#Vapor Hatch

[planetapolilla]

The bottom level of the bunker was filled with water, waist-deep and murky green. Splish. Splish. With every careful step, she felt the urge to turn back. There would be no way to access the lower level until it was drained anyway. Lia thought back to the access hatch in the mountainside, how she'd thought herself so lucky to find it cracked open. All the water must have leaked in over months. "This far as I go for now", she muttered to herself. "Maybe I come back with a bucket."

Something stirred in the water behind her as she turned. A tell-tale white poncho topped with dark lenses on a white mask glared back at her in the flooded tunnel. She hesitated. Pistol? Goggles? Her hand raised her pistol halfway, but the flash of light from the OWL's 10-WINK reached her before she could pull her goggles into place. She was stunned, frozen in place by the 10-WINK's ray, and the thought blindness crashed her brain. As the sound of the pyreband charging cut through her daze, a thought surfaced.

"I wonder if it can vapor water like it can vapor skin."

Lore by @ doom_captain ❤️ (twitter/X)

[pallysuune]

Summery: Most of the villagers were afraid of Mortarion, but you, one of the people he had saved from his father's grasp, couldn't help but be drawn to him. You grow closer to him, and, after a celebration in town one night, he's curious about a few things he observed, and you're more than happy to indulge him.

Pairing: Mortarion/Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, people treating Morty badly, smut, first times

A/N: I just really love Mortarion, okay? A good part of the beginning is referenced from The Buried Dagger, because why not? XD

Word count: 4314

They shunned him. Maybe too many of them remembered when he had stood alongside the monsters the Overlords sent. Or maybe it was just because he looked different. You could still remember the first moment you saw him, and that made it hard to fear him. 

You'd been foolish, out too far from the town, in a field trying to finish before the night set in. You were gathering ears of corn, and you really didn't want to have to return tomorrow, so you were working later than you should have. Still, you had thought you were safe - until the horse attached to the cart laden down with your harvest started stomping and snorting and making a sound you'd never heard from it before. You hadn't stopped to think, you'd turned to run. But it was already too late. An undead stench washed over you. Claws grabbed you, and you were pulled away. 

You and other captives were put inside some sort of machine, a crawler that inched its way up the mountain, carrying you all to the Overlords for whatever reason. You recognized a few faces among those around you. Elias Wrinn from the farm down the way. Lanie Kren from the bakery. Calas Typhon from the town. People were avoiding the last. Everyone knew him, and everyone knew he was wrong somehow. 

Yet, where everyone else seemed to be despairing, only Calas was looking around with bright, alert eyes. He was thinking, and he was not yet defeated. 

You'd shifted a little closer to him. “Do you have a plan?” You whispered. 

His eyes had darted to you, but he didn't speak. 

But he did have a plan. One that hinged around an old breathing mask, a rusty piece of metal, and Necare’s own attack dog. Mortarion. The reaper. 

It was probably best he hadn't told you his plan. You would have thought he was insane. 

It wasn't long later that he whispered, “Cover your head,” to you. You glanced at him and then did so, tucking your head between your knees and wrapping your arms over it. 

A few heartbeats later, an explosion ripped through the crawler. You were choked by smoke that smelled of gunpowder and sulfur. You covered your face with your hands, coughing, when a breathing mask was shoved into them. You looked up, squinting through the burning smoke, to see Calas, with a mask of his own, shoving on the hatch at the top of the crawler. He slammed it with his shoulder once, twice, three times. It buckled and swung open, clanging. Calas was the first one up and out, and soon enough, everyone else was scrambling out, too. 

As you climbed up and out, you saw a fortress of slick gray stone, and attop the battlements, you saw him. A tall, gaunt young man standing there, staring in shock at you and the other humans. His long black hair clung to his face in the moist vapor of the upper ranges. Calas was already running toward him, shouting. 

You didn't have long to watch Calas, though, as the monsters of the Overlord bore down on you and the other humans. You screamed, dropping your breathing mask. Acidic, poisonous air assaulted your lungs, and you dropped to your knees, coughing and scrambling for the mask in the mist. You found it and pressed it to your face, dragging in hard breaths. 

Everything was a nightmare of screaming and blood and unliving limbs. People died around you. Claws shredded the back of your shirt, but, mercifully, missed your skin. Amid the chaos, there was a gunshot. You looked past the press of bodies and found him, Mortarion, Necare's son, had jumped down into the boggy ground in front of his keep. He was… 

He was killing the golems. 

He was helping you and the other humans. 

The monsters turned toward him, sensing that he was the bigger threat at the moment. You could only stare, your heart pounding in your chest as he and Calas were swamped by the monsters, and yet kept fighting. Mortarion had a chain with a hook on the end that he swung with lethal precision, gutting and ripping and crushing. Beside him, Calas fought with a piece of rusty metal, and a kind of power that only the Overlords used. You could understand now why the others had avoided him for so long, but at the moment, you couldn't help but be thankful for that power. 

Mortarion decimated the monsters, and the few left broken ranks and ran for the denser fog higher up. Sirens howled from the mist and when you looked, you could see the orange bobbing of lantern lights. 

The Overlord was coming. 

“Hey!” Someone called out your name, and your head snapped around. Elias Wrinn was the one hollering for you. He and a few of the humans who had survived were scrambling onto the platform of an intact transport crawler. He was motioning you to follow. You staggered to your feet and hurried over, as the old farmer reached down to help pull you up. 

No sooner were you aboard than the vehicle began to slide back down the mountain side. 

“Wait, what about them?” You asked, twisting to look at the woman at the machine's controls. Calas and Mortarion were both still standing in the bloody field, looking up toward the coming army. 

The woman only set her mouth in a grin line. 

You threw yourself against the side of the crawler, leaning out as far as you dared, even as Elias grabbed at you to keep you in. “Calas!” You cried. 

His head snapped around, followed a moment later by Mortarion's. Both of them just looked at the crawler and you humans, making no efforts to follow. You saw Calas turn to speak to Mortarion, but you were too far to hear what was being said. You tried to cry out again, but neither of them seemed to pay any attention. Soon enough, the crawler had descended a ridge and you couldn't see them anymore. 

You sat back heavily, your heart leaden in your chest. They had saved you, and you all had just left them there. 

But you didn't ask the other survivors to go back, either. You were ashamed, but you wanted to live. Enough to turn your back on them. 

You remembered that feeling hours later when Mortarion and Calas had stumbled into town.

The townspeople had always been a little wary of Calas, and that did not change now. To make it worse, they all knew who Mortarion was. The townspeople argued. Many were afraid that Necare would come and kill all of you now, for rebelling against him. Others wanted Calas and Mortarion out to death. You and the other survivors spoke up on their behalf, though, arguing how they had saved you, how you would all be dead and without them. But most folks still didn't want them in town. In the end, Elias suggested letting them both stay in a rundown stable at the edge of the township, with some firewood and food. 

For days, the whole settlement waited for retribution from the Overlords. You watched day in and day out as Mortarion stood just outside that stable, looking to the mountain, unmoving as a statue. A sentinel of some kind. Waiting like all the rest of you. But nothing happened, and eventually things returned to normal. 

But for you, the memory of running and leaving them behind never left. The guilt pulled at you. There was what drove you to make your way out to the stable with a small basket of bread. You stopped outside the closed door and raised a hand to knock, but before you had the chance, it was already being pulled open. You started and looked up into eyes the pale yellow of the sky at dawn. Mortarion looked down at you, his long hair hanging in front of his face. He was thin and gaunt, and yet there was something about him that was attractive anyway. 

You took a step back, lowering your eyes from his, and held up the basket in your hands. “Um… I brought bread.”

He looked down at the basket in your hands, and then took a step back, letting you step into the stable. 

Calas was sitting next to a fire pit. He looked up at you as he stepped in, a brow arched. He had a distinctly unimpressed look on his face as you stepped closer. “What’s this then?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft. You set the basket down, and glanced toward Mortarion as he moved over to the fire again. He peered down into the basket, but didn’t reach for it. “You both saved us. And we repaid you with this.” You glanced around at the stables. 

Calas snorted. “It’s not surprising.”

“No, but it’s still wrong,” you said firmly. 

He opened his mouth to argue with you when Mortarion cut in, “Thank you.”

Calas snorted and reached for a piece of bread. You lingered there awkwardly, unsure what to do. Mortarion sat down at the fire, and they both looked up at you. Calas’ expression turned exasperated. “Well? Sit down, then,” he huffed. 

You hurriedly sat down. Mortarion handed you a bowl of watery stew. 

And that was how you found yourself eating dinner with them. It wasn't the last time, either. More and more, you found yourself venturing out to the stable after your work to eat with them, or just to talk. You realized very quickly that Mortarion, for how dangerous and incredibly intelligent he was, had no idea how to be a person.  He spent a lot of time just watching the townspeople, like he was trying to figure them out. One day, he simply walked out of the stable and began to help in the fields, pulling a huge curved blade from a broken threshing machine to use as a scythe. He didn't ask permission, and no one tried to stop him. He worked so much faster than anyone else, soon enough you, and many of the other workers, were just following behind him, gathering up the wheat he cut down. 

That night, the townspeople celebrated having such a good harvest. The community hall was filled with laughter and music for the first time in so very, very long. Even you joined in, letting yourself relax for a night, safe among the other people, in the firelight that kept the mist and monsters away. You ate and drank, and sang loudly with everyone else. And when the night grew late, and people were paying less attention, you snuck some food that you could take to Mortarion and Calas in the morning. 

You slipped out the back with your stolen treasures, determined to make sure that Mortarion was thanked, as he was the one to make this all possible. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you realized you weren't the only person behind the community building. But the sounds of breathy moans soon reassured you that they weren't paying you any kind. Flushing a little, you hurried back home. 

You were busy the next day, and didn't make it out to the stable until late afternoon. The food you had snuck was still good, so you packed it all up and headed out. You found Mortarion just returning from the field, his hair braided loosely, and a scarf around his lower face and neck. He pulled it down casually as he watched you approach. 

“I brought you some things,” you chirped with a smile up at him, swinging your basket. 

His expression was as guarded as always, but he nodded, stepping inside and holding the door for you. As you came inside, you realized he was alone. 

“Where's Calas?”

“He went to the blacksmith. Some of the tools needed sharpening,” Mortarion answered. His voice was deep and rumbling, and incredibly pleasant to your ears. 

“Well, he can have some when he gets back, then,” you declared. 

You saw Mortarion's expression soften just a fraction as you smiled at him before beginning to unpack what you'd brought. Smoked meats, bread, cheese, and, as a special treat, a loaf of cakey bread with dried fruits in it. 

You and Mortarion sat and ate. After a few moments, he spoke up. “I saw your people celebrating last night.”

“Yeah. We've never had so much of the harvest in so early. It gives us a chance to process it for storage better. It's a huge help to us, and we owe it all to you,” you smiled. 

You thought you caught a pleased look in his eyes before he glanced away. “ I heard something rhythmic and lilting from the hall.”

Pausing, you considered the comment. Lilting? “Do you mean singing? We were singing pretty loudly last night, I guess.”

“Singing,” he repeated the word slowly. 

It struck you like a punch to the jaw, and you found yourself just staring at him. “Do you… do you not know what singing is? What music is?”

He didn't answer. You were aware that he didn't like admitting he didn't know something, but the answer was obvious. He didn't. Singing was one of the few light things you and the other people there had. One of the few things that brought some joy and happiness during long hours in the field. You couldn't imagine living a life without knowing what singing was. It broke your heart to think he had lived such a barren life. 

“Do you… would you like me to sing for you?” You asked softly. Normally you wouldn't, but things were different with him. Your desire to share this part of humanity with him was stronger than your fear of being judged.

He looked over and met your eyes, and nodded. 

It took a second for you to think of a good song. You set down the piece of fruit studded bread, took a breath, and began to sing an old lullaby for him. Mortarion turned his whole attention to you, his eyes focused and bright, as if he was in wonder at what he was hearing. The attention brought more heat to your cheeks. 

When you finished, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. Just long enough for you to begin to get awkward. You were starting to wonder if you should leave when Mortarion cleared his throat and turned to you. 

“There is something I wanted to try, if you don't mind,” he said. 

You offered him a smile. “Of course.” Maybe he has seen the dancing the night before? The thought sent a flutter of warmth through you, bubbling and buzzing. 

But it wasn't a dance he asked for. Instead, he shifted closer to you and, before you could really register what was going on, leaned in and smacked his lips against yours. It was awkward and a little aggressive, as if he was treating it like an attack of some sort.

You were too stunned to respond before he pulled back, a frown pulling at his chapped lips. “That was not as pleasant as it looked,” he said, more to himself than to you. 

A huff of a breath left you roughly as you looked at him incredulously. “O-of course it wasn't! You're not supposed to do it like that!”

His eyes narrowed, and for a second, you remembered why everyone was still so scared of him, even if you pushed aside the question quickly.

“Here, let me…” you trailed off and scooted a little closer to him. 

Gently, you cupped his cheek and leaned in slowly. He tensed slightly, but did not move away. Your lips brushed his, before you pressed them together again, softer this time. Your lips slotted with his, coaxing them into kissing you in return. It took a moment before he finally began to relax, his arms curling around you to draw you close to him. Leaning into his chest, the hand on his cheek slid back to comb your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. 

You had to admit, he was a quick learner. 

It didn't take him long to catch on, adjusting how he kissed you to what you seemed to like most. Though, when your tongue brushed his bottom lip, he did jump slightly, adorably. He mimicked the little lick, and you opened your mouth, letting his tongue slip inside. He gave a low, surprised moan, pressing closer to you. 

He took his time exploring your mouth, and slowly his hands moved over your body, until you were trembling in his lap. His fingers brushed your lower stomach and lingered there. By now, you had a good idea what it was that he'd seen - the same moaning couple you had hurried away from. You had been embarrassed hearing it then, but now you were practically vibrating, waiting to see what he would do.

“There is more,” he breathed against your lips. His fingertips dug into your stomach ever so slightly. 

You nodded breathlessly, your lips ghosting against his with the movement. Your whole body felt hot, a buzzing desire settling in your core. “Go on.”

You pressed forward into another kiss. Mortarion sighed. His fingers slid lower, beneath the waist of your pants and into your underwear. A thick finger brushed over your outer lips slowly, tracing them. A groan left him in a gusty sigh as he felt how wet you were. 

His finger brushed your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You gasped, your hips bucking up against his hand. He pulled back from the kiss, staring at your face in awe as he repeated the motion. You whimpered, your whole expression crumpling with pleasure. He rolled his finger over the bud a third time. Your hand flew down to grab his before he could continue and it got to be too much. He froze the second you touched him, his eyes darting up to yours. 

“Like this,” you murmured, even as your face burned hot, embarrassed and horribly turned on, both. Still, the last thing on your mind was stopping, so you shifted a little closer to him, turning to put your back against his chest, so his arm curled around you. You slid your hand down to cover his,  wiggling your pants down a little lower around your knees to give more room for you both as you spread your legs a little bit. You couldn’t see him with how you were sitting now, but you could still practically feel his eyes on you. 

Your hand pressed gently over his, guiding one of his fingers past your wet folds, sinking into you. He followed your movements diligently, as you  pushed both your finger and his into your pussy, working them in and out of you. You moaned, your eyes fluttering closed as you melted back against his chest. He began to take over, controlling the rhythm as you just kept your hand pressed over his, following his every move. 

“Mortarion,” you sighed breathlessly. 

You could literally feel him shiver behind you. 

He leaned down, his cheek pressed to the side of your head, his eyes focused unerringly on where your fingers disappeared into your heat. He began to move faster, and you followed his lead as he pressed a second finger into you, stretching you even more around him with the most delicious sort of pleasure. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet any longer, moans spilling from your lips as he fucked you quickly with his fingers, the palm of his hand pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked, grinding against it, desperate for more friction as you squirmed and trembled in his arms. It felt so good, every thought driven from your mind except the feeling of him around you and inside you. 

Your moans raised to a high whine, desperate, close already to your peak. Mortarion tilted his head slightly, practically nuzzling at your hair. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit, plunging his fingers deep into your pussy. It all just became too much. You keened as you came around his fingers, shaking in his arms, your sex spasming tight around both your fingers and his, still buried  in you, soaking you both with your release. He kept fingering you through it, drawing it out until you were pulling at his hand, throwing your head from side to side as it began to become too much. 

He slipped his fingers out of you as you slumped in his arms, panting, shivering with the aftermath of your pleasure. He lifted his hand to his lips, licking them curiously, tentatively, before giving a hum and beginning to suck them clean. You tilted your head to watch him, heat coiling through your blood at the sight of how eagerly he sucked your juices from his fingers. Still leaning back against him, you could feel how hard he was, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants and pressing against your ass. 

A shiver ran through you as you registered the feeling. Oh, you wanted him. Badly. 

Managing to marshal your somewhat shaky body, you sat up and turned toward him. His eyes snapped immediately to you, intent and sharp. Not wary, like they usually were, but still very focused. You wet your lips and reached for his pants, untying the laces with trembling fingers. He didn’t stop you, but you heard his breathing pick up as you pulled his pants open. You reached in, your fingers grazing his length. He groaned. His eyes sliding shut. You curled your fingers around him to pull him free. You stroked him, looking down to watch a bead of precum ooze from the tip. You swiped your thumb through it, drawing a shiver from him again. 

Wetting your lips, you used your free hand to pull off your own pants and then climbed onto his lap, guiding his cock to your entrance. He groaned, his hands going to your hips and gripping hard. You rubbed him against your pussy, soaking him in your slick wetness before pressing his cockhead against your entrance and slowly beginning to sink down onto him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, at the same moment he moaned lowly. 

His arms wound around you, pulling you flush against his chest, holding you there. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin as he panted softly and pulled you slowly down onto him. He was thick, stretching you, filling you impossibly full. His hips rocked up, again and again, in short little thrusts until he was finally balls deep in you. You could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. You were breathless, like his cock didn’t leave any room in your for air. You closed your own eyes, soaking in the intimacy of the position, and the feeling of his body. Your arms wound around his neck, threading through his hair. He lifted you and then thrust up into you again. He shuddered, swore, and then his frayed patience finally broke. 

His arms tightened around you as he surged up, thrusting hard into you, fucking you quickly and roughly. You squealed, scrabbling at his back, clinging to him desperately. It was all you could do as he fucked you. 

Took you. Claimed you. 

Already, you knew nothing would ever match up to this. No one would ever match up to him after everything. 

You threw your head back, keening, bucking your hips back as best you could against his. He breathed your name, curling into you, his lips pressing to your neck. It became a chant, a mantra, the closest thing to a prayer he would ever say as he whispered your name again and again, interspersed with soft pleas and encouraging coos. You were barely able to register the words. The pleasure was too much, your mind driven blank by the feeling of his cock inside you. 

You came around him suddenly, keening, your nails digging into his shoulder. He gave a shuddering groan as he slammed up into you, and then ground deep, savoring the way your pussy squeezed and fluttered around him, letting it drag him over the edge too. Heat flooded you as he came, pumping his seed deep into your. 

Slowly, you both came down from the high of your releases, panting softly. You were trembling in his arms, exhausted, but floating in the lingering pleasure. Mortarion’s breath slowed, but he was not at all inclined to release you, cradling him close to his chest. “Stay here tonight?” he murmured. 

You nodded, snuggling deeper against him. 

It took a few moments before you finally slipped off his lap, prompting twin groans from both of you. You cleaned up as best you could, got dressed again, and settled in his lap once more. 

By the time Calas returned, night had set in, and you were asleep in Mortarion’s lap. He paused in the doorway, looking at the two of you with his brows arched. Mortarion looked up at him, as if challenging him to say anything about it. With a snort, Calas looked away, his eyes landing on the basket of food you’d brought with you earlier. He moved over, nudging it with his toe. “Did you at least leave me some?”

Mortarion’s expression softened slightly, and he shifted you in his lap, curling you close to him as he moved over a little himself, making room at the fire for his friend. “A little.”

There was another snort as he sat down, pulling the basket in front of him and beginning to look through it, as a comfortable, companionable silence fell over the stable. 

[givehimthemedicine]

El traded herself for Max in the void: a timeline switch crack concept

I'm not saying "theory" because I'm not 100% serious but hear me out anyway because there is something here, I'm just not sure what. if nothing else I get to inflict an angsty scenario on you

so you know how Two Days Later El's behavior irt Max is just so weird?

after everything that happened, you'd expect El to already be screaming "IS MAX OKAY?" as the van door is sliding open. instead, she doesn't ask about her at all.

even when Dustin says Lucas is at the hospital, El goes "is he hurt?" as if Max isn't crossing her mind at all as a reason for him to be at the hospital.

Will's casual inquiry of "where's Lucas" is weird in of itself. Will was there when El hatched the whole "Protect Max" plot and literally spoke to El while she was in Max's memories/the void. he knew Max being in danger was the whole thing. he definitely would've asked about Max before he asked about Lucas.

then Lucas says how it was a miracle that Max's heart started beating again, and Mike and Will give El this look. the obvious interpretation being that they assume El is somehow responsible but didn't say a word about it. (classic El behavior)

call me crazy, but doesn't it kinda fit to say that Two Days Later El does not have Void El's memories?

the El who arrives in Hawkins is NOT acting AT ALL like someone who watched her best friend die, brought her back, and ended the interaction with her in a dubiously-alive-critically-injured state.

this El is behaving like one who succeeded in rescuing Max and therefore isn't especially worried about her current status. maybe even a version where Lucas never got beaten up, the tape never got broken, the plan worked. who never told the boys she revived Max, because she didn't.

there's just something about El being all dirty and bloody during Max's death scene and then visiting Max two days later still wearing the same outfit except a still-clean version of it. like none of that happened to this El.

there's just something about Dustin's "oh God, you don't know." maybe this El doesn't! she looks lost af.

there's just something about Mike's "we came as soon as we heard." El was there and saw it all, but you just now heard it from Dustin? I know El is tight lipped but you're really saying she got out of the pizza freezer and into a TWO DAY LONG van ride and the conversation never got around to, like... how the mission went?

yet as of the cabin end scene, suddenly Mike and Will both know stuff that only El could've told them. so.. she did talk in the van? but didn't mention the Max stuff? that's even weirder.

let's talk about Vecna's 4th gate

so gates open on the exact spot of Vecna's victims' bodies, right?

here's where the Max gate starts to open in the UD attic, corresponding to exactly where Max is lying dead in the RU attic.

except that absolutely cannot be.

because they showed us what instantly happens if even a small part of the gate crack passes beneath a person. it looks like this:

so if that gate originated exactly under Max's body, Lucas would not have any warning. the only way he would've found out about it is by seeing at least a section of Max's corpse suddenly get vaporized Jason-style. (if not also his own body!)

instead, Lucas has time to see it starting to form and pull Max to safety. which means it couldn't have started forming exactly under Max.

the forming gate that Lucas is looking at as he drags Max away is actually sorta between Max and the spider shrine.

now look where El was sitting.

what if the 4th sacrifice was El, not Max?

we never actually saw the results of whatever El did when she put her hand over Max's heart. the easiest assumption is she just did magic cpr and started Max's heart again. but what if she was doing something to trade places with Max?

"but wtf are you talking about, because El continues being alive for the rest of the episode?"

for this concept I'm borrowing an idea from @heroesbyler that's had me clawing the walls of my cell lately - in case you missed her recent big brain posts, she pointed out some weird discrepancies in actual vs void versions of scenes throughout the show, suggesting that when El visits the void, she could actually be looking into different timelines. I'd definitely submit the Creel attic as another example.

so when I say what if El traded herself for Max, I'm talking Void El and Void Max.

I'm talking something about Max's death, or revival, or the opening of the gates, throwing some kind of trolley dilemma train tracks switch between timelines. idk there are too many details to iron out before I pitch this in seriousness but idk I just. I swear to you Two Days Later El and Void El aren't lining up.

some discrepancies in the real vs void Creel attic (not all. this could be a whole post itself)

void vs UD:

according to the UD shot, the origin point of the death gate is perfectly centered relative to the rug, and, say, a foot away. here's my hasty approximation of where I'd expect it:

this is why I'm not taking the L about how honestly El's location doesn't perfectly align with the UD origin point - because neither does Max's.

void vs RU:

IRL, Lucas is cradling Max across his lap. his legs are more or less parallel to the spider shrine while Max is angled at, very roughly, 45 degrees to it. the bug lamp is centered on it.

in the void version, the bug light is far towards one end of the table. while Lucas and Max's positions feel fairly consistent, their placement relative to the SS is not.

if you follow the lines of the floorboards in the IRL shot, his butt is aligned nearly with the far right edge of the SS. but here, don't they all seem decidedly further towards the left of it?:

as soon as Max dies, things get differenter. now they're further right again, only Lucas and Max's positions are more spoony, pointed the same direction. she's nearly parallel with the SS now. her feet also seem jacked up at more severe angles.

overhead shot also makes that bug light's off-centeredness very clear.

also you notice how we don't see El hearing Max in the void? I mean, she must have, otherwise she wouldn't reply "No, you're not going", but it's just odd how WE don't see that.

I've talked before about how Max says both "I don't want to die" and "I don't want to go," which are two different concepts in ST universe, and that Lucas and El each get to respond to one of them. so why not show us El hearing the one that's hers?

IRL Max is begging for her life, but when we switch to the void, she's abruptly silent and much more still. El only hears Lucas. back to IRL, Max is still more actively struggling and vocalizing a little before she dies. the energy doesn't match super well.

other bits

on the subject of El's "No. You're not going." if you really wanted to, you could interpret that in a "- because I'm going instead" way. I know, she didn't especially say it with that inflection. but it does have me thinking about how incredibly in character it is for El to be willing to trade herself like that.

it made me think of this moment:

yeah we've all demanded to know what was the reason for having Owens assume Max was a boy. but has anyone talked about how El, in her reply to that very line ("no, do not send your men. send me.") does the same thing? Owens just said "people". El assumes they are men.

there's just something about El saying "do not send your men[?], send me" immediately after Owens referring to Max as a him[?]. it gives kind of a "don't take Max, take me" flavor.

there's also something about how Max wasn't supposed to be the 4th sacrifice anyway.

and by this point El has heard the monologue about how all this time, it's all been about getting to her. so she's definitely feeling that Max is dead in the crossfire because of her. you don't think that if she only could, she would take Max's place and face Vecna directly, whatever that entails? whether it's death or some ambiguous awful fate?

can you tell me this kid

wouldn't trade herself for Max?

also just curious that the very first time they played Running Up That Hill, it actually began on a shot of a distraught El walking down her school hallway before it transitioned to Max walking the opposite way down her school hallway. with the song edited to skip straight from the opening to the chorus about swapping places.

don't worry I'm sure there's no way that means anything 👍

finally, El is distraught not to be able to find Max in the void when she goes looking for her. but it's weird because El has located corpses, flayed people, and inanimate objects in the void before. there's no reason she shouldn't be able to locate Max due to her being in a coma/"trapped".

what if it's not Max who's offline? what if El can't see into that timeline anymore because she's dead in it?

[metaphorfordeath]

Watch Where You're Going

Two trans people talk about life while one of them finishes her shift at the local video store. 2k words. Originally published in Olit Magazine. Content warning for discussion and depiction of transphobia.

“I’m not necessarily saying it’s a bad movie, I just think it’s in poor taste.”

“What makes you say that?”

Lake flipped the hatch shut on top of the lightbox and took a step back. Lit from behind, the new poster depicted an image of a shimmering red wave the height of a skyscraper looming over a seaside metropolis. The title, printed in screaming orange block letters, read “HEATWAVE.” Then, in smaller letters near the top: “It’s too late to run.”

“I dunno, doesn't it feel a bit tone-deaf to you? Like, people are dying, dude.”

A few steps back, Freddie picked idly at some flaking plastic on one of the DVD cases. “Or is it timely? It's basically commentary on climate change."

“Climate change commentary should probably have fewer explosions and CGI of people being vaporized.”

“Yeah, I guess. I do think the Rock was really good in it, though. Did you watch any of his marketing interviews? He’s basically an activist at this point.”

“Okay, now you’re antagonizing me on purpose.”

“Am I antagonizing you, or am I winning this argument?”

Lake shot them a look as she rolled up the former occupant of the poster display. “If the Rock wants to be a climate activist, then he can get an environmental science degree like the rest of us. Go pick a movie or I’m gonna make you salt the sidewalks.”

“I literally don’t even work here.”

“All the more reason to go pick the movie.”

The store, as usual, was empty. Muted screens flickered movie trailers over the vast expanse of green low-pile carpet, the rows upon rows of gray shelves packed with plastic anti-theft DVD cases. Plate glass windows at the front of the store looked out onto a desolate parking lot, wet pavement glittering in the light of the towering marquee sign. 

Stowing the rolled-up poster under the front counter, Lake looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. Still an hour and a half before she could close, and no one besides Freddie had walked in the door since eight. Standard traffic for a weeknight—on nights like these, the cash deposits she took to the bank after closing were sometimes less than she got paid to be there. Oh well, she thought. At least my homework gets done.

“How about this,” called Freddie from across the store. Unseen between the high shelves, a hand shot up above them holding a DVD. Lake squinted to make it out.

“No, not that. Don’t pick something that someone would conceivably try to rent while we’re watching it,” said Lake. “I hate when people do that.”

“Okay, something else then. What about…” There was a long pause.

“Hurry up or I’m unmuting the ad reel.” Lake opened the cabinet that housed the DVD player and grabbed the remote. “I’m gonna do it!”

“ALRIGHT, Jesus, I’ll just pick one.” A second later Freddie emerged from the aisles, strode to the front and slapped a movie down on the counter. “Free her.”

With a click, Lake picked the magnetic pin out of the center of the case and removed the disc. “Priscilla,” she said. “Good choice.”

“I’m in the mood for some gay shit. Put it in.”

The movie blinked onto the screens simultaneously, spaced twenty feet apart around the perimeter of the store. While opening credits rolled, Freddie dragged two decorative chairs no one was supposed to sit in up to the registers, and the pair of them sat down.

“You brought snacks?”

“Sure did,” said Freddie, scooting a plastic bag across the carpet with their foot. “It sat in my car overnight so the candy might be a little stiff, but it’s still good. Nothing perishable.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” Lake reached inside and fished out a pack of gummy worms. “Want a Code Red or something? We had a bunch that just expired.”

“I’m good, I got coffee before I came. Probably gonna have more when I get to work.”

“When’s your shift start?”

“Eleven, I know that’s when you close so I’ll bounce before you have to lock up.”

“Didn’t you just work earlier?”

Freddie shrugged. “Yeah, noon to eight. Such is the grind.” They plucked a worm from Lake’s lap and chewed thoughtfully. “Days like this are such a bummer. Too short of a break between jobs to go home and sleep, but too long of a break to sit in my car.”

“That’s what I’m for,” said Lake. “I’m like the truck stop of people. Rest your bones, take a shower.”

Freddie just laughed. On the screens, a man in the crowd whips his beer can at Hugo Weaving. He tumbles to the floor, laughter filling the room as he rights himself and staggers away. Backstage, he pulls off his wig and cradles his head in his hand, makeup settling into the somber creases of his face. 

“Did I tell you some guy flicked his cigarette butt at my face the other day,” said Lake, staring up at the screen. “While I was getting gas.”

“Jesus, really? That’s horrible.”

“It’s fine. It’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever done to me. The look on his face hurt more.” She gestured to her own face, drew up her lip to show what she meant. It made her feel ugly to even approximate. “The sneer, you know. You get the sneer.”

“Yeah. My boss at the call center does it to me sometimes when he thinks I’m not looking.” Freddie folded their arms over their chest. “Haven’t told anyone. They’d probably just fire me to save HR the trouble.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

They fell silent as the movie filled in the gaps. Headlights flashed at their backs as cars on the road drove past, less and less frequent by the minute. Someone shoved a handful of DVDs through the drop slot with a metallic rattle but didn’t come inside. The gummy worms were depleted, and Freddie started in on a bag of spicy chips. On-screen friendships develop even as homophobic graffiti defaces the film’s titular bus between stops through the outback.

“Do you ever want more?” said Lake after a while.

“I’m good on snacks I think.”

“No, I mean—more from life.” She turned in her seat. Freddie was still looking up at the screen, a film of peach fuzz visible on their face in profile, whiskers turning gold in the light. “Do you ever feel like… I dunno. Like it’s all over?”

“You’re in college. Everyone feels that way in college.”

“Did you feel that way in college?”

Freddie shrugged, wiped red powder from their fingers onto their jeans. “Sure I did.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t really care.”

“Okay. Elaborate on that.”

“Alright.” Freddie licked their fingers and turned to face her. “Here’s the thing: in college, everyone wants something from you. And they expect something from you. And they expect you to want something, and to put effort into going for it. But once you’re out of college, the number of people around you who give a shit about that stuff drops pretty dramatically. Right now you feel like it’s all over, but you haven’t even gone anywhere. Nothing has even started.”

“What if I don’t even know what I want?” Lake thumbed a buttonhole in her cardigan. “I’m getting this degree, but now that I’m almost done, I don’t even know if I want to do anything with it.”

“You see me using my degree? I work nights at a gas station, babe.”

“But do you like that?”

“I like it enough,” said Freddie. “I like that my boss doesn’t care if I sit and draw as long as customers get helped and checklists get done. I like that when I’m done with work I get to go home and make art and play with the cat and no one can tell me what to do. Granted, I don’t like the call center,” they added, “but the money’s fine for now. It’s just a job. As long as I get to make my art and be the most authentic version of myself, then I don’t care what other people think.”

“That doesn’t feel like giving up to you?”

“Not really.” They hesitated. “You know what would feel like giving up? If I stopped making art so I could like, go into marketing. Or if I detransitioned so I could be more hireable. I’m not interested in compromising what I care about so I can want what other people think I should want.” Freddie paused again, rubbed their eye with the heel of their hand. “Or, you know, maybe I’m just a burnout, and I’m only saying that to make myself feel better. I don’t really know.” 

The two of them fell silent for a while. The movie played on. The door alarm dinged and Lake jumped to her feet, Pavlovian customer service response in action. He didn’t need any help, said the customer, and he returned to the register after a few minutes with a copy of some action blockbuster from last year and a porno. She felt his eyes on her as she pulled up his account and rang him up; a long, curious stare, like he was trying to figure something out. 

            Once he’d left, Lake glanced at the time. “You can hang out up here while I do the rest of these returns,” she said, “but you’ll probably want to head out soon. Almost closing time.”

“Already? Damn, I should have picked a shorter movie.”

“It’s cool. We can always watch the ending another time.”

“Definitely.”

Movies were scanned, then re-pinned and restored to their usual locations around the store. While she made the rounds, Lake watched out of the corner of her eye as Freddie tidied up the registers without being asked, even tying off the trash and leaving it by the door for her. When she came back to get Priscilla, she hesitated over the “eject” button, watching as the climax of the movie played out. The heroines climb up the cliffside, sweating and squinting in the sun, red dust coating their boots. At the top, they catch their breath. They are beautiful and tiny against the backdrop of the canyon, drag regalia resplendent in the setting sun. The camera pulls back, and back. 

Click. The screen went black, and the player spat out the disc.

Ten minutes before close, Lake walked Freddie to the door.

“Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“My pleasure. Just doing my part to keep you from dying of boredom.”

“Much appreciated.” Then: “Um, I wanted to say—I don’t think you’re a burnout. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I did.”

“It’s cool. I know you didn’t mean it that way.” They took a deep breath. “Anyway, let me get out of here before I make myself late. Have a good rest of your night, Lake.”

“You too, text me later.”

“Will do. See ya.”

Eleven o’clock came and went. A flurry of snow began to fall outside, downy flakes disappearing on contact with the asphalt. Lights off, alarm set, door locked, and then Lake took the drive to the bank. The cash envelope for the day contained less than forty dollars, snapped up into the overnight drop box with a clank. 

A mile down the road, Lake turned into a different lot, parked near a pump and turned off the engine. Then, in the silent car, she gazed through her windshield at the warm-lit interior of the gas station. Freddie was inside, alone at the register, staring down at the counter. A pencil moved in their hand, cutting broad strokes across a sketchbook page. They didn’t look up, focus falling completely on their work even as Lake watched them through the window. 

The sky was dark and close, snow falling fast like hyperspace stars. There probably isn’t a right answer to anything, she thought, and then it was late, and there was nothing to say. Lake drove home and went to bed, and dreamed she was climbing a mountain.

[trek-tracks]

Thanks to this beautiful post from @peridotsarelongterm and @cursedtrekedits, I bring you Mother Horta's disco hit, "No Kill I!"

I’m made of silicon, I am petrified

I will protect the children, I remain right by their side

And I have spent so many nights thinking how you did us wrong

And I grew strong

I learned to vaporize your throng

Because you’re here

From outer space

I just crawled in to find you looting all our pergium in haste

I should have melted all the rock, I should have made sure that you’d flee

If I’d have known for just one second that you’d hurt my kids and me

Go on now, go, walk out the door

Just turn around now

Because I’ll liquidate the floor

Weren’t you the one who broke my eggs and made me cry?

You think I’d crumble

You think I’m just a pizza pie?

Oh no kill I, I must survive

For as long as Horta babies hatch you know I’ll stay alive

I’ve got all my life to live

My digestion’s corrosive

So no kill I

I will survive

Hey, hey

It took all the strength I had when you zapped my hump

After I’d stolen your reactor’s circulation pump

Into the Chamber of the Ages, not to hide myself away

And now you say

That you can cure my rainy day

And you see me

Somebody new

I like your Vulcan ears but I am not in love with you

The end of things cannot begin, tomorrow’s vault contains the key

If you break hundreds of my eggs then of your men I’ll burn fifty

Go on now, go

Walk out the door

Just turn around now

Or I’ll irradiate your core

Weren’t you the one who tried to meld and shouted “pain!”

Think I’m a devil

I’ve got a heart and bigger brain

Oh no kill I, I will survive

You may see a big lasagna, I’ll get pasta you to strive

Got eternity to birth, I’m not questioning my worth

So no kill I

I will survive…

Oh…

Okay, you’ll stay

We’ll make a deal

You’ll take the minerals

That we don’t need to make a meal

I’m dancing even though you cannot see my feet

Now that your doctor 

Healed me with some concrete

You no kill I, I did survive

And we taught a moral lesson through the magic of sci-fi

Differences don’t mean wrong, that’s the Mother Horta’s song

So no kill I

I will survive

No kill I!

[efverse]

its funny bc "garchomps basically a part of the family X3" is literally and unfortunately not even true... ditto just dragged this man back into their lives bc she thought he could help eon in some way. when eon himself wouldnt have even accepted(much less OFFERED) the damn job interview to the guy....

and the older kids literally have no idea about any of this shit either. they didnt grow up w him since their parents cut him off right before vapor, jolt and flare hatched. so hes quite literally just some guy from the dragon dept to them...they may have seen him younger in like a photo or two of dittos or something but...

ev was the first one in the family since he started working at the facility that really bothered to like. get to know him(yes. ditto and eon knew him from when they were younger but they havent bothered catching up etc beyond the basics)

(this all changes over time ofc but still😭)

[lunarspiral1127]

*SPOILERS*

Okay, is it weird that the moment Howard and Darcy are having with their egg baby is kinda sweet? Again, weird couple, never would've thought it's a serious thing, but the moment when their holding each other is sweet and sad.

But, they're saved thanks to the power of music and love! I'm not kidding, they sing that KISS song, the egg glows and shoots lighting to protect its parents.....okay I dunno whether to think this is cool, or laugh at how ridiculous this is all becoming.

Oh wait, probably laugh cause the egg hatches and zaps everyone in that crowd, vaporizing them. This is also another time Thanos dies in What If. Only, Fury, Coulson, Loki, his dad, and Zeus survives. Yeah, this is definitely getting ridiculous. And the whole convergence thing was right all along.

[ditzyclown]

Some doodles from oldest to newest of some toh ocs

I might share the lore better once I get the hang at drawing them better but meanwhile just know the archivist (nicknamed vist by the baby titan they are raising who they just call BEBE cuz they are too lazy and bad with names) was once friends with a Titan, left for a bit and when they came back not only couldn't they find their friend nor any other titan and the egg his friend had was still where they had last seen it untouched

They didn't take long to put two and two together and decided to take care of the egg until it hatched. They are still rather childish and hide their tiredness with a smile (and mask) while living in constant worry of the baby accidentally vaporizing him once they get their first powers (he's a drama queen, sleep deprived and knows titans are powerful)

Edit: forgot to mention every single creature they have collected has been turned literally into a plushie. They are a plushie hoarder. "Why would I make them a piece of paper WHEN I CAN CUDDLE THEM" is their philosophy

[put-me-out-of-my-destiny]

Today, I'm making another Devil May Cry OC post. Though, depending on how you look at them, this post is actually about three OCs.

The OC in question is a human/demon hybrid similar in nature to Dante and Vergil, though their demon parent is actually a Cerberus. They weren't conceived the good-old-fashioned way, but through artificial insemination facilitated by the Antagonistic Military Organization I've mentioned before (in a series of posts linked in my pinned post, under "The Machiavelli Duology").

While the AMO doesn't covet demonic power the way the Order Of The Sword did, I don't think they're squeamish about using demonic power or even demonic labor, so long as it can be done safely (for themselves, of course, not for the demons involved).

This character's purpose is to be some kind of bodyguard. For what or for whom, I haven't decided.

Generally, they appear as a human, with the only abnormal traits being very dark green hair, sharp canines, and very unnatural eye colors (though they are rather tall at 1.996 meters, or 6 feet and 6.6 inches). While they do not have three heads like a full-blooded Cerberus, they are essentially three beings sharing a single body. They are about 21 years old as of the events of Devil May Cry 5.

While the AMO generally just refers to this character as "dog", each "head" does have their own name they use for themselves.

Chase (He/Him/His)

Chase is the head most useful to the AMO. He, as is tradition, can conjure and command ice to fire ranged attacks, to create armor for himself, and to slide around in a fashion similar to Dante's Trickster style, or perhaps like V's 'run' where he rides on top of Shadow.

He isn't necessarily loyal to their cause, in fact he doesn't ask questions about it at all. He's acutely aware that he was created to serve them, and views them as his purpose. Outwardly he's very cold and stoic, but privately he's very sad and angry about his lot in life. He can be arrogant due to his power, but he would graciously accept defeat if he lost in a fair fight.

When he is in charge, his irises are cyan.

Clementine (She/Her/Hers)

Clementine is very inconvenient for the AMO. She conjures and commands water to attack with energy waves like those produced by Drive/Overdrive/Showdown, to trap enemies in bubbles similar to those created by Geryon demons or Ragtime, and to Air Raid as though she's swimming through the air.

Clementine is strongly opposed to the AMO's cause, and wishes to stop them and secure independence for herself. She has compassion for demons and humans alike, and this includes herself and her fellow heads. She has a fun-loving attitude, and lives in the moment rather than regretting the past or worrying about the future (which may lead her to be reckless).

When she is in charge, her irises are a very deep blue.

Her body does alter itself to reflect her gender, as it belongs to her just as much as it does to Chase. This, along with her outspoken attitude, led to the AMO quickly discovering her existence.

This motivated them to engineer a collar, which suppresses Clementine, prevents Chase from accessing restricted locations or attacking AMO personnel, and can suppress his powers with the press of a button.

Cyril (They/Them/Theirs)

Unlike Clementine, the AMO doesn't know Cyril exists, as they've made a point to stay under the radar. They conjure and command vapor to scald enemies with hot steam, to shock them with storm clouds, and to Air Hike around by forming clouds beneath their feet.

Cyril is motivated mostly by self interest, and cooperates with the AMO because they're a consistent source of food and security, though perhaps they're just biding their time hatching a plot of their own. Unlike Chase, who does feel some remorse for the cruel acts he commits for the AMO, Cyril doesn't have much regard for beings they see as weaker than themselves, as is typical for demons. However, they won't go out of their way to be cruel, and wouldn't be as reluctant to turn on the AMO as Chase.

When they are in charge, their irises are pure white.

Their body usually stays in whichever form the previous head to be in charge left it in, as they have no strong preference between the two states (though they do get a kick out of having boobs).

Cyril and Clementine would be willing to cooperate to resist the AMO, and Clementine could convince Chase to act on his conscience rather than his loyalty. She's sort of a mediating force between the two, and is the best head to be considered "in charge".

Besides the trio's command over water in its various states, I can imagine they can transform into a large demonic dog (still with just one head) at will for an alternate set of attacks. On top of this, I like the thought of them having access to a Doppelganger-like state where all three "heads" can be active at once (perhaps attained with a shard of Yamato's original blade, like the one Balrog used to enter the Human World?). Their ultimate power would be their "true form", where they essentially become a werewolf that can access their human and dog movesets with the benefits that would be expected from a standard Devil Trigger.

As for their power level, I think they can defeat King Cerberus, though not as easily as Dante, mainly due to the advantage of formal combat training. They'd ultimately lose if they challenged Trish or Lucia (and even Lady if she knew what she was up against), and they wouldn't stand a chance against Nero, let alone Dante or Vergil.

All that's left to answer is, how would the trio get along with the main cast?

Dante would really feel for chase. He knows what it's like to feel unworthy of love or happiness. At the same time, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if it proved necessary. Clementine would admire Dante a lot, and I think he and Cyril could hang out (though perhaps they'd challenge Dante's appetite, hogging the pizza is a grave offense to him).

Trish and Clementine would get along, and Trish wouldn't mind Cyril so long as they behaved themself. She would probably have the most patience for Chase, given that she also used to be on the wrong side, and changed her path because someone showed her compassion.

Lucia would be vehemently opposed to the AMO, in part due to their association with the Uroboros Corporation, and like Dante, she'd be willing to kill Chase despite her sympathy for him. Clementine would also admire her, though she'd be saddened by her anxiety about her demonic nature. I think Lucia would dislike Cyril for leaning into such a demonic "might-makes-right" attitude.

Lady and Chase could work well together if they were on the same side. Clementine would feel really gay for her. Cyril would dislike her, she's a hardass like everyone in the AMO, but she has a strong (and annoying) moral compass too.

Cyril's selfishness would remind Vergil too much of his youth, it would make him cringe. He and Chase could comfortably coexist in the same space without making conversation. I don't think there'd be any strong feelings, positive or negative, between him and Clementine.

Nero and Chase would initially butt heads, but I could see them finding common ground and growing to be close friends over time. He and Clementine could also get along, they're both rebels. Cyril is on very thin ice with him, Cyril thinks he's a hardass.

Chase would remind Kyrie a little bit of Credo. Not sure if that means she'd like him or if that means she'd be cautious around him. He'd like her, though, Nero's a lucky man. Clementine and Cyril would be good influences on her, encouraging her to think, speak, and act for herself.

Nico and Clementine would get along really really well. Dream blunt rotation. She and Cyril could hang out too, and she'd even get a kick out of pushing Chase's buttons (he'd warm up to her with time, though).

And, as a bonus, how they'd get along with my other OCs:

Slink (see this post) would find Chase very intimidating. He'd get along with Cyril at first, but they exhibit a lot of the attitudes that made living in the Underworld a nightmare for Slink. Clementine's the only one who Slink would really like, but even then he'd be worried about her leading trouble to his doorstep.

Bhumi (see this post) would relate strongly to Clementine, being the big sister who had to step up and take care of her little brothers. She'd be more tolerant of Cyril's flaws, due to just how common they are in the Underworld. I don't think she'd feel very strongly about Chase.

Varuna (see the post linked with Bhumi) would get along really well with Clementine, their personalities match up just like their elements. He could have fun with Cyril too. He and Chase would clash, though, he's kind of a stick in the mud.

Aphrodite (see this post) could get along with anyone Nico can get along with. Though, perhaps Chase would side with Lady when she questions Nico's choice to date a devil arm, let alone one created by the same guy who created Artemis, which possessed Lady for a whole month (and that's not to mention Machiavelli's involvement with the AMO). Clementine would encourage Nico to follow her heart and not to judge Aphrodite for where she comes from, and Cyril simply wouldn't give a shit.

Kyrie's minions (look under "The one where Kyrie gains her own demonic minions, like V's familiars, but based on bosses from Devil May Cry 4" in my pinned post) would generally share Kyrie's feelings toward the trio, and would agree with Clementine and Cyril that Kyrie should be a little more selfish.

[mamawasatesttube]

TTK anon here! basically my question is, ttk means Tactile Telekinesis, so it's telekinesis that only works when touching an object. you could make it that if Kon is touching object, A, and A is touching object B, his ttk can still affect B, right?

basically my question is that, why do you sometimes write his ttk as normal telekinesis? like in amok Tim, when Kon gets him a glass of water, it floats through the air towards them, which is how normal telekinesis works, and with how I vision TTK working, it would rather slide over the countertop towards them, bc Kon is touching the floor, floor is touching the counter, and the glass is on the counter. do you, in contrast, think of it as Kon is touching the air, and the air is touching the glass, so TTK can work on it?

I don't want this question to come off as if I'm criticizing how you write TTK, hence the disclaimer I sent earlier 😅 I LOVE your writing, that's just a question that stuck with me after reading, and I wanted to ask you how you write the limits, or lack thereof, of TTK

sdjkf no worries bud!!! apologies for the delay, i had to wait to get back to my laptop so i could get the caps i wanted to answer with.

but yeah in essence, i think an adult, fully-realized kon who's had ample time to actually practice and hone his ttk would be able to use it through air as well. he can chain it through solids or through liquids already when he's freshly hatched, like you said, but he also does some simple stuff involving wind movement too (for example in sb94 #1 itself he's already sandbending) (this you could argue as being more particulate manipulation than air manipulation, but i think the root of the concept is the same):

but by post-sb94, in batgirl 2000 #41 he's manipulating water vapor to sculpt clouds into a castle dense enough for cass to stand on:

and given that in sb94 itself we see that he has the range and finesse at least on the subconscious level to dismantle every single gun in los angeles, i think it's a reasonable assumption to make that by the time he's an adult, he'd very easily be able to use his aura through the air to manipulate a space he's fully familiar with.

[kybercrystals94]

You Can Trust Me

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 2|Prompt:Delirium

Bad Things Happen Bingo|Prompt:Mind Games

Rating: T

(CW: non consensual drug use)

Words: 1,282

Summary: Captured and drugged, Tech struggles to grasp reality.

TECH

General Skywalker’s voice calls over the din of blaster fire, “Tech, open that door for Rex!”

“Yes, sir!” Tech responds instantly, darting across the open to the sealed entrance. After a moment, Rex is at his shoulder, exchanging rounds with the enemy, covering Tech as he splices into the system. This feels familiar, Tech thinks distantly, the door sliding open at his hacked instruction.

Tech scans the room. This is where the signal came from. Echo has to be here, if there is any physical form of Echo to find at all. Tech approaches a large cylindrical contraption inset within the wall, sleek and awful. Familiar...why is this familiar? His scan shows that something warm-blooded and alive is tucked inside. A heavy, knotted thing forms in his stomach. “I don’t like the look for this. I’m definitely picking up a life-form in there. It seems to be a stasis chamber.”

Rex approaches the device like it might lash out. Tech cannot see the reg captain’s facial expression because of the helmet, but his body language practically screams trepidation.

Tech goes to the controls, glancing over them briefly to familiarize himself. “I think I can get it open.” His mind processes faster than even his fingers can move, but within seconds, the chamber is hissing as it unseals, icy vapor billowing from the now open hatch. A figure falls forward, grey – almost bloodless – skin stretched thin over sharp bones. Despite his shrunken structure, familiar clone eyes stare out, open but unseeing, flitting rapidly.

Echo...Tech thinks, horror stuttering his thoughts. I know him...he’s my friend. Why do I know him?

Rex’s voice rallies Tech back. The man is holding Echo stable so that his body isn’t pulling against the tubes and wires literally latched into the broken frame of their brother. “Tech, we got to get him out of here. Figure out how to unplug him from...from this mess!” Rex is lowering Echo to the ground, holding him in his arms, whispering words Tech can’t hear.

But Tech wants to comfort Echo too, feels as though he needs to rush to his side, hold him companionably as Rex is doing now. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it happened. I didn’t know Echo before Skako Minor...I shouldn’t remember this. It hasn’t happened yet. Something is wrong.

Suddenly, Echo is gasping, eyes now seeing but wild with panic. It sounds like he’s suffocating.

“What’s happening to him?” Rex cries, pulling Echo up against him, “Do something, Tech! What is wrong with him?”

Tech falls next to them with his med scanner, his hands are shaking so badly he can barely get a reading. Echo is dying. His body is shutting down. He isn’t going to make it.

No...this isn’t what happened. This isn’t how it happened! Echo is fine. He’s going to join the Batch, he’s going to be my brother...he can’t die.

Echo’s frantic gaze meets Tech’s, a single tear tracking down the ashen skin of his cheek. “Tech,” he gasps, the word barely taking shape in his shallow, choking breaths. “It’s going to be okay. Can you hear me, Tech?” The words are garbled but distantly clear, like hearing a voice through water. “Tech?”

Tech shakes his head. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. This shouldn’t be happening.

With one last, gargled breath, Echo says, “Tech,” and his body goes still.

Tech reaches out, but he can’t bring himself to touch the dead form of his friend, his brother, his confidant. This isn’t right. We saved him. We saved him!

ECHO

The cell door is easy to hack, almost an insult to security systems, but Echo doesn’t have time to relish the ease with which he scomps in and undoes the lock. The door opens and Echo steps inside. He instantly finds Tech, curled in the corner, arms folded over his face protectively.

Echo taps his comm. “Hunter, I found Tech. Sending our location now. I’ll need help getting him back to the Marauder.”

Echo doesn’t wait for a response, rushing to his youngest brother. He kneels and puts a hand on Tech’s arm. “Tech,” he says, alarmed when his voice causes Tech to flinch and pull away from his touch. “It’s going to be okay. Can you hear me, Tech? Tech?” As gently as he can, he pries Tech’s arms away from his face. “Tech,” he says again when he sees that Tech’s eyes are open, his face frozen in an expression of displacement.

Tech’s eyes gloss over him with a look of stricken uncertainty. “Echo?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Echo says, pulling off his helmet. “Are you alright? Do you remember what happened?”

Tech doesn’t seem to hear him or comprehend the question. He scrambles to a sitting position, reaching out his hands. Echo resists the urge to recoil in surprise when Tech begins to trace his face with trembling fingers. Then they fall to grip Echo’s cuirass. “You’re really here?” Tech breathes the question on an exhale, his familiar tone tattered with fraught emotion.

“I’m here, brother,” Echo says, resting his flesh hand against the back of Tech’s neck, pulling him forward until their foreheads press together.

“You’re real?” Tech reiterates, the words barely audible.

But Echo hears them. “I’m real. You’re safe.”

Tech’s resolve crumbles then, and he begins to sob, clutching to Echo like Echo will simply melt away if he lets go. “I’m sorry,” Tech cries. “I’m so sorry.”

Echo moves his arms around Tech, embracing him, holding him steady. He hushes him soothingly. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Hunter should be here soon, and we’ll go back to the Marauder. We’ll get off this karking planet and never come back.”

Tech nods, tears leaking from under his goggles, and Echo holds him tighter. He hopes that Tech can’t feel the thunder of his heart under his armor. He isn’t sure what the drug made Tech see or believe, but what if there is residual damage even after they flush the toxin from his system? PTSD doesn’t sit well with the Kaminoans. While the Batch has done a decent job of hiding Echo’s…what if Tech’s is different?

Don’t think like that. Tech hasn’t even been treated yet, he reminds himself.

“Here,” Echo says, pulling back, but Tech clings to him almost aggressively, refusing to loosen his grip for even a moment. “Let’s sit against the wall. We’ll be more comfortable.”

Tech considers, breaths still hitching in gasps. “Yes,” he agrees after a moment, allowing Echo to shift and sit beside him. Once Echo has settled, Tech burrows under his arm. He feels smaller, somehow, in this state. Like a child. It reminds Echo of Ashoka, back when she would find herself tucked into Rex’s side after a particularly difficult mission.

“How’re you feeling,” Echo asks when he notices that Tech’s breathing has evened out a little.

Tech pushes himself impossibly closer into Echo’s side. Echo can’t imagine it’s comfortable with his cybernetics and armor jammed against Tech’s ribs; however, maybe that is the grounding Tech needs to know that this is real. “I don’t understand,” Tech says in a soft voice, “On Skako Minor...I couldn’t save you. You died. How are you here?”

“But you did save me, vod’ika,” Echo says gently, “I’m okay. I’m here and I’m real. You were captured and given a drug that causes hallucinations and extreme emotional distress. It’s taking your memories and contorting them.”

Tech shudders. “Then how do I know this is real?”

Echo considers for a moment. “Because I know it is, and you can trust me, Tech’ika. Everything is going to be okay.”

END

End Notes:

vod'ika = little sibling

Tech'ika = affectionate nickname for Tech (like saying 'Little Tech')

[sagebriarspoets]

The Sourceless Fear

The house I was renting was small, almost unfurnished, but affordable. It had a front porch with wooden railings, the steps leading down to the sidewalk flanked by two pillars, all of it painted white years ago with a color that didn’t last. It was cracking, flaking, but I liked it. It was home. And right now it was surrounded by police cars and an ambulance. 

“Mr. McLeod?” The woman pronounced my last name mack-lee-ode.

“It’s mick-loud,” I said. “Callum McLeod, just use my first name.”

“Mr. Callum-”

“No ‘mister,’ please.”

“Alright.” The stranger took a second to recompose herself. “Callum, can I have a moment of your time?”

The words “you just did” floated at the front of my mind, but never made it past my lips. Instead, I said nothing and only nodded my head.

“My name is Sheridan, I work with the Gaffney Palantir. Have you heard of us?”

“Paranormal journalist?” I asked, dread mingling with fury in my gut.

“I prefer investigative journalist, but sure.”

I turned to look at her but it was late at night and the strobing lights from the police cruisers were my only source of light. I stared at her through the red and blue metronomic flashes, the colors making her look almost like two different people. In the blue glow I could see the worry and sadness in her eyes and an apologetic smile at the corner of her mouth. It was the face of someone who was excited by a story but shared sympathetic regret that I was the one who it happened to. The red glow that lapped against her pushed away the blue like a tide rising over the sand. There was a ferocity in her stare, just underneath the sympathy, and her lips had pressed together in a tight line. She had a face of restraint, of trying to mask a savage determination.

“And they just let you over here?” I asked, giving a lethargic wave towards the EMTs and police officers gathered around the front porch of my yard.

“Did Liam Dunn kill himself?” she asked.

I let a short moment pass before I sighed, closed my eyes, and bobbed my head once.

“No,” she said. “I mean, did he kill himself… or did something make him?”

My thoughts in the darkness of concentration swung in a nauseating pendulum to the tune of the police cruiser’s lights as they penetrated the lids of my closed eyes. Red, blue; kindness, ferocity; left, right; answers, truth. My lips parted, and nothing came out but a vaporous cloud of hot breath.

“Just tell me what happened,” she said. Her voice softened from investigator to protector. “I don’t need to know how sane you are or aren’t, I don’t even need your opinion, I just need to know the facts. Don’t explain anything unexplainable, just… talk. Out loud. Not even to me if it's easier that way. Just tell me what you saw, and you alone.”

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Here we go. “There’s… there’s a scuttle to the attic that can’t be passed. Just… because. I mean, I took a ladder to it one day, but climbing inside is like trying to surface from a winter lake through thick sheets of ice. You just get this unexplainable… feeling. You get scared, but not just regular scared.” My thoughts hitched as I thought about the first time - the only time - I tried to go in. “Does that make sense?”

“Scared how?” Sheridan asked.

I thought about that hallway where so little had happened. And then so much had happened. The beige walls probably had drying blood on them. The cream-colored carpet was probably ruined, but it was nylon so it wouldn’t be too expensive to clean or replace. The attic, though… it would always be there. And I would always remember how it felt to try going up.

“No, never mind,” I said. “That’s not a good word. It isn’t just being scared, it’s…”

In my memory I step on the stepladder’s first rung, one of six, and a wave of chills flows through me. “Fear.”

I’m on the second rung and my stomach twists into a painful knot. “Nausea.”

Third, and I can’t breathe anymore. “The air gets thinner.”

Fourth rung, my arm is always stretching further for the hatch but never reaching it. “Distance stops making sense.”

Fifth, I finally make contact with the drywall panel and ice flows from my fingertips down through the veins in my arm, speeding towards my heart. “You feel yourself dying.”

Sixth rung, the last one on the ladder. I push. “It pushes back.” That was as close as I got. I remember swallowing, but the lining of my throat is too dry and it feels like I’m trying to swallow sand. I take an involuntary step down the ladder, and never go back again. “It’s terror,” I tell Sheridan. “Pure terror.”

“Of what? Is something inside?”

“Hell if I know,” I said. “I can’t get in. No one can. Or, I guess, maybe… maybe no one can get out. Maybe it keeps something in.” It sounded ominous in my head, but when I said the words out loud I just felt stupid, hysterical. “It doesn’t really matter. The bottom line is that we can never know what's in there because no one can… ‘pass the threshold,’ I guess.” An image flashed through my mind, a picture of Liam, of how he looked the last time I saw him alive. I started to get nauseous. “Except Liam. But it’s not like you can ask him what was in there.”

“How do you know no one can get in?” Sheridan asked. “How many people tried?”

I looked up at the reporter again, but she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her face was pointed down, transfixed on a pad of paper as she scribbled notes in some undecipherable shorthand. She glanced up once, but not at me. She was keeping an eye on the officers, the ones who probably don’t want her here.

“Not sure about the exact number,” I said. “Probably around forty? I, uhm… I charged people to try.”

The scribble of pencil against paper paused. She bobbed her head to the side and back in a quick motion, as if she had dislodged a thought from it. “Gotta make ends meet,” she said. “Did you advertise?”

“No. I threw an evening party and when everyone was drunk, or at least getting there, I made an announcement. ‘Everyone who wants to get into the attic gives me twenty to try. If you get in, I give you one hundred, if you don’t then I keep the twenty.’

“The first guy, Adrian; professional weight lifter. He was ripped, so much that he almost looked fake, you know? Like those people on the front of weight loss ads who get their physique from ‘roids. He thought the attic was just blocked by something heavy. I set the ladder up, and he couldn’t do it. The others asked him why. Adrian is a good man - proud, but not arrogant - he admitted that he was too scared. That drew some interest. Then… Well, I made almost twelve-hundred dollars that night, most of it from people who needed to try more than once.”

“Is Mr. Dunn one of the people you charged to try?” Sheridan asked. “One of the people who went more than once?”

“Liam was my best customer,��� I said. Using that word, customer, I almost gagged. I felt disgusting, deranged, as if I had killed him with my own two hands. I could have tried harder to stop him, but instead I just took his money.

“How many times did he try that night?”

“None,” I said. “He wasn’t there; couldn’t make it. He’s a huge skeptic, so when Adrian ended up telling him the story, Liam came to my house the next weekend asking if he could try. He paid, couldn’t make it, and asked me to wait until he got back. He left and came back with a stack of twenties and a duffel bag of gadgets.”

“Gadgets?” Sheridan asked.

“I don’t know, electronics. Stuff I didn’t recognize and some camera equipment.”

“And the camera?”

“I told him he couldn’t use it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s my home. I didn’t want crowds of people here asking to investigate it.”

Sheridan looked up at me for a moment, then over her shoulder at the crime scene behind her. “Shit luck,” she said.

I almost laughed. I wanted to, but somehow it felt like spitting on Liam. It didn’t feel right - laughing at something, anything, while his lifeless body hadn’t even turned cold. Instead, I made a noncommittal grunt.

“How many tries before Mr. Dunn made it in?”

I shook my head. “No idea. He must have tried a hundred times since last December.”

Sheridan looked up from her notes. “That’s two months ago.”

“I know,” I said. “He was here every day. As soon as I got out of class, as soon as I was off work, as soon as I got back from studying, he was always there on my porch, flapping an envelope at me. I told him to stop, I got scared someone was gonna think I was a drug dealer or something, but he never did. He was always there. Like… like some stray animal I fed one too many times.”

Sheridan nodded, as if she understood his motivation. “Did he ever explain why he needed to know so badly?”

“He tried,” I said. “But I didn’t care. It was an attic, one I couldn’t get inside of, and if I asked too many questions or got too involved it would get in the way of my school and my job.”

“So you just… didn’t care?” Sheridan asked. It was the first time during the conversation that skepticism slipped its way into her voice. “You weren’t at all bothered by this supernatural thing in your house that used raw terror to keep everyone out?”

“Rent is high, I graduate next year, I gotta put food on my table,” I waved around at nothing. “And, stuff, you know? Other stuff. I don’t have the time to be curious, I’m too busy trying to keep my head above water.”

Sheridan worked her jaw like she was chewing the inside of her cheek. After a few seconds she asked, “What kind of things did Mr. Dunn say when he tried to talk to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He would just kind of… think out loud. Verbal processing, yeah?” I could remember that wild gleam in his eyes that hadn’t quite turned to lunacy yet. I remember Liam stumbling over his own words as he tried to get me to speculate with him, to think his thoughts. “He asked who built the place, who was renting it to me, who lived there before me, stuff I told him he could look up online. Then he started asking me what I thought would happen if someone demolished the house, what measures I had taken to get into the attic, stuff I didn’t care to try and things I knew would eat away at my sleep and my sanity if I let them into my head.”

“Sounds like a heavy thinker,” Sheridan said, and I could hear the admiration for him in her voice. Admiration… for the thing that got him killed. It fouled the air around me like the smell of rot in a damp room. “What kind of stuff did he try?” she asked.

“He said he tried pushing the hatch open with a long pole - he wanted to put a camera on a selfie stick and put it up there. He brought a drone over once and had it circle the roof of the house trying to get a look inside, but the only window into the attic is painted black. I woke up one night to him throwing rocks at the window, trying to break it open.”

“Did he?”

“Did he what?” I asked. “Break the window? Hell no – I wouldn’t let him. He cracked it before I stopped him, though. There’s a draft now.”

“Did the trick with the pole work?” Sheridan asked.

“I didn’t let him try that either,” I said.

“Why?”

“I was scared it would work.”

“What did you think he would find?”

“I was scared he would manage to move the panel, wouldn’t find anything, then no one would ever be able to close the damn thing back. But he did it anyway, eventually.”

I glanced over Sheridan’s shoulder and saw a police officer heading our way. I couldn’t tell if he noticed the journalist or not, but he was coming to talk to me at least. His steps were slow, methodical, heavy. His gait was offset by the apathetic atmosphere. There’s no need to hurry, it seemed to say, the only person in danger here is already dead so just take it easy, big guy. A noise came from the porch, metal contours unfolding and plastic wheels rattling over wood panel flooring. The police officer turned to see what it was. A gurney came out of the front door, burdened by a white sheet tucked into a Liam shape. One of the EMTs appeared behind it and flagged down the officer for help getting the gurney down the stairs. The officer turned and started walking away from us.

I looked back at Sheridan, her eyes were also on the retreating officer and her stance had changed. She looked like a cat, muscles tense and posture primed to flee at the first sign of danger. She looked back at me and asked, “Did all of his research interfere with his job?”

I got closer to a laugh this time, a short exhalation from my nose. “Yeah, he lost it.”

“He was fired?” Sheridan asked.

“Yup. Got laid off, his girlfriend broke up with him, he got evicted, and drained his savings trying to get into the attic.” Sheridan didn’t saything. She had responded to everything with a professional quickness, making use of every spare second she had before some official ushered her away from the scene, away from me, away from her story… but the silence in her stare said the one thing she wouldn’t. And you just took it all? I sighed. “I felt awful about it,” I said. “Not that it makes it any better. But I did stop him, eventually. Just… I couldn’t keep letting him do it to himself, but I needed the money, too. So I tried to get most of it back to him and told him he couldn’t come around anymore.”

“You ‘tried?’” Sheridan asked.

“He wouldn’t take his own money back.” I said.

“You tried to give back ‘most’ of it?”

“Fuck you.”

“How did he react to being told he couldn’t come back?”

“How do you think?” I waved at the web of yellow tape wrapped around the columns of my porch. “He came back.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him I was gonna file a restraining order.”

“I imagine he didn’t take that very well.”

I shook my head. “You have no idea.”

“Give me one.” She said, and something in her voice made me want to. Maybe it was some latent power that journalists have, or maybe I was still trying to process my new traumas, but whatever it was it worked.

Memories of yesterday had been on repeat in my head for the last several hours, but I still had trouble focusing on them. They were quiet memories compared to his screams. I let them roll once again through my mind and tried to describe what I saw.

“Liam came to my house yesterday,” I said. “He told me he was back to take me up on the offer, to try one more time, then take his money, and then to move on with his life. I told him I thought he was doing the right thing and I let him into my house. I shut the door, he locked it. Then he pulled a gun on me.” Sheridan whispered a low curse under her breath, but I didn’t hear which one. It didn’t matter. I kept going.

“Liam took me to the bathroom and handcuffed me to my own toilet.” I said. I rubbed my bruised wrists while I spoke. “He went into the hallway and was quiet for hours. If I had to guess, he was staring at the attic, trying to go in, paralyzed in its presence like every other time before. Then he left my house. Heard the front door open and shut. I called out for help, screamed, but no one heard me… or no one cared. Liam showed back up an hour later with a duffel bag, just like that first day. He must have loaded the thing down because he was practically dragging it through the house. It looked too heavy to pick up and I could see some pieces of lumber sticking out one end where he couldn’t get the bag’s zipper to shut all the way. He took the whole bundle into the hall, I heard it unzip, and then he started building.”

“Building?” Sheridan asked.

“Yeah, building.” I said. “I heard a hammer, power tools, other things. I couldn’t tell you what, I was too busy contemplating all the life decisions that led to me dying with my face in the back of my toilet.”

“How long did he leave you there?”

“Long enough,” I said. “I got a good look at that toilet. It was dirty, splattered with dried urine stains, a few pubic hairs clinging to the porcelain. I thought about all of the times I was gonna clean the toilet and never did, of all the lame excuses I made to blow it off for another day, of how I had no idea I’d die with my face just inches away from it. Before Liam came back into the bathroom and uncuffed me, I had gone through every memory I spent on that toilet. It was surreal, watching my life since I moved here flashing before my eyes, but only in the context of the bathroom.

“I had a housewarming party, one my friends threw for me when I first moved, they brought a ton of drinks. I spent the next morning huddled at the foot of that toilet so I could puke into it every ten minutes. I had the flu one time, sat on it and didn’t have the strength to get up again. I watched Netflix on my phone, waiting to feel better but never getting there, just burning through a half season of some show I don’t even remember until my legs went numb. I dated a girl for a while, once - it didn’t work out - I remember forgetting my phone, though, when I went to use the bathroom and just looking around the room to kill the time until I was done. I found a pregnancy test in the bathroom trash can. I can hardly remember a time I ever felt so scared, and that includes Liam pointing a gun in my face.

“I guess none of that matters, though. He came back, eventually. He told me I was going to help him get inside the attic, and then he would leave me alone forever. He had gotten the hatch open with a long pole, and stuck his camera up in the space. He showed me the pictures, but there was nothing in them. It was an empty attic like any other - just a dark crawlspace lined with old fiberglass insulation. There wasn’t so much as an empty box up there. He shouted at me, commanded me to look harder, begged me in tears to be honest with him and tell him what I saw, but he just wouldn’t believe me when I said it was empty. He went through the full spectrum of human emotion right there in front of me, just having a complete emotional and mental breakdown while he dangled a loaded gun next to my head. I think he forgot he was even holding it.”

I paused. Sheridan had been silent, taking notes and paying attention. She knew I was gathering myself together for the next part, psyching myself up for it, but she also started to look aggravated or nervous. Or both. She was on limited time and needed the end of this story for her article. I was eager to skip as much of this part as I could. “How much do you know about what happened next?” I asked.

“I overheard it was a suicide,” Sheridan said. “Another person said it was involuntary.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right. He went on the roof while I was locked in the bathroom, drilled a little hole and fed a rope through it. He, uh… I guess set up some kind of pulley system or something like that? He had a harness on - like a climber’s harness, you know the type - and he had built a crude crank out of the lumber he brought. He had everything connected, kept me at gunpoint, and told me to hoist him into the attic or he would shoot me. So I grabbed the crank.”

“Did he say what he saw?” Sheridan asked.

“He didn’t get all the way in,” I said. “Not that first time, anyway. He started screaming and thrashing and told me to stop so I cranked backwards to lower him. As soon as his feet touched the carpet he yelled at me, demanding to know why I quit pulling him up. I told him that he said to stop. This guy tells me, ‘we’re gonna try again and no matter what happens do not stop pulling me up.’ Then he said, this guy really said, ‘If you drop me again, no matter how much I beg you to, I will shoot you.’ I could see the insanity in his eyes, so I cranked. He started screaming again, begging me to drop him. I didn’t. When he realized I really wasn’t going to stop he tried to shoot me anyway. He missed, but he shot at me. I should have done something, anything, but I was scared shitless. I just stopped cranking and dropped to the floor. I curled up into a ball, hands over my head, and waited to die.”

“That’s when someone called the police?” Sheridan asked.

“I guess so,” I said. “The gun was so loud, louder than the movies, you know? I swear everyone in the neighborhood could have, or should have, heard it go off. But I don’t really know, I guess. My ears were ringing, my heart pounding, and I could smell something in the air, like the gunpowder or something. I couldn’t think straight because a madman was going to kill me in my own home and I was too scared to even run out of his line of fire. But guns are loud, yeah, so I guess someone heard it go off and called nine-one-one. Liam calmed down after a moment and talked to me like I was a dog he had just slapped. He was trying to be kind, gentle, to coax me back up off the floor like he didn’t just try to kill me. He even tossed his gun down the hall, pleading with me to look how he was putting his trust in me for this one thing, this one last thing. I just… did what he told me to do.”

My face burned red with shame, I felt heat behind my eyes and the quiver in my throat that threatened to turn into heavy sobs.

“Did he tell you what he saw?” Sheridan asked.

“He didn’t have time.” I said. The memory was bright, painfully clear as it unfolded before me. “I wish I had done something different, but I was terrified. So instead of running for the gun or the door I just cranked. I cranked as fast as I could, trying to get him in before he started his thrashing again. I cranked hard and fast until his head made it past the threshold. As soon as it did, he…”

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t go on.

I couldn’t say it.

I did the best I could. “He killed himself,” I said. “End of story.”

“How?” Sheridan asked. “How did he kill himself? He didn’t have the gun anymore, he was strung up in a harness.”

I looked at Sheridan. I tried to meet her eyes, to see what inside there would so casually ask me to describe something like that. Was this story good enough for her? Would it make her famous, rich, give her the satisfaction she craved? Would it be enough to prove herself past whatever doubts she might hold about her journalistic abilities? Would it get her away from whatever she was running from or bring her to whatever she was chasing down? Would it be everything she ever wanted?

Would Sheridan finally be happy when I describe Liam’s cries of pain and wails of terror gurgling in his throat? The sound of him spitting out his own tongue after chewing it off? The desperate gulps and wretches as he inhaled his own blood to drown himself? The indescribable sounds of his fingernails digging his own eyes out of his head?

Would that be enough for her? Did she want to hear all about the blood pouring from Liam’s blue face? The red, the blue, the red, blue-

“Officer!” I called out. One of them turned and began to jog my direction.

“Shit,” Sheridan hissed. “Thanks, asshole. Call me when you realize no one else will believe any of this.”

Something brushed the palm of my hand. I looked down at a slip of paper with an email address and phone number. “No thanks,” I said as I stretched out my hand to give it back. But I was too late, I was handing the paper to an empty space that was flashing blue, then red, then blue, then red. Sheridan was gone. As the officer reached me, hand on the butt of his gun, looking around for threats, I folded the paper in half and slid it into my pocket.

[progfessor-dyke]

Top Ten Al Fun Facts for my Birthday:

10. I am fond of breathing O2 in its gaseous form. Some other gases I like to inhale include Nitrogen, Carbon Dioxide, and trace amounts of Argon and Water Vapor.

9. I primarily consume H2O in its fluid form.

8. I was Born. Not hatched. Not created. I gestated in someone with a uterus for approximately nine Human Months, exiting out the birthing canal on this date nineteen Earth Years ago.

7. I do not undergo photosynthesis and require Sustenance to continue functioning.

6. I enjoy Walking. And. Experiencing Sounds for my pleasure. And. Using this device which I hold between my dig—- fingers.

5. My organic form needs to be Clad against the elements.

4. I require approximately 8-10 Human Hours of Sleep Cycle in each Earth Day. I find this to be highly inefficient.

3. Interaction with other Humans is vital to functioning. Unfortunately.

2. I have the ability to reproduce and continue the survival of my species. I do not want to.

1. I have Cake 🍰

[sanvirtheobserver]

Taking Flight, Chapter 57: They Are Here, Part 2

The air grows still just beyond the town of Bloopersville, with everyone having barricaded themselves in their homes. The vapors from the crater have expanded to a thick fog. Tari and the others keep their weapons at the ready as they enter a circle formation. FM makes sure to keep Minion close as he racks a fresh shell into the chamber of his shotgun.

Tari: I'm starting to think Mario was onto something.

Everyone remains on high alert, keeping the formation tight as they carefully scan through the haze.

Meggy: I just hope it's not angry. Or hungry.

Mario: Now I want barbecue.

Rapid footsteps can be heard as a shadow darts through the mist.

FM: HEY! STOP RIGHT THERE OR I'LL SHOOT!

Minion: Wait! Maybe it comes in peace. HELLO? MR. ALIEN? ARE YOU HERE TO EAT US?

There's the footsteps again.

Minion: Huh. Maybe he's just shy.

FM: Sounded like it was heading for the town. Minion, you stay here with Tari. Meggy, Bob, on me!

The three venture out of the formation and head towards the town. Bob is starting to get a little tense with every peak around the corner.

FM: You see anything?

Bob carefully looks across the street. A slimy trail leads behind one of the houses.

Bob: This way!

The three close in on the corner. Bob primes his guns as he gets in closer. A shape can be seen coming into view.

Meggy: What the hell?

Back at the crater, Tari examines the hollow shell. The inside was coated in a pale green oil with an extremely strong stench. She breaks off a piece of the shell. It was much softer now as it crumbled in her hand like old wax.

Tari: Hm........

Meanwhile, Meggy and Minion are having some Uncle-Niece bonding time with a board game. Mario rolls a die that lands on the number five. prompting him to move his knight in front of his row of pawns. Minion draws a three-of-diamonds, allowing her to gain an extra queen on the field. Looks like she has the upper hand now as she rolls a three and places a rook on the front line. But Mario manages to draw a king before getting a six, allowing him to instantly claim Minion's king.

Minion: D'aww.

Mario: HAHA! Better luck next time!

Meggy: GUYS!

Tari pops out of the crater in time to see the others come back. She's surprised to see a familiar little Mushroom boy with them, covered in slime and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

Tari: Oh my goodness......... Shroomy?

Mario: What's he doing here?

Meggy: We found him like this in town. Looks like he was what came out of that thing when it hatched.

Tari walks up to the wide-eyed and shaky boy.

Tari: Shroomy? It's okay. You're safe now.

Shroomy: They........ they tried to take me........

Tari: Who did?

Shroomy: THEM! Ancient deacons from the deepest abyss of creation, who bend the stars to their will!

He begins running around the group like a maniac, frantically screaming to the top of his lungs.

Shroomy: THEY ARE COMING FOR US ALL !

He stops for a moment before collapsing onto his back out of exhaustion. The group gathers the collapsed boy scout with an air of confusion and concern.

Mario: Well, he's lost it. Anyone wanna grab a burger?

FM: What the hell was He even talking about?

Bob: We all know damn well what! As much as I hate to say it....... Mario was right. Boopkins has been abducted by aliens, and now they've set up shop in his house!

Shroomy rears himself up and grabs Mario by the collar.

Shroomy: Be careful my friends, lest they imprison you in cocoons to save you for their Jumbalaya!

Mario: Oh, that sounds tasty!

Bob: THAT'S IT!

He reloads his SMGs and immediately starts looking for a car to hot wire.

Tari: Bob, wait! Where are you going?

Bob: To save my best friend! I'm gonna bust down that front door and blow those extraterrestrial asshats full of holes! I don't care how many there are, I'll kick as much ass as I have to!

Meggy: Okay, let's say there ARE aliens over there. Do you seriously expect to take them all on by yourself? The only thing you might accomplish is winding up like Shroomy........ or worse.

Bob: What the hell do you expect me to do? I can't just leave him there! Either you load up or step aside! I don't care which.

FM: Alright, alright! Let's calm down. Now, as much as I like your attitude, I gotta agree with Meggy here. Whatever is in that house, we have no idea what these things are or what they're capable of. We're gonna need more expertise on this matter.

He brings out a cellphone and makes a quick call.

FM: Hi. I'd like some assistance with a potential alien invasion, please?............ Somewhere on the coast, at a friend's house......... Alright, meet me here in Bloopersville and I'll lead the way........... thank you sir.

A spectacular sight unfolds on the freeway as a campervan barrels down the road, crashes through a barricade of police cars, ramps off a cliff with a 360 degree nosedive top spin, lands on Old Man Hobo, breaks through the gates of Argent D'nur, kneecaps a Balrog, and erupts out of the ground before slowing down and coming to a stop right in front of the group........ and then explodes. Now everybody's just confused.

Meggy: What.......... just happened?

From the smoke and flames emerges a Soldier, Heavy, Spy, and Engineer all clad in tacky monster hunting paraphernalia and weird gadgets that do NOT look stable nor safe to use. Clearly, these aren't your average Mann Co Mercs.

Tari: Um.........FM? .........Where did you find these guys again?

FM: I saw a commercial earlier about this "ANTI SPOOK SQUAD" on the TV. Apparently they're experts on the issue. Dirt cheap, too.

Meggy: So you guys are supposed to be monster hunters?

Soldier: That's right!

He steps aside to introduce his colleagues.

Soldier: This is Spy! He's great at going "all sneaky deaky like."

Spy: Finally, some recognition.

Soldier: This is Heavy, our Russian death God!

Heavy: Sanvich.

Soldier: And this is our toymaker Engi!

Engi just stands there with an oddly menacing grin. If you listen closely, you can hear something along the lines of "FETCH ME THEIR SOULS" in that head of his.

Soldier: We take ghost heads and crap em back to Canada! Ghosts, wizards, robots, mutants, we know how to crap em because we INVENTED and PERFECTED it so that we are the best in the world! They said we couldn't do it, they said we shouldn't do it, they begged us NOT to do it, AND WE DID IT ANYWAY! Any questions?

Bob: Yeah. How are we sure you bozos actually know what the hell you're doing?

Spy: AHEM. Engineer? If you please.

Engi: Alrighty then!

Engi proceeds to pull a whole Scout out of his pocket and places it in the center of a conveniently pre-prepped pentagram before plunging a dagger through his chest. He square dances to the Scout's agonized screams as a rift to the abyss beyond darkness opens. As all of this is happening, Tari once again feels a vibration in her pocket. The compass is acting up again much to her curiosity. A spectral hand emerges from the rift. Engi offers up a pile of metal, and the hand's fingers proceeds to clutch around its tithe. The hand opens again to present a fully built toolbox before disappearing into the rift as it closes. One tap of a wrench causes the tool box to open up and reveal a fully operational Level 3 Sentry. Bob was........ at a loss for words, and no longer eager to question the "experts."

Bob: Alright. So what's our gameplan, here?

FM: I'll go find a babysitter for Minion. We'll meet back up at the house by sundown.

Meggy: Me and Mario will be over at the Showgrounds. If anything goes wrong, we'll need backup.

Tari: I'll need to drop by Omnia.

She looks down at the now dormant compass.

Tari: There's something I need to look into. Something we might be able to use.

FM: Alright, Bob. Lead the way.

And so the crew sets out and prepares for the raid ahead, not knowing what kinds of surprises may be in store for them as they set out to save their friend........ and perhaps the world.