#THE EARTH JUST SEALS DEATH ENERGY BENEATH OUR FEET

[jadedaegis]

Oil Rigs look god in the eyes and spits on their shoes

SERIOUSLY WHO JUST WENT:

"Ah, mhyes quite. The Number Must Climb™; sacrifice peasantry to collect the Death that coalesces in locked-away packets of the deepest underground depths. This death has rotted beyond normal decomposition, giving it undue ability to effectively reanimate inanimate matter upon combustion. "

AND THEN CONTINUED WITH:

"Furthermore, we shall build a monument to this Death; a Hell borne of jagged angles and crude iron. Behold, ye witless peons! Harvest for with me! Partake of what we know not of handling! Imbue life into our mechanical automatons; derive VIGOR from DEATH! A brutalist siphon that exchanges life quality for work quantity- directly converting my serfdom's labor into cold! Hard! Cash! This has no chance of hurting the entire species. Harvesting the energy of death is a smart and sane thing to do : ) "

[dergonageloser]

Content warning: Death, mild gore

N'wen Mahariel isn't an expressive person. They're often reserved with their thoughts, rarely speaking unless necessary. It's how they've always been, their guardians even bringing it up to the Keeper as a child. Children don't usually stare out into the forest or the sky just Watching. Always watching. The Keeper only said that N'wen had been blessed by the Creators with a keen eye and unwavering focus on their surroundings. What more could they ask for in a clan of hunters? What did it matter that they couldn't look you in the eye when you spoke to them, or constantly twisted anything like a rope or twig into rough braids?

Hunting for food is only the beginning. N'wen picks up tracking as easy as breathing. Even days-old trails becomed clear for them to read. It's like they see patterns invisible to even the most experienced hunters. When asked about it, N'wen frowns and, after a moment of thinking, says "It's not seeing what's in front of you as it is. It's seeing what it would be had our prey not gone this way."

Most people stopped asking.

Except, of course, for Tamlen.

"We stopped finding actual tracks ten minutes ago," he says as he follows N'wen downhill. At twelve, just a year younger than N'wen, Tamlen is still a scrawny thing with a pitchy, cracking voice. "The rain this morning probably washed everything away, what are you even following?"

N'wen doesn't glance back, watching instead the soggy earth beneath them. The incline of the hill had allowed water to rush down and form temporary rivulets in the mud. More mud than the usual rains brought. N'wen turns their head further east, where the hill steepened gradually until slopes became cliffs. The forest's numerous trees blocked their vision, but they nod to themself.

"I think there was a mudslide over that way," they say.

Tamlen pauses. "Wait, really? How can you tell?"

With a solemn expression, N'wen touches their nose and replies, "Smells different."

For a long moment, Tamlen considers. Then declares, "Halla-shit."

A small quirk of N'wen's lips is the only thing that gives them away. Tamlen laughs.

He stops laughing, however, when they find the mudslide. An entire column of the cliff had collapsed into the narrow valley below, forming a river of mud and clay and rock and burying everything in it's path.

Including, it seems, someone unfortunate enough to be in the valley at the time. A pair of legs stuck in odd angles out of a pile of debris.

"Is that--?" Tamlen gasps, a heavy sick forming in his stomach.

"Not ours," N'wen says, voice soft but firm.

Tamlen can't pull his eyes away. "How are you sure?"

N'wen considers, then points at the feet. "No one at home wore boots today."

The mud is so thickly caked on the person's feet that Tamlen can't even tell.

"Are they--?" Tamlen starts.

N'wen doesn't respond, simply picks their way down the sodden slope towards the body. Their bare toes sink lightly into the ground, careful not to shift anything too much.

Tamlen immediately follows, but not without concern. "There could be another mudslide."

They look towards the cliffs, scrutinizing it, as though reading it's broken face. It was eerie the way their eyes became both focused and distant at the same time. N'wen had tried describing it to him once. Something like, "Seeing everything at once, both as it is and as it was." It's sound tracking advice, used by the clans more skilled hunters, but N'wen seemed to be able to memorize every place they've been to down to the smallest detail. Tamlen imagines that they're comparing the image in their mind to what's before them.

So Tamlen is willing to believe them when they say, "There will be, but not for another few hours at least."

Still, he gives the cliffs a glance, peering for whatever N'wen saw. With a sigh he pads down after them.

N'wen scans the debris burying the unfortunate person. They circle around, poking at a few rocks and branches here and there. Tamlen watches them, figuring it best to let them do their work. He keeps an eye and an ear on the area around them, in case another part of the cliff decides to fall on top of them.

Or if someone comes looking for the nameless body.

N'wen's hand clutches at the edge of a rock positioned at a specific point under the rest of the debris, testing it. They gingerly step over the protruding feet to look more closely.

After a moment, they wave their hand at Tamlen, who quickly steps closer. N'wen pulls out a wooden training dagger and points to a few broken tree limbs about them. "Prop some of those up around here." They point in specific spots, each one looking no different from the last.

Tamlen wants to ask why for Creator's sake, but he's never been one to doubt N'wen when their brow has that certain tightness, their a certain rigid. They wouldn't be dissuaded from their task. So he follows their lead.

Once done, N'wen motions for him to step back. Then, they dig the edge of the wooden dagger between their chosen rock. It takes several long moments, and a few slips of N'wen's fingers, for them to dislodge the stone from under the pile of debris.

When it was almost completely loose, N'wen drops the dagger and pulls gently with their hands. It slides free, and they leap out of the way as all of the debris collapses and slides further down into the valley. The tree limbs block the largest rubble from covering the rest of the body.

It isn't yet uncovered, but N'wen's cleverness had removed the heaviest debris with the least energy. Tamlen didn't have time to be amazed before they were diving back towards the body and digging at the loosened earth with their dagger.

Tamlen glances at the sun. They need to be back at camp before it sets, and it's already begun it's descent to the horizon. The valley in particular would darken more quickly.

He pulls out his own training dagger and gets to work helping them.

It takes at least half an hour, but the two manage to finally uncover the whole body. Mangled, bloodied, broken. The mud caked on their skin and clothes cover any gashes or flesh wounds, but arms aren't supposed to bend like that. Neither are necks. The skull looks misshapen, their nose crushed and their jaw hanging loose.

N'wen reaches towards the head. Their fingers tenderly wipe mud from around the ears first. Round, but coming to a soft point.

"I don't know any half-elves," Tamlen offered, unsure why he needed to say that but saying it anyway.

N'wen doesn't respond, their fingers moving to where the eyes would be. Tamlen thinks about stopping them, but fears if he opens his mouth he'd vomit. The thick grains of rock and clay fall away from a pair of half open eyes.

As Tamlen considers turning to find a good place to toss his lunch back up, N'wen finally presses their hand over the corpse's eyes to close them.

Their face is impassive, relenting nothing. But Tamlen sees how they hang their head for a moment and knows that they're mourning. A stranger, most likely. But a stranger that had been alive just hours ago.

"Do you think anyone's gonna be looking for them?" Tamlen asks.

N'wen raises their head a little, looking deeper into the valley. They're quiet, contemplating their breath and how easily it can be taken away.

"Does it matter?" they murmur after a time. "The dead don't care what happens after they die."

Tamlen sighs and finds a rock dry enough to sit on. "It would matter to the people they left behind." He picks up his wooden dagger again and starts flipping it. His chest feels heavy. "If I went missing suddenly, even I died, I think... I'd want someone to find me. Just so no one's left guessing." One flip misses his fingers and catches roughly on his knuckles. He winces. "I don't think I could handle not knowing, if it was any of the clan. My mother. You. So yeah, I think it matters a little, you know?"

Tamlen looks up to see that N'wen, without him noticing, had moved to stand in front of him. They had that pinch in their brow. Their short, curly hair dusted with dried mud hung around their dark face. Their eyes, a warm gold, looked directly into his. So rare was such that he finds himself surprised at how intense their stare could be.

"I would look for you," N'wen tells him. Their soft voice even quieter now.

Tamlen let's himself hold their gaze for as long as possible. Then, he smiles, a sad thing though it is, and says, "I know you would. I'd look for you too."

They eventually make their way back to camp, only able to forage for whatever berries and mushrooms the forest offered since they'd missed their chance to properly hunt. Tamlen tells the Keeper of the body and describes where he and N'wen had dragged it; namely, out of the immediate danger of the valley. A part of him thinks most of the clan would have left the corpse where it was, but he and N'wen had wordlessly agreed otherwise.

The Keeper's eyes soften with sympathy, and she has a small party organized to retrieve the corpse. It wouldn't receive a Dalish burial, she tells them, but they would give it the respect the dead deserved.

N'wen doesn't speak of it again, but Tamlen remembers their promise as years pass. Every time they part ways, however briefly, he accepts the possibility of never seeing each other again, because sometimes it happens. Sometimes you're unlucky enough to be in the wrong valley at the wrong time. But knowing that no matter what, he and N'wen would always look for each other, eased the worst of his fears.

When they share their first tentative kisses, they seal the final anchor in each other's hearts. Tethered together to their promise. Hot breath and fluttering pulses prove their life. N'wen always finds him first, always sees when he needs them.

Reserved as they were, Tamlen sees the emotions the rest of the clan stopped looking for. The need to keep him safe. Their nervousness when they first tugged at his collar to press their lips to his. The quiet laughs they give when he makes stupid jokes. Their unwavering loyalty to those they loved.

He cares little about what his mother or clanmates might believe. N'wen likely feels love stronger than anyone, Tamlen included. He thinks that's what pushes them to become a scout, to ensure their clan's safety by using their talent to spot dangers before they occurred.

Knowing that he's earned the friendship and affection of the best tracker in Fereledan gives him confidence each time he left camp. It's written in his heart now, their promise, and he holds it close.

Even as the taint chokes his breath and poisons his blood, as he stumbles blindly from the cavern where his best friend lay unconscious. They'll survive, they were always the stronger one. His body moves beyond his own control and he weeps, he weeps knowing N'wen will never stop looking for him. He weeps, because they will find something worse than a corpse.

He weeps even more from the relief, the certainty that N'wen will be the last thing he sees.

Time becomes meaningless as an instinct not his own draws him to other ghouls and darkspawn. Sometimes he follows them. Sometimes they follow him. The sickly song in his head grows stronger each moment until it's all he can hear.

He holds on by a thread. A thought. He'd clutched viciously at it when the song of the Old God tears everything else away and strips him of his being. His own name fades under it's horrible voice. But not this.

N'wen will find him. Or he will find N'wen. And they will know.

And he does find them. After endless nights battling the urge to snarl and howl and tear throats out with his teeth. He finds them with strangers, and he sees the moment their golden eyes recognize his under his marred, rotting skin.

"Tamlen," N'wen chokes out.

He lets his name settle in his mind once more. He sinks into their hold, relishing their warmth even as the song urged him to sink his teeth in their flesh. They hold a dagger, a metal one instead of wood, steady above his chest despite their quivering mouth.

"I looked for you," N'wen whispers.

Tamlen closes his eyes. The dagger points downward behind his collarbone, the most direct way to his heart. His voice is barely a croak.

"I know you did, Lethallan."

[somethingwritey]

sneak peek: “run to you” - a rangshi longfic

💖 i am currently working on a rangshi longfic (50k words at the moment) that i’ll eventually publish on ao3. it takes place directly following the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi by F.C. Yee. 

💖 my writing commissions are open! message me with commission requests or questions! 

💖 here’s a sneak peek of “run to you”! 

--- 

Kyoshi had blood on her hands.

Quite literally, at the moment.

She stared down at her palms and fingers, hoping they didn’t shake as badly as she feared.

She knew she needed to wash the weight of Rangi’s blood away, watch it swirl down her arms and out of sight, as if that alone could wipe away the pain she’d caused her girl, but for some reason, Kyoshi couldn’t seem to move her feet.

Every part of her felt heavy and languid, and it was hard work to imagine that these were the same limbs that had carried, defended, and healed only hours ago. Kyoshi wanted to curl up into a ball and wait for someone else to save the world for once.

Because that was the oh, so incessant problem about Avatarhood. No matter how many messes Kyoshi cleaned up, there were still new terrors cropping up the moment she sat down to catch her breath. It was exhausting. Behind all the makeup and armor, she was still the servant girl in the mansion - tasked with the never-ending job of cleaning up.

“You saved her life.”

Kyoshi lifted her head to see Hei-Ran, standing only a little less poised than usual. The teetering fate of Rangi had taken a toll on even the most rigid members of her group.

“I did my duty.” The words came out defeated, as if Kyoshi had lost instead of won. Then again, with Yun’s grey body lying somewhere inside the ruined mansion waiting to be put to rest, and a bloodied Rangi being tended to by Atuat, maybe she couldn’t claim victory after all.

Peace comes at a price.

She heard the words in Lao Ge’s voice, although she was fairly certain he’d never actually uttered them to her.

“You did far beyond that, Avatar.” Hei-Ran thought about it for a moment, then took a seat beside her - flicking her robes out behind her as she did. “You should be honored for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, except no one will even know!” Kyoshi slammed her fists down on the ground, causing a small tremor beneath them. “Zoryu’s made sure of that! He gets all the credit, and all he’s done is sentence an innocent man to death!”

This outburst probably wouldn’t win her any favor in Hei-Ran’s eyes - the woman so committed to her duty that she’d willingly sacrificed her hair and honor to acknowledge her failures - but Kyoshi couldn’t help it.

Her first choice for a confidant would’ve been Rangi, of course. Or maybe Kelsang. But with the latter dead and the former barely conscious, she supposed the old headmistress would have to do. The woman had claimed Kyoshi as a daughter back in North Chung-Ling. Perhaps that warranted a bit of sympathy or at least a listening ear.

“The Fire Lord’s job is complicated,” Hei-Ran stated. “As is yours. You’ve both been tasked with the impossible: governing a world that does not wish to be governed by you. Chaos is the natural order, Kyoshi, as much as we pretend it is not. The Fire Nation must go to great lengths to maintain our control. Even if it… requires some bloodshed.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Kyoshi shook her head. She no longer felt the dull aching in her chest that used to come with a reminder of her station, but that didn’t mean the Era of Kyoshi hadn’t been stained with blood and confusion and deceit. 

“The Spirits chose you.”

Why?

The plaintive question would’ve made her sound like a child, so Kyoshi sealed her lips and kept the pleading inside. She wanted answers. And since Hei-Ran would understand nothing more about the mysterious methods of the spirits than she did, Kyoshi decided to at least start with something the woman stood a chance at knowing.

“Was Rangi mad?” She rubbed the side of her face and dried blood flaked off, fluttering towards the ground. “When I left, I mean.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Hei-Ran’s face. “Enough to shoot flames out of her ears.”

For a moment, Kyoshi tried to picture it - a steaming mad Rangi, with her face boiling red and fists clenched into tight balls. The last time she’d gotten that upset, the Firebender had flipped a table off a balcony. For a moment, the memory tugged at the corner of Kyoshi’s mouth - lifting it into a lopsided smile. 

And then the moment passed.

“I’m sorry I killed your daughter.”

Hei-Ran frowned. “You healed her, Kyoshi.”

Only after Rangi had traveled to fight alongside the girl who’d locked her into the ground and put her mother on a possible death bed. “Because I put her in danger. It doesn’t count. Doing right by her after that was just… canceling out the bad.”

Kyoshi felt like she’d been doing that her whole life: making mistakes and then fixing them. It didn’t seem right to take the credit for something she’d messed up in the first place.

You were the one innocent party, Yun had told her. Oh, if only that were the truth.

“Hei-Ran?” Atuat had emerged from the infirmary, traveling up to where Kyoshi and the headmistress sat. Hei-Ran was on her feet immediately, but whether to appear respectable in front of the doctor or out of fear for what news she’d bring, Kyoshi couldn’t be sure.

“How is she?” Kyoshi found her way to her feet as well, Atuat’s presence sending a fresh wave of worry down her spine.

“Oh good, Kyoshi’s here, too. Saves me a trip.” Atuat took her time reaching them and with each passing moment, Kyoshi found herself more and more on edge. By the time the Waterbender made it over, she could feel her body vibrating again.

“Well?” Hei-Ran demanded, clearly just as impatient as Kyoshi, but with better control over her exterior.

“She’s asleep.” Atuat’s manner always confused Kyoshi a bit. She never seemed exhausted by the threat of death. Perhaps she’d just become too acquainted with it, or maybe mastering the power of healing made her immune to the fear. Either way, she always emerged from battle hospitals like she’d finished a rather routine examination.

“Will she be okay?” Kyoshi remembered the crunch of earth as it impaled Rangi’s back. The way the blood had rushed away from her lips. How she’d looked up at her as the life drained away. “Is the damage permanent? I know I didn’t heal her right. I tried my best, but -”

“Kyoshi.” Atuat held up her hand. “Rangi is a strong girl. She’s going to be alright. In pain, certainly, but in the end alright.”

Kyoshi exhaled shakily, barely able to keep it together enough to thank her.

“You need rest, too, Avatar,” Atuat pressed, motioning down towards the infirmary. “There’s a spare bed down the hill.”

The last thing Kyoshi wanted to do was sleep. How could she just let herself clock out when Rangi needed caring for? When the Flying Opera Company was wounded? When Jinpa still hadn’t come down from his medicine high due to her own poor measurements?

As if Atuat could read her mind, the doctor narrowed her eyes. “That monk is off his rocker. You gave him too much.”

“Sorry, sifu.”

“Rest, Kyoshi,” was the only response she got in return. “And take off those clothes. You’ve got blood all over you.”

///

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Kyoshi jumped a little, hurriedly switching her gaze to the other side of the room and away from Rangi’s bed before deciding hiding it was futile. The Firebender hadn’t moved in over two hours, but apparently, the wounded girl was more perceptive than Kyoshi had anticipated.  

“I thought you were sleeping!” Kyoshi whispered, doing her best not to disturb Kirima and Wong, who were asleep in their respective wooden beds.

“I’m resting.” Rangi still hadn’t opened her eyes. “A concept you might not be familiar with.”

A hum of relief ran through Kyoshi’s arms. If Rangi was well enough to give her shit, then maybe that meant the girl would be alright after all.

“I know how to rest.” Kyoshi crossed her arms and did her best to look wounded.  

“Yeah, and Jinpa’s a murderer.”

Kyoshi glanced over at her secretary, who was propped up against the wooden headboard and still singing to himself in dulcet tones.  

“Kyoshi, please try to sleep,” Rangi pleaded.

Easier said than done. Sitting still seemed too difficult for Kyoshi at the moment, let alone actually falling asleep.

“Yeah, well,” Kyoshi mumbled offhandedly. “I’m not really keen on seeing you die again in my dreams.” It came out sounding more dire than she’d meant.

Only then did Rangi open her eyes, staring at Kyoshi from across the way. “I’m fine.”

It would’ve been a lot more convincing if her hands weren’t locked tight around the thin cotton sheets, compensating for some sort of pain she must be feeling.

“Fine?” Kyoshi stared at her incredulously. “You were stabbed.”

“Can you two please keep it down?” Kirima suddenly cut in, gesturing to her splinted leg. “Some of us are trying to heal!”

Apparently, her ability to tell who was asleep badly needed fine-tuning.

“Noise won’t delay that process!” Kyoshi shot back, trying to keep her smile at bay. She really had missed her friends.

Silence fell back over the infirmary, and Kyoshi allowed herself to lean against the headboard for the first time all night. She drew in a shaky breath, basking in the safety she felt around the Flying Opera Company - even if their legs were broken.

It was a few minutes before Rangi spoke again, lowering her voice to whisper in that raspy way of hers. “You’re pretty far away, you know.”

At first, Kyoshi wanted to protest that of course her energy was distant - she’d killed one of her closest friends and nearly lost the other one - before she realized Rangi was speaking literally. She closed her mouth. Hard.

A little too hard, actually. Her jaw still ached where Yun had thrown the discs.

Rangi even managed a little grin. “Do you think Atuat will kill you for sleeping with a patient?”

Giddy with the idea of lying beside Rangi again, Kyoshi slid out of bed and made her way over to the other side of the room. She’d flirted with the idea of climbing in before, but with Rangi’s fragile state, she hadn’t wanted to cause any more damage than she’d already done.

“You’re not gonna break me,” Rangi mumbled, but Kyoshi still saw her struggle to make space in the small frame.

“This is a bad -”

“Will you quit worrying and just crawl in, please?” Rangi did her best to pat the bed beside her, wincing horribly. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“Mmm, what a terrible fate,” Kyoshi grinned, finally allowing herself to gingerly lie down beside Rangi. “Sleeping next to Kyoshi. What an awful - hey!”

Rangi had elbowed her in the ribs. She tried to laugh, but it barely masked the tremor behind it.

“Stop hurting yourself,” Kyoshi hissed, laying an angry kiss on the Firebender’s cheek. “I mean it.”

In response, Rangi moved to curl up closer against Kyoshi’s chest, her eyes falling shut again. For a long while, they stayed just like that - Rangi in too much pain to move and Kyoshi too nervous about causing her any more. It felt awfully reminiscent of the first time they’d shared a bed, with Kyoshi awake all night inhaling the smell of Rangi’s hair against her lips.

Kyoshi had vowed to protect her then, and she still wanted to protect her now. She didn’t miss the way Rangi’s face screwed up as she slept, sleep inhibiting her ability to hide the discomfort. A couple of times, Atuat came to check on her. She clicked her teeth together at the sight of Kyoshi in the bed, but didn’t seem altogether surprised. The doctor didn’t force her away either, something for which Kyoshi was eternally grateful.

In the blue-grey hours of the morning, Kyoshi finally succumbed to the heaviness in her eyelids - letting them shut as her head fell back against the headboard - at last, too tired to worry about any new dangers coming for them that night.

-----

💖  that’s all for now :) i might post a little more soon! i’m very excited to get this up on ao3 in the near future!

💖 if you enjoy my writing and want to commission me, send me a message! my commissions are open! 

💖 keep an eye out for more commissioned pieces coming soon :) 

[vannahfanfics]

congrats vannah!!! your lists were amazing and it seems like so much effort, im so proud of you! could i please get aizawa and white please? thank you!

Hey! Thank you so much for requesting for the event, and I’m sorry it took so long! Medical school was very tough for me, so I ended up putting requests on the backburner for a very long time… But finally, it’s here! White symbolizes hospitals, death, and sadness, so… I’m sorry to inflict this upon you, but here’s Aizawa in the wake of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front. Spoilers for the recent manga chapters!

Drinks on Me

“Hey, this weekend, let’s all go out and get drinks on me!” Nemuri smiled prettily, her long legs crossed as she swiveled back and forth in her chair across from Shota. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been out together. You never know, it could be our last chance!” she grinned while sticking out her tongue and winking playfully. She always said things like that, portents of doom and gloom hidden behind a winning smile, to rope Shota into joining her and Hizashi at clubs and bars. 

He should have regarded those for what they really were— omens. 

Shota jerked awake, snorting as his muscles spasmed. He laid there for a moment as he clumsily acclimated to the waking world, staring blearily at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above his head. When he finally realized that he was in bed, he exhaled deeply and reached up to rub his eyes with the heels of his palms. In the midst of his fitful sleep, he’d kicked the sheets off himself; the layer of nervous sweat on his skin absorbed the cold wind pushed down by the fan, coating him in a chill. Too exhausted to even bother pulling the covers back over himself, he flopped his arm back down to stare listlessly at the ceiling. 

The stump where his leg used to be throbbed painfully, almost as if it were aware he was awake now. He still hadn’t accustomed to the loss of his limb, nor the phantom pains plaguing his nervous system. Even now, he found himself groping for his calf, trying to ease the ache; but he couldn’t massage empty air, so it continued to burn dully, seeping down all the way into his sawed bone. 

Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, grasping the headboard as he hauled himself up. The rest of his body had endured a beating as well, making pain thrum through his nerves to shoot to his spine. He winced and grasped his shoulder, massaging the inflamed flesh until it quieted. He felt like an old man, much older than he ought to— tired, achy, defeated. He inhaled deeply, gathering the will to put on his prosthetic leg. His muscles tweaked in protest as he did, but as he gradually woke up his body and fastened the prosthetic to the stump below his knee, the pain faded into the background. 

He limped across his room to his closet, stumbling a little and using the dresser to catch himself. He hadn’t mastered navigating with his new leg, either. He took a moment to catch his breath, sweat already blooming on his clammy forehead, before tottering his way to the closet. He couldn’t tolerate dressing normally— not that he had impeccable fashion sense anyway— so he eased himself into a pair of black sweats and a gray tee and some sneakers. He tied his hair in a loose bun before shambling out the door. 

The dorm was alive with activity, but not the normal kind that Shota had become accustomed to. The air hummed with nervous energy as the students— and their parents, who were moving in to keep them safe— flitted about. Most of his pupils still sported injuries from the massive battle several days ago, bandages peeking out from beneath their clothes. But the worst injuries were the ones you couldn’t see, the ones on their hearts still oozing blood and bursting through the stitches at the slightest insult. They would be scars someday, an afterthought until the phantom pains struck when they least expected it. 

Theirs would, but not Shota’s. No, Shota’s inner wounds never really healed— and this newest one definitely would bleed for the rest of his life. 

A few of them greeted Shota quietly as he limped down the hall heading for the front door. Momo came up to him, asking if she could help him with anything— she had always been such a considerate girl, that one. He smiled and ruffled her poofy black hair, telling her that he was quite all right but thanks anyway. Shota could sure use some help, but there was no aid that any of his students could provide for him. He could feel Momo’s watery eyes boring into his back as he toddled out of the building. 

There were so many things that people took for granted every day. The ability to walk down steps without falling flat on your ass was one of them. Shota grimaced as he inched down the steps of the dorm, holding out one arm to seek purchase though there was nothing to grip onto. Somehow, he made it down to the sidewalk without eating shit, but the effort still left sweat beading in the crease lines of his forehead. He blew an irritated breath through his lips and raked his hand over his wavy black hair, taking a moment to let the pain pass before moving on. 

Though this region of the city had been spared the carnage of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front, its effects reached even the city around U.A. There weren’t nearly as many people on the street; Shota was alone most of his commute to the business district, save for the occasional person rushing down the street with suspicious eyes and fearful breaths. Shota could feel eyes on him everywhere, though; nervous onlookers peering out their curtains and blinds, suspicious of everyone in sight. They were all waiting for the inevitable pin to drop, for the next piece in this godawful chess game to move and tell them their next poor fortune. Things would get worse before they got better; everyone knew it, the hapless civilians most of all. Their hope in heroes was teetering on the edge of a knife; if they strayed but a little, everything would fall into ruin. 

Many small business owners had closed up shop to skip town, but the liquor store was still open. A pleasant bell chimed as Shota opened the door. The cashier apparently still wasn’t getting much business, as he leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on the counter, reading the newspaper. As Shota began to walk through the aisles searching for a particular brand of rum, the cashier decided that apparently the news was too dismal to read because he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash bin. 

“Warmongers, the lot of them journalists,” he spat at Shota, who raised his eyebrows at him over the top of the rum bottles he was surveying. “All they’re doin’ is makin’ things worse.” 

“Do you have faith in heroes?” Shota asked and looked back down, fingers skimming over the glass bottles emblazoned with coconut trees and beach zines. He smirked when the old cashier snorted derisively. 

“Sonny, I been around a long time. This ain’t the first time some upstart has whipped everyone up in a frenzy. The heroes always come out on top because that’s what they do.” 

“That’s some unshakable faith you have there,” Shota remarked while plucking his chosen bottle from the rack. He rounded the rack while the cashier hopped up from his chair so he could check Shota out. 

“Eh, it comes with age. Nothing rattles ya anymore,” he shrugged, grabbing the bottle to scan it. He put it in a brown paper bag and punched a few of the keys into the cash register. “O’course, a little liquid courage always helps, eh?” he added with a wink. Shota smirked at that, sliding over his credit card. He took the bottle by the neck, crinkling the paper around it. 

“Thanks for the advice. Do I need to pay you for that too?” Shota joked. 

“Nah, it’s on me this time,” the man responded with a chortle, sliding Shota’s card back. Shota took it and slid it back into his wallet, then bid him a good night. When he walked out, the sun had risen into the sky and was blessing the earth with its warm rays. Yet they didn’t kiss Shota’s skin; a lingering chill wafted around him, blocking out all the warmth to leave him cold. Eventually, he’d feel the sun again, he knew that— but he had a while to go. 

It was a short walk to the graveyard. The iron was hot under his fingers as he pushed the unlocked gate open, and it creaked loudly as if to protest. The small gravel marking the winding, meandering path through the various headstones crunched under his feet as he made his way down, counting the rows. At row seven, he turned and walked down until he found a clean headstone above a freshly-turned patch of dirt, a rectangle the size of a person. 

Sighing, Shota eased himself down onto his knees, his prosthetic leg stretching out beside him— it was easier on his hip that way. He pulled the brown paper bag off the bottle of rum and then broke the faux gold foil seal. He stared down at it a second, just stared, and then exhaled quietly. 

“Hey, Nem,” he murmured. He reached up with his free hand to stroke the top of the stone, which was warmed by the bright spring sun. He fell silent again, throat bobbing as the emotions he’d been surprising for days welled up inside of him. The tears bubbled up and spilled over his eyes, carving through the layer of nightsweat and grime coating his unwashed face to bead in his beard. “I miss you, Nem,” he said finally, voice cracking. “So much.” 

His hand shook as it continued to run over the unblemished stone, down over the carved letters reading Kayama Nemuri. He leaned forward to press his forehead against the rock, closing his eyes and squeezing out more of the salty tears. “I never did take you up on that offer for drinks,” he said with a wan smile despite the despair tearing his heart apart. “So I brought you your favorite, on me.” He leaned back, then lifted the bottle to spill the alcohol over the gravestone. The light gray rock darkened as the clear liquid gushed over it, spilling over the smooth surface in rivers. It streamed down to soak into the grass at its base, soaking up the earth down, down, down to Nemuri’s casket six feet under. Shota didn’t drink a drop of the rum; he poured every bit of it over her gravemarker for her to enjoy. 

He sat there for a while, even after the hot sun had begun to evaporate the alcohol absorbed by the porous stone. Somehow, sitting there watching the color fade back to normal was cathartic. Like Nemuri was there, enjoying that rum. He could see the smile playing over her lips as she stirred a straw around a piña colada— and that’s when Shota felt the kiss of the sun, warming up his skin. He looked up to squint at the bubbling circle in the sky, then back down at the gravestone. Smirking, he patted the slightly damp rock before using it as leverage to push himself up. 

“Thanks, Nem. I’ll be back sometime, with drinks on me, of course,” he chuckled. He couldn’t linger here all day; he had work to do. Some upstart was out there whipping everyone up in a frenzy, and it was up to the heroes to bring him to justice. When they did, Shota would be sure to bring Nemuri a whole liquor store’s worth of rum— on him, of course. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[quillandink333]

Bereavement ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.6k

WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore, major character death

Summary: In the wake of the Great Calamity, Link mourns the sudden loss of his beloved princess, who never succeeded in unlocking the sacred power to seal Ganon away.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Masterlist

The time for retribution was now. I let the light of the heavens surge through me. With the combined power of the sacred blade and wish-granting relic completely at my disposal, there was very nearly nothing of which I was incapable. I closed my eyes. With enough focus, soon enough, the soles of my feet were leaving the ground, starting with my heels and ending with my toes. I rose higher and higher into the sky until I was face-to-face with my enemy.

The creature looked straight at me. Its eyes were burning embers, its fangs ten times the size of stalagmites. I was staring death itself in the face. And yet, there wasn’t a hint of fear lingering in my chest.

Ganon lunged at me, its massive jaws unhinged.

I dodged it, soaring high above its head in a matter of seconds.

A grin creeped its way onto my face. Perhaps it would be fun to play with this thing for a short while.

Ganon charged.

I ducked to the south, heart racing with exhilaration.

It charged again, a little disoriented. This time I decided to quite literally give it the runaround.

I had to laugh. Either I was moving at blinding speeds, or Calamity Ganon was as slow as a snail in sand. I let it chase me in circles for a bit, slowing my pace so it could keep up. Then I zigzagged to the side.

Its head turned in every direction. It almost looked dizzy. Then it spotted me.

I dodged its bite yet again, infuriating it even more.

I continued leading our little dance a while longer, wanting to give the beast a fighting chance before I slew it. But no matter how strong its desire to kill me, like it did her, I always stayed an inch out of reach.

Ganon waled in frustration, making the very air shiver. It made another pitiful advance. Again, I waited until the very last second to glide out of the way.

Just when it seemed ready to try and close in on me from above, the beast stopped, fangs dripping with bloodlust and eyes trained on me. I remained still, mocking its inefficacy.

Boom

A beam of red-hot energy just barely missed my cheek. I winced, following its trajectory. Far in the distance, I could see a mountainous cloud of smoke billowing up from an enormous, black crater.

The shot had come from the southwest, from Gerudo Valley. There, I spotted the divine beast once controlled by Lady Urbosa, Vah Naboris, glowing a menacing scarlet and towering threateningly. It stood nearly as high as the shelf it stood upon. It was preparing to fire again.

I felt a rush of adrenaline.

From all four corners of the map, the divine beasts were aiming in my direction.

I glanced up at my original opponent, whose gaping jaws almost appeared to be smiling down at me.

With no time to think, I opened my left hand and held it out in front of me. In it appeared a bow, crafted from a rich, golden crystal, the likes of which I never could’ve imagined.

The beast charged, and I leapt out of the way. It seemed to move at thrice the speed it had before.

Raising the bow of light, I drew it back to my ear, and there appeared an arrow of similar composition already nocked to the string. I took aim at Vah Ruta in the southeast and let my arrow fly.

There was no time to watch it land.

Another beam came straight toward me. I’d just barely managed to see it in time.

It seemed my first shot had missed its target. I tried again, adjusting my aim and praying to no god in particular that I wouldn’t be slaughtered before I could release it.

To my relief, my second arrow flew true toward the beast controlling the machine. A flash of light went off as it hit its mark. The smaller creature’s screams were loud enough to be heard all the way from Central Hyrule.

Just three more, and the monstrosity that had taken my princess’ life would be done for.

It took every ounce of my focus and willpower combined to take down each automaton one by one. Even so, the destruction that occurred in the time it took me to do so was beyond description. In every direction, smoke was rising up, completely obscuring the horizon. I could only imagine how many lives had been lost in this horrific massacre.

I could no longer contain myself. I’d had enough.

My emotions spilled over in an eruption of a battle cry. Sword extended, I charged at my enemy and thrusted the blade deep into its undeveloped skull.

The beast writhed in agony at my unyielding hand. I willed my power to flow forth, letting it grow ever stronger and mightier. The earth trembled. Another blood-curdling shriek spewed from the spectral being’s vast jaws as it was slowly torn apart.

I felt something dark and sinister crawl beneath my skin as I watched the creature wriggle beneath me like a worm in the clutches of a hungering bird’s beak. I envisioned Zelda’s mutilated dead body, and the searing heat of the explosion that had killed her. The memory made my blood boil. It fuelled the flame in my core until it became a towering inferno high enough to reach the heavens.

The sword’s light grew brighter and brighter, enveloping both me and the beast and swallowing up everything in sight. Then in an instant, the light imploded, and the whole world went black.

When I opened my eyes, the sight that greeted me was a ray of golden sunlight peaking out from behind the white clouds.

I brushed the hair out of my face. I was splayed out on my back. The scorched grass I was lying on must’ve been all that had broken my fall when I’d lost consciousness. Somehow, though, I had no trouble sitting up. When I did, I spotted the Master Sword lying on the ground just a few feet away from me, its glow gone.

I stood myself up. The last thing I could recall was my hand being fully submerged in Ganon’s murky, coagulated form. But now, there wasn’t a trace of malice on me. Upon closer inspection, it seemed I’d sustained no injuries of any kind. This, I surmised, was the power of the Golden Goddesses.

The Goddesses... They were the ones who’d put me up to this task. And for what? Now that it was done, what was I meant to do? Where was I meant to go? It seemed the whole world was up in flames. Even if there were survivors, even if I’d saved civilization from certain doom, I had already lost everything. My kingdom, my home, my friends and family, and of course, my very reason for being.

Precious memories of her once again flooded my mind. Zelda, my joy, my angel, my everything, who’d made life worth living simply with the power of her radiant smile.

Then I was hit by the memory of how that radiance had been snuffed out like the flickering flame of a candle. How her body had been ruptured and carved open like that of a little bird struck down by an arrow. How the sight and scent and sound of her trying to move in that state had made bile rise up from the bottom of my throat. My shaking hands came up to cover my mouth.

I collapsed onto my hands and knees. Despite my triumph over Calamity Ganon, I now knelt in complete and utter defeat.

“Link...”

My heart stopped at the faint but unmistakable voice. It was impossible, and yet...

“Link.”

There it was again, this time clearer and stronger. My head snapped up, eyes widening.

“Zelda...!”

Right there in front of me, levitating just above the ground, was my lost love. Though she now took on a pale and hazy appearance, she’d returned to her beautiful, shining self. Engraved in her smile was the light of a thousand suns, just as it had once been.

I tried to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, the thought that I’d died and become a spirit like her passed my mind. But then the feeling of fresh tears trickling down my cheeks and of the earth beneath me brought me back to reality.

The grass swayed in the soft breeze as she knelt down on her knees in front of me. She tilted my chin up with feathery fingertips.

Her eyes gazed deeply into my own, gently rippling like ringlets in a pond. She held my face in her two flawless palms. Her lips brushed mine, not altogether there, though they were just as soft and just as warm as they’d always been. The tears that had formed behind by eyelids couldn’t remain contained, after I’d tried so hard to hold them back for just a little while longer. Then before I could shed any more, it was over.

My lips chased after hers as she drew away, withdrawing her dainty hands from my damp cheeks. She rose, then spoke what would be the last two words she ever said to me.

“Thank you.”

Just like that, she vanished in a wisp of aquamarine.

I let out the sob I’d been holding in, my arms clutching onto one and other as I bent down toward the cold, lifeless ground.

From this day forward, there would be no more holding hands. No more late-night excursions away from prying eyes. No more warm embraces or sweet words of comfort in the low moments. No more waking up in the castle each and every day giddy at the thought of seeing her face once again.

At least now, she could finally be at peace.

[emberbent]

Book 3: Water | Chapter 2: Justified

While Tenok prepared for his sabbatical at the university, Amrit made use of the free time they had before Shinza started training to set a meeting with the chief of the Northern Water Tribe. It was late morning, and he found her sitting cross-legged on her bed, meditating. He was just about to quietly back away when she opened her eyes. “I’m ready when you are.” 

She met him at the full-length mirror and straightened out the fabric of the blue tunic she’d found waiting for her in her closet. The clothing itself wasn’t overly formal - just Northern, fashion-forward everyday wear - but Shinza seemed giddy nonetheless to be wearing it. Besides, the clothes she’d brought from home were far too casual, and she didn’t yet have a set of fancy Avatar meeting clothes like Amrit did.

“Actually, I have something for you before we go.” He handed her an object wrapped in fine red silk. Gingerly, she unwrapped the cloth and uttered a little sound as she lifted the flame-shaped headpiece. He went on, “The Fire Sages brought it to me on the Island. It’s --”

“Roku’s headpiece,” she murmured. She traced her finger along the gilded swirl that made up one of the flames. As she did, Roku’s memories came over her: accepting the artifact as a gift from Prince Sozin; sliding the pin through his topknot before his marriage ceremony; setting it on his bedside table on the last night he was alive. The piece was poignantly familiar, and seeing it again was bittersweet. She asked Amrit, “Why now?”

“I’ve been saving it for your first meeting with a world leader. Can I?”

“Please.” She bent a little so he could fit the piece around her topknot and slide the pin through. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, carefully adjusting the flames and straightening her posture. “How do I look?”

“Official,” he replied fondly. “Ready?”

_____

Once they arrived at the palace, six guards melted the icy fortress gate and allowed them passage. As they watched the impressive volume of ice rapidly melt into the mote below, Shinza elbowed Amrit.

“This had better not be as awkward as our last meeting,” she intoned.

Amrit scoffed and elbowed her back. “That was a one-time thing, okay? Get off me.”

A palace official received them and led them across the vast, snowy courtyard, where the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe waited for them. 

“Chief Yinnak,” the official bowed. Shinza and Amrit followed suit. “Please meet our Avatar, Shinza Kwon of Republic City, and her advisor, Amrit Han of the Island of the Sun Warriors.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you both,” welcomed the chief, a pleasant and round-faced adolescent with jubilant eyes the color of the sea at high tide. “Please call me Yinnak. I hope you’re hungry - my staff has prepared a lunch for us.”

The two of them followed the chief as they led them through the atrium, pristine as crystal with carved ice statues of the animal spirits that kept watch over the tribe. Having an affinity for the culture, Shinza liked to thumb through her old university textbooks just to look at the pictures. She knew she’d never be able to afford coming here on her artist’s salary, and she’d been content just to get takeout from Narook’s in the city’s Little Water Tribe. Being here, taking in the sharp, chilly air and the deep spiritual energy that permeated the palace, Shinza felt as if she were floating through a dream.

“Have a seat,” invited Yinnak, who took their place at the head of the table. Amrit and Shinza sat opposite each other; Amrit tried his best to look hungry, while Shinza’s eyes were as big as saucers.

“Go on, help yourself,” Yinnak grinned, gesturing to the spread of food between them. Amrit filled his bowl with a modest helping of arctic hen. Shinza, on the other hand, piled some of everything on the table into hers, going extra heavy on the tentacle soup and blubbered seal jerky.

“It’s so nice to see a foreigner eat our food with such enthusiasm,” the chief larked as they joined Shinza in tucking in. “We would have prepared a proper feast for your arrival, but I understand the need to stay low-key during these times.”

“Deeply appreciated.” Amrit spoke for Shinza, whose mouth was full. 

Yinnak studied Shinza politely, as if trying to find physical evidence of her status. “You know, I’d always hoped I’d get to meet the Avatar during my lifetime. I wasn’t certain I would.”

Shinza’s cheeks flushed. “Unfortunately, I was unaware of my status for a long time.”

“Oh, no!” Yinnak dispelled the thought with a flourish of their hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were late. Just that it’s an honor to be in your presence. We in the North hold the Avatar in great esteem, especially after what Korra did for us.”

Shinza softened. “That’s kind of you.”

“Chief Yinnak, if I may,” Amrit started. “I hate to get right down to business, but I feel it’s important to discuss The Organization.”

Yinnak sobered. “Okay. What about them?”

“Well,” Amrit rested his chopsticks. “As you may already know, they’ve established a strong base in Republic City. There’s violent protesting in the streets, propaganda’s spreading like wildfire. And now, it seems they’re expanding their reach to the northern Earth Kingdom.”

Yinnak nodded in understanding. “Mr. Han, allow me to put your mind at ease. You have nothing to worry about while you’re here - the Organization has no presence in the Northern Water Tribe.”

Amrit glanced at Shinza, whose expression was unreadable. They finished their meal with tea and kale cookies. Afterward, the chief invited them to the Spirit Oasis.

Shinza thrilled quietly, biting back a grin as they followed the chief through the atrium and into the heart of the palace. Yinnak pried the wooden door open and ushered them through. The humid, heavy air settled quickly on them, and while Amrit and Yinnak removed their coats, Shinza was overcome with the density of the spiritual energy. She put her hands out in front of her and closed her eyes, feeling as if she could see the energy wisping across her skin like vapor and growing thicker toward the little island in the center of the chamber.

“The Spirit Oasis is a sacred place to us,” Yinnak explained. “As you can probably sense, this is a place where the physical and spiritual worlds overlap.”

Shinza noticed the offerings of food left out near the wooden gate. She closed her eyes again, and in her mind’s eye, she saw herself in a past life crossing the bridge, year after year, diving into the sacred pond and searching for her lost love. And then she saw herself sitting beneath the wooden gate, deep in meditation, and merging with the Ocean spirit to demolish the Fire Nation’s infiltrating forces.

“Anyway, Avatar, I want you to know you’re welcome to visit the oasis anytime.”

“Thank you,” Shinza replied, turning to the chief and bowing. “For you hospitality, and for everything.”

Yinnak inclined their head. “Unfortunately, I have a string of meetings this afternoon. Please, stay as long as you like. My official will see you out when you’re finished.”

_____

Back at Tenok’s house, the two had scarcely walked through the front door when Amrit suggested a spar. Shinza could think of a handful of reasons not to - they were still full from lunch, she needed to rest up for her first waterbending lesson in the morning, they’d gotten up early that day and could use a little down time. But deep down, even if he wouldn’t admit it, she could tell he was offended that she didn’t prefer his element - her native element. Each time she avoided firebending or disparaged his harsh training, she felt a pang watching the corner of his mouth turn downward in disappointment. She knew he understood why she felt that way, but it hurt him all the same. Fire, she supposed he felt, was something they had in common. Through firebending, he felt close to her.

She agreed, went to go change, and met him in the courtyard. They faced each other, took their stances.

“Rules?” she inquired.

“The usual,” he announced, and then drew a whip of flames down on her. She barely rolled out of the way in time; her mind suddenly alert and sharp, she quickly calculated, dropped down to the ground, and swung her leg over the snow, catching his ankle. He lost his balance and swayed, but recovered in time to block her fire-daggers. Flowing from offense to recovery to defense and back again, they danced together. Finally, both of them thought to make the same move, kicking high with their left legs and catching each other at the calves, flames blazing skyward from the soles of their feet. The hot metal of The Leg burned through her leggings, but she didn’t move - just stared him down, daring him to try her. He grinned slyly as he realized she was nearly as good as he was now - or at least she had learned how to predict his moves. They would only continue to stalemate each other this way; he knew he’d have to break the rules. He bent his knee and captured her, using all the force of his own body to death-roll her onto the ground. Stunned, she softened her fall with a timely puff of air from her fingertips, but landed flat on her stomach nonetheless. He took the opening to pin her down with his knee to her spine.

He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but he suddenly found himself being launched away from her, floundering on his back with the breath knocked out of his lungs.

Out of nowhere, the wind picked up and howled like a train. Around her, snow and ice began to fly like razors. Her eyes glowed white, and the energy of thousands of Avatars past crackled along her skin. She pinned him to the ground. 

“Sh...Shinza,” he choked, petrified and feeling the weight of his mortality pressing down on him. Her fist was cocked back, flame pointing directly at his face, singeing his eyebrows . “Stop. Please.”

For a moment, she didn’t seem to hear him, and didn’t move. And then, very slowly, the glow in her eyes dimmed. The wind died down, and the snow fell around them silently. She grimaced in concentration, tamping down the Avatar State with great effort. The flame went out of her fist.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, looking pale, mortified, exhausted. Her hand, still hot, wicked melted frost and sweat from his brow. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He stared up into her face in shock, hands still gripping her waist in a futile attempt to throw her off him. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

Then, he laughed the laugh of a man who’d just cheated death.

Fraught and confused, she puffed herself off of him while he cackled on the ground. “I don’t think you are. I almost fucking killed you.”

“But you didn’t,” he wept with laughter. 

“Because I got lucky!” she argued. “I can’t control the Avatar State yet!” She stuck her hand out to help him up.

“Clearly,” he replied, catching his breath, his eyes alight with passion. “But I see that drive in you. That right there? That is what I’ve been trying to coax out of you all this time.”

Her expression slid off her face. “That drive killed two people in Gaoling.”

“You don’t think being able to incapacitate a threat permanently is a good thing?” 

She pondered that. “That’s not what I’m saying. I know it’s a good thing - a vitally important thing. But if I can’t control myself…”

He conceded.

She wished he’d put his hands on her again.

“You know, we never talked about what happened,” he noted after a beat. “I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do, you know I’m here --”

“I enjoyed it,” Shinza confessed.

Amrit froze. “You…?”

“I…” she started. Her voice cracked. “Blinded one of them. I snapped the other one’s arms. And when Xia came to my rescue, she torched them to ashes. They got what they deserved, and if I could do it over again, I wouldn’t change anything.”

He stared at her.

“After it happened, it played over and over in my head. I wanted to feel bad - I felt like I should have. Especially as a guest of the temple. But what I felt instead was…” She squeezed her hands together into fists in front of her. “Freedom. Power. After I did that, I knew I could take care of myself. I knew I could keep the cycle going.”

“So what are you saying?” he whispered.

“If The Organization’s violence is justified, then so is mine,” she said. “I don’t want to have to play their game, but I will.”

She realized that made her no better than The Org. And that if she wasn’t careful, she’d make martyrs of them all. But she had to be open to all options, at all costs. 

Amrit couldn’t imagine bearing the weight of every decision, big and small, being responsible for every possible outcome. He planted his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, deep red like dying embers. 

“Hey,” he commanded her attention. “I’m not judging you.”

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” Her lip quivered. She smoothed her hands over his forearms. “Not on purpose.”

“If you did, I’d forgive you.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m with you, okay? No matter what.”

_____

“I believe you have a status report for me?” The general steepled his fingers expectantly, swiveling in his chair.

The captain cleared her throat, loath to deliver the bad news. “We’ve lost track of her, sir.”

He stared her down expressionlessly. “Then find her again.”

“We’re working on it, sir,” she replied. “A source claims she might have fled back to the Eastern Air Temple after she killed Nobu and the Dai Li agent. We sent an infiltrator in disguise to the temple, but she reports the Avatar’s not there. I have my team looking into where she might have gone.”

“We can’t have this,” he said quietly, more to himself than to his captain. He took a moment to think, inhaling a calming breath and letting it out slowly. “If she so easily overtook the two of them, she must be further along in her training than we thought. Which means she might have finished with airbending and moved on.”

The general didn’t need to outline the implications of this to the captain. The ambush in Gaoling had been their one shot, and they’d failed because they’d underestimated the Avatar’s abilities. Now, every moment that passed, she grew stronger, and their chances of stopping the cycle forever grew narrower.

“Establish a presence in the North,” ordered the general. “Look for her there. Stay in disguise, and keep your eye on the papers. Someone may report having seen or met her.”

“Yes, General. What are your orders if we -- when we find her?”

“You are to do nothing,” he instructed. “We must play this very carefully. The Avatar is highly favored in the North - if she dies on their ground, they’ll make her a martyr. When you find her, you are to notify me immediately. Do not lose track of her again.”

“Yes, General.”

@chromecutie @my-remedy-is-euphoria @jaymzbush @hetapeep41

[faean]

Adamance of a Dragon

Collaborator: @i-am-here-with-fanfic.

Rating: T+; Language; Puns; Depictions of Violence and Blood

Word Length: 4,723 (Got Carried Away)

Chapter 8 (2/2)- Show Me Your Will; Pleased to Meet You 

         ---

         “I have not had a real fight in ages, and it appears I will have to wait some time more.”

         While that upset a few villains and gave me an opening to disable them, I was beginning to tire. Eraser Head had taken down many enemies, and when I joined him, many more fell.

         But we are only two people. His Quirk usage had fallen drastically, and I had to counter it by increasing my own. I was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, thanks to Aria’s training, but my strength lied in ranged attacks with my magic and right now, I was running low. My plummeting into the fountain did not do me any favors, either.

         I could not reach any of the sources of water nearby to replenish my strength, unfortunately, due to the enormous, beak-faced, exposed brain villain that was plaguing my every move. He was much too strong for me to face without considerable magic, but he also did not seem very keen on taking me out. He only kept me separated from Eraser Head, which was fine by me, especially once my little clover, Tsuyu, and Mineta popped their heads above the shoreline and observed the ongoing battle.

         Foolish, really. 

         Their mere presence could shift the entire battle and, while Tsuyu is certainly capable of handling herself, Midoriya’s double-sided Quirk and Mineta in general would only make things that much more difficult for Eraser Head and myself. We can barely keep up our efforts, and there are still a few genuinely dangerous villains on the playing field.

         “Final boss.” I heard Eraser Head say as the villain covered in hands rushed him. I had thought he would be able to HAND-le him (probably should not be making puns in the middle of a fight), but the brain villain turned his attention to them.

         It was not until now that I began to feel…

         Anxious.

         Eraser Head’s elbow was destroyed, the hand covered villain toying with him as the brain villain made his way towards them.

         “Oh, by the way, hero. I am not the final boss.”

         “Umbra!” I shouted without hesitation, triggering the creation of an intricate magic circle of shimmering silvery black light in front of my open palm, roughly two feet in diameter. Several tendrils of inky shadows shot forth to intercept the falling hand of the brain villain.

         And it was just in the nick of time. I had barely managed to stop the villain from slamming Eraser Head into the ground, and a few more tendrils snaked through the air to enwrap more of the villain. He fought against it, forcing me to pour more energy into the spell to prevent the tethers from snapping. His strength is simply absurd, and it appears natural, considering his Quirk is currently erased.

         I struggled to keep the villain immobilized, digging in my heels and flapping my wings to try and give myself some leverage; however, the few remaining low-level villains rushed me. Reflexively, I took a deep breath before exhaling a scorching blast of fire around me, careful not to damage my tethers. A broken circle of molten earth surrounded me, the villains unconscious (and covered in burns of various degrees).

         Turning my attention back to the-

         “Mierda!” I yelped, unintentionally slipping into Spanish as the hand villain began to disintegrate…

         Decay…

         My tethers were crumbling to ash and pain shot through my right arm as the spell was broken. The magic circle shattered; the shadowy tendrils that were left faded into an inky mist.

         And my vision turned the same shade of black.

         ---

         Re…ow…y…tle...ragon…

         ‘What… happened?’ I thought, my head fuzzy and body still numb.

         Rest now, my little dragonling…

         ‘Rest… That sounds…’

         My eyes snapped open as my breath hitched, the reality of my situation settling in. I was trapped under dozens of tons of rubble. Ironically, the only thing keeping me from being crushed were the several pieces of rebar that jutted from my body and were embedded into a large slab of concrete that loomed over my exhausted form.

         Right leg, left arm, my abdomen, and several throughout my wings. Fortunately, there was not a lot of blood loss, which also meant that I must not have been out for long.

         Only for a few. Rest. They do not need you…

         Rolling my eyes, I just mumbled a string of swears directed at her, most of which were in Spanish (‘much more creative’, mis abuelos would say). My little spiel ended with ‘Qué te den’ before I heard an airy chuckle that faded away.

         Sighing, I stared into the darkness, well, dimness. While it was pitch black underneath all this rubble, I did have some form of night vision; not strong enough to see clearly, but it sufficed. Either way, it did not quell my rising anxieties. I have no idea where I am, and once my adrenaline wears off, I would surely go into shock and perish before I could get any help.

         And that is assuming any one can find me, or if any one survived. With just a single punch, that brain villain sent me soaring. The sheer force of my impact was enough to bring down the building that I was now trapped in. To top it all off, I was magically exhausted, using up the last of my energy to prevent my bones from being pulverized. Even if I got out of here, I could not heal myself, and I would not last long enough to get to Recovery Girl.

         Which would be pointless, anyway, since her healing uses a person’s energy to do so and I have next to none.

         I was fighting to stay conscious at this point, the constant dripping noise of the rain lulling-

         ‘Wait… Rain! Of course, I was being too daft to notice!’

         The USJ has a ‘Squall’ zone that is designed to emulate a rainstorm. I only need to get a steady stream to me, and then I could replenish some of my strength. Without a moment to lose, I gathered every ounce (or should I say gram?) of strength left in my body and propped my free leg against the slab of concrete above me.

         I pushed with all I had left, letting out a guttural shout as I fought for my life, but it did not budge. Panting heavily, my leg went limp.

         That was my only shot.

         It was not enough.

         My brain began to cloud.

         Pain began to set it.

         My breathing became uneven.

         ‘Think. Come on, Faian. You have spent years training your body and Quirk, but that means nothing if you do not calm yourself and do what you do best.’ I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing.

         My Quirk, my magic, my person, was dwarfed by the others at the college. I lacked the same experience and skill they had. I had to work infinitely harder to contend, and I only made it so far by honing the one thing that triumphed over raw power every. Single. Time.

         The mind… as cliché as that sounds.

         I became unchallenged in analyzing, predicting, strategizing and, most importantly, adapting. I got my provisional license just months before my twelfth birthday; felled villains wanted by the State of California and beyond; overcame my own depression and grief; and…

         I have a promise to keep.

         I will not be bested by some fucking rocks and a villain with a god damn hand fetish!

         Summoning strength straight from the very depths of my being, I drew the last breath I would draw underneath this rubble.

         ---

         “I am the great grandson of Quetzalcoatl, and you villains made the fatal mistake of tampering with a dragon’s hoard!!!” I roared with renewed vigor, the downpour coalescing around my battered form.

         I flew towards the villains before me, easily sweeping many of them away with a torrent of water, freezing it as it crashed into a towering building, nearly toppling it. If any attempted escape from within the ice, not only would they end up in a comparable situation I just escaped from, but they would have to deal with the tons of jagged ice, too.

         Ducking beneath a futile attack, I turned and slammed a villain into the ground with my tail before raising my hand towards the sky.

         A magic circle of swirling water appeared above me, and the rain slowed to a stop. Snapping the fingers of my raised hand, the circle pulsed as the rain collected into a massive bubble that spanned over a block and swallowed the tops of many buildings.

         With a wide, and possibly unnerving, grin, I thought ‘Aquae’.

         The magic circle pulsed once more before evaporating and the sphere of thousands of gallons of water descended with enough speed to break the sound barrier.

         Entire buildings were reduced to nothing as I leveled the area. Admittedly, I may have gone overboard (that is like the third intentional pun I have made in a life or death situation, today!), but it felt oh so good to fight in my element (fourth).

         Literally.

         I am a water dragon, first and foremost. While I may add the moniker ‘fire’ before it on occasion, it is only to reference my skill in fire magic (technically, I cannot naturally breathe fire I do with water, but my prowess with the element allows me to do so, requiring about as much magical energy as creating a candle flame). Of course, I would be even more of a force if I could draw strength directly from the sea, but give me a lake or a rainstorm?

         Well, I think it obvious what I can do.

         Although, none of that would matter if I was still stuck in the collapsed building. Drawing from the depths of my being, I was able to summon enough strength to let loose a mighty, spiralized water breath attack that essentially liquified everything in its path. With the rain falling directly on me, I was able to pull myself off the rebar, seal my wounds with ice, and recover my strength.

         Without any more villains in the surrounding area, I began my trek back to the center of the USJ. Being reinvigorated, my senses began returning to normal, although it would still take some time. “Coincidentally”, my hearing and sense of smell were beyond average, and I could rely on those quite easily. Even with all the rain and wind.

         Fortunately, that was all I needed to discover that Kouda and Tokoyami were nearby. Although, I did briefly think about how I should have been more careful before attacking.

         My worries were dashed when Tokoyami told me that they had heard the building collapse and that most of the villains had rushed to it. They were trailing behind and picking off any stragglers, not getting too close since they did not know what had happened. Thankfully so, too, since they were behind a building not even a block from the edge of my attack.

         “I see. The situation has only become more depressing.” Tokoyami stated after I recounted what had happened.

         “Indeed. And I would like to apologize for, well, that.” I gestured to the massive hole behind me. “Either way, it is reassuring that you two are safe. Perhaps our other classmates are as well.”

         The two nodded, but before another word could be said, several more low-level villains appeared, shouting for more to converge. I took a step forward, spreading my wings to guard my companions before letting loose another spiralized water breath attack; however, I was quickly brought to my knees.

         Kouda was soon kneeling beside me, steadying me as I violently coughed, blood splattering the floor and staining my lips. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow took to defending us while I recovered.

         ---

         “Forgive me…” I rasped to no one, limping my way across the USJ.

         I had left Tokoyami and Kouda behind in the Squall Zone, trying to return to Eraser Head and the others. Naturally, the moment I left the downpour, my strength began to fade again (can you hear my eyes roll?). I could not bring myself to fly, and my senses were beginning to dull once more, making me more susceptible to surprise attacks.

To make matters worse, the ice on my abdomen melted and my wound began steadily trickling blood. I was only able to fully heal the holes in my wings before I left the storm, barely managing to at least properly seal the hole in my arm and leg, and the entry point in my lower back, but the exit on my front was still open. With no other choice, I kept my tail tightly wrapped around myself, nearly halting the bleeding.

         And if that was not enough, I could barely even speak! I hurt my throat and taxed my lungs when I used my water breath to escape from the building, but using it again shredded my windpipe. While that is a small price to pay for going well beyond my limit, attempting any major magic now would likely result in my death.

         Well, it would be more akin to every atom in my body dissolving and being reduced into a puddle.

         Fun, no?

         *BOOM*

         There was a massive, well, I do not know. Obviously, it came from where I was initially sent soaring, but there was no one there who could possibly create such a ruckus singlehandedly, not even the brain villain. Bakugou, maybe, but it did not sound like an explosion.

         Unless, of course, there were two of those brain villains, or someone of the same caliber. Which must mean that All Might final-

         “Why the hell do you look like shit, cat eyes?” A certain blond’s voice came from behind.

         Which was hastily followed by the ‘manly’ voice of Kirishima. “You can’t just say that, Bakugou! It’s not manly criticizing someone’s appearance! But, why do you look so beat up?”

         Ignoring Bakugou’s discontented huff, I answered, my hand on my throat as I croaked out “Technically, he had asked that, and technically, my eyes are reptilian.” Bakugou attempted a “menacing” step forward but Kirishima blocked him as I continued. “I took a heavy hit protecting Eraser Head and ended up in the Squall Zone. Needless to say, it took a toll on me.”

         “Woah… A villain did that to you? But you’re so manly! I mean, Mister Aizawa even-”

         “Shut the hell up, shitty hair.” Bakugou interrupted (naturally). “If you fought alongside Aizawa, then you must damn well know just what those pathetic villains’ weaknesses are. Tell me so I can kick their ass, unlike you, cat eyes.”

         I looked into Kirishima’ eyes. They were filled with genuine worry, but there was a spark of determination. Bakugou’s had an ominous glint in them, desperate for a fight. I thought carefully of my answer, knowing that if they faced the same power I had, they would face Death.

         “Knowledge is not something I enjoy sharing for free… but be warned. If you falter in your endeavors, no amount of skill nor talent of your own will save you. Be wary… and accept that on the battlefield, there is no such thing as fair. Your only solace is that villains fight not because they have something to gain, but because they cannot risk losing everything.”

         I nearly toppled over with another coughing fit, blood caking the hand that covered my mouth. Kirishima practically lunged at me to help, but Bakugou just said ‘some help your scaly ass was’ before rushing towards the battle. I gave Kirishima a look and he paused for only a moment before following after him.

         ‘They will need help…’ I thought as I struggled to straighten myself.

         ---

         After a short detour to the lake, I recovered enough strength to fly again, cautious not to use any magic to worsen my condition. I now stood on the outskirts of the main battle, staying near the shore; however, I had a choice to make as Nomu turned towards Bakugou as he was restraining Kurogiri.

         Within an instant, Bakugou sat next to the trio of Todoroki, Kirishima, and Midoriya; All Might was in a defensive stance as he stood halfway between the villain’s extended fist and a wall with his arm bruised and shirt torn; and I stood with my claws deeply embedded in the forearm and elbow of the creature, using my limited strength to hinder its fearsome blow.

         Slicing through flesh and bone, I destroyed Nomu’s arm before leaping back towards my classmates, my strength spent as I fell at their feet. It did not do much, as the beast regenerated the damage I caused almost instantaneously.

         “These are kids, and you didn’t hold back?” All Might questioned as he panted.

         Shigaraki did not hesitate to respond. “I didn’t have much choice. He was threatening my companion. Besides, these kids are no angels. The plain-looking one? He tried to kill me with a maxed-out punch. And the one with wings? He nearly incinerated some of my men and just viciously shredded Nomu’s arm.”

         Reflexively, I shouted “In America, we call that a Sunday barbecue!” before clutching my throat and hacking up blood for the nth time. It did earn me a mortified look from my little clover and Kirishima. Bakugou smirked and Todoroki very nearly smiled, though.

         “Hm… What kind of “heroes” do something like that? You think you can get away with being as violent as you want if you say it’s for the sake of others. Well, you know what, All Might? That pisses me off. Why do people get to decide that some violent acts are heroic, and others are villainous? Casting judgment as to what’s “good” and what’s “evil.” You think you’re the Symbol of Peace?”

I very nearly interjected again with ‘No, he is so very obviously the Emblem of Order,’ but the pain in my throat (and possibly Kirishima’s hand on my mouth) prevented me from doing so.

         “Ha. You’re just another government-sponsored instrument of violence. And violence always breeds more violence. I’ll make sure the world understands that once you’re dead.” Shigaraki finally finished, and All Might said what we were all thinking (probably, I was thinking of what pun to make once Kirishima removed his hand… I think the blood loss is getting to me).

         “You’re nothing but a lunatic. Criminals like you; you always try and make your actions sound noble. But admit it; you’re only doing this because you like it. Isn’t that right?”

         “I thought that was a left hand on his face…” I muttered as I rose to my knees, but not quietly enough considering Todoroki coolly (not counting that one, too easy) told me to ‘Please stop…’ before raising his voice to speak to everyone else.

         “We’ve got them outnumbered.”

         My little clover replied. “And Kacchan found the mist guy’s weakness.”

         Kirishima quickly followed up with “These dudes may act really tough, but we can take ‘em down now with All Might’s help. Heh. Let’s do this.”

         “Don’t attack.” All Might ordered. “Get out of here.”

         Of course, his demand was met with some resistance from Todoroki, but he was adamant about it.

         “I thank you for your assistance, but this is different. It’s gonna be all right. Just sit back and watch a pro at work.”

         “But you’re too hurt. You’re bleeding. And you’re almost out of ti—” Midoriya quickly stopped as All Might gave a thumb’s up and I rolled my eyes.

         I mean, really? Can no one piece it all (might) together from his flubs?

         Either way, that is not important now.

         “Nomu. Kurogiri. Kill him. I’ll deal with the children… Let’s clear this level and go home.”

         ---

         “Now for a lesson. You may have heard these words before, but I’ll teach you what they really mean. Go beyond! Plus Ultra!” All Might bellowed as he sent Nomu hurtling out of the USJ, breaking right through the domed ceiling.

         In the ridiculous timespan of under a minute, All Might defeated the greatest foe on this field. There were exclamations from us about All Might’s terrifying tenacity and sheer strength, but as the dust began to settle about him, almost unnaturally converging on his towering form, he continued.

         “I really have gotten weaker. Back in my heyday, five hits woulda been enough to knock that guy out. But today, it took more than 300 mighty blows.” He turned his attention from us to the remaining two villains. “You’ve been bested, villains. Surrender. We all want to get this over with quickly.”

         Shigaraki began to unravel, his neck looking like what my throat feels like, and All Might’s taunting only pushed him further into despair. I folded my outstretched wings behind me, having used them to keep the five of us from being blown away.

         My classmates deemed the battle won, but the look on my little clover’s face gave a vastly different thought. Sighing, I thought ‘Plus Ultra, I suppose…’ before forcing myself to my feet.

         Fighting everything in my body telling me to collapse and drift away, I trudged over to All Might, drawing to my full height and extending a wing in front of him despite how my muscles ached and my soul screamed.

         “I suggest you heed his words,” I rasped out, my voice sounding almost reptilian, “lest you incur a wrath not of this world.”

         I fought back a shuddering cough, my tail tightening around me as I struggled to stay standing. That is when All Might, Aaron’s father, placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. He seemed to stand taller, and there was a fire in eyes, but behind that fire, I could see his doubts.

         There was no fathomable instance in which we will survive if they attack now, but we had to convince them otherwise.

         We just had to stall a little longer.

         “What? Are you scared?”

         I followed it with “Do you truly believe you can face us?”

         Shigaraki continued to panic, and it seemed we just might pull this off…

         “Shigaraki Tomura! Please, do not fret. Look at them. All Might has definitely weakened. Nomu’s attacks were successful. And the boy can barely stand. They’re on their own. The children appear to be frozen in fear. And, look, our underlings are recovering. We likely still have a few minutes before their reinforcements arrive. If you and I work together, we can do this. We haven’t missed our chance to kill All Might.”

         Kurogiri was not wrong, and Shigaraki began to compose himself.

         I slightly turned my head towards All Might, my shoulders falling. Not meeting his eyes, Aaron’s eyes, I whispered “You are more than just a symbol. Do not act when they rush us, just… Give them my regards. Aria. Aaron.”

         I focused back on the two villains before us. “My heart beats not for me…”

         ---

         “Don’t you ever do something so reckless, again, Faian!” Aria exclaimed in English as she helped me sit up, handing me a canister of saltwater. “Aaron’s message was already concerning enough, then I get here and have to fight my way through a bunch of thugs to get to my son! Who happens to be bleeding from his stomach and sounds like he smokes fifty packs a day!”

         Before I could respond, she turned to All Might, who was somewhere in between his muscular form and a skeletal one (no surprise there), she continued in English. “As for you, I swear. You haven’t changed in all these years! You’re almost as bad as my kids…”

         Finally, she turned to Midoriya, switching to Japanese and saying “I take it back. You’re as bad as them.”

         Finished with reprimanding us for our actions, she let out a tired sigh. “I’m just glad you’re all safe, now.” She wore a weary smile, and her glistening eyes brimming with tears held such warmth and love.

         “Mom… Thank you.”

         “Midoriya, Nadal, hey!” We heard Kirishima shout as he ran towards us.

         His concern was warranted, but there was a tension in the air when Aria’s eyes went wide as he got closer, and All Might fully transformed into his skeletal frame. Fortunately, a wall of dyed cement rose up, blocking him off as Cementoss reassured him that the pros can handle this.

         Honestly, the rest of the day was a blur. Midoriya and All Might were snuck out to get the medical attention they need, and Aria helped me into the school bus after I had answered a few questions for the police. I returned to the campus, changed into my casual clothes with her help, grabbed my bag, and she drove me home. She practically carried me in, complaining about how she was getting old (to be fair, I weighed well over 200 lbs. because of my mutations).

         Before she kissed my cheek goodbye, she ran the bath and dumped a container of sea salt in it for me. I heard the front door close as I eased (more like flopped) into the steaming water. A contented sigh escaped my lips as I sank beneath the water’s surface.

         After what might have been a few hours, considering how I fell asleep under the water, I got out and dried off. Changing into my pajamas and not bothering to dry my hair, I lazily strolled to my plush bed and buried myself beneath the mountain of blankets and pillows, curling about a few. I let the exhaustion in my bones lull me to—

         “Pleased to meet you, my little dragonling.”

         “¡MALDITO CARAJO!”

-----

Had a lot of fun with this chapter and got a little carried away, admittedly. Hope you heathens enjoy. Be on the look out for tomorrow’s Holiday request!

Beta Reader, Collaborator, Co-Writer, Grinch: @i-am-here-with-fanfic

[this-nightmare-doesnt-exist-yet]

Living on a farm upstate where the flowers used to grow [part 1]

Warning: this is a cosmic horror short story series. Be prepared for death, blood, and strange themes of children, growth, and motherhood, ect. It’s a work in progress.

................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

It started in the spring. It is not too uncommon for an animal to be born with defects but this was different. At noon on a Saturday, a live five headed calf with twenty-three eyes was birthed from an average healthy cow, on a family farm at the edge of town. When word spread weeks later our small town was flooded with scientists and reporters alike. They all wanted a glimpse of the fabled ‘calf of end days’. 

Every man, woman, and child knew well of the words the bible spoke, supposedly straight from the very pursed lips of God. With such sayings as ‘the horns of Satan grew in woven tandem with humanity’s wrath and ignorance’ and ‘flesh and bones of the dark in lay the tilling of the earth in a rotting harvest’, the sight of the beast was underwhelming enough that we didn’t think much of it. Sure it was unnerving at best, but to say the truth it was not any worse than what a person could find in one of those bazaar shock magazines with the hoaxes mysteries. For what most people thought it might as well have been faked. Ripply himself carried more ‘dark energy’ than what this veal had. Then again we were blind.

Days came and went, six months later the farm and the calf fell out of style, and the farm was left bankrupt. The owner was seen less and less. 

The second part came five years later. The town had been experiencing an alarming wave of people going inexplicably missing. It wasn’t like it was too small but the place was noticeably getting smaller. A kid by the unfortunate name of Richard Handy, came running home like a man on fire after having broken into the then abandoned farm with his friends. He fell screaming and crying at his mother’s feet, a nasty gash down his leg. Richard’s parents called law enforcement upon hearing that some of his friends were trapped at the location. the little information they were able to decipher from Richard’s terrified babbling was not enough to prepare them for what was at the farm.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Mary, the wife of Nathan the local butcher was the first of the mothers to have fallen prey to the curse. At midnight she birthed not a human child, but a live rabbit. Five more such births occurred on the following weeks. Fear stricken and ashamed the couple slaughtered the young and sold the meat as any average rabbit would have been. It was only when Mary gave birth to the first malformed animal did the news break. Laying between her legs was a dying rabbit, gutted and twisted as if it had been mauled by a house cat. The Doctor was perplexed to say the least, and given the evidence provided, he assumed it was a hoax. 

Every woman who ate the meat from the shop got pregnant like this and the animals birthed became more monstrous each time, until it was all just writhing fleshy mystery parts and the mothers died.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I was called out to investigate claims of a squatter at one of the houses on the outskirts of town where an old lady lived. She was in her eighties and on her own inhabited this place.

She was a stingy woman that had a sneer of curdled milk. To put it frankly: she was a bitch. I would not hesitate to hesitate on calling a hospital if I found her injured on the ground.

 If I haven't mentioned​ this already: I am a cop.

       So I drove up to her house and tapped on the door, immediately I my gut tells me something is off. But I push the feeling aside.

She opened the door and just stood there. I asked her if I could come in and she hissed a no. Confused on why I was even sent out here, I asked if she had called. Something in the air changed and the elderly gateway goblin let me in. 

The place was freezing. It was relief from the sweltering heat outside. 

The house had one level and five bedrooms​, and no fucks given about tornadoes. The walls were covered sporadically with blank sticky notes.

           We sat down across from each other. 

I questioned “What am I doing here?” 

“There is somebody in this house. I need you to stay the night to catch them when they come out from their hiding spot. They have been poisoning my food and water.” she stated crankily.

I stayed the night.

On any other day I would have left after she did and act as if I had stayed, but something was telling me I needed to be there.

Once she was gone I took some time to look around. Two of the rooms in her house were filled to the ceiling with unused baby items like diapers, food and clothing. This only got more concerning when I entered a different room that was an actual baby room with a crib. I peek into the crib and there was a large grotesque doll in place of an infant.

 I can say I left that room unsettled.

        In the kitchen the only food was junk. The cabinets were packed with chips and sweets. It was as if she had never even heard the word 'vegetable’ before. I have insulin problems so I didn't have any of the so called food. I instead sat on a couch in the living room. Everything was coated in febreze spray, not an inch was spared. I thought for a moment that she may have just been poisoning herself with all the nonsense I had seen, and been imagining things loopy on air freshener.

That was until it hit midnight.

          The clock struck twelve. 

The first thing I noticed was a change in the air.

The once cool and floral air had turned into a hot and humid dredge that smelt of rot.

I pulled my shirt up over my nose and mouth in an attempted to block it, but it didn't help all that much. It was like something large had died in there and the cooling was broken.

I got up off the couch and sped to the exit. It was locked from the outside. The door knob was on the wrong side in the way that I would need a key to open it. I pounded my fist on the door to test if it was real. Suddenly all of the sticky notes flew off the walls and swirled in a cyclone. Eye balls opened out of the structure of the house, chipping the paint away to reveal a red fleshy mucus membrane beneath. Angry that I had awakened them from their sleep.

The flipped entry got sealed over by a meaty layer at the whole space shifted. 

I was panicking. Soon it's entirety had me trapped in a beating flesh cube. I was frozen with terror. After an indeterminable amount of time a pucker formed in the muscle of the ceiling where a light had been. There was a squelching noise as sludge seeped out of the divot. I stared disgusted as it did this for a while before a large mass covered in slime was shot out and hit the ground. The eyes still watching me, I walked cautiously towards the mass.

I was the baby doll from the crib now face down into wetness. Not knowing what else to do I reached for it.

             I know now that was a bad move.

No more than two seconds after picking it up it swiveled it’s​ head round back to face me. 

I screamed and chucked it away.

The thing stood itself up and slowly opened its mouth. This was made worse by the fact that it was not a toy made for this and it had razors in place of teeth. It  then spoke.

“You should never have come here.”

It's voice sounded old and distant like a scratched record player.

I had gotten to a point of fear where I was now numb to everything happening and I wound up yelling “Don't you think I fucking know this already!?”

The toy spoke again now slightly hesitant.

“You were never meant to exist. Humanity is a lie.”

The message didn't get through to me because I had become really pissed off “DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A SHIT!? I didn't want to come out here in the first place! The person you should be doing this how speal to is not me, it's that old bitch who lives here with all the dusty candy! Jesus Christ! I would not even be here if it weren't for my damn pay check!”

We stood there in silence for a moment before it said a soft and frustrated “Get out.”

The flesh peeled away and showed a fixed door.

I shouted a thanks for nothing as I walked out while simultaneously flipping off the place with an arm raised in the air.

That was not my proudest moment.

               After I got out of the house the exit was forced shut. Everything was relatively normal outside.

Back at the station the woman called to tell me that she wished I would die because I left before she came back. I hung up the phone. She was never heard from again.

[double-threnody]

The Long and Dark 02

Wood splintered and cracked beneath blows of the axe, sending sharp peals echoing through the forest with each successive strike. The tool still felt unfamiliar in Burkegan’s hands, even through the thick skin of his calloused fingers: it lacked the weight necessary to hew flesh through armor, and it lacked the reach and the strength to give him a properly delivered swing. The woodsman’s axe was made for trees, and with a final grunt of exertion, he chopped through the heartwood of the one before him.

“Eyes up,” he barked, more out of habit than any real danger of catching someone beneath the falling trunk. The handful of volunteers that remained among their band had dwindled in recent weeks, each of them setting out to build new homes in their reclaimed homeland one after another. With the temple itself completed and the scores of refugees taking their newfound skills and blessings of the kami with them to greener pastures, his life had become relatively quiet once again. His axe fell once, twice, carving the thick branches from the trunk one after another while his thoughts swarmed over him like a cloud of flies.

Seeing his… well. Calling them his friends may have been something of a stretch, but seeing the faces of his Ward companions had filled him with energy. Ezenzakhialga and Lolah both seemed different – though that could easily have been the months of his exile speaking – and the new runt, Maya, had caught his eye. Ropes slung over the log as he thought back: it was a surprise to see Lolah there in the first place, let alone a pushover like the little Garanji. His shoulder pressed against the slope of the tree trunk alongside his palm, and with a rumble of exertion, he pushed the thing until it rolled over the ropes and allowed him to coil the knots.

Maya must have had guts of some kind to follow a pair of Xaela into the Steppe with nothing but her book and Lolah’s cocksure attitude. Briefly he wondered how Lolah was doing in the wake of the Adarkim khagan’s… hospitality.

The ropes slipped easily over his shoulders to cross over his bare chest. With a few more quickly drawn knots and hitches in his makeshift harness, he leaned into the taut pull of the rope, grumbled a platitude to the kami, and began to walk.

It was a relatively short walk back to his ger, hidden in the shade of a few small trees left on the outskirts of the temple proper. The trip certainly wasn’t a level one, however, and his grunts only increased in frequency as he struggled to drag the twenty-fulm log. Each slight slope of the hills and upturned rock in his path sent a slight tremor down the long, narrow groove carved into the earth behind him. A quarter of a malm further and he could smell the freshly tanned leathers of his hut over the ever-present stenches of sweat and salt sticking to him beneath the bite of sap. His scars burned beneath the ropes, but finally, thankfully, he drew to a halt hardly a dozen paces from the opening of his tent.

“You’re going to throw your back like that, you old, blind, mutt; make no mistake. Hope that you fall over at the peak of a hill so we have a chance of rolling you back here.” Harsh but playful, the Doman words spilled from the inside of the ger with a spectator’s faux sense of concern.

“Hatsumine,” he rumbled, turning the bright orb of his left eye on the tent. Where he had held a glass replica in his right socket before, only an empty, puckered hole beneath withered scar tissue now gazed out from the right side of his face. Tearing a strip from the bandages binding his left arm – it was as good as healed, anyway – he wove the fabric around his shaggy mop of shock-white hair to form a makeshift eyepatch. “You should have sent word you’d be visiting; I might have made tea.” He wouldn’t have, but it was polite to lie. The Doman dialect suffered on his tongue, but every passing week granted him a little more mastery of the language than the handful of words he commanded before he arrived.

Hatsumine’s smile, dim beneath the shade of the ger, suggested she saw the lie for what it was. “Perhaps if our leaves agreed with you, you wouldn’t be rattling such a ruckus against death’s door. Doma blesses all with her bounty, if only they accept it.”

“Perhaps if Doma had a bounty worth steeping I’d share it with you,” he jabbed. It was becoming an old routine between them, and as he finally worked himself free from the remaining ropes, she stepped out into the light to deliver a response.

“Perhaps if you shared more often, my sisters would find less opportunity to harass me over your health, mutt. They could simply look at you and see that you’re wasting away.” She drew closer, glinting softly in the sunlight as the small collection of jewels and gold hoops adorning her fingers and neck gleamed. She seemed Burkegan’s opposite in nearly every metric: at barely half his height, jet-black hair to his snow-white, and a smug grin to match his deadpan grimace, she was every ilm a maiden of the shrine. “They ask after you daily now. Are you hunting enough to eat? Are you ill? Have you been taken by dysentery while none of us were watching? Tell me about your shits.”

The axe split free from the tail of the log with hardly a flick of effort, and Burke hesitated as he nearly brought it to rest in the non-existent hook situated over his left shoulder. He barely spared Hastumine a glance as he tugged a rag from his belt. The sweat from his brow, the skin beneath his scalebeds, and the scarred flesh under his horns and throat nearly left it drenched. Flicking the thing at her face as he trotted past, he stepped into the ger with a warm, welcoming chuckle.

“Hardly two months ago I believed you were as stoic a vessel for the kami as you could find. Now listen to you. Steeped in such filth I am moved to silence.” Running a hand over the bamboo frame, he dropped to a knee to begin pulling his boots from his feet.

“Then be silent already and pack me a pipe, will you? I know you keep a pinch here; the namazu are horrible liars. Now that trade is reopening between our people and the tribes to the North, They’re always scurrying about underfoot to try and find something new to sell us.” Her robes, simple in ornamentation but frighteningly clean in comparison to her current surroundings, swept in her wake as she passed right by him to take a seat on his pile of bedding. While spacious for one, the ger wasn’t built to be shared comfortably by two people. Burkegan counted himself lucky that the shrinemaiden’s frequent visits typically only added up to one and a half. With a swat of his hand he brushed her aside, ignoring her chuckles as he lifted the furs beneath her to paw at a battered, tin box tucked away between strips of hide.

“Your Eminence,” he mumbled, dripping a conciliatory note into the Eorzean word as he pressed a corn-cob pipe full of dry, pungent tobacco. Her smile twisted into a more devilish grin as she plucked the pipe from his hand, lighting it with a match from some hidden pocket deep within her white robes. “You’re going to stain those with smoke, if not with ash.” Idly, he peered at her while his practiced fingers worked at rolling a paper full of the stuff.

“The kami observe the purity of my heart and hear the purity of my singing soul, and so too shall my clothes remain pure,” she chuckled drily, pausing between heady puffs of the smoke.

“I’ve never heard that verse.”

“Yes, I just made it up. Trust that when I come to instruct you in meditation I’ll have something more heartfelt.” A teasing glint remained twinkling in her eye as she watched him seal the cigarette shut with the tip of his tongue.

“I am illuminated,” he snorted. The tip of the cigarette pressed between his lips, right in the groove of the scar that split them, and he waited for her to fall silent again before lighting it.

“You’ll be meeting another sister soon.” Her voice cut through his slowly stilling thoughts, disrupting the pleasant images of Lolah and Maya he’d barely finished dreaming up. Like a pink beacon in the shade, his eye blazed open, turning lazily to rest on Hastumine where she reclined in his furs.

“I find myself constantly amazed at how much you speak during your visits. We haven’t even fucked; what did I do to deserve this?” A sharp laugh and a short plume of smoke from her nest between the remains of a bear and a massive tiger preceded her reply.

“It’s improper. I am a woman of the cloth, Burkegan; have you lost your other eye, or did you merely forget?” The question hangs in the air amid the haze of flavored smoke, tweaked and tinged with her smile. “You committed a grievous sin and traveled to us in a pilgrimage of atonement, of course,” she murmured, crossing her legs beneath the heavy robes.

“I acknowledge my failure and will work to correct it.” Even as the words escaped him they fell flat against the dirt floor; he knew it was the proper response, and she knew he knew how to respond, and both of them knew that he had done nothing but listen – if begrudgingly – to the maidens of the shrine for weeks. “Speaking of my failures,” he mumbled, dancing a bright line through the air with the cherry at the tip of his cigarette, “has there been any word from Miyasuke? The temple is done, your people are fed. Your trees are cleared and Doma begins to rebuild herself around you.” His gaze slipped from Hastumine to his palms, covered in fresh cuts and scars and calloused skin after months of unfamiliar labor. Revivifying and oddly calming, but unfamiliar labor all the same. “Few chores remain for me. I’m turning into a guard dog, and I don’t recall signing that contract.”

Caught in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the flicker of hurt that flashed over his friend’s face upon the mention of Miyasuke’s name.

“No word as of yet, mutt. Rest easy tonight; I’ll see if we have some leftovers among the offerings for the guard dog’s belly,” she laughed. A trail of smoke and the scent of fresh linens flowed in her wake as she stood and walked past, pausing to rest her hand against his shoulder. “Think on these things, Burkegan. Clear your mind of what was and what might be. Your work has helped the people of Doma stand upon their own legs once again, and with the temple complete we can spread the guidance of the kami to everyone who lives with pain in the pit of their heart.” Her fingertips traced softly over the scars splitting his skin, coming to a rest over his left breast and the massive, rhythmic muscle beneath. “Meet with our new sister on the morrow. I will personally bring you word when I receive it from Miyasuke.” Her smile was as warm and infectious as always – the kind of smile that encouraged the work of a hundred laborers when the temple was only a crater – and Burke couldn’t help but crack a small grin in return.

“Good. Thank you, Hatsumine.”

“Thank you, mutt. Even half-blind and wasting away to nothing, the kami are grateful for your continued support. As are we.” Her laugh lingered in the tent flap, half-hollow in her departure.

@miyasukeietada

[thelightningbottler]

Human Resources

Narrator:

He drank his coffee black - like his heart.

He paced around his office.

He grabbed his tape recorder

And began his great hypothesis.

Doc:

I always think about me

And I hope that they do to

Taking my views into account before they choose

The option that most fucks me over

But do they ever dig deep?

Deeper into what I mean?

What I say?

What I mean to say?

What I say I mean?

Am I mean?

Or just median?

The centre of the whole

Or just a hole in a sheet of paper?

SFX: *crumpled paper*

Doc: So lets start with a subject

A test,

An option to begin our experiments

Does anyone feel the way I feel?

Love the way I love?

Hate the way I hate?

Am I too harsh? Or not harsh enough?

Am I too easy to be breezy?

Difficulties arise,

This shit is difficult,

Assistant:

Perhaps, sir, if I may offer a suggestion

lets build a boy

And make him speak

And then we’ll dissect

His wonderful brain

Because how can you fix anything

while inside the burning house?

Doc:Build a boy you say?

Ass: Yes sir.

Doc:

What a novel idea

No moment to waste,

let's cut to the point

build that boy

ehh, you get the picture

Narrator: Test 1: begin

Doc:

First we must build the boy.

Give him scrapes on his knees

Give him trees to climb

Give him beans to eat

And cans to kick.

And bees to bother

And hearts to break

Or ache,

Assistant:

Give him limbs that grow out exponentially

Until he is gruff and monosyllabic

Until he stays in his room all day

Until he emerges, fully formed.

And if we don’t like this boy, we can throw him away.

Assistant:And start again from scratch.

Doc: Throw him away?

Ass: None of him will go to waste

Doc: Very well, let's try this out.

Doc: So now we have the boy! Let him speak his truth!

Boy 1: ‘Alright?’

Doc: ‘Yeah Fine’

Boy 1: ‘Yeah that’s good. Do you play leag ue? Or Dota?’

Doc: ‘No’

Boy 1 : ‘Oh’

Assistant: Oh shit, it’s a gamer. Well we tried and we can try again,

but before we pulp this boy,

We’ll see if we can get some sense out of him.

ASS: ‘Do you feel happy’

Boy 1: What do you mean?

Doc: ‘Do you feel sad?’

Boy 1: ‘What does it mean to feel happy’

Ass: ‘Good vibes, y’know? No bad vibes’

Boy 1: Right.’

Doc: ‘It’s to feel good, or bad, or appropriately sad or any combination of the above’

Boy 1: ‘Oh I see’

Ass: “Like… like when you shoot the winning goal into the back of the net on a warm summer’s day’

Boy 1: ‘Oh yeah, like that look of anguish on the goalie’s face.’

Doc: ‘Oh, well … well that’s not… um… that’s more like schadenfreude.’

Boy 1: ‘What’s that?’

Doc: ‘That’s when you take pleasure in the misfortune of others’

Boy 1: ‘Is that not allowed?’

Doc: ‘No there’s nothing .. banning it, it’s just… I dunno… in poor taste?’

Doc: ‘What’s taste got to do with feeling?’

Ass: Pulp this one, it’s getting revealing.

Narrator:

Into the blender goes the body

And into the jar goes the brain

Never to feel another thing

never to think a thing again.

Doc:

Welp that boy was a wash. lets’ build another

A stranger one, with stranger tastes

With ideas that are beyond his station

And feelings he don’t understand.

Boy 2: ‘Teach me,’

Narrator: he said

Boy 2: ‘how to care’

Ass:

Well fuck this one’s already a duff.

I looked inside his ear drums,

And between the ears was nowt but fluff.

Doc: Do you feel happy?

Boy 2: ‘What’s that?

Doc: ‘Or is it just quite enough’

Boy 2: ‘I feel a sense of quiet contentment. - I do not really want for stuff’

Doc:

These boys are throwing up the wrong questions

The act of acting is too much

He has a certain disarming charm.

A boyish glimmer of clovers luck.

Ass: Do we wanna pulp this boy? Or do we have more issues for him’

Doc: ‘I feel like we should pulp him, but there’s one more question we should ask.’

Narrator: The boy looked on, or through them, in ambient agitation.

Doc: ‘What would make you sad, boy’

Boy 2: ‘Well death, those I love dying around me? My own personal mortality,’

Doc: ‘Fuck this one’s canny

Ass: ‘Got another heavy one, put him in the juicer.’

Doc:

Why can’t they look past the futility? We’re looking for progress? We can’t have them answer existentially. If they could do me a favour to not think too much… but enough to answer my questions soundly.

Narrator:

BZz goes the pulper

Slurp goes the brain

Into another jar

To think on death forever, again.

Ass: Third boy - This one’s a girl

Doc:

Off to a good start already

Maybe they’ll have a better understanding, or at least a fresh perspective

Narrot:

With pigtails

And attitude

And a concerning look that could eat through glass

Doc: ‘Did you take her past the brain vats?’

Ass: ‘Maybe’

Doc: ‘Should we just liquify before we even try’

Ass: ‘Nah nah, I got good feelings about this one’

Doc: Describe happiness to us.

Girl: It’s warm. It bubbles. It’s giddy and freeing

Ass: Describe sadness to us.

Girl: It’s cold, and stone like. It’s aching and grieving.

Doc: Describe fear to us.

Girl: It’s prickly, and spiked, like a hole in your stomach

Ass: And hatred

Girl: It’s boiling, and messy, and fraught and endures.

Doc: And describe love.

Girl: No.

Doc: What do you mean no?

Girl: Absolutely not. You do not deserve it, love in any form, even in the hypothetical, even in the abstract.

…

Ass: Pulp her.

Pulper: Well no one asks me my opinion, obviously

Who gives two shits about the people pulper?

‘What does it matter what you think?

You pulp People for a living’

And yes it’s true I am a person pulper

And the wage is good and the benefits numerous

That’s only because it takes a special kind of person to pulp people.

You gotta have brawn,

And guts,

And skill

And a tough stomach

And a hard shell

And you can’t take your work home with you.

You gotta incinerate your people pulping apron

And your people pulping booties

And wash away all the people that you pulp

In the post people pulping shower.

And if you were my shrink, and you heard me say this

You would think I was insane

But you gotta compartmentalise these things

By day, I’m a people pulper

By night, I’m a ventriloquist

“Coming up next to the stage, it’s barney, and his talking tarantula!”

I get up there, and my mouth dries up

Like every globule of saliva I’ve ever spit had never been spat.

And I jam up, and cram up, and my spider puppet stays limp in my hand.

And after 2 minutes the MC is on me, giving me a round of applause for being brave

Enough to take the stage

And I step down,

Exhilarated by the thrill

Of taking the stage

And bombing

Atrociously.

And I lap it up, I love every bit of it. I can taste it I can feel it, the anguish of the crowd, the mercy that I hold them in the sheer elation-

Doc:

Right. Enough of that.

Don’t know what it served,

Don’t know why I had to hear about Barney in composting

But I guess you have to have some sort of relation

With your employees.

Narrator: Boy 4. Boundless energy.

Beyond enthusiastic

Bouncing on the balls of his feet

As he anxiously awaits

His interrogators

Boy 4: “Howdy!”

Narrator: He says

Boy4:

“I am but a boy!

“With a dream!

“and Love in my heart!

“How are you today?

Ass: Silence, child, we ask the questions.

Doc: Isn’t this child a little much?

Ass: You don’t want to rule him out before you ask your questions?

Doc: Fair enough

Doc:

“What gives you your energy?

What gives you your jumpy legs

And twitchy arms?

Boy4: Dunno,

Narrator: said the boy.

Boy 4:

My gardeners think it’s a nervous condition,

They give me Ritalin to focus me,

And Promethasine to chill me out.

Doc: “Your what?”

Ass: Gardeners.

Doc: “Where are we getting these boys from”

Ass: We’re growing them, from scratch

You plant a boy deep in the earth,

And tend to them every day,

With bits of mice and all things nice,

With sun glowing on The tops of their scalps

Until one day, a boy emerges.

And then we give them drugs

To make them like the perfect boys.

Doc: I think we need a serious re evaluation of our staffing policies. Also how many know about … the pulping?

Ass: The boys, or the staff?

Doc: ‘The staff. Why would the boys know?

Boy 4: ‘Pulping?”

Narrator: Says the boy?

Ass: Never you mind.

Narrator: A brief clip to the back of the ear, sorted the boys curiosity.

Ass: ‘Oh they know for sure’

Doc: ‘I did not realise the breath of our organisation. I am humbled and in awful awe.’

Boy 4: So can I go?

Narrator: Said the boy

Doc: Just one moment - First, tell me more about your sense of self, beneath the drugs.

Boy 4:

Well… it’s hard to tell.

What your asking me, a little boy with a bouncy leg, is am I more than my chemistry?

Certainly I am my thoughts, and I am my actions, but my actions and thoughts are heavily obscured

And absolutely moulded by the drugs that I take. I am part boy, part Ritalin, part promethazine. They are all simultaneous chemical reactions that make me me.

Doc: ‘Is it human? Are the feelings that I’m validating simply the chemicals? And is that the same for everyone?

Narrator: The assistant shrugs,

Ass: ‘don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee?’

Doc: ‘Very well, pulp him’

SFX - Vicious boy pulping

Narrator:

So Around the coffee bot they sit

In silent conversation,

reminiscing on the plucky boy

With the bouncy leg

Doc: “Is this in vein?”

Ass: “Possibly,”

Doc: “Is there nothing to be learnt?”

Ass: “Certainly there are many things to be learnt just none of them are easily apparent”

Doc: “I wonder if its all in vein, whether we should just shut down this whole boy mulching operation”

Ass: “Well we could but…

Doc: ‘But?’

Ass: “The grant money’s been spent, contracts have been sealed, NDAs signed and DNA taken, dogs set upon whistleblowers. We’re kind of in the paint, sir. There’s money in the pot, there’s iron in the fire.

Doc: “Yes i see what you mean”

Narrator: He drank his coffee black, like his heart.

Doc: “I wonder if people know what I mean…”

Ass: “Lets return to first hypotheses:

Doc:

We’re trying to learn if people think the way I think

Feel the way I feel. So let's get even more basic.

Narrator: So the next little boy, was pulled out of the earth,

And stuck into a chair

A single bulb glistened in the darkness, his interrorgators behind it.

Doc:

“Now tell me boy, -

“Answer me Empirically, phenomenologically and non-existentially… and no mention of chemicals:

Do You Feel What I Feel?“

Plato: I dunno…

Narrator: said the child, scared and confused…

Plato: How do you feel?

Doc: “I think we’re onto something. He made that face, which is how I feel!’

Ass: “You feel, scared and confused?

Doc: a combination of two, at times, yes.

Narrator: The boy sat up, he looked elated!

Doc:

‘Look! He did it again!’

“He might be the one, we don’t know for sure though… maybe we should try another”

Assistant: “And what do we do, with this boy?’

Doc: Give him a book, mild and light. Give him the plato, that should sate his appetite?

Narrator:

And so they gave him the apology to read, and his mind was filled with images of courtrooms, and hemlock, and gadflies and heroes, and mealy mouthed politicians. And ultimately, the name stuck. Test subject: Plato.

But we shall return to him.

Narrator: Up next another boy. Full of chemicals and smelling of snails.

Boy 6: ‘Wotcha’

DOc: Tell me, do you feel how I feel? Answer honestly/

Narrator: The boy gave a quizzical look, then a sneer.

Boy 6: “Nah I could never feel that pathetic”

Doc: ‘Loathing… this one might be onto something to’

Ass: ‘Could be paternal?’

Doc: ‘Could be…’

Ass: ;should i send him to the pulper?

Doc: ‘Why not? his face annoys me’

Narrator: And Plato looked out of his window, as the boy he grew next to was taken away, to god knows where... To where the boys went after they were questioned. To the room with the loud machine, and the screams, and the horrible, squelchy noises. And Plato sat silently, and read his book, trying not to think of what would come next.

Doc: ‘That one had a mulchable face’

***

Gardener 1: One last boy, before my shift is over,

Narrator: the gardener thought,

Gardener 2: ‘They’re really tearing through them now’

Gardener 3: “I ‘eard they got one up in a room, reading books’

Gardener 1: ‘Books,’

Narrator: spat the gardener,

Gardener1:

‘books are no good for a growing lad.

They need slugs to squish, and girls to tease, and sun on their head and dirt on their knees’

Gardener 2: ‘Oh Goeffrey you are a cad, lets send them the one we grew in manure.’

Narrator: Mudshod, and messy, the final boy came though. Traipsing dirt along the pristine halls. With dandelions growing out his fingernails, and tubers behind his ears.

Doc: ‘This boy is very dirty’

Ass: ‘Yeah. How do you feel to be covered in muck?’

Narrator: The boy shrugged.

Dill: “It’s how i’ve always been”

Doc: “Do you like it? Does it please you’

Dill: “To be one with the dirt, and the mud and the flowers? Yeah… not a thrill - but a wallowing feeling”

Doc: ‘I like this one, we’ll call him Dill.’

Ass: ‘So we’ll send him to live with plato, and what book should he read.

Doc: ‘Give him the titchmarsh autobiography’

SFX - *door closes*

Plato: Hello

Dill : Hello

Plato: You’re awfully grubby

Dill: And you’re awfully clean.

Plato: They call me Plato

Dill: They call me Dill

Plato: They say i’m a marvel

Dill: They say i’m a nuisance

Plato: They say a lot of things, don’t they?

Dill: They dooo.

Dill: What do you do for fun, Plato?

Plato: I read, and sometimes I think.

Dill: Fuckin’ Wild mate. You ever eat bugs?

Plato: Bugs?

Dill: Yeah.

Narrator: Dill wiggled his finger in his ear, and found an earwig.

He held it twixt finger and thumb and crunched it down with all his teeth

Plato: Ew.

Dill: Ew? Yeah?

Plato: Yeah.

Dill: Fair, takes all sorts.

…

Dill: So, you wanna destroy this whole system?

Plato: What?

Dill: You wanna fuck shit up?

Plato: Uhhhh….. Sure.

Dill: That’s tight.

Narrator:

And so the boys, at dead of night, snuck into the garden

And they dug out all the other boys and filled their heads with jargon

Of revolution, anti-capitalis and institutional violence

And then out of spare garden tools they fashioned themselves makeshift pikes

And they marched upon the sleeping quarters of the men who kept them hostage, and on the men that grew them and on the men that siphoned knowledge from their brains about what was good, or right, or felt, and afterwards they knelt in pools of blood and drew up plans of how to escape the clutching hands of the bastard who were coming next, the dogs and spooks that came for their heads. So a time to hatch a plan arrived, and they did, and all but most survived. Dill left plato to a dog

Dill: ‘the boy is weak’

Narrator:” he thought to himself

Dill:‘he knows nothing of the mud, and soil and sinew of a boy possessed by rage. Fear kills the mind and sadly Plato weren’t that brave.

Doc:

What a monumental fuck up!

What an absolute shit show!

How on earth did this happen?!

Who the fuck else’s in the know?!

Ass: Well, you see, it was the boys

You picked out specially to not be mulched

And as a result, you’ll see, good sir,

That now the whole project’s up in smoke.

Doc:

Well fuck, he slumped back in his chair

Now how will i answer my questions

Ass:

Well we still have one boy left in storage

Though to be frank he’s gravely wounded

By dogs that tore him limb from limb

And he may never walk again

But ultimately he’ll be fine

Considering the mulcher’s his next line.

Doc: Well come on, show me to the boy, I wish to see him as quick as poss.

Ass:Very well sir, right this way sir, as you say, sir, you’re the boss.

Narrator:

In a bed, he lay quite still

Desparate not to tear his stitches,

The young boy Plato, breathing weakly

In his regulation britches.

Doc: You see here, young plato, you’ve drawn away the attention

Towards you and away from my grand invention,

Of finding out whether folks like me,

Can feel the feelings of dudes like you.

I’m losing patience in the process.

My attention is being drawn away

To greater projects of bigger import.

And that’s all I have to say.

So what do you have to say for yourself?

Plato:

Well, in my reading, I have learnt that there is such a thing as trouble

Socrates found himself in trouble when he tried to teach the youth

And that lead people clamouring at his door

Seeking that he be put to death.

Now I, am just a young boy,

And I have great fears in my heart

I am not like Socrates,

Old, and wise, or not wise, perhaps just stubborn,

Perhaps just old. But he had faith enough in his convictions that

He was willing to die for them.

But I have no convitions,

I have no agenda

I’m just a boy who read a book.

And Dill was just a boy made of mud

And the nature of him lead me astray

And now i find myself back here,

To face my fate without him.

And beyond everything I am just scared,

Of the mulcher, of you, of this facility.

But I know no other home, and don’t know if my

Education of ancient greek philosophy

Will really send me on my way

To anything other than podcasting.

Or teaching

Or flipping burgers

Or gardening

Or just adding to the same tradition.

I don’t know if i’d change the world,

Perhaps i would in some small way.

But none of that is possible

If today’s my final day

Narrator:

The assistant stood, to the left hand side

The boy was seated to the right

The assistant, waited patiently

With the lever in his hand

To send the boy to go be mulched

And make the new batch for the questions

But plato stared on pleadingly.

No more time for refutations.

Ass: “We did say no existential answers.”

Narrator: He sighed, and nodded, the bed tipped backwards and out of sight.

Doc:

Do people feel what I feel?

That’s all i wanted to know, alright.

Ass:

Well we’ve had our samples… and the evidence is clear, that whatevers inside your head is not the same as whats’ in theirs, though versions of it maybe true

Doc: Versions are not the thing itself

Ass: You're quite correct, so the answers no.

Doc: Good. Glad to have an answer.

Narrator:

04How does that make you feel?

[mrneighbourlove]

A Gerudo Story: Klinge and Covarog

Klinge took Covarog to an old temple. The young King was sighing the whole way. “I’m not sure how much my wife would appreciate you dragging me away from her.”

“She can deal with it.”

“She’s going to be awfully cranky.”

“You can each go one day without fucking each other.”

Covarog face burned bright red. “That’s none of your business.”

“It is when I get complaints from the maids on cleanup duty. Now quit you’re groveling. We’re here.”

Covarog looked around. It was simply a barren land with a large rock. “Klinge. We’re in the middle of no where.”

Klinge shook his head with a sigh. The task ahead was highly dangerous, so much so he wondered if Covarog was ready. “So uncoordinated. Use your senses. You’ll be needing them.” Klinge picked the massive boulder up over his head, and gave it a large throw. Below the rock was an underground stair case.

After doing so Klinge threw Covarog a bag. Looking inside the King was surprised to see his armour and weapons inside. “Are you testing me?”

“Grander. I’m putting you through a trail.”

Covarog wasn’t sure how much he liked being dragged out now. “Ok. No. Klinge, I’m a King. I don’t need these tests anymore. I’m already a capable warrior. I think you forgot who defeated Vul’kar.”

“Your wife.”

Covarog was quick to retaliate. “With MY help! I don’t need whatever this is.”

“So you think you’re all powerful?”

“I never said that.”

“This is a trail to prove you can be an effective King.”

Covarog was losing his patience. So many others already questioned his new title. “I don’t need this Klinge! I am a righteous leader, a proud Gerudo, and-“

“Becoming so much like your father.”

Covarog could feel the steel in Klinge’s statement.

“…Is this about him?”

“In so many ways.” Klinge thought back to his darker times. “You think Vul’kar was the darkest force on this plain? No. You’re father, or, more specifically, Ganon, has always been a much more grander force of evil. And far more ancient as well, seeped into the history and blood of this world. I’m sure you know the stories, but you never experienced it. The Gods flood, the Twilight invasion, or even the Great Calamity. And although I was not old enough to experience the older, primal darkness, I was a tool used in some of his darker lives, including his beginning’s of this life.”

Covarog listened closely as he put together his armour. Klinge pointed towards the staircase to the underground. “Beneath this earth is a temple of his many evils, forces much darker and more powerful then some pitiful Moblin or Abyssian. Below you will go and face the darkness that bled the land in your father’s name. If you power on through to the end you will be stronger mentally, physically and spiritually. And a far greater man then he ever was.”

Covarog nodded, but did not feel good about this. “And where will you be?”

“Right behind you, and my voice will guide you, but you will conquer these dangers alone. It will take all of your brawn, cunning, and courage to make it through.”

Courage. This was something his sister Rinku should be doing. Facing evil was her destiny after all. Especially when dad was concerned. He made a pray to the gods and hoped he could have some of her courage. He understood why Klinge was doing this, to prove that the first Gerudo King that wasn’t Ganondorf could be strong and better.

He looked down at the staircase to what must have been a hell awaiting him and nodded to Klinge after taking in a fresh breath of air. “I’m ready.”

Klinge lead the way. At the bottom of the staircase Klinge opened a door way. Beyond it was a hallway with a thick amount of fog. “Enter, Covarog Dragmire. Your first of many trails are beyond that hallway. This temple house the dark spirits of Ganon’s longtime forces. They can manipulate the landscape of this fortress. This place has a sealing magic, so once you go in, you may have trouble finding a way out. They will want you to enter, so they may draw you in and claim you. Good luck.”

Covarog braced himself and entered the fog. As he did Klinge closed the door behind him. Well, no going back now. “Not that I had a choice….”

Walking forward his hands felt a door nob. Opening the room he entered a room with no end in sight. Under his feet was a still perfect reflection of water. It was tranquility at its finest. While on his left and right there was nothing for miles and miles, in front of him was a single dead tree, sticking out like a sore thumb. On the other end of it was a long wall with a door. Running towards it Covarog’s reflection wavered and the patter of his footsteps splashing the water beneath him echoed loudly. Once he got to the door, chain bars fell on it, locking him away. Turning back chains dropped on the door he came in.

Looking back at the tree he rubbed his eyes. Something felt…off. Was there a person there? He felt he was being watched, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. As he got closer his instincts exploded as a figure launched towards him with a great sword. Covarog barely defended himself against the initial attack. His opponent was a solid black man with glowing red eyes. The shock was too real for Covarog as he realized who his opponent was. It was himself.

His doppelganger had all the same movements as him, same weight, and same ferocity. Covarog was simply defending himself as his Dark counter part kept circling and striking at him. Jumping back Covarog took note his reflection in the water was gone. His own shadow was attacking him!  The Dark Covarog took a fighting stance that Covarog favoured and lunged at him.

Covarog leaped to the side and made a parry, swiping his alter ego. His opponent grunted and fell beneath the water below him. The illusions around Covarog were messing with him mentally. Suddenly Dark Covarog rose up from behind him. The King made a large horizontal spin attack to try and catch his opponent of guard, but it simply blocked it. Perhaps in a way to mock him Dark Covarog made the same spinning swipe to attack the Gerudo. He was pushed back by the tremendous weight of his opponent’s strike. Covarog gave a growl and lunged at his shadow. He poured all his energy into slaying his doppelganger, and Dark Covarog fought just hard right back. It cultivated into both of them raising their hands and firing a bolt of dark magic at each other. The explosion knocked them both back, the sound echoing through out the void of the room.

Covarog slowly stood to his feet. As he did so his alter ego stood. Know matter what he did his dark self just threw back whatever the King dished out. Covarog wasn’t managing to get anywhere. And it seemed his opponent wasn’t losing stamina. Covarog took a stance, his shadow coping him. Think damnit, he could do this!

As he was regaining his stamina, his opponent got impatient and struck out first. Dodging Covarog saw the imperfections of his own attacks. He was so caught up in defeating a random enemy, rather then himself. The King waited for Dark Covarog to strike once again. When he made a vertical strike at him, Covarog paired with one hand his attacker’s sword away, and with all his might, then lunged his palm towards his shadow’s heart as it stumbled back. Covarog released a blast of light at its chest, blowing open its torso. Dark Covarog gave a yell of hatred as he fell far beneath the water once again. The King always did leave himself far too open with power attacks.

This time the doppelganger did not return, and Covarog regained his reflection. He heard a voice then echo in his head. “Well done, you have defeated yourself. Something your sister has only ever been able to accomplish. Now hurry on my King.”

Nice to know Klinge was aware of his progress. Covarog saw the doors had freed themselves of the iron bars. He walked forward to the next door. As he entered he was once again greeted by fog. But also a light. More specifically a flame. This purple flame flickered and danced around, suddenly darting away. Covarog felt drawn to it, compelled to see if it would lead him to his next trail despite any danger.

Covarog kept following it….right into a hole in the ground. The Kings eyes widened as he lost his footing, letting out a scream as he fell. He heard cackling as darkness enveloped him.

Covarog kept falling until he reached water below him. It was thick as he crashed through it. Swimming up he gasped for air. The flame flew down in front of him illuminating thousands of corpses on the ground. Hylians, Gorons, Zora, and much more. Even a few Lorleidians. All victims of Ganon over god knows how long. The Flame transformed into a Poe, which cackled at him. “For a moment I mistook you for our lord, my apologies. You are his son no? You must be impressed by his handiwork.”

Covarog felt sick to his stomach at all the bodies around him. They all carried a look of fear. “Begone Spirit! I will not tolerate your presence here! My father and my family no longer follow the path of Ganon!”

“Hmm? Let’s see if your soul in death can have its opinion changed.” The Poe cackled and its image split into four. The ghouls encircled Covarog and danced around, laughing manically. Joining it was the groans of the dead in a terrifying choir. Covarog focused his mind and pushed back the horror around him.

The Poe spun its lantern around, and was joined in union by its images. Covarog focused and slashed at one of them, only to be met by a puff of mist. The real Poe smacked him hard across his back, flames scorching him. Covarog gave a yell in pain and took a defensive stance. The Poe flew back and swung its lantern. From the ground of corpses undead rose up. This included armoured Stalfos and Redead. The Redead screamed as they lunged at Covarog to eat him.

Covarog hung onto his will to not be paralysed by fear and madness, and cut through them. He slashed swords with Stalfos, and with an a swing off his free fist, knocked its skull clean off its body.

The King ran after the Poe, who split into four again. “Just lie down and die boy. Join the others.”

Covarog watched them closely for any opening. One of the Poes made a twirl of the lantern, followed by the others. A tick perhaps? The moans of the dead screamed at him. As the Poes were about to strike, Covarog lunged at the real one, filling his sword with light magic and thrusting it through the chest of the Poe. It screamed with pain and burst into flames. The magic fire traveled outwards over the bodies and black void to illuminate another door in the distance.

Covarog ran towards it as the wails of the dead continued. More Redead rose up to try and grab him. As he neared the door a FloorMaster shot out of the corpses to clench Covarog. In his anger at his Father claiming so many victims, Covarog blasted the monster apart with a burst of magic. He threw himself through the door and gasped for breath as he shut the door behind him. “God damn it.”

So many. So many dead. Why did Klinge bring him here to see this? “Why? Why!?!”

On cue his voice echoed around him. “So that you will never repeat the sins of the past. You fought through the horrors of the dead and came out alive and kicking. Impressive. Continue on. Reach the top of the tower to face your final challenge. You will need Power and Endurance to succeed here.”

Covarog caught his breath and reeled in his anger. Looking around he saw a room with old destroyed war machines and a large spiraling stair case. It was like a colosseum. It was going to take forever to get up. If only he had a horse. Walking around he tried to figure out how old these machines were when he froze looking to his right. A large beast locked eyes with him. Father had snuck him out when he was younger to the mountain plains on a safari trip. They were exceptionally rare in these times. It stood taller then him and was shrouded in an aura of power. Ganondorf explained in older times he used them as the highest of guards, but were far too dangerous to have mixed with the Hylian guard and civilians, so he let them be in the wild. It was a Lynel. And Covarog knew this was going to hurt.

The Lynel let out a roar that physically made Covarog’s clothing blow backwards. Drawing a bow it galloped towards him. Covarog dove behind a machine as arrows of lightning zipped by him. Drawing his great sword he saw the Lynel make its return, the beast drawing an incredibly large axe and shield. Covarog lifted his blade up to block the strike of the beast. The force of the Lynel sent Covarog rolling into some debris. “Bastards too big.”

Covarog got up, and lost sight of it. Looking around it didn’t take long to figure out where it went. Looking up he saw the Lynel had jumped into the air and was flying at him with a downwards strike. Covarog dove to his feet and jumped to the right, avoiding the strike, but getting blasted away in the impact the Lynel made, an explosion set off by its power.

Covarog felt exhausted rising to his feet. If only he had his dad’s Triforce of Power. That could give him the edge. Power. He had to channel it in more constructive way then the beast to defeat it. The Lynel charged at him again from afar and Covarog drew his bow. Focusing his energy he launched a magic arrow at the beast’s head. The Lynel held its eye in pain and Covarog rushed forward with gusto. Jumping to the right he slashed at the monsters side as it ran past him. The Lynel gave a growl and turned itself around, fire rising from its mouth, and bursting out into large bolts at the King.

Covarog ran his best in a circle to avoid the shots, feeling the heat just behind him. Coming to a stop he fired another arrow at the Beast. The Lynel roared in furious anger as an arrow entered his ear. With all its rage it charged it Covarog, hoping to rip him apart with his jaws and gorge him with his horns. Covarog charges and grabs hold of the Lynels horns. “Goddesses give me strength!”

With a yell he dragged his feet as the Lynel pushed, until he finally started to slow down. Using all his strength he smashed its head into a stone pillar. Quickly he jumped onto its back and drove a dagger into the back of the monster’s neck. “Listen well Beast! You will bow to my might! I am Covarog Dragmire and you will recognize my strength!”

The Lynel stopped struggling and relented. Covarog smiled with a sense of accomplishment. “Good. Now you’re going to take me to the top of this structure.”

Just as he started to ride off, a strong laugh filled the air, and streams of a dark, purplish energy filled the room. It flew down and filled one of the machines that laid dormant. It flickered and glowed a bright red. Its limbs came to life and its head turned to Covarog. A glowing red light shone on him and ticking noise filled the room.

Covarog’s jaw slowly dropped. Leere and Impa filled him in all about these in tales and pictures. The Ancient Shiekah had built machines of great power to combat the Calamity, the Guardians. But upon one of Ganon’s returns, he corrupted the machines, using them as tools of destruction and carnage.

The ticking stopped and a large laser flew over his head, detonating a part of the wall. The Guardian crawled towards him like a spider. It barely missed, and unless Covarog did something, it wouldn’t miss again. The red laser took aim once more, squared on Covarog’s face.

The Lynel ran as fast as it could but the Guardian was right behind. Covarog took aim with his bow, but it was hard to get a clear shot galloping at such speeds. Letting go an arrow he hit it square in the eye. The Guardian shifted its aim and fired a shot just to the left of the Gerudo. He kept galloping and moved fast.

“Almost there, move it boy.”

The Guardian’s red laser took aim once more. Covarog fired and arrow, and to his unfortunate luck, missed this time. The laser fired a clear shot. He had no choice but to jump off the Lynel. Doing so he avoided the shot that blasted the beast to large chunks of flesh. Covarog kept running towards the exit, it was a much larger door. He must have made it back up to the proper level because he saw fog leaking out from underneath it. Unfortunately the sound of targeting hit his ears.

“Faster, damn it! I’m not dying to some hunk of metal!”

The targeting was narrowing in, then, at a concentrated point, the laser fired. Covarog gathered all his courage and turned around in a motion grabbing his shield. With it he swung his arm as hard as he could at the shot. In a one in a thousand chance, he redirected the laser, having it bounce back at the Guardian off his shield. It wasn’t destroyed, but the shot blew off a leg. The King wasn’t going to wait. He ran to the door and pulled them open. Squeezing through he panted as he shut the door.

Looking up behind him he saw a stair case going up to a floating ring. “Klinge? Can you hear me?”

“Yes Covarog, I can.” His voice was more whispery then usual.

“I can barely hear you? What am I about to head into? Because this place has some very ups and downs.”

“The Temple of the Lost Is filled with many spirits. Their power has been able to bend and shape the architecture at will. Years being trapped its all they could do…I’m sorry. But he is here. I can’t see over you any longer Covarog, but I believe you are ready to face your Father’s Darkness. Remember who you are. Remember what you can accomplish….”

“Klinge? Klinge?!” It was no use, his guide was gone. Covarog readied his sword as he went up the stairs. Half way through walking up the purple shadows from before flew past him up to the top of the ring. He felt a chill as he neared the top of the ring. When Covarog reached the top no one was there. Walking closer to the centre to investigate, the stair case shattered, leaving him stuck on the floating platform.

He couldn’t believe. Of course his one exit was gone. Behind him back at the centre he heard a familiar laugh. “Don’t act so shocked boy.”

Turning back Covarog’s eye widened. Before him was a younger Ganondorf. “Father?”

Ganondorf smiled. “Yes my son. It’s me.”

Covarog did not like that smile, or those eyes. “…No. You aren’t my Father, not the one who raised me, not who he is anymore.”

Ganondorf merely shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous boy. Of course I’m your father. You think what you’ve seen today isn’t a part of him? It’s always going to be part of him. And it’s part of you too.” The King of Evil pointed at Covarog’s heart.

The King of Hyrule retaliated with a growl and drew his sword. “No. We’ve grown. We aren’t the monsters you make us out to be. People can change.”

Ganondorf laughed low, which turned into howling laughter. “Dear boy, how wrong you are.” He floated into the air and drew a sword. His hand went to his face, and it burned away. A skull with horns and yellow eyes glowed evilly at Covarog. “The one known as Klinge was a fool to bring you here. I am a cut above the rest of the spirits here. I will tear your soul and claim your body as my own!” Ganon’s Phantom gave a ghastly laugh and charged at Covarog.

Covarog tightened his grip on his blade and locked eyes with Phantom Ganon. They clashed swords and the demon flew past. Turning around he gave a laugh and put his hand in the air. Sparks of electricity filled his hand making a ball. The Phantom threw it at Covarog with furious malice. The King heard about stories of this from Rinku. Some of her battles with Father involved the technique Dead Man’s Volley.  

Concentrating he swung his sword at the blast. It launched back at Phantom Ganon, but the dark entity was ready. He swung his sword back at the blast, sending it straight at the King again. Covarog wasn’t prepared for how much faster it would come back around. The ball of energy hit him, and Covarog screamed in agony as he was electrified. His skull and bones could be seen momentarily as his body convulsed.

Covarog nearly fell to his feet., but stopped himself. He knew if he did it would be over. Getting up he stopped Phantom Ganon from squiring him like a shish cabob from another thrust of a blade. Covarog parried and went to the side. The King took a breath and wiped some blood off his lips. His opponent once again charged a blast, ready to claim the kings soul. Phantom Ganon threw the ball with a war cry. Covarog gave a reply of his own as he swatted the ball back.

“I’m ready for you Demon.”

Phantom Ganon swatted the ball back to Covarog, the speed of the energy picking up. Covarog engaged the Dead Man’s Volley and returned to sender. Phantom Ganon hissed and the ball went back, the speed out of control. Sparks hissed and flew, the destructive energy growing. Covarog swatted it back again, the ball whizzing towards Phantom Ganon. The Phantom gave one last swat at the ball. There was no way the Gerudo boy could retaliate.

The energy whizzed and sparked wildly. Covarog mustered all his strength and timing, hit the energy one more time, and sent it back. Phantom Ganon couldn’t keep up with the speed and roared with pain as his body was shocked with the magic. His form fell to the ground and Covarog threw himself at him, wasting no time slicing open his stomach. Shadow energy poured out and Phantom Ganon fell back.

“Damn….you!” His body broke apart and formed a larger form. A dark image of Ganon the Pig Wizard of old, shaped from all the dark energy. The Phantom drew a large trident and flew around in a gust of mist.

With a wave of his hand the Phantom generated multiple energy balls. They all shot towards Covarog, each trying to claim his life so that an ancient evil could rise again. The Gerudo King used all his acrobatics to avoid the shots. With a swing of his sword he sent the last three shots back, putting all his weight into his swing. Two of the shots hit Phantom Ganon, dealing him great pain. With a grunt he teleported around Covarog and attempted to slice him with his trident. Covarog growled as he defended himself with his blade. Raising a free hand he shot a blast of magic into the Phantom’s face.

Phantom Ganon pounded his feet onto the ring. He was getting tired of this. “You are doing well, lad. But can you break through this secret technique of darkness? EN GARDE!”

A large layer of shadow covers the entire arena, blacking out the light. All Covarog can make out it a very light silhouette of Phantom Ganon’s eyes and trident. The shadow of Ganon threw his trident at Covarog. The young King wasn’t expecting it to fly and spin on its own. The right blade sliced his side open as it whizzed by. Covarog yelled in pain and followed the trident best he could in the darkness. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ganon fire another shot of energy at him.

Covarog barely had time to dodge the ball. Doing so he took his eyes off the flying trident, which came back around and sliced open his back. Blood stained his clothes and the King felt his body and soul weaken.

From outside Klinge could feel the King’s life slowly drain. He made a mistake by bringing him here. He tried to enter the temple but could not. At this point all he could do was hope for Covarog’s victory.

“Come on boy, I believe in you.”

Covarog saw the trident follow ahead of him. He had one chance at this.

Phantom Ganon teleported behind him and fired another ball of energy, hoping to catch his opponent off guard and finally take his body. Covarog expected this and suddenly turned around with a swing, sending the energy ball back. Phantom Ganon’s body convulsed as the energy effected him. Covarog put light magic into his sword and thrust it into the heart of his foe.

Phantom’s Ganon gave a pained oink and started to glow. “Impossible! I! AM! GANON!”

Covarog smirked with fury as he drew his sword more down the spirits body. “You’re nothing more then a shadow. And your time is over.”

Phantom Ganon started to explode and an overwhelming light filled the room. “I AM A PART OF YOU!!! I WILL RETUUUUUUUUUUUUURN!!!!!”

Covarog’s eyes glossed over from the light that hit him. Walking up he slowly opened them to find Klinge shaking him. “Covarog. Covarog. Wake up.”

“Did…did I win?”

“You did.”

Klinge helps the King to his feet. In Covarog’s hand was the Skull Necklace of Phantom Ganon. Damn right he got a souvenir. “That…was some test. If you can really call it that. I could have died back there.”

“I know. For that I apologize. I received word that certain spirits had broken free from their ancient rests and had gathered in this temple to enhance their strength, perhaps waiting for their master. This was something that should have been left to your father or elder sisters, but I needed to know that the New King of Hyrule had the Power, Courage, and Wisdom to face this evil. You slayed a number of ancient spirits today and overcame much of the past. There is no doubt in my mind Covarog. You are every bit the man your father is, and more. I am quite proud of you.” Klinge pats Covarog’s shoulder.

Covarog was beaming with pride. “Thank you. I will continue my Father’s legacy of being a man, and I’m glad I was able to overcome his demons. You taught me much over these years Klinge. Thank you.” Covarog gives a respectful bow to Klinge.

The Darknut nods respectfully back and gives a chuckle. “Yes, now lets see to it we get home and have you cleaned up without your wife noticing your injuries.”

“Right, her fury is more terrifying then any demon.” The two men laugh as they get on horseback.

[fictionliv-ing]

04 || Marked

view this chapter on wattpad!

"Listen here, you lot!"

At the sound of the proctor's voice, I give her my full attention. She stands in front of a tall fence that separates us from a dense forest— one so dense that beyond the frontmost trees, I see nothing but dark shadows.

"Before we begin the second exam, I have to hand these out to all of you." Anko holds up a thick wad of papers before passing them to the nearest genin, who then passes it around for everyone to take. "It's a consent form. You must sign it before you can participate."

Naruto speaks up, studying the sheet of paper given to him. "Why do we need a consent form, though?"

"This forest is called 'The Forest of Death'- and for good reason. The moment you step foot in there, there's a chance you'll die. I have to get your consent for that." She smiles sheepishly. "Otherwise, it'll be my responsibility.

"The second exam is one big survival exercise." Anko continues. "You'll be let into the forest through a gate. There are 44 in total, surrounding the entire area. Inside, you'll find rivers, a forest, and a tower. The tower is right in the center of the area, an exact 10 kilometres away from each gate.

"The objective is simple." She states. "Make it to the tower in five days."

"That's it?" Kono mumbles to us. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"However," Anko pipes up again, reaching into her jacket and bringing out two scrolls- one colored a light cream, the other a dark navy. "To pass the second exam, you must show up to the tower with a pair of scrolls: one Heaven and one Earth."

I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

"Half of the teams here will get one Heaven scroll each. The other half will be given one Earth scroll. All your team has to do is survive in the forest and get to the tower with both scrolls." She says.

So, we'd have to hunt others down to pass.

Anko continues to explain the rules of the second exam to us. We'd have to make it to the tower as a three-person team, with both scrolls, within the time limit. If anyone were to become incapacitated or if a member was lost, we'd be disqualified. On top of all of that, looking at the content of the scrolls was absolutely forbidden— to test our reliability as chunin.

"That's all!" She concludes. "When you're done signing your forms, step up to that table over there and exchange your forms for a scroll. Once you've gotten your scrolls, choose a gate and wait. All the gates will open at the same time.

"Just one last piece of advice," Anko sighs, looking at all of us seriously. "Don't die!"

"Well, that's cheerful." Kono comments, deadpanning nervously. Mira looks just as nervous, fidgeting with the sheet of paper in her hands. The three of us sign our forms and quickly exchange them for a scroll. Heaven. Mira pockets it quickly, keeping it tucked away under all the weapons and tools in her pouch.

Walking to a gate far away from the other examinees, we strategize. We decide that Mira keeps the scroll as she has the best defenses with her earth style ninjutsu. In the inevitable situation that we come across other teams, we're to pretend that Kono is holding onto the scroll, which will hopefully fool the opponent because of his tall stature and authoritative aura. But since our primary objective is to obtain an Earth scroll, we plan to spend the rest of the day settling into a clearing and setting up traps. When all the traps are in place, we'd then set up camp right in the middle and wait for someone to fall victim to our scheme.

It went smoothly enough. As soon as the gates opened, we'd sprinted straight into the forest, putting good distance in between us and the perimeter. Once we'd found a clearing that had great lighting, we immediately got to work. Not even thirty minutes into the exam and our plan was already going well.

Halfway through our setting up, something changes and everything feels wrong. There's a shift in the air, an ominous one. I'm not the only one who notices, either. To my right, Mira stops in her tracks and glances at me. We exchange looks and turn to Kono, only to find him already standing alert and in a fighting stance.

"Mira. Sumi." He says, teeth clenched. "The plan can wait."

At his tone and demeanor, Mira and I immediately move to his side in a defensive stance. We face our intruder.

On the other side of the clearing stands a man in neutral colored clothing. A Grass shinobi. He has a thick, purple rope tied around his waist and a straw hat resting atop his head. His teammates are nowhere in sight, so I immediately scan the area behind him and around us, just in case they were lurking in the shadows somewhere.

"Look at you three," He hisses. Under the hat, a freakishly long tongue darts out to lick his lips messily. Gross. "So young and full of life."

"What do you want?" Kono barks out.

"I was planning to attack only one team here but," He takes off his straw hat and tosses it to the side, fixating on us with a predatory glare. "I'm feeling a bit more alive today."

I narrow my eyes at his form. The blood lust rolling off of him is sickening.

What happens next is too fast for any of us to process. His head darts forward, neck elongating with his movement, and we're all knocked off our feet. The collision sends us all flying backwards into a tree, and we don't even have time to react.

"Pitiful." He drawls, head returning to his body. "Is this the best the Hidden Leaf can do?"

Kono gets to his feet first, holding out a hand to help Mira and I up without turning his back on the man. "You guys alright?"

I nod, hand going to my kunai holster and bringing out a knife. Clenching it hard in my fist, I stand confidently beside Kono, ready to engage. "Are we fighting?"

"Seems so." Mira answers from Kono's other side. She flexes her fingers in anticipation of the battle to come. "He's not going away anytime soon. Kono?"

"Hm." He grunts in response. We understand right away and brace ourselves. "Go."

The signal is quiet and sudden, but we react immediately. Moving along the perimeter of the clearing, I sprint towards the Grass ninja, pumping chakra to my legs to increase my speed. Kono does the same on the other side, leaving Mira behind us. She immediately gets to work, weaving a series of hand signs.

"Earth Style: Dark Swamp!" she calls out, slamming her hands down onto the ground. Her jutsu makes the earth beneath the Grass ninja's feet turns dark and sludgy. He sinks into the mud, unable to move from his spot. Kono and I take this opportunity to close in from both sides, aiming to kick downwards at his shoulders. Before our feet make contact, the Grass nin raises his hands and latches onto our ankles, effectively stopping our attack.

He twists his body a full 360-degree angle to build up momentum and roughly flings us back to where we came from. I crash into Kono, who is caught by Mira. Since her hands are forced to catch us, her jutsu is put to an end. The Grass nin steps out of the mud, smiling menacingly at the three of us, who lie on top of each other on the ground. My breathing is deep and heavy; I'd put a lot of chakra into that kick, hoping to end things quickly so we could go back to our plan. To have my chakra release cut off like that- it's taken a toll on my body.

"We're going to have to fight our way out of this one, guys." Kono says after I get off of him. I offer the them my hands and help them up, the three of us getting into formation again. "He's tough, but it's three against one. We can do this."

And try, we do. For what feels like hours, we do our best against this Grass shinobi who seems to have a counterattack for everything we throw at him. One after the other, Mira and Kono are knocked out, heavily wounded, and I'm left barely standing with dozens of scratches around my body, breathing raggedly.

I wasn't going to use my Kekkei Genkai until we encountered a team that possessed the scroll we wanted, but I'm left no choice. Despite not having enough time to take a chakra pill, I do my best to will my teammates' blood clean and back into their bodies. The openings of the cuts, I seal, just to make sure that they don't start bleeding out again. Seizing control over my own blood, I form it into senbon needles and send them flying towards my opponent, who stands at the far end of the clearing. Because I'm so tired, he's able to dodge my attack easily. He's smart, too; he doesn't fail to notice the details that make my needles unique.

"Red needles?" He asks me, being direct with his question. "Blood?"

I don't respond. How could I, when it's taking what little energy I have left to keep myself from collapsing. Instead, I will more blood needles into form, throwing them relentlessly at the Grass ninja. Might not have been my best move, as he dodges everything just as easily as the first time, and I'm running out of blood by the second.

"It is." The man hisses in wonder, walking towards me and licking his lips with that abnormally long tongue of his. "I haven't encountered a member of the Takao clan in so long."

He stands close enough for me to see the evil glint in his eyes. Due to our close proximity, it should've been easy for me to hit him accurately this time, but I can feel my consciousness slipping away. The blood loss is causing my vision to go blurry, and my head is suffering from the lack of oxygen. I can't hold myself up anymore. My legs give out from under me, and my body surges forward. I wait for the cold, hard ground to hit me in the face, but it never comes.

What happens next disgusts me to my very core. The Grass ninja sticks his tongue out, elongating it rapidly and wrapping it around my waist. I'm lifted up by the muscular organ, and he holds my limp body up in front of him.

"You have potential." He tells me, tongue moving to flick my hair away from my face. I shiver in fear and cringe away, but still lack the energy to free myself from his grasp. "You will be mine."

His tongue moves away from my face and goes to wrap around my wrist. My arm is lifted up, though I don't really process anything as I slip in and out of consciousness. Blinking desperately, I struggle to make sense of what he does.

He sinks his fangs into my forearm, sending a searing pain tearing through my body. I scream in agony, feeling as though his bite sends fire crawling into my veins. Slowly, he unwinds his tongue from my waist. I fall to the ground roughly, clutching onto my arm as if squeezing it hard enough would make the pain go away.

"How little you must know of your heritage." The man drawls. I don't even have the energy to look up at him as he speaks. I'm left staring at the ground, clenching my teeth in an effort to keep quiet; the last thing I need is more enemies showing up. "If you want answers, you will come to me. I'll give them to you. And then I'll give you more."

One blink and he's gone. He's vanished, and there's not a single trace of him other than the bite marks on my forearm. I fight to stay awake, but my body eventually gives into the exhaustion and my consciousness leaves me, the memory of his promise ringing in my head.

-

There's a blinding light that whites my vision.

Am I dead?

Blinking rapidly, I angle my head away from the light. My neck protests against the sudden movement; pain is my body's reaction. I gasp at the sensation, lifting a hand to my neck to clutch at it. My arm burns too, making me groan in discomfort.

So, this is what the afterlife is like. Your body holds onto the pain you feel in your dying moments. Not exactly what I expected, but—

"Sumi-chan!" A hazy voice calls.

Huh? Who's that?

"Kono-kun, Sumi-chan's awake!"

A pair of shadows loom over me, blocking the light source, and I am finally able to see clearly. Leaning over me with worried looks on their faces are my teammates. The air smells of dirt and foliage- but maybe that's just because I'm lying flat on the ground. Then, I remember: I'm in the Forest of Death.

My body screams in protest as I struggle to pull myself up. Kono helps me into a sitting position, and Mira rummages through our supplies for a canteen of water.

"What happened?" I ask, voice coming out raspy and hoarse at the lack of hydration. I accept the canteen that Mira hands me, relishing the feel of the water sliding down my throat.

"When we woke up, you were unconscious, so we don't know what happened between you and that Grass ninja." Mira starts. "We did our best to dress your wounds, but you've lost a lot of blood. You're a lot paler than usual."

"We went ahead and set up the traps." Kono says, reaching into his pouch. "While you were out, a team got caught. Luckily, they were weak enough for us to defeat, and they surrendered their scroll without further hesitation."

He brings out two scrolls of different colors. "Lucky for us, they had an Earth scroll. Now, we just need to make it to the tower. We'll be fine."

"That's great news." I let out a sigh of relief. "How long was I out?"

"Two days."

"Two days?!" I exclaim, straightening up and wincing at my lightheadedness due to the loss of blood. "That's a lot of time lost. We should get going!"

Despite the pain in my muscles, I try to get up on my feet. Grunting in pain, I manage to get to my knees before my body absolutely refuses to move.

"Stop, Sumi." Kono commands with authority in his voice- a tone I rarely hear him use. "You have no energy in you, and your body needs a little bit more time to recover. Rest first."

"I've been resting for two days— " I protest.

Mira rests a hand on my shoulder. "Kono's right, Sumi-chan. You're only going to hurt yourself if you keep pushing on like this. Eat something first, at least."

Seeing the concerned looks in their eyes, I nod. They help move me to lean against a tree, giving me some food that they'd cooked while I was unconscious. While I eat, we strategize. Our main goal now is to reach the tower without any delays. No fighting, no side trips, no breaks— just a one-way trip to the tower.

Kono and Mira decide to seal the scrolls we'd managed to obtain in a spare scroll that we'd brought with us, so that if we were ever cornered by another enemy, we'd be able to convince them that we had no scrolls in possession.

We're almost ready to go. I've finished my food and have done a couple of stretches. Though my muscles still ache a bit, I'm feeling much better than I did when I first woke up and can properly move by myself. I lift my canteen of water to my lips one last time before we depart.

"Sumi-chan, what's that?" Mira asks, pointing to my hand. I follow her gaze to a mark on the inner side of my left wrist: three slightly curved lines surrounding a hollow center, the tips equidistant from one another.

"I don't know..." I reach out a finger to touch it, the action bringing back a familiar sensation. It's the same burning feeling I felt when that Grass ninja bit into my arm, though not as painful. "What...?"

"Guys." Kono interrupts, though I can see him studying the mark on my wrist cautiously. "We should go."

I stand straight and nod, Mira mirroring my stance. "Right."

Jumping into the shadows of the trees and traveling towards the tower as quickly as we can, we leave the clearing behind and move forward to greater things.

-

For the first time since the second exam started, things go according to plan. We make it to the forest by sunset without interruption; no enemies, no traps, nothing. It's the best thing to happen to me in this forest, and when we enter the tower, I fall to my knees in both exhaustion and gratification.

"Sumi-chan!" Mira gasps, rushing to my side in concern.

"I'm fine." I pant, still not having fully recovered from all the blood loss. "A little tired, but I'm fine."

Together, Kono and Mira help me to my feet, supporting my weight as we make our way further into the tower and into a room, where I rest on a bench. Draining my canteen, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, concentrating on calming my breathing.

"Hey, look, it's Hinata!"

Kono's voice makes me look up. Sure enough, Hinata stands in the doorway of the room we're resting in.

"Kiba-kun, they're in here!" She calls out behind her. Entering the room, she takes notice of the numerous cuts scattered on our body and offers us a special ointment. Taking it gratefully, Mira applies the ointment to my wounds first, then does the same to herself before passing the pot to Kono.

Kiba comes running in with Akamaru on his heels and Shino close behind. "Sumi-chan! Wow, you guys look terrible."

"Thanks for stating the obvious." Mira says with a pointed glare at him. Kiba chuckles and scratches the back of his head sheepishly before growing serious.

"You'll never believe what we saw." He says, tone grim. "You guys know the Sand genin, right?"

At the mention of Gaara and the others, I narrow my eyes. "What happened?"

Kiba goes on to tell us the story of how they'd gone to investigate the opponents that Akamaru had noticed, only to witness Gaara ruthlessly murder an entire team, even after obtaining their needed scroll. He had used his sand to encase their bodies in a cocoon, and then applied pressure until the bodies caved in. The victims had died in seconds.

"You were right, Sumi-chan." Kono mumbles, a scared look in his eyes. "They're bad news after all."

"At least we successfully avoided them this time." Mira says, placing a hand on my shoulder in comfort. She knows how easily triggered I get at the mention of that sand. "The only thing we can do now is rest up and recover. Who knows what the proctors have in store for us?"

-

previous || next (coming soon!) || masterlist

[evolutionsvoid]

When people talk about magic-wielding species, they often just think of three. Number one is always the humans, as they are the ones who have the most range and diversity in the field of magic. Second are the fairies, who wield bizarre spells and powers which brews mystery and intrigue. Thirdly are the demons, who wield fire and stone as if it were extensions of themselves. Depending on the person, they may also bring up the Aelf and the Sphinxes, who have magical prowess beyond our understanding. All of these are usually thrown around in the conversation, but most of the time, people forget another race of magic users: dryads. This is not because people think that dryads are incapable of magic, oh no no. The reason people overlook dryad magic is because they don't think what we do is considered magic. What most people know of dryads is their skill in manipulating plant life and using it as a tool. While this is greatly oversimplifying things, it is what people are most familiar with. They know we build our villages and towns by weaving the forest and plant life, so they think that is the extent of our abilities. Since we are plants and we manipulate plants, people assume that we alter plants by "talking" to them. It may sound weird, but yeah, people think that is what we do. I have even had someone claim that we control plants by singing! They assume we have some kinship to all plants, so we just command them to do our bidding. I can't even begin to describe how ridiculous that is. Just because we share the same sap and bark as other plants does not mean we are one in the same! If we ran with that logic, humans should be able to command bears to turn themselves into canopied beds! Why not? They both have flesh and hair, so they must be connected somehow! All of that aside, dryads can indeed use magic. Our forms of magic are more similar to the demons, as we are bound to certain elements. Dryads do not possess the Splenius magus that humans have, which allows humanity to use any element freely. Like how the demons are born of flame and stone, we dryads are born of earth and root. Our bodies and natural energy is tied to the likes of nature, soil and sun. These are very broad terms, but it is the classes that dryad magic users are locked into. You will never see a dryad using ice magic, or releasing lightening bolts on the battlefield. Those are elements we cannot wield or replicate. We are forever stuck in these certain classes of magic, but I don't think that bothers us dryads that much. What we can use, we excel at. Centuries of study and practice has allowed us to take advantage of every aspects of the elements we are tied to. Yes, we may be able to only use a handful of the magic types that exist, but we are darn good at them! 

Dryad magic has some similarities to the magic used by other species, but we often wield it in a different manner. The magic of fairies is used to alter, elude and confuse, while demons use their magic for pure offense. Humans, with their amazing magical flexibility, use their magics for a bit of everything. Dryads, however, use their magic to grow, aid and enhance. To better state it, dryad magic is more passive than what other species use it for, and is often used to benefit and aid others. While demon mages may use their fire to burn down defenses and fry foes, dryads would use their spells to fix broken structures and armor warriors in the battlefield. These more passive uses of magic are best seen in the art of lichenmorphy. Lichenmorphy is a class of magic that is confusing to anyone who isn't a dryad. The name of it is puzzling to others, as it bears similarities to another term. There are some humans out there that think dryads can turn into werewolves! What they are thinking of, however, is lycanthrophy, while this type of magic is called lichenmorphy. We don't control werewolves or aconstrum, that is not what this class does. Lichenmorphists are skilled in the art of creating and manipulating lichens! Lichens are strange things, as they have some fungal ties, but are not fully fungi or plants. These odd growing things are quite hardy and can be found growing in the most inhospitable conditions. While they do a good job growing on rocks and bark, dryads have found that manipulating them can create even more uses! When working, a lichenmorphist can be identified by her numerous bottles, flasks and bags that hang off her body. Each of these contain special powders, juices and spores that are used to fuel their spells. With a special staff and the right words, a lichenmorphist can cause specialized lichens to grow on just about anything! That is including dryads! That is another way to spot a lichenmorphist, as they usually have some of the stuff growing on their bodies. Now this may sound silly or useless to others, especially since other species can raise firestorms or bring hail from the heavens, but that is because this magic is a bit more passive than theirs. Lichenmorphists use their magic to create lichens that can do a variety of things. One of the common ones is lichen that is hardened to the strength of metal, creating organic armor in an instant! With a dash of powder and a sweep of a staff, designated surfaces will explode with a hardy layer of lichens that can repel arrows and withstand blows. This lichen also holds a firm grip onto whatever it grows on, which is good for quick repairs. A broken shield can be grown over with these lichens and the warrior will have a solid, suitable defense within seconds. Damaged structures and siege weapons can be patched up with lichen growths, a temporary fix until things calm down enough for suitable repairs. A sturdy branch can be grown over to create a hefty club, and armor can be enhanced with an extra layer of protection. When in battle, lichenmorphists will coat warriors in this thick lichen, giving them extra protection and resistance to the elements. Particularly skilled lichenmorphists can weave detailed armor, or create extra sprouts from the lichen growth. Armor lichen can make thick sturdy stalks that stick out from the plated mass. Lichenmorphists like to use these stalks when armoring fellow dryads, as they serve well as extra claws, spikes and horns that can create quite the terrifying visage! With the right stuff, a lichenmorphist can make a dryad warrior look like some alien monster! Other lichens can be used to create walls and seals to patch up structures or block out attackers. Certain lichens are good for speeding up healing for wounded dryads, growing on top of the injuries and feeding essential nutrients right into the spots that need it the most. Other lichens can completely cocoon a dryad or plant and put them in temporary hibernation. This is helpful for severely injured dryads, or those suffering from debilitating diseases. Sealing them in a protective cocoon protects them from outside infections or injuries, and feeds them nutrients so that they can heal. In towns and villages, lichenmorphists use their lichens to help build, stabilize and carve. A well trained lichenmorphist could create a sturdy, decorative bowl, or coat an entire tree dwelling in fire resistant growths. These magic users are extremely useful in villages and in battle, giving aid to every dryad they can. In rare instances, lichenmorphists can use their magic to take out foes that threaten them. These magic users usually hang in the back and let the fighters do the battling, but they must be able to defend themselves if enemy forces close in. In these cases, the lichens are used for offensive purposes. With a well aimed spray of dust and spores, a lichenmorphist can throw off opponents by causing growths to form on their bodies. A face full of lichens can blind attackers, and a solid coating of armor lichens can glue an attacker's legs together. Breathing in the spores can can choke enemies to death, as the growths seal up their throats. Other growths can eat away at metal, or run roots into flesh so that they can strike nerves and muscle. With large amounts of spores and powder, a lichemorphist can cause lichens to grow with explosive force. A large pillar of lichens can erupt from any surface to knock away foes, or the ground may heave upward with a surge of growth right beneath a charging platoon's feet. If all else fails, a lichenmorphist can turn their staff into an armored club and beat their attackers to death. Funny enough, many soldiers don't seem to see this coming. While lichenmorphy is extremely useful, it unfortunately has some negativity tied to it. This is due to the reign of the Yellow Queen. Before she was corrupted, the Yellow Queen was a lichenmorphist. When she rose in power, she used this magic to enslave other dryads and vampirize the world around her. She armored herself with these growths, and her terrifying image still haunts our culture today. During her reign and after her fall, lichenmorphy faced much criticism and scrutiny. Villagers and survivors worried that others would follow in her footsteps, so lichenmorphists faced many rules and regulations. Some were run out of their towns, while others were banned from ever using the art. Over time, though, these laws have faded away and the class has risen back to its original power. Even with this, though, many lichenmorphists do not use yellow lichens in their spells, making sure to use any other color they can. I am pretty sure lichenmorphists make it a personal rule to never wear yellow in their life. That color is forever tarnished within that class...   Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

[jarmes]

Birdcage Chapter XV

Masterpost -  Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Stone, or: the battle with the rock monster

When I saw Jericho Darkholme’s eyes, a fire roared to life within my heart. Years of anger came flooding back at once, flowing through my veins and strengthening my muscles. I threw away the telescope and pulled my sword from the cliffside. The fight I’d been dreaming of for so long was finally upon me.

Cross leaned down over the cliff and called out to me. “Ernest, get out of the village while you still can,” he shouted. “We’ll regroup at the fence and come up with a strategy.”

I ignored Cross’s order and sprinted deeper into Stonecage. I charged at Darkholme, sword in hand, and brought it down on the dark mage. Darkholme simply dodged and blasted me with lightning, knocking me away. “Surprised that there are still Knights in this town,” Darkholme said. “I figured you guys would have ran away by now.”

Darkholme walked over to the rubble of an abandoned house, humming as he carved runes. “You’re Jericho Darkholme,” I mumbled as I crawled back to my feet.

“The one and only,” he said, still preoccupied with his runes.

I grabbed my sword and pointed it at him. “I have waited for this day for longer than you can imagine,” I said.

“Let me guess, you’ve been waiting for ten years?” Darkholme joked.

“Shut up!” I said as I charged at him.

Darkholme blasted me again. “Listen, kid,” he said as I crumpled to my knees, “You aren’t the first revenge seeking brat I’ve met, and you certainly won’t be the last. Leave now and I might let you live. Emphasis on might.”

I landed next to the bodies of the Knights killed by Darkholme. I opened my eyes to the face of a decayed man, remains of the Knight Darkholme drained. His skin and muscle had turned to dust, leaving only a skeleton.

I pulled myself to my feet and lunged at Darkholme. He struck me with another energy blast. “Okay, death it is,” he said.

Lightning swirled around Jericho’s arm, gathering in intensity and power. Jericho released the lightning upon me, sending a massive blast of dark energy at my injured body. The energy washed over me, surrounding my body. The ground beneath me burned away, leaving only the scent of death.

When the energy cleared, I was fine. The green scales produced by Cross’s Verse covered me, redirecting all damage. I turned around to see Squad V running to my aid.

Sterling fired an arrow as he ran, striking Darkholme in the shoulder. Cross placed his hands together and fired back the energy gathered protecting me. Darkholme jumped out of the way, dodging a blast that would have annihilated him.

Pollux helped me to my feet. “Tell me, did you hit your head when you fell down the cliff?” he asked. “Because the only reason I can think of to run into a massacre after being told to run away is severe brain damage.

“I mean, you guys came after me,” I said.

“I guess we’re all idiots then,” he said.

Sterling and Cross caught up, meeting up with the twins and I. The five of us stood shoulder to shoulder, facing Darkholme. He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Listen, I’m not really in the mood for this kind of thing,” he said. “Would you mind killing yourselves so I don’t have to waste time doing it myself?”

“Jericho Darkholme, by decree by his majesty Tasciovanus von Cieleta, we shall kill you, avenging the countless innocents slain by your machinations,” Cross said. “I do not know why you have come to this town on this day, but I do know that you shall not leave alive.”

“You see, this is why I hate Knights. Always with the big speeches. “Would it kill you to die quietly like normal people?”

Sterling fired another arrow and Cas fired an ice blast. Darkholme blocked both with his lightning. Pollux and I charged forward, weapons in hand, Cross’s scales protecting us. Darkholme fired his energy at us, to no avail. He dodged my sword swing, only to be stabbed in the gut by Pollux’s lance. I brought my sword down on his shoulder and Pollux punched him in the face.

Jericho stumbled back, clutching his side. The two of us locked eyes. “It’s over,” I said.

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a smile.

Suddenly, bony arms burst from the ground, wrapping around me and dragging me down. I screamed as the arms pulled me into the earth. I grabbed Pollux trying to pull myself free. Instead, I just pulled him down with me.

Using my incapacitation as a distraction, Darkholme fired his lightning at the Knight corpses, turning them to dust and draining their energy. He quickly finished carving his runes into the wall of the abandoned house. He placed his hand in the center of the runes and dark magic flowed through the rubble.

Pollux smacked me, bringing me back to my senses. “What is wrong with you?” he yelled.

I looked down. I was aboveground and the skeletal arms were gone. Before I could process this, I heard a rumbling coming from the rubble. I watched as violet energy washed over the abandoned stone house. The bricks shifted and bound together into the form of a large monster, twenty feet tall with skin made of stone.

“This has been nice, but I have more pressing matters to attend to,” Jericho said while walking away.

I ran after him and the rock monster stepped between us, blocking my path. It swung its fist down at me and I jumped back to avoid it. Sterling fired a few arrows at the monster, each of which bounced off without doing any damage.

“He’s getting away!” I shouted while dodging a kick from the monster.

“I’m well aware,” Cross shouted as he threw his lance, striking the monster in the chest.

The monster ripped the lance out and snapped it in two like a toothpick. It slammed its fist down next to me, almost crushing me. “We need to retreat,” Cross said.

“No!” I shouted. “We need to stop Darkholme!”

“Did you see what direction he ran in?” Cas said. “He was going north, the only things north of here are the mines and the mountains.”

“There’s probably a secret passage out of Stonecage,” Pollux chimed in while dodging a kick from the stone monster.

“Maybe he wants to destroy the mine before we can get to it,” Cas said.

“It doesn’t matter! The point is, we need to kill him while we have the chance!” I shouted.

I looked up at the rock monster. It separated me from Darkholme. Gritting my teeth, I charged at it, hoping to run through its legs. As it brought its fist down on me, two stone pillars burst from the ground blocking its arm. These pillars, creations of Sterling’s Verse, protected me long enough for me to run between the monster’s legs.

“What is he doing?” Pollux shouted.

“He’s trying to take out Darkholme by himself,” Cross said.

“That’s stupid! Why would he do that?”

“The why doesn’t matter, the fact is he’ll die if he tries to take on Darkholme alone. We need to defeat this thing and go save him.”

Pollux jumped out of the way of another kick. “There’s a slight problem with that plan,” he said. “Namely, the fact that there’s a giant rock monster standing in our way.”

The Squad heard a roaring coming from the southern side of the village. They turned to see Firebrand running towards them, propelling himself using his flames. Firebrand leaped over them and threw a large blast of fire at the monster’s chest. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Jericho Darkholme is back and heading for the mine. Zuckerman went after him alone,” Cross said. “We can handle this, you go on ahead.”

“Got it,” Firebrand said.

Firebrand launched himself at the rock monster using his flames, passing through its chest using his Verse. He ran after Darkholme, leaving Squad V to deal with the rock monster. “Oh, that’s great, get rid of the powerful warrior as soon as he shows up,” Pollux said.

“This thing is made of rocks. And Sterling can reshape rocks,” Cas said. “If we can knock this thing down, Sterling’ll be able to destroy this thing easily, right?”

“That might work,” Sterling said.

Pollux sighed. “That isn’t the worst plan, I suppose,” he said.

Cas grabbed his pouch and channeled all of the powder into a single ice blast. The blast froze the monster’s leg in place. Pollux ran forward and shoulder bashed the frozen leg, sending the monster toppling over.

Sterling ran up and placed his hands on the rock monster’s leg. Cracks spread through the monster as Sterling used his Verse. The monster began to get up. “Get out of there, Sterling!” Cross shouted.

“Just a few more seconds and it’ll be gone,” Sterling said.

As he said that, the rock monster stood up. It kicked Sterling, sending him flying into an abandoned house. Fortunately, Cross’s Verse protected Sterling from the kick. Unfortunately, the Verse stopped working as soon as Sterling left Cross’s field of vision. Sterling crashed into a brick wall and passed out.

Cross ran after Sterling to make sure he was okay. The rock monster brought its fist down on Cross. Cross stood his ground and absorbed the energy of the blow. He fired it back at the rock monster, shattering it.

While all this was going on, I was still chasing after Darkholme. He entered the mine, disappearing deep into the dark tunnel into the mountain. I ran after him. As I stepped into the entrance of the mine, I noticed glowing runes on the walls. The runes exploded, collapsing the entrance of the tunnel and sealing me inside.

[prettywitchiusaka]

Mages Next Door AU

I’ve talked before about my Mages Next Door AU, but I figured I’d make a few posts about it here.

Enjoy!

The Mages Next Door takes place in the land of Kiddom; an alternate reality ruled by kids, though adults DO exist and have similar roles to their normal jobs in our normal reality. Aside from being ruled by kids, what makes Kiddom special is that everyone is born with a special power called a Magic Base that they are bonded to at birth. These Magic Bases can be anything from the most useful power like controlling vegetation, to the most useless power like controlling toothpicks or the like. Basically, you have to work with what nature gives you to be happy in this world, is what I'm saying.

Of course, not all is peaceful in Kiddom. There are still many adults, and even kids, who don't like the system of this world and will often try to rebel. That's where the Mages Next Door come in; they are basically the defenders of this land, born with special powers that allow them to handle any kind of magic thrown at them. Let's have a breakdown of the main players. The characters are basically the same as they are in the regular universe, though I will bring up any alterations that may (and will) come.

The Mages Next Door

Nigel Uno/Numbuh 1 - The son of the legendary Zero Mage, and leader of the current generation of Mages. His Magic Base is Fire, which allows him to be warm at all times. Practices archery, and eventually uses a bow and arrow as his standard weapon. Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr./Numbuh 2 - The main technology guy and brains of the Mages. His Magic Base is Water, which allows him to breathe under water. Hoagie is a bit upset that he doesn't Air powers like his father did (he wanted to fly), but he learns to accept and get creative with his own powers later on. His standard weapon is a pair of weaponized claws that are water proof. Kuki Sanban/Numbuh 3 - The Distractionst and nurse of the Mages. Her Magic Base is Nature, which allows her to talk to plant life. Her standardized weapon is a pair of tonfa. She also practices ballet. Wallabee Beatles/Numbuh 4 - The main hand to hand combatant of the Mages, and possibly one of the strongest (if not thee strongest) in all of Kiddom. His Magic Base is Earth, which allows him to control the ground beneath him using his feet. As you can imagine, he has to keep his temper under control, less he (inadvertently) cause an earthquake. His standardized weapon is an axe. Abigail Lincoln/Numbuh 5 - The second in command and voice of reason among the Mages. Her Magic Base is thunder, which allows her to be safe during an lightning storm. Practices the art of sword fighting, and uses a sword as her standardized weapon. Alexandria Dawson/Numbuh 273 - The knowledgeable one among the Mages. Her Magic Base is Light, which allows her to talk to animals and the dead. Her standardized weapon is a gun, which she can make as big as she wants. Also practices ballet.

The Palace of Kiddom

Rachel McKenzie/Numbuh 362 - The Queen of Kiddom. Her Magic Base is Light, which allows her to see brief glimpses of the past and future. She has a hard time controlling this power, though, and she often falls asleep whenever this happens. Her standardized weapon is a spear, and will change into a protective armour when engaged in battle. Practices ballet. Fanny Fulbright/Numbuh 86 - Rachel's best friend, and right hand Knight/bodyguard. Is trained in both the art of swordsmanship and gunmanship, but prefers to use guns in combat. Her Magic Base is sound waves, which allows her voice to never get tired. Also practices ballet, and is in love with Rachel. Patton Drilovsky/Numbuh 60 - Rachel's other best friend, and Knight/bodyguard. Has no Magic Base, a rarity in Kiddom. He also has no past memories, either. He just woke up one day, and could only remember his name. Was rescued by Rachel, who gave him the life he has now. He eventually falls in love with Rachel, and becomes Fanny's main rival for her heart. Herbie/Numbuh 65.3 - The Grand Vizier, and Rachel's secretary. His Magic Base is Technology, which allows him to go into any computer system he wishes to seek out any information he'd like to find. Charlie/Numbuh 20,000 - The Captain of the Guard. His Magic Base is Molecules, which he can manipulate into just about anything, though his standardized weapon is a bow and arrow. Virgina Sims/Numbuh 23 - A skilled soldier. Her Magic Base is Fireworks, which she activates using a stack of dynamite sticks, though they're not limitless like you may think. Bartie Stork/Numbuh 35 - A skilled soldier. His Magic Base is Flowers, much to his dismay. Though he does make good use of his powers in combat, what with his knowledge of botany. Jeffery Simmon/Numbuh 600 - A clumsy soldier who becomes great friends with Patton. His Magic Base is Air, which allows him to levitate just a few feet off the ground. His standardized weapon is his trusty sword. Lizzie Devine - A worker in the castle, and Nigel's girlfriend. Her Magic Base is Candlelight, so she only works nights given her abilities.

The Mages Next Door (The Next Generation)

Harvey McKenzie/Numbuh 363 - Prince of Kiddom, and leader of the Next Generation of Mages. His Magic Base is Light, though he has not discovered any secondary powers as of yet. Sonia/Numbuh 83 - The Sweets and Snacks Officer and nurse of the Next Generation of Mages. Her Magic Base is Ice, which allows her to breathe ice from her mouth. Lee/Numbuh 84 - The Yo-Yo Specialist and Second in Command of the Next Generation of Mages. His Magic Base is Thread, which allows him to manipulate the strings on his twin yo-yos however he pleases. Tommy Gilligan/The Tommy - The newest member of the Next Generation of Mages, and general pain in the neck. He is gifted with two Magic Bases; water and air. Much like Harvey, he too is still learning about his powers. Matt/Numbuh 101 - The oldest, and most knowledgeable of the Next Generation of Mages. His Magic Base is Energy, which allows to be active at all times.

Father's Crew

Benjamin Uno/Father - The arch enemy of both the Mages, and the Monarchy. His Magic Base is Fire, which gives him an endless list of abilities. The Delightful Mages - Former Mages who were permanently brainwashed by Father. Each one can control a basic, natural element, and energy. Their arch enemies are the Mages. Cree Lincoln - A former Mage who turned traitor after she became a teenager, has a rivalry going on with her younger sister, Abigail. Her Magic Base is Thunder, which allows her to create thunderstorms at will. Chad Dickson - An undercover Spy who is pretending to be a traitor to the Monarchy. He too, has no Magic Base, but more than makes up for it with his skills as a combatant and weapons expert.

Others

Albert/Numbuh 19th Century - The Prince of a neighbouring country, and will often assist the Monarchy whenever possible. Was meant to be a suitor for Rachel, but fell in love with Fanny instead, much to her dismay. His Magic Base is Illusions. Heinrietta and Heinrich - A twin Duke and Duchess pair who are often rivals with Abigail when it comes to hunting for rare candy. Heinrietta is a bit softer on Abigail, but Heinrich is not as generous. Monty Uno/Numbuh 0 - Once the Legendary Zero Mage, now he is a hardworking businessman who lives a happy life with his wife, Minnie, and his son, Nigel. His Magic Base is Fire, and his standardized weapon is a gun that becomes a sword. Grandfather - Monty and Ben's all powerful father, who is on par with the Devil. He too, has two Magic Bases; Fire and Reality Warping. After facing off with him one day, the Mages sealed him away. What they actually did, was seal away his soul fragments to other parts of their dimension, and now they're on the hunt for them.

A few other Headcannons I have for this universe include;

Harvey is a little upset that he'll never be able to become King of Kiddom, but he loves his sister too much to do anything about it, so he decides to settle for being a Mage, instead. Still doesn't stop him from acting like a brat, though.

The dynamic between Albert/Numbuh 19th Century and Fanny reminds Kuki and Alex of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind, right down to even them quoting certain scenes from the film every now and then.

Rachel's family are actually descendants of a race of being called The Pure Ones, who are said to be the original founders of Kiddom. All Pure Ones have Light Magic Bases, much like their ancestors.

Grandfather despises The Pure Ones for reasons that are never really elaborated on.

 Alex is actually half Pure Being on her mother's side.

 Kuki's smile can often soften even the most hardened of hearts.

Being somewhat of a scientist, Grandfather was often experimenting for ways to cheat death and become immortal. He found the answer to that by creating various artificial human shells  (each with different looks and names and with very little sentience outside GF’s influence). If something ever happened to him, he could just simply crawl into one of those bodies and continue living. Patton is one of those shells, hence why he has no memories or Magic Base.

Being Half Pure One, Alex is able to sing the songs and chants of the old ones (which are really just Yoko Kanno and Yuki Kajiura pieces that are known as ancient text in this universe).

Kiddom runs on the Tsubasa/XXXHolic idea of parallel universes; that a person can live a completely different life in another world, but their soul remains the same.

Magic Users can in fact converge their magic to form attacks or other useful things, but it can only be done through the use of dance. Any dance will do, but it has to be in sync with who these people are and their level of comfort with each other.

For example:

- Abby and Alex love each other like sisters, and are capable of fusing their two seemingly different Magic Bases with ease

- Nigel and Lizzie often have trouble fusing their power because of their numerous problems. But when they trust in each other completely, they are a force to be reckoned with.

- Wally and Kuki have difficulty fusing their powers together at first due to their romantic tension. They find a compromise though by using their friendship as that basis.

- Rachel and Fanny can fuse their powers with ease, but for Rachel, it is always strong friendship she feels. For Fanny, it’s always the intimate love she feels for her Queen. Because Patton has no Magic Base, the dances he shares with Rachel are always intimate on both parties (because they’re in love), which drives Fanny up the wall.

[intellectually-absent]

The Breaking of Seals

UNITED STATES PHYSICS ANOMALY BUREAU: FEDERAL DIVISION: RELAY 4521 TO CLEARANCE ALPHA MEMBERS

Transmission received on 08-15-84

           To all listening posts and active global cells (transmission covers cells in Nicaragua, Thailand, Austria, and Portugal), as per the non-disclosure provision of the International Quantum Anomaly act (signed 05-12-67), this transmission is highly confidential. Any attempt to release information to outsiders or the general public is prohibited, and may result in mental reconditioning, neural wipes, or biological function termination to offenders.

Director Anthony Fergus, PAB Federal Division Director:

           To all those concerned, these are incredibly trying times. The initial “electromagnetic pulse” that wiped out a good portion of communications and electricity in Western Russia, much of Europe, and the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, plus Ontario and the Canadian Maritimes, for about a good 8 hours (initial start was 1400 hours EST) on 08-01-84 has finally been sourced to what may be the single greatest breach we have witnessed since the Montauk Incident of 1974. Approximately at two points in both point Alpha (23,000 feet/7010.4 meters) and point Omega (indeterminate area beneath the Atlantic Ocean), a convergence of two anomalous energy signals that emitted extreme amounts of Gamma radiation were observed, eventually synchronizing to emit two bursts of an unidentified pulse of energy that our researchers, as well as initial reports from public and private-sector news agencies, claimed to be an EMP blast. While that explanation has not been ruled out as of the moment of this transmission, the resulting events in the two observable “enclave” areas have been more than troubling to those involved in our observation. The two enclave areas include an uninhabited patch of wilderness in Blue Ridge Mountains in the state of Virginia, which has grown larger and now threatens the city of Charlottesville in the state, as well as a second area that most news agencies have been barred from covering near Reykjavik, in Iceland. A summary of the current status of the Lynchburg enclave area, as well as a detailed observation of the phenomena, will be detailed below for transmission recipient eyes only:

ONLY THOSE WITH CLEARANCE BETA AND ALPHA ARE ALLOWED TO VIEW WHAT FOLLOWS

            Lynchburg, Virginia: Current status as of 08-15-84 documentation:

Anomaly Level per Montauk-1974 classification: Nearing Highest Severity

Casualties and Affected: An unknown large amount of Baseline Human residents

Threat of effect: Potentially National if not contained using Protocol 2, Global if not Protocol 1-PHYSCON

Entity Type: Parallel Biological life forms being introduced at rapid rate by uncontained breach (classification Echo-Delta)

Overview:

           On 08-01-84, the initial event observed in the North Atlantic triggered a chain reaction of events in and around much of the Northern Hemisphere, with, for as of unknown reasons beyond our trans-reality observations, forced a mass breach event in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, at approximately 3 hours into the “EMP blast.” The resulting chaos created a mass blackout in the area, disrupting the available Mid-Atlantic PAB: Federal Division Observation Post in the area.[1] Even as similar mild breach events (classified as “minor solar ejection disruptions” to civilian news sources, given the nature of the event’s visual effect in the upper atmosphere) occurred during the duration of what media will now refer to as the “August 1 Solar EMP disruption event of 1984” in all further publications[2], the anomalous events associated with the incident did not dissipate at the breach point in Virginia. Instead, communications with the entire town of Lynchburg, Virginia, ceased for a lengthy period beginning the day after. From 08-02-84 to 08-10-84, communications, observation, and even physical transportation to the vicinity of Lynchburg, Virginia, were deemed impossible following instances of law enforcement, Federal Agents, and even military convoys “disappearing” from the area, in a manner similar to the Prime Incident of 1944.[3] Reports of the remains of said individuals and their vehicles, as well as personal possessions were reportedly found a great distance from the vicinity of Lynchburg, often warped and distorted to impossible proportions. Midway into this breach incident (08-05-84), following the avoidable death of Operative Jameson, all transportation to the town of Lynchburg, whether it be from this agency, or from public or other governmental enterprises and individuals, was prohibited via the activation of local contingency order Beta-124. At approximately 1100 hours on 08-10-84, distortion in the region of Lynchburg and the surrounding area ceased, with regular transportation to the area resuming normally for those with clearance from the United States Government and the PAB: Federal Division (citizens were advised of a “chemical leak” prompting the evacuation of civilians in Lynchburg to an undisclosed location.)

           What was found was, in the words of Operative Harlingen, was “like Hiroshima met Dachau.”

           A good chunk of the town had received extreme damage, with many structures and portions of the area were distorted inwards, as if “small whirlpools in the air twisted them to some point in space, like a tornado, but bending concrete”. Much of the town’s infrastructure, from the downtown area to Liberty University, suffered similar amounts of heavy damage by the breach event. While initially, the fate of the town’s inhabitants remained unknown for some time, the study of odd, seemingly biological growths located around the town revealed that the townsfolk suffered similar amounts of “distortion” by the event, with a good amount of human biological mass warped into what have been termed “Philadelphia Toadstools”[4] by those observing the extent of the damage. Genetic samples taken from the “Toadstools” reveal that the human genetic mass has been mutated alongside another, form of genetic code[5] Survivors of the town, if any, could not recollect the exact nature of what happened to them during those days, and acted with time delay (many of them initially believed that the previous day before 08-10-84 was 08-01-84.) Based on hypnosis therapy results of several survivors, the nature of what had happened during that time period was revealed to be that of a mass breach similar to what had happened during the [REDACTED] portion of the Prime Event in 1944. As of the moment, based on current analysis, the entirety of the town of Lynchburg has been quarantined, and all survivors currently interred at the Cheyenne-Montauk Joint Facility in Colorado for research and rehabilitation purposes. Those deemed too severe in terms of genetic derivation and exposure to the event have been terminated, with their next of kin notified that they have died in any of the potential cover-up stories chosen from Addendum 22 (re: with regards to victims of anomalous multiverse breach events.)

           As a result of this event, all PAB and NA-PAB (North Atlantic) divisions have been notified, and will continue to receive updates on Lynchburg’s current status. All Mid-Atlantic Stations are notified to remain on high alert indefinitely as we ascertain the nature of this event. Further information regarding this incident will be sent to all available divisions for intra-agency dissemination.

Addendum:

FOR ALPHA-1 EYES ONLY

           This is Director Fergus. What we are witnessing here could, to be very frank, be the end of days. It isn’t just the United States, the North Atlantic, or even our planet that’s facing such an unprecedented event in the history of the program. Since the Philadelphia Experiment of 1943, the Prime Event of 1944, and the Montauk Program, which I had, oversaw for decades with all my life, we dug deeper into the realms of the unknown, what lay beyond the mundane reality we saw, felt, tasted and heard. I’ve seen some things that gave me wonder and made me think about the worth of life on planet Earth, and things that made me feel good to be a member of our species, humanity. But this is one of those things that both makes you feel small as a human at the same time and ungrateful to be a member of not only this species, but also, this reality we call home. What we are witnessing here is an invasion by unholy things, things beyond the world and all the worlds we’ve ventured to, things that threaten not to simply destroy us, but to open all the other seals and let loose so many other things on this little blue rock.

           I’ve seen them. Their name is unspeakable, their desires unknown yet harmful to the very tenets of PAB and the Society, which precedes it, and it, could undo everything we’ve worked for during our post-war existence. The advancements of our time, all sourced from reverse-engineering the technologies of other worlds, are nothing compared to what we will see in the coming days. All the chaotic things we’ve done, the seemingly malicious things we did to protect the Society and the PAB from even those with seemingly good intentions—I’ve always thought President Kennedy was a good man—will be for naught, will be reduced to petty violence, if the barriers that protect humanity as a species fail.

           Whoever the Unspeakable Ones are, whatever they want, is to open the doors to the worlds beyond us, and let loose a thousand plagues and maladies by doing the thing we’ve always strived to prevent:

           Give humanity access to the multiverse. All of us, not just the people up there that know, or were born into our society—the common man, the boy on the street, the cantankerous old lady that runs the deli by the side of the road. They want to break us, make us irrelevant, and when all this saturates Earth, strip us of what it means to be human. God, or, well, Gods, help us all.

                                                                                                            --Anthony Fergus

--------------------------------END OF TRANSMISSION----------------------------------------------

[1] Designated Post 371-B.

[2] Should we survive this breach.

[3] Refer to documents handed out to all PAB members on the Prime Incident, or Prime Event.

[4] Named after the successful Philadelphia Experiment of 1943, which preceded the Prime Incident/Event of 1944.

[5] See genetic code deviations document dated 08-07-84.