#a distant ship smoke on the horizon

[perrywings]

Fic Release 2/3

This is not a sequel, but I did create a story on AO3 in order to store one-shots and maybe cut or unused material set in the A Distant Ship Smoke verse!

Here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44772316/chapters/112647799

Some things for readers to be aware of: whatever I put out will be in non-sequential order. I’m going to keep this as Complete in AO3 because content updates will be irregular for this. Also, like in the major fic, I’ll be using the Implied Sexual Content tag because this one-shot, and some others in the future, have mentions and/or discussions of sex, but no on-screen smut. That’s also why the rating is M, although not all things added to this will be rated M. I’ll add the ratings with the one-shot titles to help readers determine whether it’s SFW or whatever. Feel free to ask questions about the verse or straight-up drop one-shot ideas or requests in the comments (or here on tumblr), but I reserve the right to work on anything given in my own time or just not at all if it crosses one of my writing lines or just doesn’t work for my verse. The few things I currently have noted are set during A Distant Ship Smoke On The Horizon or in the future, but I suppose I could do something before the fic if somebody had a specific idea.

[mysterious-corpse]

Okay, okay, okay

Just a little pinprick *ding*

There’ll be no more AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

But you may feel a little sick

[plantcrazy]

Secrets That Shouldn't Be Found - Hōkū, 1997

Wilford IV, the Toppat Clan leader, took a drag of his cigar, puffing out smoke with a sigh.

Hōkū did his best to not shift his weight, or fidget. As unpleasant as holding his nerves in felt, nothing would compare to the disappointment he'd feel letting his mentor or clan's leader see it.

They'd been stood out here in the freezing November air nearly 5 minutes. They'd been back from their mission and disastrous discovery less than 15 minutes, all the while nether elite had said a word to him beyond;

"Balcony, 10 minutes. And Morrningstar?" Wilford's eyes darkened, "I don't care if you've got some 'rare 1 in a whatever ability' the Clan needs. Breathe a word of the mission to anyone, and it'll be your last breath. Clear?"

Wilford glanced to his Right Hand, Harry Copperbottom.

"In an ideal world, had we known what they were carrying, we wouldn't have brought you along," Wilford explained, "But this isn't an ideal world. You're not an elite, nor do you have the clearance for the shit we just found, so consider this your chance to prove yourself trustworthy."

"We have a rough idea of the cover story we'll be using, so once we have it solidified in the morning, we expect you to stick to it." Harry added, his eyes... distant. He looked past Hōkū to the horizon, where the sun had since just set.

"Questions?"

Hōkū snapped his attention back to his leader.

He had plenty of questions, but right now, only one mattered.

"What are you going to do about their project?" He asked. "Taking their 'weapon' isn't going to stop them. All this will do is delay their progress, that's providing their aren't more of them!"

"They're the Chaos Containment Centre, Morningstar. There isn't anything we can do about 'em." Wilford said.

Hōkū screwed his face up. He can't be serious! He's the leader of the Toppat Clan! He can do ANYTHING!

Wilford picked up on his frustration, but in return only let his weariness show. "I know what you're thinking, but this is the reality of being an elite: We don't have the power to fix every problem we find. We just do what we can to limit its impact on our Clan. Our job is to ensure its survival and keep people happy.

We ain't vigilantes, Morningstar: we're criminals. Remeber that."

"Speaking of survival..." Harry announced, "From here on forth you'll be doubling your training session, both with & without your abilities. We won't know for a while if their CCTV was transmitting a live feed beyond the container ship, but if that turns out to be the case, all 3 of us will have a rather large target on our backs."

Wilford nodded, "No doubt they'll want them back, if they realised it didn't go down with the ship."

Hōkū nodded, "Okay, but what about-"

"I'll be taking care of it personally, do not worry." Harry reassured. "Now, go get some rest. I'll meet you in my office in the morning to discus the details of our story further."

[SPEEDPAINT ⬇️]

[strugglingwriterwattpad]

chocolate flowers sneak peek

Chapter one – a hatful of dreams

As the sun struggled to break through the fog, a chilly morning greeted the passengers of a 1940s trawler boat. The rhythmic sound of ocean waves and the distant tolling of a ship's bell filled the air. Emerging from the thick mist, the boat approached the new city's dock, its passengers eagerly awaiting their arrival. Amidst the scene, a peculiar figure stood out - donning a vibrant green waistcoat and a scarf bursting with colours. With curly brown hair and eyes that matched the waistcoat’s hues, this enigmatic individual climbed the mast, their presence illuminated by the sun's rays piercing through the fog and ship smoke.

“After seven years of life upon the ocean, It is time to bid the seven seas farewell. And the city I’ve pinned seven years of hopes on Lies just over the horizon. I can hear the harbour bell!” Emerging from the icy mist, a magnificent ancient metropolis caught his eye. A grin spread across his face, for he knew that his days as a sailor were numbered and his new life as a proud shopkeeper was about to begin. “Land ahoy!!”

With a firm grip on the rope, Willy descended to the icy deck, while his fellow sailors readied the boat for docking. Navigating through the bustling engine room, he collected his worn-out plum-coloured tailcoat and weathered wooden suitcase. “Got a tattered overcoat and battered suitcase! Got a pair of leaky boots upon my feet. Got to drag myself up by my one good bootlace! Gotta work my rotten socks off if I wanna make ends meet!” With a daring leap, he landed on a supply crate just as it was lifted from the ship's hold. The crate soared high above the dock, swaying gracefully in the air. “I've poured everything I've got into my chocolate. Now it's time to show the world my recipes.” The brunette received a small bag of coins from the captain, the metal creating a clanging sound as it landed in his icy, pale hand. “good luck Willy!” he hollered waving off Willy with a supportive grin. “I’ve got twelve silver sovereigns in my pocket. And a hatful of dreams!”

Willy gracefully leapt off the crate and onto the back of a truck as it passed by, embarking on his exciting journey into the city of his dreams. The landscape he passed was blanketed in a thick layer of ice and slush, a messy combination of cobblestone debris and melting snow. With a burst of energy, the ghostly boy jumped down from the vehicle, his hands gripping a frozen lamp post adorned with tattered flyers and posters. With a graceful twirl, Willy descended the gleaming metal pole and found himself in the awe-inspiring town square. “There’s a famous restaurant on every street here. There's Brandino's and the Bar Parisienne”

The bustling square was adorned with a majestic cathedral, its towering presence casting a shadow over the surrounding area. The harmonious melodies of the choir echoed through the air, filling the square with a symphony of enchanting notes, reminiscent of the sweet songs of songbirds. In the centre of the square, a frozen fountain stood still, its waters suspended in time, a testament to the frigid weather that had gripped the city. On the opposite side, a grand dome building beckoned him with its grandeur, a destination he knew he would eventually reach. However, he couldn't resist the allure of exploration that lingered in the air, enticing him to wander through the square a little longer before embarking on his intended journey.

“Restaurant map, sir?” A cheerful attendant at a cosy booth offered a map of restaurants to the gentleman in a brown top hat, who graciously thanked him with a silver coin. “thank you!”

“Got a little map to tell me where to eat here...” As Willy unravelled his map, he suddenly spotted someone right by his side. To his surprise, it was a shoeshine boy, and the brunette had unknowingly placed his foot on the boy's box. The boy, with a mischievous grin, demanded a sovereign while wiggling his fingers, as if he had just completed a remarkable shine on the chocolate maker’s boot.

“Had a dozen silver sovereigns, now I'm somehow down to ten!”

With excitement in his eyes, Willy made his way towards a vibrant produce stall. As he reached out, his hands embraced an astonishingly enormous pumpkin, bursting with both delectable taste and vibrant hues. “Want the finest produce? This is where they stock it!” Willy narrowly avoided being hit by a streetcar that honked loudly, causing him to drop the pumpkin in shock. “That's three sovereigns, mate” The pumpkin splattered all over his boots, undoing all the work the boy had just completed moments before. “Though the prices are suspiciously extreme!”

“You break my pumpkin; you pay for it.”

“I've got five, six, seven-“

The dreamer strolled past the shops on the street, but his attention was immediately drawn to a charming green cottage-style shop. His eyes widened as he watched a woman inside, working cheerfully in her colourful attire, leaving Willy breathless with admiration. The vibrant hues of her clothing perfectly complemented the lush greenery that adorned her store, resembling ornaments on a festive Christmas tree. She was wearing an off-white blouse with puff sleeves that peeked through her green corduroy pinafore. The seams of the dress were decorated with different flower embroidery similar to his own waistcoat patterns. Her hands, covered in gardening gloves instead of winter ones, bore the marks of soil on each finger, a testament to her love for nurturing plants. The woman appeared to be around his age, her skin plump and her eyes sparkling like shiny coins. She captivated the poor adventurer with her beauty, snapping him out of his trance as she waved goodbye to a customer and the shop door chimed closed.

As he counted his coins, the chocolatier spotted the Shoeshine Boy cleaning his boots once again and reluctantly handed over yet another sovereign. At least the pumpkin was off his boot this time. “...six silver sovereigns in my pocket And a hatful of dreams”

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 11: Eagles

Warnings: some late Númenor, but not descriptive.

Tagroval landed on the mountaintop which still smelled of freshly-hewn stone, and, of course, of hallowed ground. Maybe rock would be a better word. Was rock a ground? Surely it was something to sit on. Below, at the roots of the mountain, Lady Yavanna and her Maiar planted the forest.

Yes, this would be a good place to live. Not as far as Middle Earth, but not in Valinor proper. Somewhere more quiet and a little more subdued.

He took to the air again, circling around the mountain, seeking a good place for a nest. 

Some years later — a dozen or two — a fleet of ships appeared in the distance, like a white flock, and it wasn't long until they landed. A multitude of Men came on the shores, and into the land. Their exclamations of awe rose into the sky. In a few years, they built the first cities, and a road to the mountain. Fortunately it wasn't too close to the nest of Tagroval’s family. 

One day the Edain came to the mountain: a perfectly silent crowd led by a descendent of Melian. There was something about them that felt both ancient and new, and none of the eagles dared to land. Instead they circled above, silently pondering what it could all mean. 

Since then the Men came often, but rarely in such a large and profound group. 

Years passed, the trees grew and so did the cities of Men, and eventually a new king led the procession. And later, another. Tagroval didn't pay much attention to those changes. 

On the distant sea, ships grew bigger and started leaving for long. He had to look really carefully to see them — visible only in good weather — at the distant shores in the east. Then a great war was fought there, but the eagles did not concern themselves with Middle Earth much, except to agree that they'd made a good decision to not live there.

People came to the mountain less often, and Tagroval appreciated the peace, but a shadow darkened his thoughts. 

The cities grew bigger and richer, and the Men became restless. They sailed back and forth, talked louder and often smelled of fear. One day a brilliant ship came from the West, and Tagroval saw glimpses of his friend, but they did not talk. The visit was short and focused on the king's palace, and the shadow thickened. 

Years passed and Men stopped coming to the mountain almost completely. They spoke to each other more angrily, and not in the melodic words of Sindarin. But the forest was still green and full of game.

The ships sailed back and forth, but most didn't resemble birds anymore, they were more like dragons — full of gold and yet greedy for more. The smaller, birdlike vessels sailed east from time to time, but never came back.

One spring a new king came to the mountain. His company was much less numerous, but his eyes were sharp almost like Tagroval’s and his heart willing to take flight — but too many burdens weighed him down and with each season he grew more tired. And the processions weren't getting any bigger. One day he did not come again. 

Not long after, the fleet went to war.

When it returned, the wind smelled of fire and Tagroval shivered in apprehension.

Soldiers patrolled the low part of the mountain road, and a new silver dome shone in the city. Nimloth screamed wordlessly in fire and soon many Men followed her. 

It was time to leave. 

Storms came and later earthquakes, and one day when a host of his brothers and sisters appeared on the horizon, Tagroval joined them, and with him all the Eagles of the island.

The fleet followed them. 

The Eagles flew back and forth, seeing, remembering, witnessing. The screams. The smoke. The laughter. The fleet. 

It finally landed and — like a rat into a nest of much nobler creatures, the king led his army into the white shore.

Unseen, brighter than Taniquetil, higher than the flight, both ancient and new — and the world broke. 

Somewhere beyond the storm a queen climbed, too late. 

Even further, a flock of ships took flight.

[rose-tries-to-write]

Distant Horizon: Ch1 - Remarkable Possibility

Ao3 Link

Masterpost

“There you are!” Xisuma startled at the sudden exclamation from the front of the barracks, his head shooting up to crash against the metal railing of his bunk and the ration in his hand was launched away in surprise.

He hissed in pain as he caressed his head, leaning out from the bunk to catch sight of whoever interrupted his lunch. His bunkmate, a Hellborn with vibrant red scales and a set of the largest horns he’d ever seen on one of their species stands at the door. “Chill,” he says, walking up to Xisuma, “I was looking for ya since ya weren’t at the canteen.”

Xisuma sighs, picking up the ration bar from where it landed and showing it to the Hellborn to show he’s eating, “Yeah, decided to eat here today. I would have said something but…” Xisuma shakes his head with a small chuckle and the Hellborn joins in with a huff of smoke.

“Yeah, can’t blame ya. I’ve never seen the canteen so full and so loud before, but I suppose that's what happens when something sneaks onto a space station.”

Xisuma hums a noise of curiosity around the bite he’d taken from the bar. He hadn’t been part of the rotation in charge during the alarm that morning and none of the other guards had said anything about what the alarm had gone off for until now.

“Something snuck on? How’d you hear that?” He asks, knowing that the gossip around here is usually word of mouth and something he was told one day might be completely wrong the next.

The Hellborn smirks in pride, his chest puffing out with the smoke that blows from his nostrils, “Why, I was there to catch the thing, of course!” He boasts with his head pointed to the sky as if to look down his nose at Xisuma, “Let me tell you, it was a run through lava to get that thing contained. A true beast, whatever it is I pity its maker.” The Hellborn chuckles and goes around the bunk bed to climb up to his bed.

Xisuma leans over, poking his head out to look up at the guy. “You said you captured it, but you don’t know what it was?” He asks, and he can practically feel the annoyance roll off the Hellborn as he glances down at Xisuma.

He waves his hand in what Xisuma vaguely recalls as the Hellborn way of saying no, “The thing was a beast, black as Void and its body was always… changing.” He sneers at the thought.

“No one knew what it was, not even the little scientists, from what I’ve heard.”

The description throws Xisuma for a loop, and he can’t help the hopeful thoughts that enter his mind.

A creature of Void? It can’t be… no one has seen another one in eons, and if they had it would’ve been such a big deal that the galaxies would be hearing about it for the rest of existence.

The Voidwalkers had been a secluded race of spacefarers, preferring the company of no one but the endless Void—hence the name—but they were the first of intelligent life to explore beyond their little home planet and were commonly thought of fondly as founders of space travel. It wasn’t long before the galaxies started feeling alive, with ships and an amalgamation of species everywhere.

It also wasn’t long before war struck.

The war had been so long ago and any of the survivors hadn’t lasted long from injuries that no one knew how to treat, being hunted, or getting sick. In one fell swoop, the entirety of the Voidwalker species had been culled. Xisuma was lucky that he survived.

Before his thoughts could dwell any deeper, the Hellborn huffed some smoke into his face and Xisuma couldn’t help but feel grateful that he wore a helmet. He’d seen Hellborns do that to others and a lot of the unsuspecting victims ended up coughing for hours.

“If you don’t get outta ya head, little guard, you’ll find Herobrine in there.” He reprimands with a snarky sneer, “We got a job to do, and thinking bout that beast ain’t gonna get it done any faster.” The guy informs, gruff and strict as he walks away from the stunned Voidwalker.

Xisuma shakes his head from the thoughts, knowing the guy is right and if he wants to keep this stationing then he’d better get to it. He reluctantly gets up from the less-than-comfortable bed, cursing his choices at the pain in his back from sitting there for so long, and joins his fellow guards for their evening cycle.

His group greets him with friendly shoving and sarcastic comments just outside the canteen, and soon they’re walking down the halls to their post.

“Where are we stationed today? I didn’t look at the schedule.” He asks the Angel of the group, a brown and white feathered woman who had large dark brown tailfeathers and wings both on her face and her back. Her size easily doubled that of most—if not all—of the squadron, but she had easily been the nicest of the group despite her size.

She looked down at him with something akin to humor but answered anyway in a fond tone, “The science halls, near the containment cells.” She answered simply and to the point, before turning to one of the other guards who’d asked her a question.

The containment cells, Xisuma pondered. They weren’t used often, mostly due to the ship being a research station and so not in need of holding prisoners or animals. Usually, the containment cells were used as extra storage units for overflow or spare barracks for guards.

If there was an unknown creature onboard the ship, it would probably be there.

As the squadron took their places at the various doors to labs and storage units, Xisuma couldn’t help glancing away to the hall leading toward the containment cells. Maybe he could go look at it. Maybe it is a Voidwalker and he can identify it for the station. Maybe it isn’t and he’d be wasting his time. Maybe… maybe he just wants to know if he’s not the only one left.

The guard next to him jabs a finger to his side and Xisuma straightens up immediately. “I wouldn’t,” he whispers, and Xisuma doesn’t need an explanation to understand what he means.

It might seem like a good idea and it is so much more than tempting, but he could lose his job for abandoning his post just to go gawk at some creature. The Captain may be lax with this squadron, but she wouldn’t hesitate to report Xisuma to the Chief for his transgression. And, even now, he can see the Captain glancing his way to see if he does anything. Xisuma sighs and relaxes into his position as best he can for the next few hours.

He’ll just have to come by later when no one is watching.

—————————————

Later, it turns out, is agonizingly far away.

Xisuma had assumed it would be a couple of hours watching the science halls and then it’d be to the barracks for a relaxing period and then a sleep cycle. No, it seems their squadron was on a much busier timetable today.

The only time he’d had such a workload was back during his first days on the ship when the guard count was small and everyone worked double cycles to account for the missing personnel. A rare occurrence, and unfortunately timed for the one day he’d prefer a shorter cycle.

When their squadron finally gets freed for the sleep cycle by the night guards, most of them pass out the second they hit the bunks. He’s at least happy he won’t have to wait very long for everyone to be in bed before he can sneak out. It only takes 30 minutes tops before the last few stragglers succumb to the Void, their breathing going even as they settle in for a restless but very-needed sleep.

Xisuma waits a few minutes longer, though, just to be safe. His impatience sits coiled in his stomach the entire time he waits, alongside nerves and excitement.

He’d never been the one to sneak out during the night. He’d watched others do it, had been invited but never joined, and been sworn to secrecy so many times it kind of felt illegal. But, he’d never had the need nor want to go out during the night to party or explore or get into things he shouldn’t.

Not until now, that is. With something on the ship that could be his species, that could mean he isn’t the only one left, there’s no way he could sit and wait when it’s right there. It’s that thought that finally breaks his patience and he slowly but surely creeps out into the hall.

The halls are pitch black except for white lighting lining the bottom of the walls on each side, providing just enough light to see where he’s walking. He keeps his hand on the wall as he goes, listening for the noise of footsteps or talking.

There isn’t much to be heard in the dead of the sleep cycle. He’s used to the murmur of people behind doors and the constant pitter-patter of hooves, claws, and paws across the metal flooring, it feels nerving for it to be so silent and empty. So… dead.

A noise rings out in the silence and Xisuma turns right at the crossroads just as he hears a patrol turn into the hall he was just in. He silently rushes to the next corner, putting his back flat to the wall, and listens.

They come closer and closer, the only noise he can hear is the various footfalls of about five or six people. They enter the crossroads and for a second he holds his breath, hoping they turn the other way. A short and quiet “Hut” of the squadron’s Captain rings out and the sound of feet scuffing hits his ears as they turn to face either right or left.

After what feels like hours later, the footsteps pick up. Xisuma breathes a sigh of relief as they head to the left of the crossroads, his body physically drooping from the tense fear of being found.

“Too close…” Xisuma whispers and mentally shakes himself off, running his hands nervously over the back of his helmet, before he starts walking again. Taking it slower and more cautious this time.

He notes how he could escape with every turn of a corner and stops at every intersection to listen. It feels almost more nerve-racking to go this slow, feels like it’ll be the day cycle before he can even make it to the containment cells, but he pushes on.

He comes to a stop at the latest intersection, listening for a moment before turning and seeing the white illuminated sign hanging above in Common that indicates this as the science halls. He feels a relieved smile cross his face, and he walks to the end of the hall where an intersection with a sign points both left and right.

To the left, the sign indicates a sleeping quarters probably for the scientists and such that need to be close by. To the right, the sign indicates storage and containment.

Xisuma turns the corner and wanders down the hall, checking every door on both sides, peeking through the small tinted light shield that makes up the windows. It takes longer than he’d like, going door to door like this, but he doesn’t have a better way to make sure he doesn’t miss it.

Most of the rooms are full of what he’d expect, extra storage all packed into boxes neatly stacked upon each other in the cramped rooms. There are small oval lights in the corners of every room, just dim enough for Xisuma to have to strain to see if there’s anything other than boxes.

By the time he reaches the end of the hall, he worries that maybe he had it wrong and the creature wasn’t stored back here, even though there logically isn’t anywhere else to put it. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) the very last door he checks gives him what he’d been looking for.

It’s hard to see it, but in the back corner of the room is a balled-up mass of Void.

Its body fluctuates like liquid and the stars it seem to be made of ripple and flow inside the sludge of inky black, ever turning over and over. The body is small and there isn’t any sign of what could be considered a face and nothing akin to eyes, but somehow Xisuma still feels… watched.

His body becomes heavy and he stumbles back, his heart rate pounding behind his ears the longer he stares at it but he can’t look away. It's just that... something about it is so wrong.

Something in his hind mind screams at him that it is obvious, that he should know exactly what makes him afraid of this creature, but Xisuma can't find anything that should make him feel so off-put.

Suddenly, the ripples of Void begin to spin in a blur of stars and twist into itself before blending into a set of wide, all-seeing eyes.

“That…” Xisuma thinks, “is not a Voidwalker.”

[pennamesmith]

The Crone

“I am Mara. And I am gone.” 

When the ship hits the desert sands, it screams like a dying leviathan. Shockwaves ripple to the edge of the Waste and it scars the ground with a trench a mile long. The natives have no trouble locating the wreckage; they merely have to follow the smoke. 

They do not expect to find survivors. Somehow, impossibly, there is one: a crumpled, broken girl; babbling, bleeding, delirious. The only person, so far as they can tell, who was on the ship at all. They pull her from the smoldering remains as carefully as they can, and give her what meager medicine they have. Her breath is ragged, but steady. Her fever blazes, and then just as quickly breaks. She will live. 

How is this possible? They know better than to ask. This is not a night for questioning miracles. 

It has been only hours since the stars disappeared. 

—

She awakens in a universe of pain. Gasping, she tries to bolt upright and accomplishes nothing of the kind. 

“Good morning.” A pinched reptilian face stares down at her. It adjusts a thick pair of spectacles and shines a light in her eyes. “Do you know where you are? Can you remember your name?” 

“Mm. Muh.” 

The medic squints. “You’re one of those aliens, aren’t you? Did you do this? Not many of your kind left now. You might be the last one.” 

“Muh ruh.” 

“Take your time. Don’t force yourself to talk if you can’t yet.” Scaly hands lay a wet cloth across her brow. She barely registers the words as she drifts into inky darkness. 

“The whole planet heard your people’s evacuation order, you know. ‘All units return to Eternia!’ That’s all well and good for folks who have starships to run away with. I’m guessing yours couldn’t make it out before the window closed. Seems all that tech still can’t buy you luck. I’m afraid you’re stuck here with the rest of us.” 

She shivers. It is cold in this place. 

“We’re all alone together, now.” 

—

“Razz,” she mutters, sitting up in bed. 

There is a window here, small and uneven, a holey linen scrap the only thing separating inside from out. Beyond this room the lone and level sands stretch far away to a distant uneven horizon. The sky is a flat black. There are no stars. 

She stumbles to her feet and shakes the sandy creature keeping vigil in the corner. “Razz,” she repeats, to uncomprehending compound eyes. 

“Do the Whispering Woods still bloom?”  

The others come quickly. They offer to show her the ship — what parts of it haven’t been scavenged already, at least — but she refuses, emphatically. With halting words and gestures, she manages to communicate where she does want to go. The desert-dwellers fear it, that deep sea of trees with its many eyes and voices. Though they willingly point the way, not one will take her there. 

So, she stays. For now. 

She heals slowly, and mostly silently. “I can’t remember,” she says in answer to most of their questions. She frowns into her lap, frustrated tears pearling at the corners of her eyes. “I’m trying. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

She stares at nothing. 

“I have to go back.” 

—

When she is strong enough to walk, she takes her leave of these kind strangers. They give her food and a stick to lean on, and she accepts their gifts  graciously. She will never see them again. 

Though the desert is unforgiving, it is not without end. The moons that make the daytime are bright, but not hot. After two days’ walk, she finds herself at the edge of the Whispering Woods. 

The trees are quiet now. The out-of-control magic that burned here when she gave up the sword has cooled into deep shadows. It thrums with potential energy, like a swollen thunderhead. 

She doesn't actually want to come back here any more than she wants to see her old ship. But she knows what she would find there, and here there are mysteries that still need answers. 

The woods are generous. Almost immediately the path leads her exactly where she wants to be: to a low hovel hidden in a hillside, with a dirty curtain for a door. Cautiously, she pulls the cloth aside. 

“Razz?” 

Nobody answers. Inside, it is cluttered but cold. Everything is still. Nobody has touched this chair, that bowl, those books for a long time. An inch of dust coats every surface, as if abandoned. 

She crosses the threshold. 

“Hi, it’s me again! Did you find where I was hiding?” 

She whirls around at the unfamiliar, high-pitched voice. Standing in the doorway behind her is a tiny figure with blue hair and rainbow overalls, grinning and waving. 

“Hey there! What’s with the silent treatment? It’s me, Loo-Kee!” 

She throws up. 

—

After a rest, the shadows don’t seem to dance so much, and the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. It’s much easier to catch her breath. She sighs, relieved. The dizzy, sick feeling is gone. 

Loo-Kee, however, is not. 

“I’m sorry,” the little creature says, sounding genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize how early it was for you.” 

They sit cross-legged on a narrow shelf, looking down at her. Their eyes are cartoonish, round and curious. She rubs the bridge of her nose and scowls back, frustration growing by the second. 

“Who are you?” she growls. “Where is Razz?” 

A curious head-tilt. “Oh, wow. It’s really early for you. Anyway, I already told you: I’m Loo-Kee! And Razz is right there.” 

Loo-Kee points a chubby finger. Startled, she turns around, but there is nobody else. She looks back. Loo-Kee smiles beatifically. 

“Please.” Her voice is on the verge of breaking. “If you’re the woods — if this is some kind of magical test, or game — I don’t have time for it. I need to see Razz. Where did she go?” 

“You do have time,” Loo-Kee replies calmly. They jump down from the shelf. “Listen, I think I took a wrong turn through next month to get here. I’ll let you get settled for now, okay? See you next time!” 

“Next time what?” she tries to bark, but Loo-Kee has already vanished behind a skinny coat rack. The hut grows quiet again. She is alone. 

She isn’t entirely sure why she came here. 

She clears a small spot on the raggedy bed. It’s late, and there’s nowhere else to go. Suddenly feeling the ache of her journey, she hunkers down and wraps a threadbare quilt around her tired shoulders. It’s cold comfort. 

Swaddled in darkness, sick with exhaustion, she cries quiet, violent tears. 

—

She stays in the little cottage. There is nowhere else to go. The one time she tries, the woods lead her immediately back with supernatural efficiency. 

She exists in a tight circle. Safe, but unable to leave. Protective custody, her people would have called it. She pauses on that thought, grasping at its frayed edges, trying to remember more. Inevitably, it slips away from her. 

The memories come in faint flashes at the strangest provocations. Holding them is like catching butterflies, or remembering a dream. Everything seems so far away. 

A week goes by. Two. She finds a tawny broom and starts to sweep out the dust in the cottage’s corners. The handle seems to tug at her hands, gently, like a planchette or a dowsing rod, seeking out old cobwebs and forgotten spaces. She finds herself talking to it as a rider might their horse.    

“Well done, Broom. Thank you, Broom. No Broom, I’m not frightened at all, and neither should you be.” 

One morning, she upends an old case of drawers and finds a familiar unusual face tumbling out. 

“Ya ha ha! You found me!” Loo-Kee crows with delight. They leap to their feet, and then somehow higher, hovering in front of her nose and grinning hugely. 

“You’ve got good peepers, lady! And you didn’t even need glasses or nuthin!” They lean on air and swish a fluffy striped tail. “That’s impressive. Most people from your dimension can’t see into ours. Not on their own, anyway.” 

That sparks a memory. Her eyes glaze over. “I pulled the planet into an empty dimension,” she murmurs, distant and dream-like. “The Heart of Etheria…” 

“You did that?” Loo-Kee’s eyes widen as they drift back to the ground, landing with a little bump. “Oh wow. That explains a lot. I was wondering how you got all refracted.” 

She blinks. “What?”

“Like a river splitting. Or a mirror cracking.” Loo-Kee stands and paces a pensive circle, waving their hands vaguely. “You’ve become more than one thing, but at the same time you’re still the same thing, but at the same time you’re in a lot of different places at once.” 

They look up. “Um, silly question, but what does time normally look like where you come from? It might start to work different for you now.” 

Her eye twitches and she resists a powerful urge to sweep the impish creature out the door with one fell swing. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m not sure yet.” Loo-Kee pauses, brow furrowed, foot tapping, arms crossed. “This has never happened before.” They brighten. “Anyway, I’ll let you stay here if you want! I found this place all by myself, so it’s basically mine.” 

“What?” Her frustration boils over, and her voice rises to a shout. “I’ve been living here! This isn’t your house, it belongs to Madame Razz!” 

Loo-Kee scratches their head. “Madame Razz? Who’s that?” They tilt an eyebrow. “Is it you?” 

“No! I’m — ”

She halts, the words catching in her throat. This absence in her memory is one of the worst. She does have a name. She is sure of it. But whenever she searches for it in her mind, she can find nothing but a burnt, ragged hole. She shuts her eyes hard, trying to think, willing the letters to appear. 

“I'm not certain. I’m. I am… Ra. Something-Ra?” 

“Razz?” 

“No!” She beats at her temples. “It started with another sound. I’m sure of it. It’s right there… Ma?” 

“Madame?” 

“No!” 

She shrieks, kicks a stack of rusted cook pots, and drops heavily into a wicker chair, shaking with impotent rage. Her unbraided hair falls in a long curtain around her bent head, veiling her face. She chokes back a sob.  

Loo-Kee softens, face falling, and offers a hesitant reassuring hand. “Um. Hey, I’m sorry for upsetting you. I was just joking around about the house thing.” 

Silence. 

Loo-Kee jerks a thumb toward the door. “I’m gonna give you some space now, okay? But I mean it about wanting to help. I’ll come back later, after I’ve talked to some friends.” They back gingerly out of the cottage. “It was nice to meet you, Ma — uh, ma’am.” 

She stays in the chair for a long time after they’ve gone. She doesn’t think about anything, only stares at her feet and the dirty floor until the daylight fades and the moons rise in an empty night sky. She falls asleep there, shoulders drooping, tipping slowly over into an exhausted heap. 

When she wakes, she finds herself in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, her Broom leaning lightly against the facing wall. 

Outside of Madame Razz’s house, the trees dance lightly in the morning wind. 

—

The first time she slips, she hardly notices it at all. She is busy tending the oven when the air crackles and the trees outside jump into new positions, branches growing longer in an instant. Just as quickly she slips back, and the flicker in the fire may as well have been a trick of the light. 

The next time, she is in the garden, and falls backward when the vegetable patch explodes and the rose bush triples in size. This one lasts for an hour of panicked cleaning — the inside of the house is suddenly covered in dust again — before everything shifts and she finds herself under a moonlit night sky, the garden nothing more than a freshly-dug parcel of soil. 

The incidents only grow more frequent as time goes on. The woods will let her wander a little farther these days, and she watches rivers curl over dry ground like snakes and mountains shrink back into tiny pebbles. Each time she will eventually drift back to the present; but that word is starting to lose its meaning as she lives more and more of her life out of order. 

Sometimes she can harvest acorns from an oak tree planted only seconds before. Sometimes she has to make a pie three times before all the ingredients stay put together. If time is the hemline of a dress, her thread loops in and out like wild, spiderwebbing lace. Unpredictable as it is, there is a flow to it all. When she closes her eyes, it feels like being pulled along a powerful, shifting current, in an ocean that goes on forever. 

She develops a rhythm, and as time goes by, a tiny, growing part of her begins to enjoy life in the little forest house. It’s a peaceful life. 

“Hello,” Loo-Kee says, popping out from behind her favorite mug in the cupboard. 

“Aaah!” she screams, slamming the cupboard door in their face. 

Loo-Kee utters a muffled curse amidst crashing crockery. A moment later they reappear in the front doorway. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Rubbing their round red nose, the little sprite scampers inside and climbs up to sit on the table. “Ouch. Okay. I guess I sort of deserved that. But hey, listen, I think I figured some things out! Oh, and Spritina says thank you for the berry cake.” 

“Who?” 

“You’ll meet her later. The Twiggets have been shy because you’re not originally from here, but they won’t hide from you forever. You’re still connected to the planet just as much as we are. See, that’s what I figured out! It’s all because of She-Ra.” 

At the sound of that name she halts, knuckles tightening around the handle of her Broom. 

“For the Honor of Grayskull,” she whispers, the words automatic and unbidden. 

“I’m not talking about your password settings,” Loo-Kee says dismissively. “I mean the real deal. The very nexus of magic at the heart of this planet. The living force that surrounds and binds us together. She-Ra!” 

“She-Ra,” she repeats, and a blue glow flickers in her eyes. “But the sword is gone,” she sighs. The light fades. Her posture sags. 

“She-Ra isn’t a sword,” Loo-Kee replies, in the tone of a patient teacher. “Here, lemme show you something.” 

They turn and dash into the woods without waiting for a reply. She dithers, agonizes, and finally follows, gripping Broom like a security object. The trees part for her as she follows her guide. When she glances to either side, she can sense hidden eyes watching from behind the branches. 

They arrive at a tiny, clear pond, nestled in the roots of a circle of trees. The water sparkles, half in light and half in shadow. She approaches it slowly and stares in: the water is supernaturally still, no more than a few feet deep and perfectly transparent. She can see the mossy rocks that cover the bottom. 

“Is it a special pond?” she asks. “Some sort of magic well?”

“No.” Loo-Kee plunks down at the water’s edge. “I mean, there is magic in it, but there’s magic in every pond around here. This was just the closest one.” 

She sits beside Loo-Kee and stares down. Beneath the surface of the water, fish and snails and crawling crabs move through the cracks between each stone. It is easy to imagine the scene as a tiny landscape, with frilled dragons and alien hermits populating a miniscule mountain range. The longer she looks, the more details reveal themselves. 

“It’s a whole world,” she says. 

“Yeah.” Loo-Kee nods. “And that world is made of whole other worlds. And there are more whole worlds all around it, and every one of them is full of whole other worlds.” Their voice is earnest. “And all the little differences between them, like what shapes things are, or what dimension they’re in, is really just hiding the fact that everything is part of the same thing.”

“It’s all connected.” 

Loo-Kee takes her hand and guides it to the water’s surface. Her touch leaves ripples echoing across. 

“In this place, you are what connects it.” 

The light sparks in her eyes. And she transforms. 

—

“Hello dears! I’ve been expecting you.” 

She looks down at the nervous cluster of tree spirits. Twiggets, Loo-Kee calls them. They peer up at her from behind green leaf masks, their squat bodies no higher than her knee. 

“This way, this way,” she coos, ushering them all inside. “There is room for everyone in Madame Razz’s house.” 

She fixes their leader with a twinkling eye. “Spritina, dear, it’s so good to see you. Have a seat right there.” 

“How did you know my…?” 

“Oh, never mind that!” She laughs. “You are here on a very important mission, yes?” 

Spritina draws herself up, the image of a child performing bravery. “We need help. One of the old groves is dying. Something the aliens left behind poisoned the ground.” 

“Hmm. Well, we can’t have that.” 

She browses the myriad items and ingredients that crowd her shelves. Hundreds of different dried herbs, tinctures, extracts, rare flowers, strange and unusual artifacts. Where her memories fail her, the very air itself seems to guide her hand. She plucks some of this, a pinch of that, filling her basket to the brim. Medicine for the poison of the past.

“We’re ready!” she announces. “Sprig, Sprockett, lend a hand and carry Broom for me, will you? It’s a dangerous path, and I don’t want him to get lost.” 

“A magic broom! See? She is a real witch,” one of the little spirits says to the other, as they heft Broom between themselves like busy loggers. 

“Doesn’t seem very magic to me,” the other observes. 

“Um. Are you sure you need to come with us?” Spritina asks nervously, trotting to keep up with the much taller woman. “It’s kinda deep in the woods, and humans can get lost…” 

“I’m sure a human could,” she hums. “If the woods wish me gone they will turn me away. But I don’t think they will, today. And besides, I need berries for the cake I’m baking.” 

She strides confidently into the forest, her basket swinging merrily in the crook of her arm. The Twiggets follow, making a strange procession through the trees. The woods bend and twist before them, revealing hidden places like a wounded animal cautiously showing its belly. She places her hands on the bark, the stone, the earth, and speaks quiet soothing nothings to it all. The Twiggets watch her, murmuring to each other in excited whispers. 

Deep in the Whispering Woods there is a blasted plain. This is what remains when stolen magic burns holes in the world. But this land was green and healthy once, even after the great Crystal Castle arose in the center of the clearing. The settlers’ mighty stronghold had existed in harmony with the planet, briefly. 

Now it is a dark tower standing on blighted ground. 

She unfolds a cloth and carefully sets out her ingredients, explaining what each one is to the spirits crowding around her. “You can find most of these things in the woods. But some you can only find in the places the First Ones left abandoned.” 

Small glass vials hold a strange, metallic liquid. “This is like a medicine that uses a tiny part of the sickness to heal. We can’t undo what happened here, but we will make the land whole again.” 

She sets to work mixing and brewing. They watch and learn quickly. Soon they begin to help. Before long, they are doing most of the work to restore the grove themselves, while the witch of the woods wanders off to gather berries. 

She paints a meandering line around the edge of the clearing. Perhaps it is only a coincidence that her path takes her closer and closer to the Crystal Castle’s ruins. Perhaps this is where she always wanted to go. She draws nearer. 

She has forgotten about the berries, now. 

The Castle’s door is dark and silent. Even the air seems to grow still around it. She approaches slowly, places her hand softly against the wall. There is an almost imperceptible warmth there; slumbering, dormant, like soil under snow. 

“Are you there, Hope?” she asks. Not fully understanding the question, but speaking as if compelled. Something cold and heavy takes hold of her heart, pulls it deep down, down deep. 

Nothing changes in the cold Castle contours, but faint feelings seem to drift from the darkness: longing, regret, loneliness. She hugs herself, missing something she can't clearly remember. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, not certain why. 

The silence deepens. 

“I loved you,” she attempts. 

Nothing. 

“I just wanted to be good.” 

Perhaps the feeling in the air gains a note of shame. Perhaps she only imagines it. The Crystal Castle remains still. The doorway stays dark. After a long time, she becomes aware of someone pulling urgently on her hand. A young Twigget is shouting at her. 

“…adame Razz! Madame Razz!” the tiny spirit cries. 

“Hmm? What did you say? What about Madame Razz?” 

“Come look!” The Twigget pulls on her idle hand again before bounding away. She follows slowly, gradually returning to the present. The others are all clustered around something at the edge of the clearing. 

“It’s working!” Spritina announces with breathless excitement, pointing at the ground. 

Where they have applied the new medicines, the sickly, dying plants are already returning to life. Tiny glowing motes of magic move through leaves and vines, softly pulsing with life. A few inches further in, a new green stem is poking up through the barren dirt, growing before their widening eyes. Around it, more spots in the ground are stirring. 

“The planet is unbalanced,” she declares, taking Broom in her hands, feeling the gentle pull of the future. “And the magic is still here. We can heal this place. But we must be careful.” 

“There is still Hope.” 

—

“Do you like my dress? I got it for Princess Prom!”

It is winter now, although it doesn’t snow in the Whispering Woods. The garden is resting for the season, and she is busy filling jars with pickles and preserves. 

She narrows her eyes. “What is Princess Prom?” 

“Oh, it’s the biggest thing in a century or two.” Loo-Kee twirls, admiring the puffy trim of their outfit. “All the princesses on the planet get together and have a big party!” 

She sits, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. Her hair, wild, reaches past her waist by now. “Always full of surprises, Loo-Kee. Are you a secret princess, then?” 

“‘Course not! I’m a Kon-Seal. I can go wherever I want, and whenever too! Oh, but I do also have an invitation.” 

She leans forward. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. How exactly does that work?” 

“How does what work?” Loo-Kee is practicing an up-tempo dance step. “Invitations?” 

“No, I mean…” She waves her hands vaguely. “All of this. The time stuff. I know you said it would seem different to me, but whenever I think I have a handle on things you come around and make it all confusing again.” 

Loo-Kee stops mid-pirouette. “Isn’t that how learning works?” 

“Not when your teacher is being a child!” She sighs, immediately deflating from the outburst. “I’m sorry. It’s just frustrating, having no control. Sometimes I’m in the future. Sometimes I’m in the past. Sometimes I can see a trillion different realities, folding onto each other like thin sheets of metal, forming a single blade…”

“Yeah, yeah, the Time Knife, we’ve all seen it.” Loo-Kee waves a hand. “Let’s get back on track. To be honest, I can’t explain it all completely to you because I don’t really know. I know how it works for me, but you’re something else.”

“How does it work for you, then?” 

Loo-Kee considers this seriously, pondering hard and sitting in midair. “Hmm. I guess it’s kind of like… the same way you can walk around on the ground, I can walk around in time?” 

They rotate slowly, floating up and down. “And just like being on the ground, I can’t see everywhere and I can get lost if I go too far from familiar places and paths.” 

She chuckles dryly. “I suppose in this metaphor I’m wandering about the woods blindfolded.” 

Loo-Kee shrugs. “I woulda said it nicer, but yeah, basically. Maybe while tied to some kinda wild animal.” 

They share a laugh, a real and hearty one this time. Then her face turns serious again. She fixes Loo-Kee with an appraising stare. If the Kon-Seal has any fear or distrust of her, they hide it well. She makes a choice. 

“In this metaphorical forest of ours… would it be possible for you to lead me somewhere? Or somewhen?”

Loo-Kee touches down lightly on the floor. “I think so.” Their face lights up, as if just hitting on a bright idea. “Hey, I know!” 

They extend an arm. “Wanna be my plus-one to prom?” 

—

She scowls, tugging at the dress. “You just happened to have this?” she asks, incredulous. It covers her feet, flowing in different hues of fuchsia and maroon. The collar is ruffled and green. 

“And it’s exactly your size, too!” Loo-Kee winks. “What a coinkydink!” 

“It must be fate, then,” she murmurs. Her eyes are growing cloudy and distant. 

She isn’t entirely sure what her goal is, yet, but she is starting to form a plan. Her confidence ebbs and flows like ocean waves. It feels as though the answers are hiding just beyond the corners of her sight, melting away whenever she turns. It’s difficult to focus. 

She holds out her hands, already struggling to remember what she wanted. “Will this really help?”

“This will let you see yourself,” Loo-Kee replies, and grasps her palms. 

Everything shifts. 

Some of it is familiar. She recognizes how the time winds feel, rushing through her hair. She sees the forest warp and change around her. What’s different is that the winds don’t buffet her, and instead of slipping she is flying, following along as Loo-Kee tows her by the hand. One step and the forest grows by centuries. Another, and the ground becomes a blur beneath their feet, until they come to a stop in a pristine snowfield. 

A castle looms on the slopes above. People — more people than she can ever remember seeing at once — stream around them, dressed in elegant attire, flowing like a living river. 

They follow the crowd. 

Nobody seems to notice them. Inside, Loo-Kee strikes up conversations, samples the snacks, dances and dawdles. She does her best to follow along, but the noise and the crowd are overwhelming. She retreats to a wall, scanning each face, knowing she is looking for something but not knowing what. 

Deep in thought, she almost fails to notice that she has drawn a stranger’s attention.

Almost. She turns. One of the princesses, a small woman in goggles, is staring at her intently. 

“Excuse me! I'm sorry to bother you and your partner there, only I couldn’t help but notice the abnormally high numbers of tachyon particles around you. Do you think I could take a few samples for my records?” 

She stumbles away from the strange woman, backing into a server and upsetting their tray of canapés. “What do you want?” she asks, sharply and a little too loudly. People are starting to look. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Loo-Kee appears and springs between them with placating hands. “Actually, Princess Entrapta here is the one who invited me.” 

“She did?” 

The purple-haired princess tilts her head. “I did?” 

“You did!” Proudly, Loo-Kee holds out an embossed card. It reads: 

You are cordially invited to a reception for time travelers. The 85th Decennial All Princess Ball (Theme: Winter Wonderland), The Kingdom of Snows, 52° 12’ 21” N, 0° 7’ 4.7” E.

Entrapta clasps her hands in joy. “Oh! I did! It worked!” She shakes Loo-Kee’s hand effusively. “Thank you for coming! I can’t wait to send out the invitations tomorrow!” 

Crouching down to Loo-Kee’s level, she produces a pen and notepad. “Actually, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I’m writing a brief history of time, you see, and…” 

Entrapta never finishes her sentence. 

A blonde woman in a red dress hurries down the stairs past them, chasing a tuxedoed cat. Her muscles are tensed, her face is set in a determined frown; otherwise she is no different from any of the other princesses. But when the lost witch looks her way, she sees an unmistakable aura, and the recognition shocks her. 

“She-Ra,” she whispers. Her blood turns to ice. 

“How could there be another She-Ra?” 

She isn’t sure whether to rush forward or turn away. Is this what she was looking for? Is this what she was running from? Frozen in uncertainty, she slips. The sensation is like falling backwards off a cliff. Flailing, she reaches for Loo-Kee, grabs their arm with clawing ferocity, only glimpses the shock and panic in their eyes as the universe goes dark and they fall together. 

To any observer, it seems as though they are simply there one moment, and gone the next. For her and Loo-Kee, it is as though they have plunged into a deep, crushing abyss. She holds on as tightly as she can, but slowly Loo-Kee’s fingers slip from her own, and then she is alone. The silence closes around her. 

And she is drowning. 

Until she sees the Light. 

—

“You must let go,” someone whispers in her ear. 

The world drifts back into focus. She is deep inside the Crystal Castle, but the walls are ancient and dark. Far older than the sanctum she knows. The dim light that pulses across the floor simmers like a caged beast. A girl, asleep, floats suspended in the air. 

“Adora,” she murmurs, the name springing suddenly to her lips. She reaches out. “I remember now. Madame Razz knows about you…” 

“Do not interfere,” an electric voice snaps. 

And there she is. Hovering overhead in the darkness like a deep sea creature; her blue luminescence cold and unwavering. She gazes up into the abyss. 

Light Hope looks down, and meets her eye. 

“Temporal anomaly detected.” 

“Hope.” Her voice cracks. 

“Your biosignature is recognized. Your biosignature is not recognized. Error.”

“Hope, it’s me.” She reaches out, pleading. “I’m here. I know it’s you. I just don’t know who I am.” 

“Quantum paradox logged.” 

“Please.” 

Light Hope hesitates. The projection changes, refractions growing smaller as she folds to human size. She holds out a hand that has no weight and feels like starlight. Her mouth opens, as if unsure of what to say. 

“My records indicate that you are deceased.” 

“Do I look deceased?” 

“It… it has been over one thousand years. Even if you survived the crash, you…” 

“So, you do remember.” She stares the hologram down and takes another step. If the light had any substance, they would be pressed together now, like dancers. 

“I. You. Your administrator privileges have been revoked. You are not authorized to be here.” 

“If I’m dead, does it matter?” 

“Error. Command not — ”

“Tell me who I am.”

The words are spoken with such power and authority that the very air seems to change. Something long asleep shudders and growls. Light Hope’s face is one of astonishment as she begins to answer. 

“You are Ma— ” 

—

She slips. Everything changes. Suddenly the walls are awash in red alarm lights, sirens sounding down the hall. Adora is gone. Light Hope stands at the far end of the room, back turned, shouting at a viewscreen. 

In the screen, she sees herself. 

“What are you doing, Mara?” Light Hope demands. “You have de-de-destroyed my interplanetary systems.” 

Hidden in the shadows, she touches her own face, feels the wrinkles that have grown into her skin. Seeing her younger reflection, so full of fire and rage, stirs memories like the dread of a nightmare. She clasps her hands across her mouth, watching in silent horror as her own past unfolds again. 

Light Hope burns like a forge. “You are beha-be-behaving erratically. Where is the sword, Mara?” 

She stays hidden. Stays watching. The vague notions of her plan flits through her mind: if she could learn control, could she change things? 

It was a foolish idea. Now she feels lost, wishing to her surprise for Loo-Kee’s guidance. She is frozen like an animal in the vicious forest. 

She watches herself. “The sword is gone,” her reflection says. “There’s not going to be a She-Ra anymore.” 

“I won’t ever let you use her again.” 

—

Another slip. She is when she was, Light Hope gazing down, Adora between them. 

“—Ra—”

—

She slips again. The same room in the Crystal Castle, lights dimmed but alive. Light Hope is small, like a candle flame. She is huddled in the center of the room. 

For a long moment, it is silent. 

“Unauthorized presence detected,” Light Hope says, back turned, voice quiet. 

“Do you know who I am?” she replies. 

“Systems in emergency power mode. Advanced functions unavailable.”  

She approaches; kneels. “Can you tell me about Mara?” 

The dim eyes flick up. “Records indicate Mara is deceased. Acquiring new target.” 

For the first time, she notices the tiny pool of light. Light Hope peers down into it like a wishing pond, a tiny camera obscura. She stares closer. 

In the window there is a baby girl with yellow hair. 

—

She slips back to see Light Hope once again staring down at her, a name set freshly loose from her lips. They stare at each other. 

Adora is suspended between them, eyes closed in fitful sleep. 

“Is it really you, Hope?” 

“I am the same basic operating system.” 

The fog in her mind is growing thicker again. Her eyes go back to Adora. Light Hope draws closer, protectively, possessively. 

“The Heart of Etheria Project will continue. Your attempts to interfere have only caused a delay. This anomaly has not altered my calculations.” 

“I think you’ll find Adora harder to control than you imagine.” She smiles ruefully. 

Light Hope scowls. “On the contrary. She is lost. Vulnerable. Alone. Her only friends have abandoned her. She is in the optimal state to receive suggestion.” 

“She isn’t alone. She will have help.” 

The hologram’s eyes burn like a star. “Who will help her?” 

“Madame Razz will help her.” 

—

And then the world shifts again, and as suddenly as a dream, she is in a place filled with warmth and familiarity. 

The Crystal Castle is brand new. It shines like a toy fresh from the box. The lights sparkle. On the viewscreen, she can see the Whispering Woods, healthy and green. 

Light Hope stands in the middle of the room. Her brow arches in surprise. 

“You’re back,” she says, compassion and bafflement mixing in her tone. “But you just…” She pauses, frowning. “Error in visual recognition. Your face is…” 

The woman’s eyes flick to the screen. On it, her reflection ventures out across the grass, sword in hand, ready for adventure. She is young and bright-eyed — younger than the rebel who crashed to the planet below. A new arrival to Etheria. 

She looks back to Light Hope’s uncomprehending gaze and recognizes a love she had imagined lost to time forever. This is her Hope. 

In that moment, Loo-Kee finally finds her hand. 

—

When the world stops twisting and resolves itself, they are back in the Whispering Woods, in the same clearing they left from. Loo-Kee stands unsteadily. Their prom dress is gone, and an eyepatch stretches across their haggard face. A comically huge cutlass hangs at their hip. They look older, somehow. 

“There you are! I’ve been all over the time-space continuum looking for you!” Loo-Kee exclaims. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one little person in all of… wait, is this that ‘irony’ thing I keep hearing about?” 

She sits on her knees, motionless, limbs drained of life. Her eyes are hooded. She hardly notices the surrounding forest. 

Loo-Kee chatters on. “On the bright side, we learned a lot from this! You were drifting in time when I found you, but not space, so I guess that means we need to be in contact for you to…” 

She whirls on the tiny creature, her eyes savage. “I was there,” she growls. “I saw her! I saw my Hope! You took me away from her! What have you done?” 

“I’m sorry,” Loo-Kee pleads. “Everything went wrong. I shouldn’t have taken us so far. It’s my fault! If I hadn’t found you when I did…” 

“Get out!” she shrieks, her voice a mad howl. She claws furiously at her own face. “You’ve ruined everything! Go away! Hide yourself! I don’t care where you go, just leave me alone!” 

The echoes of her scream fade. Her breaths are ragged, heavy. A silence deeper than any cave falls on the forest. 

Loo-Kee stares as if struck. Wordlessly, they shed the trappings of their costume and turn to slip away between the trees. She watches them go, still seething, anger burning the end of every nerve. Good, she thinks, when she is alone among the woods. 

At last, she can start to take things seriously. 

—

So it goes. 

For a long time after that, she really is alone. She still has Broom, of course, and she can sense the Twiggets watching from behind the leaves and branches, peeking out at her from the edges of the land she helped them heal. Sometimes they seek her out, as before, to trade in secrets and favors, but they never linger long. Always she remains the hermit in her hovel. 

She grows ever more familiar with the Whispering Woods. Their connection grows together, like vines around a lattice. She can see more than ever before. 

But Loo-Kee remains invisible, and she does not see them anywhere. 

Even when she looks. 

She discovers old books hidden in Madame Razz’s house. They are thick and dusty, their pages the colors of dark tea and old wood. Sprawling spiderweb script lists out spells and rites and rituals, secret histories and ancient revelations about the planet below her feet. The words are in an unfamiliar language, but somehow she understands it intrinsically: this is the planet, speaking to her through their connection. 

That is something else she has realized. She is more than adrift in time — she is bound to the heart of this planet like a tree to the earth. Once she sought to borrow this power; now it has changed her entire being. Once she was from another world. Now she is part of this one. 

She practices the spells and learns the histories, bending low over the ancient pages by flickering candlelight. Her voice changes as she barks the chants over and over, slipping into the Twiggets’ forest accent. When her vision begins to blur, she opens a little drawer and finds a pair of thick round spectacles, as if they were waiting for her. 

On some days, she returns to the clearing where the ruins of the Crystal Castle lie. She sits on the ground, Broom across her lap, staring at the shattered visage of She-Ra. Names cycle through her mind: Mara. Razz. Light Hope. Adora. She knows they go together, but the precise connection still eludes her. 

Her efforts to heal the scars of this land have not been in vain. Life is flourishing around the Castle, moss and vines crawling across the cold, quiet walls. As she sits among the tall grass, white moths flutter around her shoulders and settle in her hair. 

She takes careful, measured breaths, and time flows around her. She sits, still as a stone in the stream, and watches carefully. The moons whirl in the sky. The trees shrink and grow. The years stretch forward and back. She may not control the tides of time, but she can learn their ebb and flow. 

In every era she lands, she looks for Hope. Calls her name. Hears nothing in return. It’s just as well, she tells herself. 

She’s forgotten what she wanted to say, anyway. 

—

Time goes on. Not in a straight line, perhaps, but relentlessly. She goes on living, listening to Etheria through the woods. 

She settles deeper into Madame Razz’s house. Her hair grows longer, wilder. Chestnut brown fades into iron gray, then ghostly white. Her knuckles grow huge and gnarled. 

The older she gets, the more she seems to become a part of this place. 

She becomes ancient. She leans on Broom, and keeps her eyes out for Loo-Kee, who continues to hide. The woods keep whispering, and on moonlit nights the spirits bring her all their gathered rumors and secrets. 

Some things grow clearer in her mind. Some things grow cloudier. Some things simply stay the same. 

Around the world, villages grow into kingdoms, memories become legends, and the people begin to forget there ever used to be stars. She’s content to let them. For a thousand years, she can forget about the greater universe outside. For a thousand years, she can rest. 

Then a new invader arrives. 

And the story begins all over again. 

—

“Razz?” Adora pokes her head through the door, stress and strain showing clearly on her face. “Oh, Razz! It’s you. I finally found you.” 

She pauses at Adora’s greeting, trying to remember, feeling out of place. Wasn’t she doing something important a moment ago? She gropes in the dark of her mind, but the currents of time have already swept her away. She looks around. 

“Mm, if you say so, Mara. Now, come on. It’s getting so late!” 

“I’m not Mara!” Adora whines in frustration. “Ugh. It doesn’t matter. Razz, you have to help me. Everything’s falling apart. The rebellion’s losing worse than ever, and Glimmer…” 

While Adora talks, she hums to herself and bustles about the kitchen, gathering supplies. Truth be told, she is not paying very close attention to whatever Adora is saying. She knows this is rude, and feels a twinge of guilt for her absent mind, but there’s no helping it. She finally remembers. Today is important. 

Today, they are making a pie. 

—

She stops, a sword point blocking her path. She squints up. A young woman holds the other end of the shining blade in trembling hands, anger and fear mixing plainly on her face. 

“Who are you?” the other woman demands. “How did you find this place?” 

She adjusts her glasses and smiles in recognition. “Ah, Mara, dearie, there you are. Madame Razz wondered where you went.” 

Mara stumbles on her own words. “How do you know my name?” 

There is a shift like circles closing. Many creatures do not notice it at all, but those who do feel something smooth and electric crackle across their skin. She breathes as if the very air is something delicate and precious. 

“Oh,” she says, understanding suddenly growing. “Is this the first time?” 

She sighs in tearful relief. 

“It has been so long since it was the first time.” 

—

“There was something Mara said in her message. She talked about some kind of weapon?” 

She freezes at the words. They spark a fearful memory, and the kind of dread that comes from something terrible and inevitable. 

Adora only hears the gasp of recognition. “You do know something! You need to tell me!” 

She can suddenly remember watching the simulations of what the activated Heart of Etheria would do. Like a long forgotten moment of childhood it all comes rushing back, things she hasn’t thought about for so many years. She sees the universe burning, again and again. Panicked, she lashes out.

“Ow! What was that for?” Adora rubs her head where Broom has struck her. 

“You need to stop being so forgetful, Mara,” she replies. 

She can’t lose focus. Not today. Not now. Somehow, she can sense it. All the centuries are as nothing compared to this moment. 

Everything depends on now. 

—

“You know how to use magic?” Mara is looking at her, stunned. So young, a part of her thinks. 

She doesn’t pay attention to it. Right now, she needs sugar. And whatever else she can find in the ship. After all, she needs to — 

“Intruder detected.” 

Light Hope is there as suddenly as a thunderclap. She feels a sledgehammer weight in her chest, but there are too many thoughts crowding her mind. Frightened, she lashes out with Broom again. 

“Mara. Who is this person?” 

The ghost’s words sting, though she isn’t completely certain why. She glares at Mara. “You see the ghost too?” she asks, feeling cold. Trying to harden her heart. Failing. Something centuries old is calling from the back of her memory, damaged as it may be. 

“Her presence here is unauthorized.” 

“Your ghost is mean,” she spits back. And then turns away, so they will not see her face. 

She reaches for the sugar. “Why did I put it so high…?” 

She is trying to focus on Mara. But she can feel Light Hope watching them both. 

“She may have been exposed to classified information about the Heart of Etheria project. We need to detain and interrogate her.” 

Mara laughs. “You really think she’s somehow found information about a project so classified even I don’t know all the details?” 

“Come on, Hope. She’s clearly harmless.”

—

Adora is looking at the ruins, peering at the slashes cut into ancient stone. Swift Wind huddles beside her.

“Mara did this? She really was crazy.” 

She ignores them. The present is too important. “Aha!” she cries, pushing past the other two. “You found it!” 

“This was left deliberately,” Adora says, picking up a crystal. “Did it belong to Mara?” 

“Oh, yes, dearie. She left it for you,” she replies, full of certainty. 

“No, Razz. Mara’s gone. She’s been gone for a thousand years.” 

A thousand years. She turns the thought over in her mind. 

“Hmm? No, that doesn’t sound right.” 

And she smiles, in spite of herself. 

—

“Ghost,” she says. They are still on the ship. 

Light Hope stops. She has not looked closely at the old woman before. She pauses now, her eyes sparkling with calculations. There is something approaching recognition in her face. 

Madame Razz reaches out. “You are a friend of Mara,” she says with conviction. “Don’t forget her.” 

Light Hope pauses. “Friend,” the ghost says, distantly. 

“Mara.” 

—

The forest. The ruins. Adora, Swift Wind, and the old woman. 

“Oh Mara,” she mutters, tears welling in her eyes. “You were never supposed to succeed. They made a plan for you, but Razz could not do anything to help.” 

Adora is getting desperate. “Please, Razz. You have to remember something.” 

She holds her head. She can almost touch the answers. It is like trying to remember a dream. 

“Remember, remember. I try to remember, but it gets all muddled up. Adora, Mara…”

“It always ends the same.” 

—

The forest. The sword. The old woman, Mara, and She-Ra. 

She can see the light pouring out of Mara. Sees the sword thrust into the ground, burning with light. The glare fills her glasses, blinds her. Everything is ending. This is the moment that changes the universe. This is where the ends join together. The light bursts. 

And then she is gone. 

—

Adora is crying. The truth can have that effect. “The weapon,” she mutters, numbly, as the holographic message ends. “The weapon is Etheria.” 

They are all huddled together in the ship, her and Adora and Bow. When she tilts her head just right, she can see both at once: the ship in flames, forced down by a desperate hero. And the ship dark and ancient, with new young fighters searching it for answers. As sure as wicked people will destroy what they cannot control, good people will defend what they love. 

Madame Razz sets the pie down on the pilot’s chair and smiles through her own tears. 

“For you, Mara dearie,” she says, more to herself than anyone else. 

—

So here she is now. Old. New. Eternal. Madame Razz is never really sure when or where she is or how many times she has done all of this already, or which version of it all she is seeing now. Things blend together, loop after loop. All she can hold onto is Broom, and her hope. Again and again, she goes back to the beginning. Nothing ever changes. 

Until finally, She-Ra reaches the end. 

The sword breaks. The world shifts. And for a time, everything becomes so much worse. 

Light Hope is gone. She quakes with sobs, inconsolable, until the grief finally settles into something cold and solid. Another weight on her stooped shoulders. 

But she is not alone. 

Loo-Kee returns at the end of all things. Razz’s surprise, at this point, is mostly a show. A part of her character so well practiced that the mask may as well be her own gnarled face. 

“You found me, Loo-Kee,” she says, with a smile.

“I was always here,” the small creature replies. “And I always will be.”  

They stay together as the invasion worsens. As all hope seems lost. As She-Ra falls. 

—

The ground shakes. The skies burn. It is the end of the world. 

Madame Razz rocks anxiously in her chair, grasping Broom in her lap, surrounded by the fearful faces of Loo-Kee and the Twiggets. “Oh, dearie-my!” she exclaims, when a tremor makes the floor jump. “Isn’t this exciting!” 

Her words are light, but her voice is haunted. 

“The forest is in pain,” Spritina wails. “The tree roots can all feel it. There’s something wrong with the core of the planet.” 

“I’ve gotta be real,” Loo-Kee grimaces, white-knuckled. “I’ve never been to when this is going. None of the Kon-Seals ever have. Where I come from, it’s like… a great big forest of thorns and mist. Nobody can get in. Or out.” 

Razz looks down to the small creature, fire in her eyes. “You were always special, Loo-Kee,” she says, reaching out a reassuring hand. 

How much does she owe this strange being? They never had to help her. Confounding, perhaps, but loyal unlike any other. She has no right to ask any more of them. But there is still something she needs. 

“Loo-Kee. Brave and daring. Will you lead Madame Razz somewhere, one last time?” 

“I’m not sure if I —”

“Oh, Loo-Kee. Kind Loo-Kee. Madame Razz is old, but she is not a fool. You don’t have to protect me any longer. I know what happens next.” 

Loo-Kee doesn’t answer. It is strange to see their face so serious, against the blue coiffed curls and rainbow outfit. But just like Madame Razz, this is only one facet of something far grander. 

They reach out a hand. And then suddenly, only the Twiggets remain in the cottage. 

—

The secret of Loo-Kee is this: they do not actually go anywhere, or any when. They are already there. They always have been. A fact of the universe as constant — such as that may be — as time itself. 

The place where She-Ra confronts Horde Prime may not be a place they exist, but it is a place they can see. They can reach down and pluck Madame Razz from one quantum spot and place her down in another. And they can watch, and hope, knowing what is and will be but not how their friend will experience it. 

A mind that is to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts we cherish. 

Razz falls through existence. In this dream space, the ends of the circle meet and are one again. And then she is standing on solid ground, a cliff overlooking the wild fields of Etheria. 

And Adora is with her. 

And she is She-Ra again. 

She has the words at last. Things have been so confusing for so long. But all she really needed was some time to think. 

“I’m going to save Etheria, no matter what it takes,” Adora declares. Her eyes are set. “Your sacrifice won’t be in vain. I promise.”

“But at what cost?” asks She-Ra. Mara. Razz. And she finally says what she has always been trying to:

“You’re worth more than what you can give to other people. You deserve love too.” 

And then the monster is there, and they are parted once again. The waves of time and space send her spinning. But she can ride them now as well as any witch on her broom, and her eyes are clear. She has one more stop to make before all of this is over. 

—

Who is Horde Prime, eternal enemy of the First Ones? Where did he come from? Not even Mara knows, but she was there, battling his armies as She-Ra, one inexhaustible power against another. There can be no winners in a conflict like that. The war itself is the enemy. No true hero could call themselves a Master of the Universe, when all the universe wished for itself was to live in peace. 

And this is the secret that finally ends the war. That triggers the failsafe. That brings back the magic. 

Love is the most powerful force in the universe, and nothing can stand against it. 

As the magic returns, Razz-Mara-She-Ra can feel it; can open their eyes and see everything everywhere. 

Horde Prime, who still does not realize how small he is compared to all of this, is crying out. And She-Ra rebukes him: “No. it’s time for you to go.” 

As Horde Prime’s existence is erased by the light, the woman who has been through all of it reaches out one last time. Mara. Madame Razz. The soul of Etheria itself. 

I know your face, the dying ghost of Horde Prime seems to beg, though words are long past its capabilities. Why do I know your face? 

And she answers honestly: “I can’t remember.” 

—

The magic returns. The universe is restored. Love wins in the end.

And Madame Razz goes on, because time always does. She sweeps and hums and thinks about everything, and how it always changes. She smiles. 

“Ah. You’d be proud, Mara dearie.” 

[billiuspendragon]

Mob Psycho 100 playlist

I made a playlist, and I'm gonna post the songs on here and explain why I chose each of them. I'm not including every single song because of the audio limit but I'll explain the ones with the most thought behind them. Inspired by this post !

this is TOTALLY Mob about Tsubomi when they were kids.

Teacher thinks that I sound funny But she likes the way you sing Tonight I'll dream, while I’m in bed When silly thoughts go through my head About the bugs and alphabet And when I wake tomorrow, I'll bet That you and I will walk together again

Especially with the mention of them walking to school together, which is what Mob daydreams about. Altogether his crush on her is very childlike and innocent since he's loved her since they were kids, and I think this song reflects that.

Lyrics: 10 Vibes: 10

This one is why I decided to make a Mob Psycho playlist in the first place. It just brings back all my feelings from getting to the end of the show.

Oh, I'll settle down with some old story About a boy who's just like me Thought there was love in everything and everyone You're so naive! They always reach a sorry ending They always get it in the end Still it was worth it as I turned the pages solemnly and then

With a winning smile, the boy With naivety succeeds At the final moment, I cried I always cry at endings

Sorry that's such a long quote but it's so Mob I can't even. Reigen makes fun of him for being naiive but with his naiveté he succeeds!

I think it also works really well with Emi, since it talks about stories so much. She compares herself to Mob at once point too, which fits the "about a boy who's just like me" line.

Said the hero in the story "It is mightier than swords I could kill you, sure But I could only make you cry with these words

It's so him guys. His power is mightier than swords but it's his simple, honest words that usually win his battles.

Lyrics match: 8 Vibes match: 8

This song reminds me of Mob and Ritsu as kids.

And you know that I'm gonna be the one Who'll be there When you need someone to depend upon When tomorrow comes...

They're just,, always there for each other 🥹 they care about each other so much...

Also gonna share my favourite part:

Every star was shining brightly Just like a million years before And we were feeling very small Underneath the universe

It just gives me such a clear picture of them as small kids okay I just love their relationship so much aaaaa

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 10

This is a brutal one to put right after the previous one, but it reminds me of Mob post-trauma.

There is no pain, you are receding A distant ship, smoke on the horizon You are only coming through in waves Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying When I was a child, I had a fever My hands felt just like two balloons Now I've got that feeling once again I can't explain, you would not understand This is not how I am

I have become comfortably numb

Because he starts shutting himself away and numbing himself so his emotions don't get the better of him.

Lyrics match: 6 Vibes match: 8

This also reminds me of Mob and Ritsu, but also post-trauma.

Love, love will tear us apart, again

Mob grows distant out of a fear of hurting Ritsu, and Ritsu becomes slightly afraid of Mob. Love really did tear them apart 😭

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 9

This one represents Mob when he's beginning to lose it.

I look inside myself and see my heart is black

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 6

I wasn't able to include it but I also have "Where is My Mind" by The Pixies for similar reasons.

This one gives me Reigen vibes.

You know "My celibate days are over" You put me straight on the finer points of my speech rehearsed In the mirror of my steamy bathroom Where the lino tells a sorry story in a monologue, in a monologue

I think this song is mostly about the singer himself, but the lyrics are just so specific and evocative that it gives me the mental image of Reigen in that one outro in season one you know.

The chorus reminds me of him too:

Six months on, the winter's gone The disenchanted pony Left the town with the circus boy The circus boy got lonely It's summer and it's sister song's Been written for the lonely The circus boy is feeling melancholy

Lyrics match: 6 Vibes match: 9

THIS IS SO MOB WHEN HE LOSES IT I CAN'T EXPRESS THIS ENOUGH

I'm not the killing type, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, but I would kill to make you feel! I don't mean kill someone for real! I couldn't do that, it is wrong! but I can say it in a song, a song, and I'm saying it NOW!

Like PLEASE it's so fitting, especially for when he fights Shou's dad.

Also this verse:

I once stepped on a dying bird It was a mercy killing I couldn't sleep for a week I kept feeling its breaking bones

It's. It's so him.

Lyrics match: 10 Vibes match: 8

this whole song just reminds me of Reigen. I'm so annoyed that the little excerpt that Tumblr plays is never The Right Bit but --

...and for once in you're life, you've got nothing to say, and could this be the time, when somebody will come, to say "look at yourself, you're not much use to anyone"?

I just think it fits well as someone who's very confident on the surface but deep down feels a bit pathetic and doesn't know what he's doing.

(that's like my favourite song ever btw, it's so bouncy)

Lyrics match: 9 Vibes match: 8

This one just fits with the lower-stakes parts of the show to me.

Do something pretty while you can, don't be a fool, skating a pirouette on ice is cool

I don't know man, there's just something about it.

Lyrics match: 7 Vibes match: 10

I've skipped some songs out of this because of the audio limit but here's the full playlist if anyone wants to listen to it :D I think I explained all the important ones, the others are probably there for vibes.

Oh yeah and I added "Satellite of Love" onto the end because it reminded me of the aliens lmao... I might take it off though because "We Rule the School" feels like such a good one to finish on and idk where I would put Satellite of Love to get the flow right

[stargazing-enby]

Pink Floyd: a distant ship, smoke on the horizon 🎶

Me, singing along: a distant shit storm on the horizon... wait—

[perrywings]

New Fics

Okay, so, I kinda forgot my tumblr is actually something I gotta update.

I’ve definitely transitioned into a Stranger Things hyperfixation, though I do plan on continuing my other current fics. But I have two ST fics to announce!

I completed a 30 chapter fic for NaNoWriMo 2022 (and won!) called A Distant Ship Smoke On The Horizon! It’s a Post-series AU and an Idiots-to-Lovers Steddie AU featuring Nanny!Steve, Rockstar!Eddie, and a plot line that actually considers implications of Season 3 of Stranger Things. I will not be writing a sequel, but I believe I left off at a satisfying ending.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42845847/chapters/107635425

My current in-progress fic is called Having The Time Of Your Life. This is not similar to the previous fic, and will not be Steddie. The premise is that it’s an Age Reversal and Role Reversal AU (with Eddie, Erica, and Holly as exceptions) where The Party are the older group and and the High Schoolers are the younger group. Although in the long-term, the focus of the fic will be on Steve and Dustin’s brotherly relationship, the fic has begun with Middle Schooler!Steve being taken to the Upside Down in Season 1 (in place of Barb, who lives) and the aftermath of surviving and coming back.

I have 5 Chapters out so far:

Chapter 1 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43433013/chapters/109187178

Chapter 1 Summary: 12-year-old Steve Harrington is taken to the Upside Down.

Chapter 2 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43433013/chapters/109274169#workskin

Chapter 2 Summary: Steve tries to get his bearings in the Upside Down.

Chapter 3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43433013/chapters/109327077#workskin

Chapter 3 Summary: After getting separated from Will, Steve figures out what to do.

Chapter 4 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43433013/chapters/109425852#workskin

Chapter 4 Summary: Steve wakes up in the hospital after his ordeal.

Chapter 5 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43433013/chapters/110290218#workskin

Chapter 5 Summary: Steve tries to get back to his life. This is complicated.

[jadegretz]

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Eve-Unraveling-the-Secrets-of-the-Blade-1083817612Eve: Unraveling the Secrets of the Blade by Jade Gretz

Eve's Battle Against Alien Invaders

The night sky above Earth was alive with the chaotic brilliance of warfare. Streaks of energy, like malevolent shooting stars, cut through the darkness, illuminating the landscape below with flashes of blue and green. Thunderous booms echoed across the terrain, shaking the ground with the force of each impact. And in the midst of it all, Eve stood alone, her armor glistening under the starlight, her blade humming with barely contained energy.

She was a vision of grace and power, her sleek, advanced armor hugging her form like a second skin, its dark metallic sheen reflecting the distant explosions. Her eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the horizon, searching for the next wave of enemies. Eve was the last hope for humanity, the only one capable of standing against the alien invaders that had descended upon Earth, their intentions clear and merciless: annihilation.

The invaders were unlike anything humanity had ever faced. They were not mindless drones, but highly advanced beings, each one a twisted amalgamation of organic and mechanical components. Their bodies were covered in armor-like carapaces, their limbs ending in wicked, serrated blades or pulsating energy weapons. Their eyes, if they could be called that, glowed with an eerie, unnatural light, betraying no emotion, no empathy—only an insatiable hunger for destruction.

Eve had fought them before, countless times, across the ruins of cities, in the depths of underground bunkers, and even in the void of space itself. But tonight was different. The invaders had grown more cunning, more desperate. They had adapted to humanity’s defenses, and now they were throwing everything they had at the last remaining strongholds. If Eve failed, there would be no one left to protect the Earth.

A distant roar caught her attention, and she turned to see a massive alien craft descending from the sky, its engines leaving a trail of black smoke in its wake. It was a behemoth, larger than any ship she had encountered before, its surface bristling with weapons and shields. Eve tightened her …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[asteroidtroglodyte]

[American Gods]

The FreeWhale

[inbetween forkfuls of roadside diner hashbrowns smothered in Tabasco sauce and gulps of black coffee with 6 sugars to a cup]

I was doing a late-night jaunt west down the I-10, planning to take the 15 up to Las Vegas to drop some cargo, when I saw this light on the horizon.

Now that in itself isn’t unusual. Construction site, football game, poorly managed corporate parking lot; lots of reasons to see lights at night.

But this light, it blazed. It was too crisp, too close, too dense. It shone whiter than daylight and cast shadows sharp as knives. And as I drew closer I realized that the source of the light was on the freeway itself.

Now I will freely admit that my vocabulary is not the most expansive, but I don’t know if we have a word in English for the thing that cast that light. Machinery is technically correct, but…

Countless wheels it had, with more axles than I got to count and more tires per axle than I’ve seen before or since. 2 double-wide trailers side-by-side, commanding 4 lanes in all, as long as a football field and lit up twice as bright. Carried aloft and suspended between them by a web of hard steel chains was a great and weighty throne, bearing a golden statue of a blood soaked man, flat goggled eyes expressionlessly overseeing the endless road.

Hauled by a team of engines, 16 in all, 4 to a lane and 4 abreast, lashed together like sled dogs of old, billowing clouds of black diesel and blood smoke. Somehow, over the cacophony of wind and motor, I heard the distant screams of the Blood Sacrifice which powered the God Of The Freeway, the bodies of men and women young and old crushed into paste by the ruthless intersection of momentum and inattention in a thousand car accidents each day.

I saw men in high-vis and boot, clambering about the great mechanism like ants upon a tree, adjusting the tension of the chains and the power of the motors, bearing this colossi of weighty momentum and terrible speed along the endless night highways to a destination that would never arrive.

I knew with a sudden terrible clarity that if I remained too near that my own engine would be lashed into service; that the heraldry upon the engines bore the names of defunct shipping companies and dead independent drivers; and that the dreadful velocity of the God Of Freeways would carry it ever westward, far ahead of a sunrise that could never catch it, and so in pursuit of my own life and dawns to come I slowed, and let the God Of Freeways slip over the horizon.

[beaft]

Was your top surgery a success? Did your dad notice at all?

top surgery is currently no more than distant ship smoke on the horizon, i'm afraid, but i'll keep you updated!

[thecunnydiaries]

28th Thursday

Very fine. Sighted Land ahead in the Morning of a very lofty appearance and on approaching it discovered in the highest Peak of it a Volcanic erruption. It would Shew first with a volume of Smoke, as dark as Pitch which would gradually become of a lighter hue and then the Flame would burst forth with great fury for some time, after which it would Subside for a few minutes and then reappear again. The Island is of a great height Peaky and entirely covered with Snow except the Sides of the burning Mountain which [are] black which I suppose is owing to the hot Lava issuing from the mouth of the Cratur and falling down its Sides. There is a valley between the two highest Peaks, in which there is a dense Labyrinth of Smoke [which] presents a very romantic feature in the general view of the Island. It lays in about 77 S L. 174 E Longitude, and several other Islands in it vicinity; both Ships Kept away to Leeward of it and found a body of Ice adhering to it and running away in a Southerly direction as far as you could See. To look along it you would think it was a high wall built in the Ocean: I should think it was fifty feet high and looked grand in perspective. Sailing along it all night with Studding Sails Low & aloft. Night particularly fine Sun Shining Strong

Beaufort Island and Mount Erebus, Discovered 28th. January, 1841, from Ross, Voyage, I. f.p.216.

Campbell's Notes:

Hooker, Notes, p. 271. ‘The water and the sky were both as blue, or rather more intensely blue than I have ever seen them in the tropics, and all the coast one mass of dazzlingly beautiful peaks of snow, which, when the sun approaches the horizon, reflected the most brilliant tints of golden, yellow and scarlet; and then to see the dark cloud of smoke, tinged with flame, rising from the volcano in a perfect unbroken column; one side jet-black, and the other giving back the colours of the sun, sometimes turning off at a right angle by some current of wind, and stretching many miles to leeward! This was a sight, so surpassing every thing that can be imagined, and so heightened by the consciousness that we have penetrated, under the guidance of our commander, into regions far beyond what was ever dreamed practicable, that it really caused a feeling of awe to steal over us, at the consideration of our own comparative insignificance and helplessness, and at the same time an indescribable feeling of the greatness of the Creator in the works of his hand.’Return to an Address of the Honourable The House of Commons dated 26 August 1841 - for, Copies of such Extracts from the Despatch of Captain James Ross from Van Diemen’s Land etc. ‘… Still steering to the southward, early next morning, the 28th, a mountain of 12,400 feet above the level of the sea was seen, emitting flame and smoke in splendid profusion. This magnificent volcano received the name of Mount Erebus… It is in latitude 77°32'S. and longitude 167°E.; an extinct crater to the eastward of Mount Erebus, of a somewhat less elevation, was called Mount Terror.

C. J. Sullivan, SPRI MS 367/22. ‘At the South East end of Mount Erebus and joining the Main Land of Victorias continent begins the Barrier or as I should call it natures handywork, in the evening we commenced running thinking from the Declination of the Barrier from the distant view from the Mast head that we may run it down by midnight. But as far and as fast as we run the Barrier appeard the Same Shape and form as it did when we left the mountain. We pursued a South Easterly Course for a distance of three hundred miles But the Barrier appeard the Same as when we Left the Land.’

[aesrot]

Jonathan sims Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd

There is no pain, you are receding A distant ship's smoke on the horizon You are only coming through in waves Your lips move, but I can't hear what you're saying

When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse Out of the corner of my eye I turned to look, but it was gone I cannot put my finger on it now The child is grown The dream is gone And I have become Comfortably numb

he doesn't even remember how it felt before, he grew used to it and he doesn't even have the strength to be upset about it anymore, he's just constantly being chased, hurt, used, he just accepts it, empty inside as some sort of coping mechanism

[rainbows-fanfics]

Help Unwanted (Chapter 1)

Summary: After losing the Pirate, Deacon is unwillingly paired with a partner to help with his job. The only problem is - they can't stand each other, and time is dwindling until he can re-capture all his lost prisoners.

Human AU of the Armada from Pirate101.

Pairings: Deacon/Queen!Deacon, Deacon/OC

--

A caped figure leaned against the side of a building, watching the waves of the ocean gradually stretch over the horizon. He listened to the distant splashing from the shore and birds flocking from above. In any normal circumstance, this would be considered a peaceful sight - but to him , it was all but a grave reminder of what transpired last week. 

The Erebus was destroyed after his run-in with Boochbeard and his accomplice, Gandry. He’d been in the middle of delivering prisoners for questioning when his ship was overrun with pirates. He had a long, almost annoying streak with this ruffian - who trailed after him and thwarted his plans as of late. He lost a few convicts under Boochbeard’s foiling before…but nothing like the Erebus. 

It sank. He lost nearly all his prisoners, grabbing only a couple with him on his escape boat. Least to say, it wasn’t anywhere near what was expected that day, and he suffered for it. He stomped through Valencia afterwards, soaked from head-to-toe, relaying to Kane how he lost his ship and everything on it. To his superior, this was not good news. 

It was the most humiliated he’d ever felt. Rooke was present and didn't improve the situation, expressing his disappointment in Deacon, accompanied with Kane’s belittling. He asked, desperately , if his father ever received the letter he’d written a week prior - about the rise of piracy on ports and shipping, and his aggressive sweep for criminals and undesirables. He learned shortly that it was intercepted by Boochbeard and Gandry. His efforts were nearly in vain. 

He thought his life couldn’t get any worse. But things spiraled downwards from there. 

For the past week, he was put on hold as an Emissary - refused missions and conferences, not even allowed on Armada ships. To him, this was an unfair punishment. He’d rather be put on standby, out on the seas somewhere, contributing * something * to the Armada. Instead, he drank his problems away and read depressing novels in his free time. 

He was happy to be called in today. He’d be receiving a new ship and finally put back on duty. But he remained weary – something didn’t feel right about this. 

Deacon inhaled his cigarette from under his mask before releasing his breath. The smoke filtered from under the bauta and was carried away by the wind. The door opened. An Armada Soldier peered in his direction. They made eye contact before the other man stepped aside and gestured politely. 

“My lord is ready for you.” 

The spymaster sighed. “Of course he is.” 

He extinguished his cigarette before entering the office. The soldier escorted him to the door. He found a man propped against a desk facing his direction, his gloved fingertips touching one another as his blue eyes studied his figure. The room was filled with tense silence - no implication of any conversation prior to him opening the door. Deacon cleared his throat and shut it behind him, stepping forward while he tapped his cane on the ground. His eyes wandered as he went. He noticed Queen sitting to the side, leg resting over the other and smiling at him. 

He stiffened. There was no reason for her to be here. Did *everyone* have to know his business? His failure? He clenched his jaw at the thought. 

“ Ciao. ” Kane greeted, breaking the silence. He sounded impatient and unhappy. Deacon bowed and moved a hand behind his back. A habit of his, for concealing his pistol. 

“Kane…thank you for seeing me. You will not regret this.”

“Exactly what we need to talk about.” The Supreme Commander snapped to the empty chair across from him. There was no argument as he sat down. His eyes momentarily flicked to the extra company, but went back to Kane when he leaned forward. 

“Deacon, I have high expectations of you. I completely entrust you as my representative - your image is my own. You’re expected to execute my businesses for me. Failure to do so is not only a burden on you , but on me as well.” 

His posture deflated. “ Hai ragione .” 

“When you sank the Erebus last week, you lost valuable intel. Criminals who were going to be questioned and used to our advantage. Not only are we missing * them *, but an expensive ship as well. These matters were in your hands.” 

“They did not get away without a fight.” Deacon defended. They had this conversation already. He was tired of being reminded of his mistakes. “The prisoners were freed and conspired together. I did the best I could, being outnumbered.” 

“Be that as it may, the results are still the same. I’ve invested in a new ship for you - but not one you will captain alone.” 

He quirked an eyebrow under his mask. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re being assigned a partner.” Queen finally spoke, earning his attention. “She will help with your navigation, execute your businesses, and provide a helping hand in case of another… mutiny .” 

The spymaster didn’t know how to process this information. He preferred working alone so he wouldn’t be slowed down - burdened by anyone who couldn’t keep with his pace. He was constantly moving, never staying in one place for a long time. He was known for two things: being brief and remaining anonymous. Leaving no trace of his presence or involvement. A coworker would challenge that. 

One word managed to leave his lips. “-’She’ ?” 

She smiled behind the mask she held. He could tell by her tone. “A friend of mine.” 

This did nothing to assure him. Kane noticed his distress and moved a hand in the air. “She meets all the qualifications. She has prior experience in your field and even basic training. Most importantly, she has no records of negligence.” 

Deacon trailed his hands over his cane. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was he so incompetent they had to *hire* someone to *help* him..? His fingers twitched in irritation. He was disappointed with himself. How could he prove to be this inept? It felt like a slap in the face, despite Kane and Queen presenting this as a privilege . A punishment worse than being refused any work… 

“This is strictly for business.” The Supreme Commander resumed. “You two will not convene after-hours, unless so desired. She knows nothing about your identity, as you do with hers. She’s supplied with a mask to keep things incognito. Disclosing any information about yourselves is purely out of consent.” 

He relaxed in his chair. So he didn’t have to know anything about her. Or even care at all. ‘That’s a plus’, he thought. He wanted nothing to do with this “helping hand”, supplied to him out of pure pity. The situation was already degrading enough, in his eyes. 

“She'll meet with you tomorrow at the docks, to your new ship.” Kane wrote something down. “You two will track down your lost convicts. The Pirate is already showing interference with our plans. Every one of them is your responsibility, and you are expected to catch them once more.” 

“I can do that by myself. Is the company necessary ?” He sat back exasperatedly. Kane tilted his head, unimpressed. 

“Need I remind you this is your mistake. Since you couldn’t do what was asked of you the first time, this is simply a compromise, to make sure that doesn’t happen again.” 

Deacon decided to be quiet. The only smart decision he’s made in this conversation. Kane shared a glance with his Queen before rolling up the paper and handing it to him without a word. He saved it in one of his coat’s pockets, to read it in his spare time.

"I want to see improvement from this fiasco. You have three months to track down every inmate you lost and bring them in for questioning. If this does not happen, you'll be moved somewhere less… important ."

His life was Hell.