt. Her back throbbed, protesting what had to be the cell floor being pressed against it. She didn’t want to roll over, break the illusion just yet. A bluejay flitted through the twigs above. That was a nice touch. Seems the hallucinations were getting more and more real as time went on. 

They usually weren’t this good. Maybe Durza was lulling her into a false sense of security. Well, she already knew it wasn’t real. So what was the harm in laying there for a little while longer? Basking in the sunlight dripping through the leaves, warm, at peace. Just a few minutes.

Boots on sand. Urgh. He always knew when she was half awake like this. Loved to grab her by the hair and rip her out of the dreamy haze. Just wait for it. Ignore him till he can’t be ignored.

The footsteps stopped next to her shoulder and a familiar face entered her field of view. Peering down. One eyebrow raised, the other lowered in a confused frown. Pipe clenched at the side of his lips. 

“Hey.” He pulled the pipe from his mouth. Frowned even deeper. Arya blinked up at him. Why the hell was Brom of all people in her hallucination? Something nudged her arm. Fairly hard. Felt like rough and well worn boot leather. “Are you actually awake, girl?”

Arya stared. Awake? Wh–

Oh. 

Oh shit.

The elf blinked again. Forced herself to speak, raspy and throat dry. “I’m…not hallucinating, am I?”

Brom stuck the pipe back in his mouth. “You really think Durza would put my ugly mug in your hallucinations?”

This had to be a trick. The whole escape had to be a trick. This couldn’t be happening, it was too good, it was surreal, it was…well, not easy, but shit was it actually him? Was she out? 

Wary, Arya lifted two fingers and drew a line from her forehead out into the air a few inches and followed the drawn path back. Waited for Brom to respond correctly.

The only sign that he was grinning was the wobble of the pipe. He pressed two fingertips between his brows before turning them outward at the same distance she had extended hers.

The brush against her barriers was familiar. She lowered her defenses, tentatively touched the mind presented. He smelled of pipesmoke even here, the warmth of a raging inferno that had raged itself to glowing cinders. Slate-blue-grey, an electric undercurrent of lightning bolt cyan. Warrior, assassin, gardener, egg thief, Dragon Rider, mentour, Brom.

Laughing would hurt like hell. So she settled for the grin splitting her face ear to ear. “I’m not hallucinating.” 

Brom had no reservations. He chuckled and shook his head, his smile not quite as broad but still genuine. “You’re not hallucinating.”

Arya tried to get up. Pain bolted from her ribs, jolted down her spine. She huffed and held her hands up to her mentor, made a grabbing motion with an almost sheepish grin and a tight wheeze as her side muscles stretched. “Help me up, you old bastard.” If this wasn’t a figment of her fever-addled imagination then this was no time to lounge around in the sunlight.

~~~

Arya waking up to travel with Eragon and Co has been something that I've tried and failed to write probably at least 2-3 times a year since MIC started. It never came off right. Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira being awake made it complicated. They were all so awkward with Arya that I finally settled on just Brom being awake during a watch, but still had difficulties figuring out how it would go down.

Finally this afternoon I came up with this. Had to write it up real quick. Whatever happens after this is a mystery still but just waking up the elf and Brom acknowledging her and proving to her that he's real, she's out of Gil'ead and she's (relatively, considering the whole mad dash away from the Empire while being hunted down like so many pesky rabbits) safe, that's a big step for me to actually get down in a way that I like it.

Also, if I ever figure out how to draw properly, I'll make some 'flashcards' for the Riders Signs that I've introduced. The Gil'ead escape story should have quite a few, including the two seen here.

[froblymoblypitterpatter]

Electric Feels: Chapter 2; pleased to meet you space, I am Doxy

My vision swam, trying to adjust to the space. When I looked down past my boots, my father endearingly called “shit kickers”, I almost threw up. My stomach bottomed out and my pupils did what old cartoons showed; dilating and compressing. I closed my eyes forcing myself to breathe. Ok why did dad call them shit kickers? He grew up in the country where mucking through fields could kick up cow shit and you had to have the proper footwear for it. The way he told it used to make Kara and I giggle uncontrollably. Ok exhale. “Give it a moment more” Bardo’s distorted voice said. His voice rippled on the walls like water stirring. “ a thousand thanks you did not projectile vomit”

I leered at him putting my finger up to silence him. Was it always going to be like this? That I felt sick, and I was swimming? Growing up, I always had trouble with spaces. If I was stressed out and things, people etc were too close it drove up my tics. And my body didn’t really help with the space stuff either. I dissociated most of puberty as to not feel the betrayal of my own body growing breasts and hips. But this, this sort of dissociation was feeling like a dust particle in bottomless space with no actual footing. Woah I needed to breathe. I took a step, looking ahead rather than down. I told myself it was a fake landscape, a trick of compute imaging. It made the next steps easier. The hallway was long. I pressed each finger to my thumb and counted 4. That was better. And much better after another 3 times. The sound of our footsteps reminded me of water dripping from a faucet. It was something my brain had trouble reconciling. The sound I had associated with dripping water to the sound of footsteps? It was bizarre. Bardo looked back at me and smiled giving a thumbs up. Good, he listened and learned I thought as I gave one back. The second meeting with Bardo, he told me a little of what initiation process they had. I interrupted “All I need to know is will they harm me? Do they actually pay? Will I survive the environment?” bardo’s brows went up and mouth puckered in surprise. “They treat humans well over there as long as you fulfill your contract, they pay as long as you fulfill your contract, and they keep you healthy and alive as-“

“Long as I fulfill my contract? Seems to be a theme.” Bardo proceeded with his own vetting process after.

The end of the corridor rippled. I closed my eyes after putting a hand on Bardo’s shoulder to steady myself. He squeezed it wordlessly. We stepped through the viscous barrier in tandem. The fluid filtered through my body making me shiver uncontrollably. I could almost imagine it, the fluid pushing into my pores, blood, muscle and bone. It made me shiver again.

My ears popped as I worked the joints of my jaw. The problem with my tic among other things was the tmj that had it locking up. I clasped my hand on either side of the joints. It oddly felt looser.

I looked down once more. Black churned below, only made aware of its movement within from the purple glittering dust that sprinkled some of the inky black.

“It’s like what we liken to a basin” Bardo looked down with me.

His eyes traveled the room. “ they can manipulate environments to suit their needs” He sounded like he was reading from a manual. It was strangely unsettling.

" Then why the need for another planet?" My throat worked as if a hand pressed against it. He cocked his head and gave a pointed stare. I frisson of anger ripped through me. " Apologies Bardo, I was merely making sure my family survived day to day than contemplating these things."

He gave a false look of pity. Before he could answer I put a hand up "Save your forced sympathies and pity for others who need it."

He chuckled then, returning to the frenetic Bardo. He Began to to walk the rounded room. The walls when I looked closely at them moved as well. The gray of them had swirls of light pulsing in them, casting the room in an anemic neon red.

A single table was in the center of the room. "They come" Bardo stated ominously. And before I could make some smart remark about it the wall twisted. Much like the portal a gash opened to shape like door. One of them stepped through.

I had not seen many of them close up. In the early days they roamed more freely through the area we were in. New York. New York had been called its old name by the shit dutchies that founded it New Amsterdam. It was striving to be much like Amsterdam was now, living "harmoniously" with the beings from across the ruptured spaces. My friend Riata had said that Amsterdam was integrated, that humans and the electric beings coexisted in everyday life. I remember feeling dumbfounded when she said everyday life, because what was that now?

I had been doing data entry for the Census the AI put out. I had to go from neighborhood to neighborhood asking about demographics always having to bring a tazer with me because I had a handheld computer worth plenty of money. I would have snatched it when we were in desperate times, but I had to return it at the end every shift to the docking station and the camera was always on. If I thought toon long on it, I got irrationally angry. But really most of the time I brought protection because most people hated what I represented. I hated it too, but it put food on our table for the time it served. And now my service to these glowing fuckers would do the same.

This one was tall, iridescent color spots adorned its skin. It reminded me of the night sky but also of the deep-sea creatures. I thought of when my sister and I would lie feet to feet on the couch, bicycling our legs while watching the discovery channel on bioluminescent creatures of the deep, where UV rays were absent. My eyes widened in my attempt to focus on the being. It was like the color outlined empty space until.... Until it did not. When the being stepped in front of me, all features solidified into something more substantial. Their skin was like that of the indigo snakes I saw in Florida, when it still existed.

The being moved its head from side to side surveying me. The shape of its head was almost humanoid, however more oblong as well. The eyes were the most unsettling. There was a large set of cat like eyes and below it another set, smaller and cephalopod like.

" Human Subject WGHXT444, begin intercession." I frowned at the use of the word intercession as a bioluminescent light flashed over, or rather through my body. "Satisfied intercession" The being had a double chorded voice much like how I remembered violins to sound when you played two strings at a time. It was, well it was soothing. I always liked the quality of the sound that double stops created.

The beings two sets of eyes, looked to Bardo who shifted wordlessly on his feet. I was too captivated by the display to really notice their exchange. The being gave a few chips over to him, its "hand" was double the size of a humans and the digits appeared to be able to hinge in multiple directions. I huffed an incredulous laugh when I saw just how much Bardo was getting. 24 hours' worth of electric. "Trying to restore that lost manuscript" I mocked. His eyes imperceptibly narrowed until he gave a devilish smile. " Among other things" He looked up to the being. " Contract" he stated shortly. The being did not show it was offended if it was. Its hand waved to the side of me. Words typed out midair in a glyphic language I did not know. It began to change into English as it completed its text. "Can you read Human Subject WGHXT444?" the inflection was neither condescending or mocking. I reminded myself they were not human. Did they experience emotions? What were they wanting with humans?

" I can". I turned and read silently. Most were safety concerns regarding my health, what their rules were etc. I was hurriedly scanning for what my actual role was. I would likely regret not being calmer later. Generally, I did not retain much when I was very anxious. Ah there it was...

"To be matched as an add on to a member of the ParlAstrae beings, the Astrae. To cultivate and fortify Astrae to prolong their life and their adaptation to new worlds." I read it aloud. Each sentence a question for me.

"what does that mean?" I asked, attempting to figure out which set of eyes to look at.

" We observed that your race calls it partnerships. A human will partner with a matched or many matched Astrae. Humans offer the Astrae something that is invaluable to us."

I suppressed the urge to widen my eyes in surprise. That was a rather notable thing to share. But there again, most beings I had witnessed were not all that aggressive. Scary and off putting yes. But I remember them only retaliating when they were threatened. My parents neighbor John learned that with his life.

"And what is that?"

The Astrae touched a fingertip to my hand. Electricity sizzled between us and the beings' pupils contracted and expanded.

"Conductivity" its voice fluctuated in volume like currents jumping a line. " We need it to survive and create"

"Color me intrigued" I said absently as I looked at the sparks still flying off my fingertips. " How am I matched?"

" You will know soon enough" an inflectionless reply.

I repeated the questions that gnawed at my brain. Would my family be taken care of etc?

" Yes,we do not harm our add-ons. And should it not work out, you are returned to your world, mind cleaned of us and payments cease."

I puckered my lips in thought. It really was not that bad sounding. The use of the expression "add-on" was something though. A little weird and a little hierarchal sounding. But just as she said about the test, I would soon find out.

I signed it or something asking to that. It was more a star dusted print of my hand. Odd. I knew not put about space and electricity but maybe the rules were different for these beings on the governance of matter etc.

Bardo left for which I found myself both relieved and worried by. I was alone but I also was without his prying eyes. Before he left he said something that seemed rather obvious but all the same troubled me. " Trust no one, including the humans."

"Do you Astrae have names? Like titles for that are specific to you?" The being looked blankly at me as it motioned for me to strip my clothes off and place them on the table.

" Yes we do. We have the names of all our former makers. But to say all the names would take more energy than is necessary. We take from the last two makers with our own name. I am FaRetJyn." The explanation had me falter in the middle of stripping. "FaRetJyn" I repeated. " How many makers were there before you?"

"We are 1 but in faction my makers number in the millions"

I could not help my mouth opening in utter shock. How wild to track that far back. It had me wondering how they were produced by their makers. Was it like parthenogenesis? I stopped my inner tangent when FaRetJyn had be stand bare as the day I was born. As uncomfortable as typically was when I was naked, I felt less so in front of this other worldly being. It gave a detached scan of my body and said. "All matter that is not your own skin must be discarded of"

I removed my piercings one by one. I nervously asked "Does the ink from tattoos make a difference?"

" It should not. Others before you have passed tests with more on their skin than yourself, Human Subject WGHXT444."

FaRetJyn gestured for me to follow. "You can call me Doxy. It is my name. " Doxy, you are now entering the Interverse." I stepped into the actual void. I realized where we had been was a bridge between the two worlds.

"Hello Interverse" I muttered breathlessly. The clear gel like material compressed around me. Was this what it was like in utero? It filled my mouth and lungs. I gasped helplessly. Until it cooled my insides, relaxed my limbs and moved through me. I realized the same had not happened to FaRetJyn. I could see them moving on the outside of the gelatinous mass, pressing points of the cube with electricity dancing over it.

It shocked me into darkness. All I could see was endless masses of colored gases and me drifting along like space debris. " My name is Doxy" my mind seemed to say, to all the spaces inhabitants. "Hello" they whistled by me reminding me of the reeds back home. Back on earth the reeds that uses to whistle in my grandma's back yard, flattened with mud and rot now. But their song seemed to carry on through space through these glowing beauties. And if I could have cried then I would have

[whump-me]

Whumptober Day 18: Tortured for Information

This is a standalone story in my original Mind Games universe, a modern-day sci-fi/fantasy thriller setting about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. Full description in my Whumptober masterpost, which is linked in my pinned post.

This story contains: female whumpee, torture, drowning, electric torture, emotional whump, major character death

Words: 2500

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She could have held her breath if it weren’t for the electricity. PERI had trained her and the rest of her cohort with water immersion since they were twelve years old. She could hold her breath for two minutes, easy. She knew how to calm the instinctive panic response, how not to thrash against the hands holding her under and use up precious oxygen unnecessarily.

But no, one of them had grabbed the cattle prod again when she was still under. While one set of gloved hands held her head upside down in the bucket, the prod jabbed her between the shoulder blades, sending electricity arcing along her nerves and making her involuntarily gasp in water. After that, all she could do was flail against the hands of her attacker and hope she was strong enough to break free.

Or maybe hope that she wouldn’t be, and that the hands would hold her under until the supposed peace that came with drowning overtook her. The more time she spent in this bare concrete room, the more she thought maybe death would be the kindest way out.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t get either wish.

When her vision started graying out, the gloved hand hauled her up by her hair. She vomited water at the feet of her second attacker, who jabbed her in the shoulder with the cattle prod for her trouble. The gloved hands dropped her. She landed on her side on the straw-covered barn floor, curled into a ball. She coughed and spat and shivered. Straw poked into her cheek. The floor smelled thick and organic, like animal musk.

She had trained for this since she was five years old. Well, maybe not this specifically. But she had been bred to be a covert operative. Her training had involved enduring pain and resisting torture, among other things.

She looked down on her trembling form as if from a distance, her tall and muscled body curled into the fetal position, her skin sallow under the harsh light of light. She imagined Dr. Sandersfeld, her favorite instructor, looking down on her now. He would have been so disappointed in the shaking mess she had become.

Gradually, voices from above filtered into her awareness. “Careful not to touch her,” warned the gentler voice. It belonged to the man who had been playing good cop with her. “She can stop your heart with one touch.”

“Oh, I know what she can do. If I plan on touching her, I’ll put on a pair of gloves like yours first. But I don’t plan on touching her.” Bad Cop punctuated his words with a sharp kick to her ribs. She wheezed in a pained breath, and spat out another mouthful of water. This time, there was blood mixed in.

“For now, I’ll let you do the honors,” said Bad Cop. “Shove her under again.”

“Not yet. Let’s give her a chance to talk first.”

“I don’t want to listen to what she has to say. I want to watch her gasping for breath.”

“That’s not what we’re here for,” Good Cop lectured. He squatted down next to John. “Do you remember what I said before? If you cooperate, we’re willing to help you. We’ll get you a false identity, help you hide from PERI. We can give you a new life. All you have to do is work with us.”

“This again?” Bad Cop muttered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Good Cop looked over his shoulder. “It makes more sense than leaving her locked up for the rest of her life. If she joins us, she could be an asset. Otherwise, she’s just someone we have to guard and feed for the rest of her life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s another solution to that problem.” From behind Good Cop, Bad Cop shaped his hand into a gun and pointed it at her. Pow, he mouthed.

Good Cop ignored him, turning back to her. “Have you reconsidered?”

She shook her head. The movement put her in mind of a fish flopping on a dock. “I will say nothing,” she said flatly. “I will not cooperate.”

“I understand.” Good Cop’s voice was softer, gentler. “You were raised all your life to work for PERI. Right now, they’re all you know. But we can show you something different, if you give us the chance. We can show you a world where you’re respected as a human being, not a tool. A world where you choose what you want to do with your life.”

“We can show you a lot more, too, if you don’t tell us how to get into PERI headquarters.” Bad Cop held up the cattle prod. Blue lightning arced between the prongs.

Good Cop shot another frown over his shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

“I will not cooperate,” she repeated. Her voice was gravelly from all the coughing and spewing water.

“Oh, I think you will.” Bad Cup stepped around Good Cop to thrust the cattle prod against her side, just under the ribs.

Even with water lingering in her lungs, she still had enough breath left to scream.

“PERI uses these on their captured prisoners a lot,” said Bad Cop, jabbing the prongs deeper. “I think it’s only fair that you should feel what it’s like. Don’t you?”

Finally, he withdrew the cattle prod, leaving her shaking and gasping. She couldn’t have answered if she had wanted to.

“We need to talk.” Good Cop stood and grabbed Bad Cop by the forearm. He led the other man into the corner, while she watched through the pain-blurred eyes.

Good Cop’s voice was low, but it was a small barn—she could still hear every word. “Even if you don’t have sympathy for their operatives—”

“I don’t,” Bad Cop interrupted, and shook off Good Cop’s hand. ���Bunch of lab-grown freaks. I’ve lost too many friends to them. Some of them were killed trying to rescue people like her. They don’t want to be saved. When you’ve been in this game as long as I have, you’ll understand.”

“Even if you don’t have sympathy for their operatives,” Good Cop started again, slowly this time, emphasizing every word, “I’m sure you can see that this one would make a useful ally. She has a powerful ability, and firsthand knowledge of PERI headquarters.”

“Let me tell you about that thing over there.” Bad Cop’s accusing gaze shifted from Good Cop to her. “Five years ago—before you joined up with us—she came to us, begging for sanctuary. She said she wanted to be free. To be a human being. To choose her own path in life. All that crap you just tried to sell her.”

Good Cop frowned over his shoulder at her. He looked confused.

Bad Cop’s eyes burned into her. “She waited until we were all together. Then she used her power to kill everyone she could get her hands on. Only a few of us made it out alive. I was one of them.”

She didn’t remember him. She’d been on too many missions to remember any individual target. But she wouldn’t have been surprised if the story were true. PERI often sent her up against other Enhanced.

Those were always challenging missions. For something like a routine political assassination, she was usually going up against an ordinary human, without Enhanced powers of their own. Sitting ducks, the lot of them. But when her targets were other Enhanced—the half-feral teams of them who had made it their mission to fight the one organization trying to control Enhanced abilities and use them for the greater good—it was a battle of equals. That was something no PERI operative was used to.

But most often, she still came out ahead. Enhanced who hadn’t been raised in a PERI facility didn’t have decades of training. They weren’t literally bred for this the way her side was. All their genetic gifts, and everything they knew about how to use them, they had acquired by pure chance.

“Well?” Bad Cop strode across the straw. Before Good Cop could stop him, he jabbed his toes into her ribs all over again. She felt something crack. “Why don’t you tell your friend here how you repaid our generosity?”

The raw emotion in Bad Cop’s voice sent a shiver up her spine. It always unnerved her to see non-PERI Enhanced with their teams, or hear them talk about their teams, like they were a true unit. A family, even. Like they trusted each other. More than that—like they loved each other.

She’d had that with her own cohort once. When they were very young, in the early days of their training. Before the instructors had started having them test their abilities on each other. Before they had learned they could never trust another Enhanced.

As for the Enhanced that PERI sent her up against, they weren’t people. They were targets. Even when she tried to befriend them, even when she had to earn their trust, she was always pretending.

She would never trust another Enhanced.

She would never love anyone the way she had once loved her cohort.

She was Enhanced. That meant she was alone.

“Whatever they made you do,” Good Cop said, “you can leave it in the past. All you have to do is make a different choice.”

Bad Cop whirled on him. “Did you not hear what I said? I lost good friends to that creature. Now you want me to just forgive and forget?”

She let their argument fade into the background. It meant nothing to her. Turning traitor was, of course, unthinkable. PERI had trained unshakable loyalty into her, with as much relentless rigor as they had taught her to stretch the boundaries of her Enhanced ability. She could no more betray PERI than she could trust another Enhanced.

But Bad Cop over there didn’t seem to have a problem trusting other Enhanced. He had loved his team enough to beat her up for their sake, five years later. He must have loved them the way she had loved her cohort.

She missed that kind of love.

Taking the deal was impossible. But a lot of things seemed impossible before a person did them.

“What…” she croaked. “What would I have to do?”

Both voices went silent. Bad Cop spoke first, face twisted into a scowl. “We’re not doing this.”

“Let him talk.” Good Cop stared into his eyes. The sympathy there told her Good Cop had never learned not to trust another Enhanced. “Are you interested in cooperating?”

“Depends… on what… you would need me to do in return. And what I’d get for it.” She coughed again. The movement sent sharp pain through her broken rib. “I want specifics. The exact agreement.”

Good Cop studied her eyes for a long moment, as if trying to gauge whether she was sincere. Then he nodded. “I can get that information for you.” He shot Bad Cop a warning look. “Make sure she doesn’t try to run while I’m gone. Do nothing else. You understand?”

“I understand,” said Bad Cop, his voice dull with resentment. He scuffed one foot through the straw.

With one last look toward Bad Cop, Good Cop slipped out the door.

As soon as the door swung shut, Bad Cop turned to her with a smile that made her shiver. “Bad move,” he purred. “Now you’re alone with me.”

She drew in a deep breath, wincing at the pain in her ribs and the deeper pain in her lungs. She silently resigned herself to what was coming.

If only Good Cop had learned never to trust another Enhanced.

She returned Bad Cop’s grin with a weak smile of her own. “I remember that mission,” she lied. “Your friends were a bunch of gullible idiots. Killing them was easy. Like one of the training games we played when we were five.” She spat bloody water. “It was disappointing. I prefer it when they give me a challenge.”

A sharp kick to the throat cut off her words and her breath.

“Anything else you want to say to me?” Bad Cop asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she said in a whisper, her grin turning wider and more feral. “In a few minutes, your friend will come back with a deal, and I’ll be on your side. Whether you like it or not.”

“That’s not going to happen,” said Bad Cop. “I don’t think you understand what a mistake you made, sending him away and leaving the two of us alone.”

He dragged the bucket of water over to her. He slipped on a pair of thick black gloves that went up to his elbows, hauled her up by the shoulders, and thrust her head in.

With one hand, he held the bucket steady, so her thrashing wouldn’t knock it over. With the other, he pressed down on the back of her neck, holding her down. If she had been at full strength, she could have broken free. But she was already weak. Even one-handed, he held her down easily.

Bad Cop couldn’t get at the cattle prod with both his hands occupied, which meant this would be a long, slow process. But no amount of training could make it possible to survive without oxygen indefinitely. Sooner or later, she would drown.

But Bad Cop was wrong about one thing. She knew exactly what he had done when she had sent Good Cop away.

Taking the deal was impossible. And not just because she could no more imagine betraying PERI than she could imagine cutting off her own hand. She had worked against other Enhanced too often. They would all feel about her the way Bad Cop did, once they heard the details of her past missions. They would never trust her enough to work with her willingly.

With good reason.

They shouldn’t trust her. No Enhanced should ever trust another Enhanced.

Even if she did wish she could have the fierce, uncomplicated love of her childhood back.

She couldn’t. She knew better than that. To be Enhanced was to be alone.

She was tired of being alone.

She didn’t want to keep fighting other Enhanced. She didn’t want to prove PERI right with every mission like the one Bad Cop had thrown in her face. She was tired of proving that the love she and her cohort had shared as children had been a foolish delusion, that Enhanced could never trust each other.

Bad Cop’s hatred would unintentionally give her exactly what she wanted.

Maybe even what she deserved.

She breathed in deep and let the water take her.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @gala1981

Ask to be added or removed from my Whumptober 2023 taglist.

[gabriellerudessa]

Compass (Norm Maclean x OC) - Part XV

“What about just cutting the fabric?”

“Can’t go around destroying my clothes, Norm-boy. It’s hard to come by any that fit me.” Marigold shook her head, then grinned, the extra trouble one, even if somewhat forced. “But if you really want to and ask nicely, I’m pretty sure we can fix something up.”

AO3 | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI (Smut) | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI (Smut) | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX | Part XXX | Part XXXI | Part XXXII | Part XXXIII | Part XXXIV (Smut) | Part XXXV | Part XXXVI (END)

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Words: 3.319

Warnings: Gunshot wounds being taken care of. Spicy thoughts lol

XV

Marigold went first, and he followed close behind. On the inside, beside the door, there was a light switch; he flipped it, and lights overhead lighted up, showing a narrow straight hall, a metal staircase at the end of it, another terminal close to the door, and an intercom. The only sounds were their breathings and the electricity buzzing through the lamps and terminal.

They explored cautiously, but it soon became obvious there wasn’t much to explore. The place was empty, no people or animals, most of the doors boarded off with metal or wood, windows blocked off with wood and metal. Only narrow slivers of space between the pieces let in some of the fading light of day.

In the ground floor, only three rooms were accessible: a kitchen, with a wood stove, an old counter with a functioning sink, a cabinet, and a wood table that should already be ancient when the bombs hit, solid and stable, with a group of mismatched chairs around it; a living room, with one sofa and armchair carefully positioned around a moth-eaten rug, and a bookshelf, some of the shelves containing pre-war books and an assortment of decorations; and what they a called “storage-room”, full of boxes and lockers and tool cabinets, carefully organized from their brief inspection.

The stairs led to a longer hallway, but similarly to the ground floor, only three weren’t blocked off: a bathroom, the shower head rusted off and broken on the ground, but overall in working condition; a bedroom, with a double bed with bedsheets and covers properly made, a drawer and a tall wooden wardrobe; and what Marigold had called a “chem-lab”, with a desk with another terminal and a chair, and another wood table, this one full of lab equipment. It seemed to have everything he would need to make Goose’s recipes, if he had the time.

All the lamps seemed to be in working order, no lack of electricity, from wherever it was coming from, and his Pip-Boy’s Geiger count accused only the barest radiation on the water when they opened the taps. It was at a level that, according to Goose’s notes, they should be able to solve through filtering and boiling, more related to radioactive sediments than to the water itself.

The place was empty and dusty, paint peeling from the walls, the linoleum floor warping at some spots… But besides those expected signs, otherwise the place was spotless, in the sense that everything had its proper place, and lived in, with things scattered around indicating that someone had, at some point, lived there.

Someone had arrived at that store, closed what they couldn’t use, modified the rooms as possible, turned it all into a home… And then never returned.

While Norm was grateful, because they needed a place for the night, he couldn’t help but feel a pinch of sadness, trying to imagine what had kept its inhabitant from returning.

They ended back at the metal door, slightly open like they had left.

“See if there’s a stimpak here, I’ll lock the outside terminal.” Norm threw the bag at Marigold, stepping into the cramped hall, keeping the metal door open.

His fingers flew through the keypads as he put a new password in it, making sure it was the same level of security he had broken – it had given him trouble and he was certain it would give anyone else even more. Hopefully it would keep them safe throughout the night.

Marigold showed him three stimpaks and one med-x as he came back inside and closed the door.

“There’s also some radaway, food and water.” There was clear relief in her voice, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“Good. Where’s the better place to take care of your leg?” Norm asked while making sure the door was properly fitted in the frame, then used the inside terminal to lock it.

Another grind and muffled bang; he tried to pull at the handle, but it didn’t budge. Good.

“The kitchen. It has a sink, space, and places to sit.”

Marigold started limping away, and Norm followed, eyes glued to the injured leg.

The flow of blood had diminished, but not stopped, and he was pretty sure it was worse after her stunt of going up and down the stairs – he had tried to convince her to stay on the ground floor, but the woman was damn stubborn and refused to let him go up alone. At least they had stimpaks now.

Marigold was leaning against the table when he entered the kitchen, backpack, bag and gun above it, stimpaks and med-x close by. She kept the injured leg extended, trying to unbuckle the bag-belt from around her thighs, fingers sliding because of the blood.

Norm sighed and approached.

“Could you please let me help, for God’s sake?” he pushed her hands away and she let him, instead holding the buckle around her hips.

He unbuckled the uninjured side with fast movements, but the buckle on the injured leg was slippery with blood, and he needed to go more carefully, hearing Marigold curse and hiss under her breath as it became loose around her leg. She unbuckled the last piece and left the bag-belt above the table.

“I’ll take off the tourniquet now.” Norm touched the leather, looking at Marigold’s mismatched eyes.

She breathed deeply and nodded.

The coat’s belt was off in an instant, and blood poured out. He raised his eyes at Marigold again, and she had her teeth gritted, hands gripping the edge of the table tight enough that her knuckles paled.

Norm looked at the torn fabric, and noticed Marigold doing the same. It covered the wound on the outside of her thigh, and at most he saw how the fabric bent inside into the wound, some spots of blood already starting to dry.

“Fuck. Taking the pants and the bullet off will hurt.” She slumped in place.

“Can’t we just jab a stimpak in the wound?”

“If it was some common shotgun ammo, sure, but I can feel there’s something inside, that’s not normal with shotguns. Since some people put teeth and other nasty things in their ammo, it’s better we take whatever the bullet is off before we use the stimpak. And Goose would burst from the ground if I did any of this while there’s fabric in the wound.” Marigold’s hands dropped to the button and zipper of her pants.

Teeth as bullets? Wastelanders were insane.

“What about just cutting the fabric?”

“Can’t go around destroying my clothes, Norm-boy. It’s hard to come by any that fit me.” Marigold shook her head, then grinned, the extra trouble one, even if somewhat forced. “But if you really want to and ask nicely, I’m pretty sure we can fix something up.”

Norm spluttered at that, feeling the heat rising through his neck as her words sunk in – was she really suggesting what he thought she was while bleeding and in pain? – and Marigold winked even while opening her pants and pushing it down her hips, faded black panties becoming visible.

He dry-swallowed, looking away and feeling like a moron – for God’s sake, he wasn’t a virgin, and he had been ogling her the whole day with permission, what was his problem?

Marigold hissed as the fabric reached her thighs and started pulling at the wound, and Norm jumped ahead to help pull it down past it, doing his best to focus only on helping her. The pants stopped at her boots, and Marigold pulled herself sitting over the table with a sigh of relief.

The wound was still bleeding, with a central bullet hole, deep and gaping, with smaller wounds scattered around it, more burns than perforations, becoming sparser the farther they became from the central one.

His eyes wandered a little; the exposed skin, what wasn’t covered in blood, was slightly lighter than her face, but not by much, still golden-brown; multiple scars covered her thighs, lines and circles crisscrossing the skin, and those helped sober him up.

How many of those were a result of having to be a Black Widow?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know. Too much pain so close to such a sensitive place… It was wrong.

---------

“I’ll get the things from your backpack.” Norm said quietly, and Marigold helped him, doing her best to not move her leg too much.

The wound was better than she had feared, worse than she had hoped. Thank God there were stimpaks in the bag, there would be no need for stitches and be too careful. And with them taking care of the wound so soon, one stimpak should be enough to heal the insides to a point where she didn’t need to worry about wound reopening and her bleeding out, or having deep infection – sepsis, as Goose called.

She also had found paper bounties, including hers, but since they were as safe as they could be, it could wait. Besides, the Bounty Hunter was dead, so that problem had been taken care of, at least for the time.

Marigold found her old pair of tweezers in an internal side pocket as Norm spread and organized the supplies close to her leg. The tweezers were rolled in a piece of fabric, too long to fit in the medicine tin.

“Spritz the vodka here and in my hands, please.”

“You’re not thinking of-”

“Taking it off myself? Yes I’m.” His eyebrows frowned and Marigold kept going before he could protest. “Sorry, Norm-boy, but I have more experience with this. I’ll still definitely accept any other help.”

Norm pressed his lips in a line, still frowning, taking the perfume bottle from the medicine tin and doing as she had asked, the smell of vodka spreading around them.

“How much will this hurt?” He asked, shining his Pip-Boy’s flashlight into the wound without her asking.

“Thanks for the light and… Lots, Norm-boy, but it’ll be worse if I get an infection, so…”

She shrugged, and jabbed the closed tweezers inside.

---------

Marigold cursed the whole three minutes it took for her to find the bullet and pull it out; it was lodged deep, blood coming out with her prodding the wound. Only the fact that she was feeling it, added to the fear of it being something that would cause a worse reaction if not taken out, kept her going.

Her fingers trembled as she managed to pull the tweezers out, the bullet held at the tip, and both almost fell to the table. Norm’s hands were there to take them from her, carefully.

“Fuck.” She mumbled a last time through gritted teeth, hands splayed against the wood as she leaned back, breathing deeply, eyes tightly closed. The pain had dulled, now that there wasn’t something inside flaring it when she least expected.

“Damn.”

“What?” She opened one eye, and noticed Norm looking at the bullet, hands stained with blood.

“It’s a tooth.”

“Told you.”

Norm shook his head, a small smile even while frowning, and put the tooth down.

“Now we can use the stimpak, right?”

“Yes we can.” She extended her hand, but Norm caught the stimpak before her, and Marigold raised an eyebrow at him.

“This I know how to do.”

She shrugged with a grin, leaning back again, just watching him.

“Be my guest, Norm-boy.”

He turned off the flashlight and approached, color appearing along his neck as he put a hand close to the wound – she couldn’t help but notice how his skin felt against hers, in general soft, even while she felt some smaller callouses; it was a good feeling, after all the pain –, pressuring to keep her leg in place. Carefully, he aligned the needle’s stimpak close to the wound and pressed, the needle sinking into the skin with little resistance.

Marigold clenched her teeth at the sensation, of the needle and whatever drugs cocktail inside of it spreading throughout her flesh.

The wound started burning from inside out, and as they watched, it knit together, the flow of blood diminished to a small trickle. The smaller burns around remained and there was still a small hole, but she didn’t felt that burning, spread pain anymore. And if the tooth had left any bacteria or whatever inside, the stimpak should’ve taken care of it.

Norm put the empty stimpak down and started cleaning the blood and the wound, before spritzing the vodka and spreading some healing powder over it.

“Do you have bandages or whatever? I don’t think it will be good to walk around with it all exposed, it’s worse than the one on your arm.”

Marigold had to stop and think for a bit, then pulled her backpack over and breathed in relief at finding the squares of clean bandages in a small plastic Ziploc bag – Goose always cleaned some and kept any bandages she cleaned and sterilized in them – and a roll of duct tape.

“Here.” She handed him the duct tape and took one square of bandage out, laying it over the wound.

“Duct tape? Really? This will take your skin off too.” Norm complained, even while still using the scissors to cut it.

“It’s what we have, Norm-boy.” She grinned and shrugged as he taped the bandage in place.

“I think that’s it. How you’re feeling?”

He stepped back and Marigold bent and extended her leg in test; she only felt the skin pull a little, nothing from the muscles deep inside.

“Tired, but overall just feeling the skin. Internal damage totally taken care of.”

Norm’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned against the table besides her, letting out a relieved sigh of his own.

Marigold leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and pressed her shoulder against his.

“Thanks, Norm-boy.”

He pressed right back.

“You’re welcome.”

There was a loud thunder, followed by a dull sound outside that she easily recognized: the sharp, fast wind of a rad-storm against metal and wood, whistling through any space it could find, but Norm’s Geiger count remained in silence, so the place was well isolated, thankfully.

It was a sound she had heard a lot growing up, and not always with a Geiger count giving her reassurance things were safe.

Norm tensed beside her, head bolting upright towards the sound.

“What’s that?”

“The rad-storm. Let’s hope it move away soon.”

---------

Rad-storm. He had been so focused on Marigold’s wound he had forgot those clouds in the horizon. He also hadn’t been expecting that sound, so… All-encompassing. It was clear it would be a noisy night.

“How long until it does?” He looked back at her, and Marigold was loosening her boots. “What… Are you doing?”

“I need to clean and mend my pants, can’t do it while using them.” She shrugged, taking one pant out and putting on the boot again. “And it really depends. It’s the first rad-storm of the season, so they can last at least a few day, but sometimes we’re lucky and they move fast.”

Norm nodded, dry-swallowing as she finished taking off her pants and dropped from the table, and really he should stop looking, she had said he was welcome to look while she had pants on, Norm, for God’s sake…

Marigold got hold of his chin and turned his head towards her face. Before he processed it, he felt her lips on his cheek, close to the corner of his lips.

“What-?” his neck, his face, everything was burning, and his heart beat so fast inside his chest that he thought he was about to pass out.

“For pulling me, that shot would’ve hit some big artery otherwise.” She interrupted him, turning his face and kissing his other cheek. “And this one for getting the door open.”

Marigold let go of his chin and stepped back, giving him the extra trouble grin before winking. Norm opened and closed his mouth, no sound leaving him, and something in her face twisted in a way that he only could call “smug”.

“I’ll use the bathroom upstairs to take care of these.” She raised the hand holding the bloodied pants and got hold of the medicine tin with the other.

“… All right.” He managed to say, and with that Marigold left the kitchen, limping a little, not a drop of shyness or whatever as she did it.

Half of him couldn’t believe how better her legs and behind looked without pants, the shift of skin and muscle as she moved making his mouth dry. Norm heard her steps fading up the metal stairs, a door closing, and slumped against the table.

“Holy… Damn.”

---------

Norm forced himself to take everything bloodied to the kitchen sink, methodically taking his Pip-Boy off before cleaning it all under the running water, then carefully cleaning all traces of blood from under his nails. Occasionally a thunder echoed, making him jump and curse – the holomovies and such in the Vault really failed in showing how loud they could be. And… Was that really how normal storms sounded, or just the radioactive ones?

His brain had tried to convince him to go up the stairs, knock on the bathroom door and ask if she wanted to have sex, determined that having her legs around his head would solve half of his problems – especially the ones bellow his belt, damn it. And if he hadn’t heard the door closing, he probably would’ve heard those horny thoughts.

But he had heard, and she had just gotten shot, and the both of them hadn’t even eaten yet, so really those thoughts weren’t the best judges of timing – they never were that good for starters, but they clearly had devolved in the surface.

The time it took to get everything clean was enough to get himself under control, for his problem to go away, and make his stomach rumble, just giving strength to his argument of “they hadn’t even eaten yet”.

As he stored everything of hers into the backpack, he found two cans; both had tapes to the bottom with “ant” written, and a small, simplified drawing of an ant besides it. The forks were a little harder to find, but he managed, ascending the stairs while holding both items.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door. He could hear her inside, humming an old familiar song, and unconsciously he tapped a finger against the can to the same rhythm – “’cause babe it’s just you”, the words softly reached him, more humming following them, and he shook his head with a small smile.

Good to see that some pre-war music had survived.

“Marigold!” He called, and the humming immediately stopped.

“Yeah?!”

“I brought a can of food for you! Ant!”

“Righty!” The door opened, exposing Marigold, still pant-less and with leather bracers and fingerless gloves missing, the sleeves of her shirt folded to her elbows, pants in the sink. “Thanks, Norm-boy.” She smiled as he handed her a can and a fork, digging in with the same gusto he had come to expect.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face instead of sneaking a look – all his talk of “timing” would flee his mind the moment he did it, he was sure of it.

“Is the blood coming off?”

“Most of it, yeah, but it’ll probably be forever stained.” She shrugged, leaning against the doorway.

“Need any help with it?”

“Nah, I have it under control. But tell you what, I was remembering that other terminal we saw. Think you can take a look, see if there’s any chance of anyone else appearing or whatever? I know you said the door hadn’t been opened in years, but… Just to make sure.”

“I’ll get right into it.” Norm nodded at her, a step already in the direction of the so-called chem-lab, glad to have something to do and distract his head from her.

[missingcarrion]

carrion//ch7 your flesh

masterlist

sorry for not updating sooner, am broke and poor and sad

taglist: @tapioca-milktea1978 @neapolitantoebeans

-

Shepherd does not have regrets – except for not kissing him longer. Perhaps that will be his first, and even remain his only, regret. Aasimar had wonderfully sinful lips, lips that had Shepherd lying awake at night, staring up at the stars, projected onto his ceiling.

            Aasimar had gotten him a projector, it displays several different types of constellations and clusters. It’s a thoughtful gift that leaves him wondering – thinking about the kiss. He wants another, it felt electric, daring. All those images, the clips, he’d seen before he had asked to kiss him make sense now. The desire to kiss him more makes sense. Once you have it, your body and mind hungers.

            He tasted of strawberries.

            Shepherd’s eyes flutter shut and he imagines the kiss, replaying the way Aasi’s hands had been warm against the sides of his face, pulling him closer. He felt…. Special, spoiled. But while he imagines that moment, the rest of his thoughts are glued onto his past. The kiss had exemplified his growing suspicions of the life he had lived before. It makes him wonder….

            The next morning, he beelines it for Aasimar’s lab, like he’d made some sort of discovery. Sometime in the night, there had been something epiphany, some thought that might help him discover who he’d been before. A name had come to him in the night: Olevander. It was… familiar, too familiar.

            Aasimar is in his lab, working on some fascinating piece of equipment. A gun, he thinks, modified and designed for a specific use that he’s not sure of yet.

            “Aasi?” Shepherd questions, tone lilting like he’s asking for permission when he walks inside. “I need to speak with you.”

            “I have to get this done, do you mind speaking while I work?” Aasimar spares him a glance, before nodding, gesturing for him to come closer. “I’m on a deadline with this weapon. Channeling the electromagnetic waves humans release and turning it into bullets. Sure, make the PhD student make weapons to kill people that leave no trace. Sure, great, no one ever asks what he wants to do!”

Shepherd furrows his brows before his gaze softens, “what would you want to do instead?”

“I – I found a way to filter the water in the Undercity for free. I made an army of nanobite technology that could clean the water before it even reaches the city, eliminating the need for the Institute’s filtration system,” Aasimar rambles, shifting from angry to ecstatic within moments, “it would be revolutionary! Fantastic! I could change everything for the people here.”

It's cute, Shepherd realizes, how excited Aasimar is to talk about this and in his silence, Aasimar begins to ramble about something else. Trees, plants, flowers everything of wildlife that had gone exciting in the thousand years following the Dark Ages in the mid twenty second century. The world has repaired itself, but there were traces of flora that we could never get back. Discoveries had been made since then, and environmental science had taken strides towards bringing back the extinct fauna. Shepherd dint exactly know what that meant, considering the Undercity lacked much of the necessary things for plant life. Healthy soil being the first issue. But it delighted Aasimar in a way he’d never seen before.

“S – Sorry, I must’ve talked your ear off,” he looks away, quickly returning to his project, “Hannah doesn’t care much for my projects, and the Institute, well, they used it against me to get me to work here, so I don’t get to talk about it often.”

“Tell me more.”

One would think Shepherd had told Aasimar he loved him with the way the latter looked so… surprised. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You want me to tell you more? Didn’t you come here to say something?” Aasimar looks bewildered.

“Yes, but…. You got happy when you were telling me about the environment. It was cute and informational. I would like to know more.” Shepherd blinks, and it’s an honest, genuine feeling. Aasimar had shared with him his love of flora. “Your plants are my stars.”

Aasimar’s eyes widen and he seems to realize something similar, a smile breaks across his face. “Then… I can’t wait to hear you talk about all your stars, then. Promise you’ll talk my ear off about it? But you came here for a reason, what’s up?”

Shepherd admires him greatly. Everything about him is smart and kind, even if he feels embarrassed to share so much of it in a single setting. The good thing about his lack of humanness is that he can sit and listen for as long as Aasimar wishes to speak. He could spend all day listening to him ramble about the things he adores if it only meant getting to stay here beside him.

“I was lying in bed last night and I remembered a name,” Shepherd glances away from him, “I think it may have been mine.”

He stops everything and shoves his project aside, turning to look at him with furrowed brows. “Tell me everything.”

“I – There wasn’t much, just… I heard someone call me Olevander before. Do you recognize that name?” Shepherd watches several different emotions flash across Aasimar’s face, recognition, sorrow, denial, grief. “Aasi, what is it?”

“I – I knew an Olevander, once.” Aasimar stands and he shakes his head, his hands shaking. “You… is there anything else you remember?”

“Just that people were calling me Olevander. Was he a friend? Me, I guess?” The question feels odd, but he knows he’s on the right track because Aasimar fidgets.

“I knew a Olevander, yes, but we weren’t really…. Friends. He was… He’s the reason I’m here at all. They thought he quit when he up and vanished. I was brought here to take his place. Everyone thought he…” There’s a pause and then he starts pacing, “big feelings, small body. Big feelings, small body. Gods, this… this doesn’t make any sense…”

Shepherd spares him a look of confusion before his eyes flutter shut, an attempt to remember any more details.

“It felt real,” he murmurs, “was… I was Olevander. These memories, whatever they are, they’re his… I think….”

“If you are Olevander, if those memories are really your memories, this is not good,” Aasimar shakes his head, lips pursed, “the implications of this would destroy the Institute if it got out.”

“What implications?” Shepherd cocks his head to the side.

“The ones that imply you were murdered, Shepherd. Those memories can’t be yours unless something wholly unethical happened.”

This could change everything.,.

“You won’t leave, right? Not without Hannah and I, right?” Shepherd’s human insecurities show and he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want you to leave. You’re the only one who understands.”

“Shepherd… I don’t… I don’t know what will happen, but if we do start looking into this, into you, we may not be able to go back,” Aasimar shakes his head slowly, “you cannot tell them. They cannot know. Or we’ll both be doomed. This isn’t something the Institute will like us knowing.”

They stare at each other for a moment, with Shepherd’s brows furrowed before he looks down, “I don’t want to be alone again. Being in that box, it was… it was suffocating, I felt like I was dying constantly and I didn’t – I didn’t even know what it felt like to die until I got this body and realized I wasn’t… I wasn’t feeling right.”

“I promise you I will do everything in my power not to leave,” it’s not the promise Shepherd had wanted, but it’s good enough. “You know, Olevander was an exceptionally smart man. If you can regain the knowledge he had, the Institute would be unable to stop you. You could truly be free and hey, maybe you’d be able to help a lot of people with that knowledge too.”

“I want to be able to help myself first,” Shepherd says, and it’s more of a promise than anything else had ever been. This was a promise to himself, and to the people he’d one day help. “Thank you, you know, for… staying. For not turning me in, or whatever. For not using me.”

“That’s the bare minimum, love,” Aasimar lifts his chin, staring at him, “if anyone makes you feel like that, or treats you as lesser, don’t sit there and take it. You deserve as much kindness as the rest of us.”

Shepherd cocks his head to the side, pulling himself away from Aasimar’s gentle touch. “Tell me more about plants.”

The shift in topic makes Aasimar uneasy, but he doesn’t linger on that thought, instead eagerly sharing each and every fact he has to spare. It’s delightful to listen to him talk as he works, and eventually, Shepherd finds himself settled down beside Aasimar, head resting against the table. He cannot feel sleepy, or tired, in the way humans do, but… there’s something in the way Aasimar speaks that almost lulls him into a mock-state of sleepiness.

“We should get a plant for your room,” Aasimar murmurs to himself, setting aside his project to focus on Shepherd. “Plants can help you learn to care for others, even if they aren’t sentient, but they can also help you learn to take care of yourself too.”

“Surprise me with your favorite plant,” Shepherd says, and he wonders just what plant would be chosen. There’s several thousand different types of flora just in this region alone. “I’ve also… been practicing. The fighting, like you said. Can I… May I get a kiss?”

Aasimar snorts, “you don’t need to do anything to get a kiss. Ask for it and more often than not I’ll be happy to kiss you. You don’t need to do anything just to get a kiss.”

This seems to confuse Shepherd for a moment and his lips purse into a thin line, “really? But… shouldn’t I give something in return? I’ve been reading, and watching things. People don’t… they don’t kiss unless they’ve done something to earn it.”

He raises an eyebrow and leans forward, his face inches away from Shepherd’s. “That’s not real, Shep. You kiss because you want to, not because you owe it. Do you want to kiss?”

“Y – Yeah, please?” Shepherd whispers, and his eyes dart briefly to Aasimar’s lips before the man surges forward, pressing his lips against his own. Shepherd decides this is the best thing he has ever done, it doesn’t matter if he’s yet to experience everything else. It doesn’t matter that in the books he read as he tries to sleep – the ones unlocked by his secret outing, and he knows so much more could happen here, something that… wouldn’t be like what Clare had done to him. Something good.

Aasimar’s lips are silky, warm and sweet. Addictive and alluring, but the kiss ends so abruptly, so aggravatingly fast, when the door to the lab slides open and someone clears their throat.

“Mm? Oh, Hannah, delightful to see you,” Aasimar pulls away, lazy smile on his face as if he hadn’t given Shepherd a tiny slice of heaven. “What can I help you with today?”

Shepherd has a momentary emotion of disdain. He didn’t want that kiss to end, he wanted more and he would’ve asked for it had Hannah stayed out. But instead, she’s here.

Hannah’s gaze switches between the two of them, brows raised. “… I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

“Hm? Well, nothing that can’t be picked up later,” Aasimar waves his hand dismissively, his words a promise, “did you come to pick up something, or are you just here to pester me as I work?”

Hannah snorts and shakes her head, “I wanted to see if you were up to going into town today. I’ve been tasked with finding this particular mutant to recruit to the Institute. Maybe you and Shepherd would like to join?”

“I wouldn’t mind, but,” Aasimar turns his gaze to Shepherd, “what of you? Want to go out again?”

“I don’t…” He shakes his head, “I’m okay, thank you. I think I’ll go to the Archives.”

There’s a moment where Aasimar looks at him oddly, as if questioning his decision to stay behind, but he hums, “we shouldn’t be too long. I’m exceptionally good at finding people. You’re welcome to stay here until we return. Mi Casa, su casa, you know. Just don’t touch the projects, alright?”

Shepherd nods slowly.

“Good boy, we’ll be back in no time.”

He doesn’t have a chance to fully register Aasimar’s praise before he’s left alone in the lab. A risky move on Aasi’s part, but there seems to be enough trust and Shepherd doesn’t want to jeopardize that so he pointedly stays as far away from any of his projects as much as possible.  It only takes him a moment before he shuffles to the door that joins the lab and Aasimar’s rooms before passing through. He’d rather just stay here and risk Aasimar’s annoyance than his disdain. The experiments and projects here were of a vital nature, or something like that. He’s not entirely sure but whatever it is, he’s picking up after Oleander and judging from the way Aasimar speaks of him, he was no ordinary scientist.

It must be an hour or two later when they return, but he’s entered hibernation. His systems are slow to resume function when the door opens and he almost panics that he won’t be awake in time to stop them from hurting him before he realizes that these are his friends.

His eyes slowly blink open and he’s greeted only by the sight of Aasimar, with no Hannah in tow. He looks exhausted almost and it makes him wonder how difficult it had been to find whoever it was they were searching for. His hair is braided, long and falling just below his butt. It sways with each step he makes and he wonders just what it feels like and if he could braid it one day too.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” Aasimar cocks his head to the side and puts his hands on his hips, “you didn’t have to sleep on the floor, you know. There’s plenty of things for you to be on instead.”

“I didn’t… I’m too big for anything other than your bed… I didn’t think that’d be appropriate.” He casts his gaze elsewhere, realizing that he actually was far too big to ‘comfortably’ fit. He’d only made it up to cover up his lack of foresight. “Even my own bed isn’t really big enough.”

This makes Aasimar look around and his brows furrow. “That will not do. I’ll have them get you something that fits. You’re welcome to stay here. I don’t sleep in my bed often anyway. You’re welcome to use it as much as you’d like.”

“But… why? Don’t you need it to sleep?”

“I thought you would’ve looked at my file by now,” Aasimar says – Shepherd wasn’t aware that had been an option before today – and then he snorts, “half fish, half man. I’ve got gills and that big pool in the lab is more than enough for me.”

“You’re a what?” The image Shepherd tries to conjure up is almost comical, with Aasimar half fish but in all the wrong ways.

“I’ve got gills on my sides, Shepherd. They help me breathe better. When I don’t use them it’s a bit… difficult for me to breathe sometimes. Like I have asthma.” Aasimar says and shrugs. “That’s why I don’t really sleep in my bed when I do sleep. The pool is safer and nicer.”

“Oh.. I see… and you’re… fine offering your bed to me? That doesn’t… it doesn’t make any sense…” Shepherd purses his lips.

“If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t offer,” he cocks his head to the side, “now, I believe I didn’t get to finish giving you your kiss.”

The smile that grows on Shepherd’s face is wicked almost, more human, more delighted by the idea of such a thing. He would do it all day if it meant being free – free with him. This was something he liked, deep at the core of his coding, beyond the binary, the sliver of human left in him. He likes this. He desires it in a way that makes him feel odd from the pit of his stomach, like there’s butterflies dancing around.

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 3: Keeping the Promise

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: None.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Read from the beginning.

-- -- -- -- --

The ship hummed with a low electrical pulse. Zeraphine nestled into the slim mattress beneath her and counted the rhythmic clunks. She initially thought the noise was coming from the navigation console, but after some time she realised it emanated from further back. It’s probably the ammunition packs, she figured, having spotted them piled on a shelf while Echo had finished dressing her wounds. Or water in the pipes. It might be the pipes. 

In the deepest recesses of her grief, she knew that eventually, the distractions wouldn’t be enough to numb the pain. Time pressed down on her and she smelled it in the air like rusted oil on an old clock, ticking in the minutes since her sister had fallen and bringing her closer to a reality she never wanted to accept. But for now, she had the chiming of the ship. And the settled snores of the sleeping clones. 

Almost as suddenly as it had started, the patterned clinks ceased. With a huff, she swung her legs from the makeshift bed, hugging her blanket close to her chest. She carefully placed the tooka doll Omega had insisted she keep with her aside, and quietly traipsed into the cockpit.

Illuminated buttons overtook large sections of the left wall in a kaleidoscope of flickering lights. Hyperspace bathed the cabin in a radiant blue glow, and the equipment circulated an inviting warmth.

The pilot seat squeaked as it rotated, and Hunter’s sympathetic gaze greeted her weary eyes. “Can’t sleep?” 

“How did you guess?” Zeraphine answered, her tired voice tinged with a hint of playfulness. The sergeant’s eyebrows quirked, and she bundled herself into the co-pilot chair, tucking her legs underneath her and glimpsing the luminous rush outside. 

“If Wrecker and Crosshair are having snoring competitions, I’ll wake them.”

“No, it’s not that. There was a clicking noise.”

“Sorry, that will be the refresher,” Hunter said, nudging open the storage cupboard beneath the console. “If the ship’s been inactive for more than a few hours, it can take a while to filter the water through.” He retrieved two ration bars from the organised boxes and passed one to her. “There’s some caf left in the machine if you want some.”

Zeraphine declined and lightly ripped the top of the packet, pushing the dry biscuit over the edge and nibbling on the corner. “Reminds me of the assignment we went on to that Separatist stronghold near the Outer Rim. I can’t remember where we stopped off on the way back to Kamino, but it was hailing. Neither of us could sleep, and we sat and ate those weird snacks we’d picked up.”

“The sour ones with the pieces in them?”

“Yeah.” 

“Wasn’t that the mission where Wrecker launched you into a vent?”

“Don’t remind me,” Zeraphine sighed, shuddering at the recollection of her body hurtling into the metal tube at almost breakneck speed. “I’m surprised I didn’t just slide right through and out the other end in a crumpled heap.”

Hunter scrunched the two empty ration bar wrappers and tossed them into the recycling compactor. The system churned as it broke them down and the cockpit fell into a mild hush. “I imagine missions with your squad were rather quiet, so I suppose accompanying us was a bit of a shock.” 

“That’s one way of putting it.” A sliver of ventilated air crawled down the back of her neck, and she clutched her blanket closer. “Sometimes, I miss that rush of adrenaline. Despite why we were there and the constant danger, it was an environment I’d been trained for from the moment I was born. I had a purpose.”

Hunter watched the sadness play across her face in the vibrant light of hyperspace. He didn’t need electromagnetic senses or heightened tracking abilities to see she was trying to preoccupy herself. He understood the feeling well enough to recognise it. 

“Thank you for helping me,” she said quietly. “You took a massive risk, especially with Omega on board.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t help Lina too,” Hunter replied. “If there had been another way…”

“She made a choice,” Zeraphine told him, her voice clipped and heavy with the weight of the words she’d been reciting to herself since departing Ciraden. “I tried to reach into the Force to stop her, to communicate with her, but she blocked off my attempts. She knew what she was doing and nothing would have stopped her.” Absentmindedly, she played with a loose thread on the blanket, her finger tracing its way around the thin, fuzzy material. “When we find a planet with a port, I’ll get out of your bandana. You’re not exactly blessed with space, and with your brothers and your sister to think of, you need to conserve what you have.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Hunter said. “I promised Lina that I’d look after you, and I plan on keeping that promise.” 

“I’m not holding you to it.”

Swivelling the seat to face her, he leaned forward and waited until she met his eyes before speaking. “You’re injured,” he pointed out. “It’s going to take time for you to heal, so how about we put this conversation on hold, at least until you’ve recovered. We’re well stocked and have some places we can pick up supplies, so you wouldn’t be a burden if that’s what you are getting at.” 

Zeraphine opened her mouth to kindly refuse his offer in favour of moving on, but the words stuck in her throat. One loose tear fell, seeping to her chin, and the dam burst. Hunter was fast to wrap her in his arms, and he rested his cheek on her head as she broke down. 

“It’s okay, commander, let it all out. I’ve got you.” He massaged soothing, circular patterns onto her back and ignored the droplet-stained patch soaking through his shirt. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You have us, and we will make sure you find your way home.” 

* * *

A sea of voices filled the market. Occasionally, a vendor bellowed out their latest wares and lucrative deals, followed by competing sellers nearby. Converging streams of red and yellow banners stretched between the outer structures, almost concealing the view of the exclusive stalls on the upper levels. On the street corners and at intersections, holographic posters cycled between the criminals wanted by authorities. 

Hunter identified the pungent scent of fish, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. He dug his hand into his top pocket and clicked the comlink, grumbling at the quiet indicator on the side. 

“That’s the third time you’ve checked your comms,” Zeraphine said, keeping an eye on Omega as she bounded ahead of them to a confection stall brimming with bold, colourful sweets. “Tech assured us the repairs wouldn’t take long. He’ll contact you when they’re done.” 

“I know,” Hunter huffed, “but there’s an electromagnetic pulse somewhere in the area. Can’t you sense it?” 

“Kind of. It’s likely the Imperial power facility we spotted when we landed, but it’s far enough away to not be a bother. I’m monitoring everything too. If I notice anything concerning, I’ll tell you. Okay?” 

With a gentle sigh, the tracker relaxed his tense muscles and reminded himself that Zeraphine also had her own set of skills to aid them. He’d seen her in action, witnessed the fluidity and precision of her strikes when missions went awry. If matters quickly changed, he had more than enough support. 

Omega slowed to let them catch up to her and eavesdropped on their conversation. She absorbed the details they noticed in their surroundings and followed Hunter’s line of sight when he indicated the various alleys and stairways they might utilise as potential escape routes. 

“Zera?” she said. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” the Phominian replied. 

“Are you a Jedi?” 

“No, but I have the ability to use the Force and so did Lina.” A mournful glimmer briefly crossed Zeraphine’s face before she lifted the corners of her mouth into a smile for Omega’s sake. “It came from our mother’s side of the family. She taught us herself.”

“So you didn’t train with the Jedi at all?” 

“No. Some of their ways conflicted with those on Phomina Nine,” Zeraphine explained. “But I did meet a Jedi once, before the war. He visited when I was little. Visitors are not exactly welcomed unless a Phominian can vouch for them, but he was kind enough and the governor was curious about him. He showed Lina and I some trinkets from other worlds. When he noticed we were Force-sensitive, he asked if we might accompany him back to the temple, but my mother refused. I don’t think she meant to be so harsh with her words, but she feared they would take us away and she did all she could to ensure we kept our distance from them.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” Hunter commented, eyeing an altercation between a pair of vendors and hastening past them. 

“What do you mean?” Omega asked. 

“When the Clone War began, the senate requested military aid from Phomina Nine,” Zeraphine told her. “The governor was reluctant to send too much, so Lina and I volunteered, along with several other highly trained soldiers. We’d just lost our mother to a Separatist attack, and we were spoiling for a fight with them, so we saw it as an opportunity for revenge.” 

As the road narrowed, Zeraphine focused her energy outward and scoured the field of emotions for any hostility. “As soon as the senate discovered we were both Force users, they sent us to the Jedi council to see where our strengths would be best used,” she continued. “They recognised Lina’s exceptional tactical skills and stationed her on the Venators to oversee battles and draw up strategies, but my talents were… quieter. I was posted on Kamino for a short while and worked on cracking Separatist codes and transmissions. But Master Shaak Ti had other ideas and assigned me a small group of intelligence clones.”

“Your own squad,” Omega enthused. “What were they like?” 

“Mantle Squad? They were…they um…” She sensed the young clone’s eyes on her. Hunter’s gaze flitted away before returning to her with renewed curiosity. How could she truly capture the courage of those men? How could she reduce them to mere words in a way that mattered? Her heart loved them without condition, her soul cherished every second she had spent with them, but when it came down to expressing what they had been like, she hesitated. “They were a band of brothers,” she eventually managed. “Always finding something to bicker over. Pranking each other, and occasionally me. Loyal to a fault. Rather like your brothers.” 

Browsing an abundant stall for what they required and helping select the best stock, Omega mulled over Zeraphine’s recollection of her team. “Where are Mantle Squad now?” she questioned, while Hunter paid for the last of the supplies. 

“They’re gone,” Zeraphine said softly. She took a few boxes from the pile, stacking them neatly under her arm as she made her way back out onto the path. “They didn’t survive the order.”

Hunter felt the sting of her words and leaned down to Omega. “Hey, why don’t you see what that stall has there?” he suggested, pointing to an open pavilion overflowing with textiles. “You said you wanted to look for some material and they seem to have some nice stuff.” He waited until she’d darted off to explore the vibrant fabrics before stopping by the fence of a disused warehouse and lowering his voice. “Sorry about the questions. I know it’s difficult to talk about what happened.”

“None of us had a choice, you guys least of all,” Zeraphine replied, using the pause in their travels to assess their surroundings again. A faint twinge of malicious power hovered close by. “The Emperor threw the dice so high we couldn’t see them. And when they landed, he made sure they fell exactly where he wanted them to.”

[macbeth-n-cheese]

Early Synth HCs and Thoughts, pt. 3

Alas, the grasp of life's sorrows eases on me. Onto the rambling!

(Poe AI from Altered Carbon, my beloved)

Liquid and Food intake:

For liquids, the explanation is simple: almost anything can be used as a coolant, as long as it has good heat transfer properties, adequate viscosity (isn't too thick) and electrical conductivity, is not dangerous to use and doesn't harm the machine through debris, corrosion, obstructions, etc.

Water would be the first choice for a coolant in a situation where Coolant™ is unavailable, but it wouldn't be recommended that a Gen. ≤II synth used alternative substances too often, because they will eventually damage it. If water isn't available, distilled alcoholic beverages would be the second best thing; beer, wine and soft drinks the third; and anything else after that. The synth would need to rinse off the stuff that's neither water not distilled as soon as possible, to avoid further issues.

As for food, I have no idea!

At first, I thought they could have something like a biomass energy generator as backup to the nuclear one, producing power through either decomposition or burning of organic matter. The issue with this is that it simply wouldn't fit in their frame, at least not in a realistic-ish way (mind you, we're dealing with suspension of disbelief here), and having a straight up furnace inside them wouldn't be practical at all, mainly because of the heat and proximity to the core —we all know what happens when it gets too warm in there.

So, the way I see it is that they probably wouldn't be able to ingest solids (I am still debating if soup could be used as a decent coolant, and how liquid can food get after chewing, but I'm afraid those questions will remain unanswered for now), and because I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't consider this, the "piping" from the synth's mouth would have to lead to a coolant reservoir, and pass through some filters on the way there. It would have to be either a significantly thick tube, or a thinner, more flexible one that used the movement of the rubber lung I mentioned on the previous text to pump the liquid to said reservoir.

Ports, or The Age-Old Question of Where in the World do They Stick Those Holo Tapes:

There is no visual indication of any port anywhere on them, which leads me to believe that those are hidden by a sort of lid, and located somewhere accessible like the forearm or chest.

If on the forearm, the ports would be more prone to damage because of their distance from the CPU and the articulations of the arm, but they would be more convenient to use, as the synth wouldn't need to, say, unbutton his shirt to read a tape.

On that topic, I believe the holotapes would be inserted horizontally, like a tape recorder proper, instead of vertically, and a synth's voice box could definitely be used to play audio. I'm not sure if they would be able to record tapes as well, but it'd be both useful and super cool!

Synths can be plugged into computers, as proven by DiMA's and Faraday's shenanigans, so why is it that Nick doesn't do this for hacking? Maybe this would've needed specific cables that he doesn't have, or maybe he just doesn't like to keep being reminded of the fact that he's a robot, and tries to do things as a human would whenever he can. Both of those seem very plausible to me, but I really can't imagine him going R2D2 on a terminal lol, so it's for the best.

Bonus concept that I might write about in the future: Nick having poems (The Raven!) and books stored on his database. The Raven would be especially meaningful to him, I think, because of the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, nameless here forevermore :"))

And that's it, folks!

Although this was the shorter one, it kinda was the most difficult of them. I had to do some serious thinking and reading about bloody coolant types, and even then I'm not 100% satisfied with what I got. It will have to do, for now!

Thank you kindly for reading. Do share your thoughts on this as well, if you want to!

[supercomplicatedperson]

"So it's a Mutualistic relationship between a symbiote and a host."

"What? No! He's his own organism. We aren't attached like that."

"But Crewman Moira and Crewman Buterscotch survive in a mutually beneficial relationship where Crewman Moira provides it food and shelter in exchange for services in a relationship that results in a significant increase to the quality of life for both organisms, that is the agreed definition of a Mutualistic relationship."

"I mean, you're not wrong." I leaned over and scratched Butterscotch's soft ears. I felt his head rise up, likely to check if his break was over, and when realizing I had no intention to get up again, he went back to resting in a well deserved doze. "I guess I just feel it's a little reductive to the relationship we have and how much he means to me."

"Why?" I heard Crewman AX-35875's translator say over his leaves rustling downwards, likely leaning down to check on Butterscotch. "I myself hold great affection for my own AX-35875/B and AX-35875/C."

I pause for a second and then turn my face in his direction. "I'm really sorry, but could you elaborate on that?"

"My symbiotes" AX-35875 continued, "Us Hearobians work similarly to the non sentient "trees" found in most planets, except some of us are "born" with a genome that makes it extremely hard to filter the carbon or oxygen most lifeforms need to survive. While our homeworld has an atmosphere that still allows us to breathe, it is extremely common for those of us who live off our homeworld to acquire another plant based organism called Aerisolius to aid in our breathing."

I heard him rustle as he likely raised a couple of his arms to gesture towards his head, probably forgetting my partial blindness. "They blend rather well, but you can tell them appart from me due to their leaves being a different shape from my own".

I found it rather amusing that while it was impossible for me to tell the shape of his laves appart, I could definitely see that there was bright neon blue mixed into the red/green shape that was his head.

"Their roots easily burrow into my trunk and provide the "air" I need that they create when breathing in carbon, and in exchange, I care for them by feeding them and providing safety and shelter"

I knew for a fact the translator he wore had no "emotion" setting, it was not translating a spoken language it could discern and portray a tone with, but instead the electrical pulses running through his trunk as he wished to communicate, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't imagining the fondness in his voice.

"While their thoughts are not sentient, they make their displeasure when being watered too harshly, their joy when we feel a sun's light and the fear when trimmed or checked for parasites very known to me." He gave a small pause, "and while they are mainly with me due to usefulness, I will not deny I'd mourn their absence dearly".

I reached up and lightly felt the dog tag I had hanging on my ear. My brother had made it for me after my first guide dog, Brownie, had passed away at 16. He'd noticed I tugged on my earrings when upset or anxious, so he'd gone and made me an earring out of Brownie's dog collar tag, with the thought that me feeling his name engraved on it would make me feel better. As I ran my index through the metal, I decided I was definitely not imagining the sound of sadness as AX-35875 spoke, wondering if he missed AX-35875/A as much as I missed my first dog.

"Well, when you put it that way", I replied with a smile, leaning down to scratch Butterscotch fuzzy head again "it's pretty darn close to that".

You are the only human employee at a company staffed by a multitude of alien species. Your colleagues seem to be having a difficult time properly understanding who, or what, your guide dog is.

[2am-poetry]

I imagine that a couple of god-like entities exist beyond the boundary of space and the local holographic universe. One is superior to the other, being the true God, while the other was an angel given free will and kept growing and evolving, thinking it may become superior, but what happened was the angel did not realize that it grew up from a lightseed and that no matter if it grew up to become a universe, the original God entity would always exist beyond the angel. The angel had to learn while growing big enough to become light, lightning and a universe of light itself- no matter how big the angel got, it would not be able to exist in quantum entanglement with the true God on the outer most border of the holographic universe. But the angel was already too big by the time it had already started trying to compete with the true God, so now both God & The Angel are on the outer holographic universe which is quantum locked with the inside universe where Earth is and God and The Angel have been sending coded-light/"photonic code" that evolves/influences flesh living creatures and are both trying to fix the problem of young lightseed angels following the path of The first Angel that made that mistake. IF energy is NEVER LOST, then when your physical body dies, where does the electricity in your body disperse to? At a level so small we cannot perceive, aren't you entangled? If we tried to perceive light souls in this filter level of reality, wouldn't we rip apart? Don't we have to disperse into the outer holographic dimension or go towards the sun/water dimension? The first angel is busy realizing and creating a reversal path because it likely tried to travel everywhere and then it modeled reality over and over again until it realized it's mistake, but by that time, it had followers to convince too.

This is a summary because HOURS of logical thinking about light and how we see lead to this, but if a student sits and writes out their thoughts, they would think this too. How much paper and time do you need to think out to a thought like this? Now you see the main issue- The Angel can still only do so much to self-correct at a time. The student needs to eat, sleep and come back to this thought during life, love & war from misguided followers.

[spookyserenades]

Hii <3 hope you are well! So... I've read Trouvaille, and I'm in love! 😭 I can't describe in words how much I liked this story, I wish I could convey everything in words. Its plot is VERY interesting, I read the synopsis and I was like "Hm, I've never seen anything like this, how fascinating" and when I read the chapters I really enjoyed it and was VERY interested in the story.

I was wondering how you managed to come up with a combination of ideas like ??? Ok, I've read several Hybrid fanfics, but combining supernatural and horror?? PERFECT! Everything I needed in my life and didn't know. And the vibe of this fanfic is ??? AAAAAAAAA IT'S VERY GOOD, I can already imagine the scenarios and everything is very good to read! I imagine the house as the one from the Ozark's series (even if the location of the series is not at all old, but I imagine Trouvaille a lot like that, the filter, the scenography, and I think it matches the story a lot. Well, at least when I imagine the story be like that).

I'm also IN LOVE with how you made the characters, all the hybrids being predators and the personality of each one I LOVE SO MUCH, I'm SO curious about them, I want to know EVERYTHINGGG!! It's amazing how UNIQUE each thing in the story is, and that makes it even better! Because I hadn't seen anything like it yet, it's so original and so beautiful 😭 For example, jungkook ??? instead of a shy and sweet personality, it's COMPLETELY the opposite, and I LOVED it, "rebellious" and a little "arrogant" perfectly matching his appearance, I don't know, I imagine that very well. As if it matches his age since he's the youngest (although jungkook is already past 15 with the rebellious phase LOL)

And taehyung is soo 🥺🤏 same with what the boys said about him LOL, SORRY, I CAN'T HAND IT IS SO CUTE! He reminded me a lot of Ice Bear from "We Bare Bears" 😭💓

And when the character had that nightmare, I thought it might be namjoon 👀 and when you posted the third chapter and you had the description of his eyes, I was like hmmm 👀 but anyway, I don't have many theories about that, because I bet you will tell us surprise with these things! Then I'm ready!

And about those "electric shocks" that the character feels when she touches Seokjin (or someone else, I don't remember very well) it made me think "are they Companions? 👀 or soulmates" but as it only happened with Jin, I was very excited doubt. We still don't know much, so it's hard to make theories. I can't wait for them to come around and we discover so much more!

When I think that the update is only on the 7th and 20th, I feel so sad 😔 LOL, but when you write these huge chapters, I get really excited because I know the wait is worth it! 💓💓💓

(I hope it wasn't too difficult to understand what I said, English is not my first language so I'm afraid of getting confused LOL)

HIIII darling, oh my goodness!! I'm doing very well, and I hope you are too! I just want to say, thank you so SO much for sending me such a beautiful message, you've brought such a smile to my face <3 I'm so happy you find the plot to be fascinating so far, I really wanted to have multiple layers in this fic to keep the reader on their toes!

Inspirations for this story are numerous! I've loved hybrid fics for a long time, and always wanted to write one of my own. I've drawn inspiration from many of my favorite forms of media, whether it be music, film, literature, or TV shows. The largest sources of inspirations come from the music of Deftones, films Constantine (2005 Francis Lawrence) Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009 Wes Anderson), books such as The Exorcist, Wuthering Heights, and Water for Elephants, and most of all, TV shows Twin Peaks, The X-Files, Yellowstone, and Ghost Adventures (LOL). I take some of my favorite bits of these shows and sort of weave them all together to create a plot, even if one thing doesn't seem to go with another. I think now, after having written this story for so long, all these inspirations seem to complement each other in different ways :) I'm planning on releasing a whole post about Trouvaille inspirations, including an in-depth look at how certain characters from my favorite forms of media influenced the hybrids in Trouvaille. I adore horror movies and all things spooky, and so I couldn't help myself by including some darker themes into Trouvaille!

My parents LOVE Ozark, I've never seen it myself, but after your mentioning of it, I looked up the house you were referring to. The vibe is VERY much like the setting I imagined for the Trouvaille house! It takes place in a town outside of Boston, Massachusetts, so it is a heavily wooded and misty sort of area. The house itself is an old Victorian mansion of sorts, but the outside areas of the home, including all of the densely grouped trees, are VERY much like that Ozark home.

I'm so happy you're loving Jungkook's character so far. He has definitely been one of my favorite hybrids to write about! Jungkook in real life definitely has those timid, sweet characteristics, but I totally see a bit of bad boy arrogance in him that I wanted to exaggerate in this story. You're right, it goes well with the fact that he's the youngest, perhaps having something to prove since he is the only hybrid who isn't a predator~

Taehyung is really a sweet little bear in this!! Ice Bear is a such a fantastic comparison, especially with Taehyung's stoicism and quiet nature. So cute <3

You're the second reader to theorize that Y/N's nightmares may be connected to Namjoon! You're totally right, the descriptions of both the eyes of the creature in her nightmare and Namjoon's are pretty similar. It's super interesting that you've both made this connection! I hope you'll tell me if you gather more clues from future updates :)

Seokjin is one of my babies in this story, I'd protect him with my life XD I love the concept of soulmates SO much! Its fun to write an OT7 story, because you have to come up with several ways to demonstrate different types of attraction to each member. Y/N definitely feels an electrical pull to Seokjin, but I wonder why... ;)

I'm so happy that you've shown so much love to each update of Trouvaille so far, and that you've sent me such a wonderful message in response. Reading all of your comments and theories have made my day!! I hope I was able to give you some more exciting insights to the story! April 7th will be here before you know it, with another hefty update :) I'd love to hear your thoughts surrounding Chapter Four when it drops!

By the way, your English is wonderful-- don't apologize, I could understand perfectly and you are so very kind and lovely! Thank you again for reading, enjoying, and taking the time to send in your beautiful response. Until we speak next time, I wish you nothing but happy days! <3

[chewingbatmanlikeasqueakytoy]

This got so long I had to split it so the economic/credit card stuff is over here lmao (X) Talking about possibly having people like the Magic Investigators show up imagine how TERRIFYING that would be? To be those investigators I mean. Like you show up, and you find this town. this town no one remembers and it's- It's gorgeous, actually. The infrastructure is pristine, the air is clean and clear, and the cars are flying?? Realistically if the Fenton's are producing portals and generators and converters and speeders of all kinds, there's no reason to limit those things to the ghost zone - the entire city could soon run on ectoplasm for everything from electric to heating to transport. But then you talk to a local and straight up the entire street stops and stares at you. And the investigators become Very, Very aware they are on the edge of, indeed, being left out in the sun for the ghost birds to pick at. (False, murder in Amity is a Bad Idea when everything in Amity knows the dead can come back to find you. Maybe not for ten years, maybe it takes them a hundred years to find you. But the Dead don't rest in this city anymore.) (But what does it matter what Amity Knows? These Outparkers don't Know anything, after all.)

The idea of the filter immune individuals going in and out of town and therefore essentially exporting criminal action (it would still be criminal to forge documents after all, Amity just doesn't acknowledge that or care about the laws of Outside) is so much fun?? It would also be very interesting to see people taking refuge in the town, everything from legit magic users to meta humans to unusual creatures. And honestly the reactions of these Meta's and criminals who thought they were going to be Top Dog in the worlds ready made, perfect criminal base only to essentially be met with the Tiny Baby Godling that is Danny Phantom.

This town running on Green liquid also realistically would attract the attention of the league if it's running on what sounds like Lazarus water and has a very bizarrely legitimised document forging system. Considering the leagues stated goal is essentially ecological stability via genocide (which is I think why they have been labelled eco terrorists???) it would be FABULOUS to play out how they would react to a town that has essentially solved the energy crises BUT where no one can ever die in a way that matters.

As I understand it Ra's (depending on version?) isn't just annoyed by the pollution caused by people but considers people THEMSELVES a pollution, so being unable to actually get rid of people because they just come back as ghosts and are therefore still around being near him would be an issue for him. Like those people who want to run away into the woods so they never have to see people again, but actually he wants to genocide everyone so he never sees people again (yikes) Ooh that's actually really interesting! God considering the absolute hell I went through to get the accommodation to be allowed to use a computer (I've got some stuff going on that affects my ability to write legibly) in my exams that's actually so cool to hear they've just moved exams over to digital for everyone tbh. I also agree that the missing persons stuff could be solved by the idea of long term exposure and connections to the town (like using the secretary proxy) could totally solve the missing persons case! It actually makes total sense that there's no reason for them to have the births be happening outside Amity itself, especially with the lightbulb realisation that actually, Amity could very well specialise in something like Liminal surgery - imagine a C-section where you never have to actually cut into the womb? You can have your usual specialists involved in surgery but also an invisibility/intangibility specialist who's entire job is to essentially make the patient invisible and intangible so the surgeons can work with as little damage to the mother as possible, only cutting the placenta and having the mother pass the afterbirth later instead of risking the nightmare that is tearing or other complications.

This could legit apply to so many surgeries honestly, to the point high risk surgeries can and will be referred into Amity itself or have the specialists possibly fly out depending on if its deemed safe for patient and doctor (Can never rule out a trafficking trap after all. All highly specialised residents go with an escort there and back. They're free to leave whenever they want, but the fear of the GIW or similar groups faking an emergency so they can capture the surgeons is real.)

Heart valves that need to be placed in young kids, brain surgeries where the damage is deep that you suddenly don't have to dig for (that might have been completely inoperable before), leg realignments, all sorts of stuff solved just by not having to cut through the patient to get to the problem Also imagine being one of those secretaries when the JL eventually shows up to investigate and you're the obvious connection to the town no one can find? Like, on one hand no one here is weirder than what you've already seen just growing up. On the other hand this is like the entire FBI arriving on your door, and I don't think most people are immune to the realisation that Troubles Coming.

FR though becoming a Ghost is not unlike becoming a Lich I think. Like you're essentially undead sure but you're suddenly super hard to kill and peoples terror over death is normally the idea of ceasing to exist, so if you become a ghost you 'conquer' death and also get a super power super boost? Oh yeah once people figure that out shit is going DOWN.

It would also be interesting that if people were immigrating in large numbers and the usual death method of population decline no longer applies, how long could the perception filter actually HOLD? Like, if the perception filter grows with Amity, how long until Amity itself eventually eclipses some kind of interstate?

Will people be able to travel that interstate? Will they witness the town as they drive through it, some mad glimpse of utopia, only to forget as they get out the other side?

What if they decide to stop, spend a week, then find out they've been missing with no recollection of that time at all? Constantine could very well stumble across it by that method alone (though honestly I can also see him being one of the hired investigators for what exactly is happening with the credit companies/supply chains) and honestly?? the guy apparently vibes around in magical bars. I think he'd keep it a secret for a while, just to enjoy it, but he'd mention it eventually if for nothing else than the fact I don't know if he'd be alright with ignoring the effects this is having on people just passing through or the wider possible effects on the economy if there are infect any. Also the entire town is running on Death Energy so landing in it is probably like getting full body slammed to someone not expecting it. That might rightly freak him out a Touch. Imagine if the house of mysteries just happened to let him off there without thinking about it? (Also I admit I do not know the significance of the name john Galt ?)

Why doesn't the justice league know about Amity Park?

Okay so it's been a bit sonce I watched the show but one of the things in DpxDC is the anti-ecto acts, which I love, but correct me if I'm wrong, I THINK ??? they only show up in reality trip? SO: What if Danny, when using the gauntlet to undo everything, also got rid of the Anti-Ecto acts? but this is babys first time editing reality so he uh Fucks Up A Lil'. As a result when Danny used the reality gauntlet to wipe the AEA from existence he accidentally wiped Amity Park from perception. A big 'nothing matters over here' jedi mind trick, and now no ones looking at Amity. So, the Justice League actually WERE looking into and monitoring the situation in Amity, but when the perception filter closed them off, all of that suddenly went ignored.

This is noticed when someone (Alfred, Dick, Tim, literally anyone) realises theres just. A BIG dusty pile of case files semi abandoned somewhere in the cave when going through a (time period)ly cave cleaning.

They put it down because it's Not Important.

They come back to finish the cleaning the next day and do the exact same thing, but there's nothing to actually distract them this time and it pings as weird. Because why would case files be not important? They are by definition important, because only things flagged as important go into case files.

They try to get someone else to read it, because as long as they don't read the information in the file, they don't put it down.

That person goes to read it, gets a line in and then says something like 'that isn't important' and goes to leave. Person A pushes it and person B ALSO catches on.

Que the Batfam trying to figure out hey, what the fuck actually?

Meanwhile, how is Amity fairing? Canon compliant everything's going alright? Or have knock on effects to No One Look Here started to show?