#his entire job is Keeping An Eye On The Tunnels. his personality is worm off a string who will he kill. i dont know if it would be funnier

[toytulini]

i used to talk about my ocs on here so much and now i almost never do

[spoondrifts]

long post ahead I'm sorry-

crack au where Jonah Magnus is a good guy but everything keeps going wrong and he spends all of his time running around trying to stop his employees from diving headfirst into their Fuck Up™ of the week

in this au Jonah is almost entirely incompetent but he's got the exasperated parent thing down enough to make up for his lack of braincells

he's also at least 7% dumber than he is in canon

s1 Jon: please call pest control there are so many worms

s1 Elias: I already did

Jon: and??

Elias: they ate them

Jon: the worms?

Elias: the pest control guys. the worms ate them

Elias spends the entirety of season 2 desperately trying to convince Jon that none of them killed Gertrude (in this au Gertrude just had a stroke or something in the tunnels). Elias stops Jon from destroying the table but a week later something heavy falls on it and the NotThem escapes anyway. Elias bashes in Leitner's head with a pipe after mistaking him for the monster and Jon gets framed.

now Elias has to convince this hunter that Jon is innocent while Jon runs around and harasses various fear avatars (who are all very amused with Elias' wayward Archivist). Jon assumes Elias knows nothing about all this bullshit because Elias is just his weird and uptight boss who accidentally killed someone, he can't possibly know that there are literally fear gods ruling over them

olive ⚰ has named the group 'Avatars ✨'

JMagnus 👀: Jude please don't hurt him. I'll explain everything when he gets back to the Institute.

🔥: too late

JMagnus 👀: What?

🔥: too late

🔥: burned him

[JMagnus 👀 is typing]

JMagnus 👀: Where is he now.

🔥: going to mike

JMagnus 👀: Mike Crew???

🔥: ya

Elias RACES to Mike's house but he. he fucking misses them. the Beholding helpfully tells him that they're all going back to the Institute so Basira and Daisy can interrogate him, which isn't ideal, he'd really like to not go to jail, so he drafts up an employment contract on the way back and barely manages to escape the whole thing with his life intact.

then he explains everything to Jon because if Jon is going to end up being the Archivist, being uninformed won't do. Jon becomes the Archivist completely on accident and Elias is desperately trying to make all of this work because, haha, the Unknowing is coming up, and Elias is not in the fucking mood to deal with clowns.

olive ⚰ has named the group 'all that is terror uwu'

spidey🕸: lmfaooo jonah how do you make an archivist on accident

JMagnus 👀: He stumbled into it. All I can do now is ensure he doesn't die.

JMagnus 👀: Or get further injured by the rest of you.

🔥: woops

🎭: hEy gUyS lOnG tiMe nO sEe

🎭: gEt iT eLiAs

🎭: sEe

JMagnus 👀: Beholding puns are not amusing from a manifestation of the Stranger.

🎭 has named the group 'eLiAs bE niCe tO niKoLa cHaLlEnGe'

🔥: haha

spidey🕸: I'm sure Nikola will be on her best behavior

🎭: yEaH i wOnT kiDnAp yOuR aRcHiViSt

[JMagnus 👀 is typing]

mike n ike: hey guys what'd I miss

🔥: arent you dead

mike n ike: yeh but I came back

JMagnus 👀: NIKOLA ORSINOV WHERE IS JONATHAN SIMS

🔥: can't you see haha

mike n ike: heh "see"

JMagnus 👀: NIKOLA

spidey🕸: wow he must be pissed

spidey🕸: he left out the punctuation

JMagnus 👀: I WILL BREAK ALL OF YOUR PLASTIC BONES WHERE'S MY ARCHIVIST

🎭 has left the chat.

JMagnus 👀: what the FUCK

since he's still a coward Elias sends Michael to go fetch Jon, only finding out after the fact that he very nearly almost signed Jon's death warrant. Elias is now speedrunning Jon's development because fuck the Unknowing is coming up really quickly and Tim is a self destructive mess and Melanie keeps trying to stab Elias and Martin is a pining idiot and goddammit he didn't sign up for this

Elias prepares Jon the best he can for the Unknowing, because even though he knows the ritual will fail, the Circus can still cause a considerable amount of damage and he needs them out of the way.

the Unknowing happens. Jon ends up in a wack ass coma, Tim is dead, Daisy's in the coffin, and Basira is starting to look like the better choice of Archivist because jesus christ Jon has no self preservation instinct. Elias doesn't get arrested this time around but his ex husband starts coming by the Institute and fucking with all his employees. and the Flesh is attacking. jesus. goddamn.

olive ⚰ has named the group 'bully elias'

JMagnus 👀: Why are you all so mean to me? I'm arguably the nicest one here.

🔥: ur joking right

Peter Lukas: you're not nice you didn't buy me an anniversary gift 😢😢😢

JMagnus 👀: I was busy.

Peter Lukas: doing what

JMagnus 👀: Stopping the Flesh from destroying my Institute. Besides, you didn't remember my birthday.

Peter Lukas: you're 200 years old how could I remember 😓

helen!!!!!: We All Know I'm The Nicest One Here!!

JMagnus 👀: How did you make your text that colorful?

helen!!!!!: IDK

JMagnus 👀: Liar.

helen!!!!!: That's Literally My Job

olive ⚰: hey eli your archivist just woke up I think

🔥: ew why

helen!!!!!: How Delightful!! Maybe I'll Throw Him A Glad You're Alive Party!!

olive ⚰: should we invite him to this chat since he's an avatar now

Peter Lukas: no 🙅 🚫❌

Peter Lukas: I hate archivists 😤😤

olive ⚰: still mad about gertrude huh

🔥: were all still mad about gertrude

🔥: but jons fine once you burn some manners into him

JMagnus 👀: Can you all please stop hurting Jon? Or talking about hurting him? I would like my Archivist to not acquire any more scars.

🔥: damn

Peter Lukas: damn 😔

Elias keeps trying to teach Jon how to pick certain victims to feed off of because personally he has no qualms about feeding from innocents but Jon!! actually trusts him!!! so Elias doesn't want to push Jon into making decisions that will offend his moral sensitivities.

things are actually going okay for a while. Elias starts going home at a reasonable time in the evenings and Jon is actually getting some sleep. and then-

Elias is having a nice dream about Peter trying to fish Simon Fairchild out of a sky filled with eyes when he abruptly sits up in bed, wide awake.

"Ah, fuck," he says to Peter, who is laying on the floor where it is Lonelier™. "Jon's doing something stupid. I Know it."

Peter's mumbled "isn't he always" goes unnoticed as Elias hurries to the Institute, where he finds a fucking rib on Jon's desk and the coffin in the middle of the room.

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'archivists ruin my sleep schedule and my sex life'

JMagnus 👀: What the fuck do I do?? I can't go into the Buried! Why is Jon so stupid? I didn't know he had zero braincells when I hired him!

🔥: ngl why havent you fired him yet

JMagnus 👀: Beholding won't let me. We're all bound to the Institute.

🔥: F

JMagnus 👀: Why are there no Buried avatars in here? Please someone help me.

mike n ike: lol the buried is gross why would anyone go down there

spidey🕸: does he have an anchor?

[JMagnus 👀 sent an image]

🔥: is that a fucking rib

spidey🕸: wow that's not a good anchor at all

spidey🕸: he needs someone he loves

JMagnus 👀: Thanks. Gtg.

spidey🕸: np

🔥: are we not going to talk about his rib

🔥: how the fuck did he get that out of his body

🔥: yall

🔥: YALL

it takes three days for Elias to find Martin.

"Please tell me why the fuck you're dabbling in the Lonely," Elias says as Martin steps sheepishly out of the fog.

"Ah. Well. Jon can't See into it very well and sometimes we like to spice up our se-"

"Stop before I have to gouge my eyes out again."

"A-Again-?"

Elias drags Martin back to the Institute. Martin starts setting tapes on the coffin because "Jon loves these" and Elias starts bashing his head into the wall.

Jon climbs out of the coffin with Daisy and Elias almost considers locking Jon in his office so the damn archivist can't do anything else ridiculous. instead, Elias very calmly takes Jon by the shoulders, and shakes him like a rag doll.

"Stop fucking with entities, you stupid, stupid man," Elias says, shaking Jon more viciously now.

after several hours of breathing exercises Elias returns to his house and doesn't take his Sight off of Jon for the rest of the night, which is a fun experience for Peter when he wakes up and finds Elias' bloodshot eyes staring directly at him in the morning.

JMagnus 👀 added Daisy to 'archivists ruin my sleep schedule and my sex life'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'archivist hate club'

JMagnus 👀 has named the chat 'shut up peter'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'you love jon more than me'

JMagnus 👀 has named the chat 'I don't love either of you I'm heartless'

Peter Lukas has named the chat 'I want a divorce'

spidey🕸: jeez take your marital dispute elsewhere

spidey🕸 has named the chat 'lonelyeyes dni'

Daisy: wtf is this

mike n ike: it's a chat for avatars

mike n ike: and ex avatars ig

Daisy: didn't I kill you

mike n ike: yea

JMagnus 👀: Hello, Daisy. Welcome to the group chat.

Daisy: why is Jon not in here

Peter Lukas: because I hate him 😁

spidey🕸: Elias talks mad shit in here and Jon would get offended

Daisy: if you talk bad about Jon I'll rip your throat out

Daisy: :)

JMagnus 👀: Noted.

mike n ike: he's kinda rude tho

Daisy: I've killed you once

Elias' only goal now is to keep Jon and his assistants from pulling any more wild stunts without his supervision. his renewed involvement with the archival staff results in a few things he'd hoped to avoid: drink invites, physical contact (Martin is surprisingly quick to start hugging Elias once he realizes Elias won't stop him), and- shudder -feelings. because Elias genuinely cares about his staff and doesn't want any harm to befall them. especially Jon. Jon is his Archivist, the only one to ever succeed like this, and Elias will be damned if he lets anything happen to him.

"Why do you care?" Jon asks, once, compulsion thrumming like static on his tongue. "About us, I mean. I would've assumed you'd want to perform the Beholding's ritual."

Jonah Magnus attempted the Watcher's Crown once, when he was young and new. he'd brought his patron close, but not all the way through, and the backlash of power killed all the inmates at Millbank and severely crippled Jonah's connection to the Eye for months afterward. he grew to assume that the Beholding simply preferred the world as it was--ripe with fear for watching. it didn't need a ritual.

he instead dedicated himself to growing stronger, cultivating his Institute of knowledge, his stronghold. if he tore out a few people's eyes when he got too old, then, well, collateral. but he doesn't want the world to end, and knows now that no ritual will ever succeed unless it brings in all the Powers at once. and he doesn't want that either.

it's concerning to him that Jon seems to be collecting marks regardless. the only ones he's missing are the Dark and the Lonely, and Elias is determined to keep it that way.

he explains all of this to Jon who, to his credit, takes it pretty well. Jon is fascinated with historic life and Elias spends some time simply recounting tales of his youth, when he still bore the name Magnus.

they bond. it's good.

and one day Basira does a little too much research and discovers the dark sun waiting in Ny Alesund. she insists they need to go and see what's left of the People's Church, they need to ensure everything is taken care of. Jon is rather insistent too. and Elias wouldn't have been inclined to let them go, except Peter was finally home after weeks at sea, and it wasn't like Jon was defenseless, he could call Elias if anything went wrong...

so, very reluctantly, Elias gives them the all clear. Basira, Jon, and Martin head north, and Elias almost forgets they've gone when he arrives home and Peter already has dinner prepared.

Jon comes back marked by the Dark.

Elias curses himself, over and over, for being foolish enough to let them go, for not keeping a closer eye on them. he knows the ritual won't work unless a certain incantation is spoken, so he'll just have to keep world-ending written chants away from Jon. easy. and it's not like Jon will even get marked by the Lonely. Peter wouldn't.

(but Martin doesn't have the same level of control, and sometimes...)

it's an accident. Martin and Jon are testing it, pushing the boundaries, when Martin pulls them both into the Lonely. Elias threatens divorce until Peter caves and fetches them, but it's too late. Jon has been marked by all fourteen Powers.

Elias tells him, and warns him to check everything he reads.

helen!!!!! has named the chat 'apocalypse babey'

JMagnus 👀: How are you doing that?

JMagnus 👀: And the apocalypse is not imminent. I have the situation under control.

olive ⚰: ha yeah

JMagnus 👀: What do you mean by that?

olive ⚰: nothing

JMagnus 👀: Well, now I certainly think it's something.

olive ⚰: it's just

olive ⚰: don't you think it's kinda weird that @spidey🕸 has been offline for so long

🔥: thats weird shes always online

JMagnus 👀: Oliver, what are you implying?

olive ⚰: idk

olive ⚰: just weird, that's all

🔥: never good when the spiders are quiet

olive ⚰: hear hear

Elias gets a sinking feeling in his stomach, and beside him, Peter looks alarmed. meanwhile, in his flat with Martin making tea in the other room, Jon has a statement clutched in his grasp.

Hello, Jon.

I would apologize for the deception, but I'm afraid that's quite what I'm good at. I'm not one to monologue, that's more Jonah's shtick, so shall we get on with things?

I admit I underestimated Jonah Magnus. He's still remarkably easy to manipulate, but when he abandoned the Watcher's Crown ritual I knew I would have to take a different approach. The Mother is not so satisfied with the world as she may have insinuated. It is our turn to rise, Jon.

At the age of eight, you were marked by us. We sent you to the Magnus Institute in the hopes that a new Archivist would rekindle Jonah's desire to end the world. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he grew fond of you, and so we brought in a new plan. We marked you. One fear at a time. Jonah gave an admirable attempt at protecting you, but ultimately, he is an incompetent old fool, and I am a Weaver. Even Jonah Magnus dances to invisible strings.

Everyone underestimates a spider until it bites. Poison is poison, Jon, regardless of the medium in which it is served.

You will be safe in this new world. Martin, too. Perhaps even Jonah and his Lukas, if the Mother deems them worthy.

Now, please repeat after me...

Jon reads the ink scratched words, eyes welling up with tears and hands trembling, as thunder crashes outside and a howling gale picks up beyond the windows. Martin is shouting something, there's the crawling press of Elias' gaze as it rests heavy behind Jon, a silent observer. He can feel Elias' soothing presence, cool and calm in the raging storm.

Elias is still watching out for him.

Strings are wrapped around his wrists, jerking his arms up in a poor mockery of religious regard, strange hysterical laughter clawing out from his throat.

Jon's tears run red. Somewhere, Elias is still watching.

The door opens.

[honeypwark]

[ Riverside ]

  ↳ Gone Days era

       ↳ Xiang interrupts Chan and Jisung. She and Chan take a walk. She finally tells someone.

Note: Maybe reread Quitter and Turbulence before reading?

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a detailed explanation of how Xiang developed and lived with her eating disorder. Please do not read if this is triggering for you.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Chan sits at his desk with Jisung beside him, explaining how different chords in the same spot will change the feel of the song and he should choose based on what vibe he wants the song to have.

“I kind of want it to not just cut off. Like it’s leading to more even after the song’s ended.”

“G7 might work better then.”

“G7...?”

Chan plays the chord on the keyboard to his left.

“Oh, got it.”

“As opposed to G.” He plays said chord.

“Alright. And for the second verse I wanted to-“

There’s a soft knock on the door, “Chris?”

Chan turns in his desk chair, his attention immediately going to the girl that walks into the room.

“Hey, Sophie.”

It’s been three days since Xiang’s breakdown in the bathroom at four in the morning. The next morning, Xiang had promised she’d talk to Chan about what caused it but she’d need time. He gave her time, not even mentioning what had happened. Of course, without any kind of explanation, Chan has been left to worry about every little thing and see all the worst case scenarios for the last few days.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“What? Is he your dog or something?”

Xiang’s eyes land on Jisung, who she hadn’t noticed when she’d entered, too tunnel visioned on finally growing a pair and talking about her issues. It took her nearly an hour to knock on Chan’s door and ask to go somewhere to talk privately. Her momentary false bravery crumbles visibly on her face as she realizes Chan is busy.

“Oh, sorry. You’re busy.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chan says quickly, stopping her from leaving. He turns to Jisung, “We’ll finish later, alright?”

Jisung is confused but nods slowly, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Jisung watches as his leader saves everything on his computer without his usual attention to detail, scrambling out of his chair after Xiang as she walks back out of the room. He blinks after him confusedly, rolling his eyes before packing up his laptop to return to his own bedroom.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After taking a bus to Han River and walking along the riverside for about five minutes in silence, Xiang is still struggling with beginning to lay it all out for Chan. She squeezes the linings of her jacket pockets, the joints of her fingers aching from the strength behind it.

“Do you want to sit?” Chan asks, pointing toward a bench they’re approaching.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Xiang takes a deep breath in. She breathes it out slowly. She relaxes her hands in her pockets.

“I have an eating disorder.”

Chan wishes he could say that her admitting that makes everything fall into place. That he can say he’s noticed her acting strange. That he can admit he’s been worried about her weight loss. But he can’t. Because he didn’t notice those things. He’s aware of her weight loss (she‘s trended on Naver a few times because of her light weight) but he never thought of it as the outcome of something terrible. Dammit, he should have.

“Y-You do?” he stammers.

“Yeah. It probably started when our manager told me the company wanted me to lose weight. I don’t blame him, I really don’t. He was just doing his job. But... it got me thinking and I decided to eat less and work out more and that’s where it all started. It wasn’t that bad to begin with. I had control of what I was doing and it was like being in a diet. I’ve never been the most mentally sound person; I have clinically diagnosed anxiety, depression, and depersonalization but that’s a whole other can of worms.”

Now that she’s started, it’s easier to lay it all out.

“After I decided to eat less, I started skipping meals. In my mind it made sense. To lose weight, eat less. So I did. I started lying to you and the others about eating, saying I had when I hadn’t or that I wasn’t hungry when I was. It went on like that for a while, just not eating and working out a lot more. But I felt so guilty when I did eat. When I couldn’t avoid it.

“So I started making myself throw up. It all piled on top of each other and I barely ever ate and kept it down. I probably started eating a meal or two every three or four days. For a while that’s what I did. I lost so much weight. It was so unhealthy. I weighed myself before we left for tour in America and I was 37.6 kilograms.

“I felt like I was going to pass out during the entire performance in New York. I only woke up at six in the evening the next day. I was scared that the next time I went to sleep, I wouldn’t wake up. That my body would just give out on me. So I went and ate pizza with the younger boys. I started eating at least once a day because I had to do my job. I still didn’t eat enough but... it was something.

“And that should have been good. I should have been proud of myself for starting to take care of myself but I wasn’t. I hated myself for eating. I started gaining weight. I realized one night that what I thought I had control of I didn’t because I can’t control how much I hate myself.

“I went out with Yeosu one night and I ate more than I had in such a long time. I felt so guilty and I started rambling to her about my problems. But I ran away before she could even respond. I tried to stop on my own because Yeosu is so amazing and so famous and she’s mentally fine. And I got a little better. But then the company asked for an update on our weights and they told me not to get heavy again.

“It felt like doing what was best for me wasn’t what I needed to do. Like maybe this is the cost of being who I am and doing what we do. I just spiraled and I got worse than I’d ever been. That’s when you found me. I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was so hungry but I couldn’t make myself keep what I’d eaten down. I don't know how to stop doing this to myself and I want to stop but I just can't.”

Xiang takes a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

Chan is impressed with how well Xiang has handled her emotions while explaining everything to him. Simultaneously, his heart is aching from the story she has told him and how well she’s handled her emotions. Chan can’t help but wonder how many times she has felt like the world is crashing down around her and he was none the wiser.

“When did this start? When did our manager- When did the company say you should lose weight?”

“... Late June?”

Nine months. Nine months Xiang has been dealing with her eating disorder. And before that, anxiety, depression, and personalization. Chan has his own qualms with anxiety and depression occasionally but he’s not even sure what depersonalization is. But as Xiang said, that’s a whole other can of worms.

“It’s just-,” Xiang looks for the right words to continue. “I’ve developed so much self-hatred. I never feel good enough. I never feel pretty or talented. Even with the mess my mentality has always been, I used to be able to be content with the music I make or the performances I give. Now, I just hate everything about myself. I wish I could just deal with this on my own and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this mess. But believe me I won't hold it against you if you want to back out now-"

"Sophie.”

Chan steps in front of Xiang to face her.

“I don't know how to prove to you that I will always be here for you.”

It hurts more than he would have thought when she lets out a tiny, humorless breath of a laugh, disbelieving. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the overcast sky.

“I‘m so tired of everything.”

She closes her eyes.

“I just want it to stop.”

“It will,” Chan says. “And you’re not going to deal with this alone anymore.  Know why?"

When Xiang lowers her head, Chan can see she’s barely holding back tears. She gives a minuscule shake of her head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nearly two and a half years ago, Xiang stood in front of Chan in a recording studio. She’d come to tell Chan she should leave the group. He’d called her a quitter and wouldn’t let her walk out on the group.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” she asked, not understanding how Chan can’t see the problems she’s causing.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he responded.

Xiang swallowed, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Chan stood and wrapped her in a hug.

“And I’m not gonna let you give up on me.”

Xiang hesitated but looped her arms around Chan.

“We’re in this together, understand?”

Xiang smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I understand.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Because I'm not giving up on you."

At the riverside, Chan pulls Xiang into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders.

“And I’m not letting you give up on me. We’re in this together, understand?”

Over two years later, Chan has kept his word. Before she’d started starving herself, before her mental state depleted further than it had ever been, he’d told her that they are a team and he won’t let her quit on him. And he’s kept to that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the plane ride home to South Korea from America, Chan had comforted Xiang when she’d been anxious and fearful during turbulence. She’d thought about Chan. What he’d done for her and how he’d treated her.

Despite her self-loathing and her anxiety. And the way she’s convinced herself she’ll never be good enough. Or how she can only ever feel pretty on an empty stomach, hunger clawing at her insides in a painful way she’s grown fond of. Amidst it all, being next to Chan makes her feel safe.  Chan makes her feel safe.  Safety is something Xiang has been having a hard time finding for months now.

She realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Here, beside Han River in Chan’s arms, she feels safe. She feels... loved. And the idea- the fact that Chan cares for her and has been by her side, even unknowingly, through all of this brings her to tears.

Xiang buries her face in Chan’s shoulder and wraps her arms tightly around him, crying hard into the material of his jacket. And Chan lets her. He holds her tighter against him and lets her cry, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head comfortingly. She’s safe here. She’s safe with Chan.

And she realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

[thalmor-banjo]

I thought I'd share this little bullshit snippet. I'm taking a break from like all other forms of social media, but felt bad because I haven't posted any original content in what feels like agesssssssss.

So, here we are! It's a piece I wrote a long time ago (think before December) for Cerrebryn and Ondolemar. His voice is like really good in this one??? Like normally I write him with an American accent (cause that's what I have and I'm lazy), but writing him in the BBC accent (forget what it's called, see above description: lazy) worked like really well? I'll warn you though, it was just a little blurb the brain worm was niggling at me to write so it ain't the best. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Calcelmo Gets A Date

Cerrebryn skipped up the stairs. Dinya Balu had sent her to Markarth. Her mission? Spreading Mara’s message. It was midday, yet her target was still at work. He never seemed to rest or eat. Aicantar shot her a warning glance as she walked up to his uncle. She tapped on his shoulder and waited.

After a moment, he answered, “Yes, yes, what do you need? I’m a very busy man.” She grinned, “Calcelmo of Markarth?” He flapped a hand impatiently at his enchanting table, “I have no time for such pleasantries.” “I’ve been sent by Lady Mara.” His demeanor instantly changed. The wizard turned, joy sparking in his amber eyes, “I was beginning to worry you’d never arrive. Come, take a walk with me.” They left Ancarion behind in a stupor.

He led her up the nearby tower and took a seat on a spindly stool. “I hope you’ll excuse an old man’s paranoia. I’ve been thinking about her quite a bit. Do you know Faleen?” He said her name like a prayer, devotion obvious even in his tone. “The Jarl’s Housecarl?” Calcelmo nodded, “Yes. She is a beauty like none other. Even the fairest maidens of Alinor could never compare.” Noticing he was rambling, he coughed and continued, “My trouble is, I can’t seem to speak around her. My mouth goes dry and I begin shaking...or maybe that’s the side effects of prolonged exposure to Aetherium? An interesting thought, but I digress.” Cerrebryn sighed, a familiar Thalmor face flashing through her mind, “I understand. Is there anything you can talk about?” The old man shook his head wearily, “Faleen can turn on you fast as a sabercat if you bring up the wrong topic. I’ve seen it happen.” “Is there anyone she’s close to that we can talk with?” His brow furrowed, “Only one, Yngvar. Would you speak to him for me?” She nodded tiredly and left. It was strange how she was also roped into these matters.

She stepped out into the waning sunlight and stretched. Cerrebryn snorted. Mara had sent her on a quest to heal the broken hearts of Skyrim, yet she had one as well. It seemed like the divines had a sense of irony at least. It could never happen anyway. The Thalmor were an order of warriors famed for their rigidity and focus on pure-blooded breeding. Shaking her head, she dispelled those notions and kept walking.

Yngvar was resting against the side of a bridge, picking his teeth with a dagger. “Do you know what Faleen likes?” He glanced up at her, danger dancing in his eyes, “What’s it to you?” “I have a mission from the temple of Mara.” “Is that some roundabout way of saying you fancy her?” She paused, debating whether she should reveal Calcelmo’s affections, “Not me, but a friend.” He smiled slyly, “I see. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’m glad; Faleen needs a little warmth. Her soft spot is poetry.” Cerrebryn thanked him, turning to leave. After two steps he called out, “You know, I was trained as a bard.” She pivoted and he continued, “I’ve got an old poem for a lady from Rorikstead. I could change it...if you’ve got the coin.” “How much?” “Two hundred.” She easily removed the Septims from her pouch and handed them to the brute. “Let me write it down so you won’t forget.” Yngvar scratched away at the paper with his bit of charcoal. Cerrebryn had pulled out Lydia’s latest letter from home. “Who is this poem from?” She stopped reading, “Calcelmo.” He laughed, “That sly old codger.” Finished, the poem traded hands, “Tell him I wish his endeavor luck.”

The sun had set while she was outside, and all the torches were being lit across the city and into the Keep. Edging around one of the guards assigned with the job, she skipped up to the dias. Faleen immediately tensed, but relaxed when she realized who it was. Raerek grinned at her, always the kindest person in the Keep. “Can I help you, young one?” She shook her head, hair becoming a bit disheveled, and chirped, “Nope! Just here to drop something off for Faleen!” The Redguard woman glanced up suddenly when the folded sheet was thrust into her hand. “Apologies if some of it is smudged, I-” The other woman opened the paper and read it. Then, she ripped a sheet of parchment off a shelf and began scribbling rapidly with a fresh quill. The steward and Jarl exchanged nervous glances, but they went unseen.

When she turned around, Faleen’s eyes were filled with stars. “Would you mind delivering this for me?” She sighed softly at the end of her sentence and Cerrebryn giggled behind her hand. Taking the paper, she left, announcing, “Off I go!” She walked with haste, this time bumping into the object of her affections. The Thalmor’s large hands caught her around the waist, preventing what would have been a nasty fall, “Cerrebryn, what is the meaning-” She plucked his arms (she swooned on the inside, realizing they were corded with muscle) off her body, and sheepishly smiled back at him as she ran off, “Sorry Ondolemar! I’ve got a delivery to make!”

In truth, she would have liked to spend a millennium in those arms. But, she was on an errand that shouldn’t be delayed. Matters of the heart are things of the now, not of the thousand years later. The woman ran through the tunnel, nearly tripping on a stray piece of rubble. Calcelmo was sitting on a bench, deeply immersed in examining a chip of Aetherium. She skidded to a stop at his feet, puffing, “From...Faleen...” Aicantar stared at the odd pair. The conjurer ripped it out of her hand and shot to his feet, “This is...fantastic! If you’ll excuse me, I must go see Faleen.” And with that, he ran out of the workshop. Frankly, he was faster than she had thought he could go.

Cerrebryn trailed behind him, still a bit winded. He continued running, straight up to the Housecarl. She peeked around the dias’s corner, like a child. Igmund’s brows had raised in surprise, but Raerek just continued serenely smiling. Calcelmo fidgeted, his large frame towering over the smaller woman. “Faleen...I...” She captured his hand with her own, “Shhh, no need for words...I never realized you were so nuanced.” He stared down at her, then clutched their joined hands to his heart, “I love you.” She smiled radiantly, “So I hear. Come here, you.” Then, using her warrior’s strength, she dipped him and joined their lips. Igmund stared at his steward, eyes bulging, a mix of surprise and slight horror plain across his features. Raerek simply shrugged.

Cerrebryn grinned, glad they were happy. Helping Dinya and the Temple was rewarding and worth any long trips zigzagging the province. Someone was sneaking nearer to her. The only warning was a rustle of robes and a whiff of Dragon’s Breath. The air above her ear warmed with his breath. “Was that your doing?” She glanced back at Ondolemar and her lips quirked upwards in a slight grin, “Dinya sent me on a mission. I just had to!” He sighed, “Must you fix everything?” Her grin widened a bit, “You know me. Everyone deserves a happy ending.” Ancarion wandered in, disgust and shock warring on his face at the sight of his uncle and the Housecarl locking lips. The couple split apart, Raerek clapping lightly. He stumbled back to the workshop with a befuddled expression.

His chest brushed against her back as he leaned in further, “Except you, right?” She bit her lip a bit at the slight huskiness of his voice. It was surely unintentional but made him all the more attractive. “I’ll get mine eventually. After all, there’s still nearly three hundred years left for me. If it takes two hundred seventy-five, at least I helped some folks!” Ondolemar chuckled lightly, changing the subject entirely, “Could I speak with you outside Dibella’s temple at midnight?” Cerrebryn nearly fainted. Was he asking to have a courtship meeting?! She quickly chastised herself. No, a “superiorly bred mer” wouldn’t sully himself with someone who wasn’t a purebred Alinor maiden. The woman nodded happily anyway, excited, “It’s a date!”

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 11

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger​!

Martin wants to do the right thing.

It's time to make some phone calls.

Martin resigned himself to a day of catch up. The recent circumstances hadn’t been the most conducive to completing his work tasks, but he was employed for the time being. He would wait for the right time to reopen the can of worms upstairs and in the meantime double down on the figures in front of him. The others went to work as well, going through the records they recovered from the library and verifying some information from the storage house.

After some time, he heard Sasha ask, “Martin? This place used to be a bigger fishing town, right? Before the Lukases showed up.”

Martin thought for a moment. “I don’t think it was that great to begin with? I’m sure they didn’t help, but the problem started long before I was born. There may be some people old enough to remember when things were a bit better, but it’s always been a shaky business despite the proximity to the sea.” He paused, then asked, “Is there a reason you’re looking into this? Doesn’t sound very ghost-related.”

Sasha tapped her pen on the table. “It helps to get a timeline of major events. Even if there are coincidences, a broader historical picture often helps with places where the phenomena are… far reaching.”

“What, did the lighthouse eat all the fish?” Martin laughed, but it quickly died as he continued to think about it. “...Could it do that?”

“Doubtful,” Jon said, keeping his eyes glued to his laptop. “It’s possible the family saw an existing, natural decline in job prospects and swooped in to create an even bigger vacuum they could then fill. Nothing supernatural, just horrid people finding a  good opportunity.”

Tim snorted. “While they just so happened to buy and operate a possessed lighthouse?”

Jon looked over his screen. “People can have multiple motivations. For example, Peter Lukas apparently enjoys boating and taking the possessions of others for the fun of it. The two aren’t necessarily related.” His eyes dropped back to his task.

“Fair enough. Maybe someone in the family won it in a bet, then? Swiped it from some evil lighthouse keeper.” Tim wiggled his fingers.

Martin laughed silently through his nose and went back to work, assuming his part of the conversation was completed. If he’d learned anything from the situation earlier that morning, it was to quit before weird personal details about his deadbeat fisherman dad came out and ruined the mood.

The three continued to debate possible motivations and causes, eventually trailing off and lapsing into a focused silence. The scratches of pen on paper mingled with the tapping of the keyboard. It created an arrangement that echoed over itself in a round, filling the space and tunneling upward along the staircase. Despite himself, Martin strained to hear anything that felt out of place, but he could feel no intent in the repetition. It was loud, but it was the normal, unnerving loud he’d become accustomed to over the last few months.

There wouldn’t be anything, as long as he kept the dial in the correct position. Not anything he could perceive, anyway. Were they listening, even if they couldn’t stockpile his words? Were they seething at his decision? Were they-

Martin gritted his teeth, willing himself to focus on the page in front of him. The group would call Naomi soon, and if she responded they would be one step closer to confirming his suspicions. For the time being, he would sit with his churning insides and wait.

Relief came at eleven with his lunch hour, which the others were considerate enough to wait for. He barely tasted the sandwich he’d thrown together that morning. There was a heightened atmosphere spread across him and the others, a buzz of excitement. After hours of necessary but tedious paperwork and discussion, it was time again for action.

Sasha dialed the number and waited, drumming her fingers on a pad of paper in front of her. “Available number,” she mouthed, giving a thumbs up. A few seconds passed, and she frowned and ended the call. “But, of course, it is no longer her number. I would change mine too, if people were tailing me.”

They all slumped in their chairs and braced themselves for a long, slow afternoon as Sasha looked at her pad of paper and dialed the first number on the list of many, many Naomi Hernes.

Some answered with varying levels of politeness, mostly responding with “never heard of the place” or “the name doesn’t ring any bells”. Otherwise, she left a short, scripted voicemail giving little information other than Evan’s name in hopes that Naomi would take the bait. She kept their institute out of it entirely.

When asked why, Sasha explained that this part of the investigation would have to be off record. Evidently, the Magnus Institute encouraged thorough research until it involved digging into its own benefactors. Unless they discovered a lead that didn’t implicate the Lukas family, they would be on their own.

The minutes ticked on, dragging more and more with the lack of success. After thirty minutes of fruitless calls, Sasha said, “It may take a while. We don’t know her schedule or if she’s even on this list. I was able to go off her last recorded location, but that’s about it.” Sasha leaned back in her chair, stretching her shoulders.

Jon pulled his laptop back in front of him. “We’ll need to give her time. If she’s aware of the Lukases keeping tabs on her, she’ll probably be wary of us. Keep going through the list. Tim and I will continue with the rest.”

Martin sat around for the rest of his lunch hour, losing hope with each passing call. He ought to have considered how long it could take to reach her, or that she might not answer at all. Why would she? What reason did she really have to trust a bunch of strangers?

He looked down at his phone, mindlessly flipping between apps before settling on his notes. Under Naomi’s old number was the one for Evan’s mobile, locked safely away in the storage house. Running his thumb up and down the side of his phone, he peeked up at the others through his bangs.

“I know we’re waiting to hear back from Naomi, but-” They looked at him, and he swallowed hard. “We know who it probably is, right? We have something he would know, and we could even-”

“Sorry, Martin, but that’s a big ‘no’ from me,” Tim said, crossing his arms. “If it’s him, he can wait a bit longer. If it’s not, then there could be something bad on the other side that we’re not ready to deal with, something that might even pretend to be him given the opportunity.”

There was an edge to his voice that made Martin shrink sheepishly in his seat. Tim’s face grew soft. “You want to help. I get it, but we should play it safe for now. Once we’re certain of the situation, we’ll do the heroic thing and release his trapped soul or get him out of the sound booth he’s locked himself in or whatever it is that needs to be done.”

Martin nodded glumly and looked back at his phone. After a moment, a notification popped up on the screen.

Tim: and if we get him out and hes as hot as they say he was, then who knows ;)

All the tension in Martin’s shoulders was released with a high-pitched snicker that his hand failed to stifle. The other two turned their gazes on him. Martin’s ears turned beet red at the attention he’d brought upon himself. Jon shot a suspicious glance at Tim, whose broad smile denied nothing.

--

By twenty minutes to four, there had been no sign of the person they were hoping for, ignoring  one response by someone who thought they were being hilarious. Martin had only one task remaining before it was time to leave, and once his things were carefully packed away he walked over to the stairs and placed a hand on the rail. From behind him came the sound of chairs squeaking against hard tile.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the three had all risen from their seats and were shooting surprised looks at each other.

Martin sighed. “I’m just going up for my normal work stuff. I won’t be touching anything I’m not supposed to.” Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but if he’d wanted to do anything there in secret, which he didn’t, there was no point in doing so when other people in the building could hear every amplified word.

“Well, I’ll be coming up anyway. Might as well get a better look at what buttons you’re pressing.” Tim jogged over, waving a hand at the other two dismissively and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Keep an ear on the phone and text us if something comes up.” Jon and Sasha, who’d clearly been about to walk over and join them, sat down despite their visible apprehension. Tim started up the stairs, leaving Martin to trail behind.

Before long, Tim began to rely more and more on the handrail to keep his balance. About halfway up the stairs, he held up a hand for Martin to stop and dropped his head.

“Okay,” he said, flexing his grip on the rail. He took a moment to breath. “Okay, I’m good. Damn this place, though.”

When they reached the top, Tim faced the stairs and, at a regular speaking volume, said, “Hello? Tim Stoker to Boss Man.” He waited, then checked his phone. “Huh. Guess sound does have limits in this place. Good to know.” Tim smiled at Martin. “Let’s see those switches, then.”

Martin could see that Tim’s eye was just as drawn to the dial as Martin’s as they approached the panel. Martin slowed down his process, taking care to show Tim what he was doing with the different buttons and knobs, and Tim seemed to be taking notes on his phone.

“If it would help, I have a list of everything I do up here on my desk. My handwriting isn’t the best, but it’s legible.” Martin continued to complete the steps without thinking, allowing muscle memory to take over. “Not that I’ve looked at it super recently. I also have the version in my work contract? But that would have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Tim nodded, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe there’s a hidden ‘I cede my right to file a claim against any injury due to imprisoned spirits’ clause or something in the fine print.” Martin laughed weakly but said nothing. Leaning on the side of the panel, Tim looked at him. “You really think it’s the guy? Evan?”

Martin’s finger slipped, missing a button entirely. “...Yeah. I can’t think of anything else it could be? And I get it, there are some things I don’t know about-”

“Lots of things, actually. Look,” Tim stood up straight, crossing his arms. “I’m not usually the lecturing type, but you seem like a well-meaning guy, and this thing could very well be taking that from your voice and turning it back on you.” There was an unmistakable discomfort, though Tim was doing his best to look authoritative. “You’re not used to this stuff, but most of it ends up being not so nice.”

Resuming his task, Martin looked down and asked, “Have you ever… studied something like that?”

From the corner of Martin’s eye, he could see Tim shift a bit and lean against the panel again. “They’re something I’ve worked on, yeah.”

After a final flip of a switch, Martin looked back at Tim whose gaze was firmly centered on the window. Martin rolled his fingertips on the surface of the panel. “Any personal experiences or advice? For my benefit?”

Tim took some time to think, and without taking his eyes from the window responded, “If you can shut them up, make sure they stay that way.” Tim let out a breath through his nose. “And if someone’s got by one, chances are they won’t be kept alive. Once a copy is made, there’s no reason to keep the original.”

The bitter twinge in Tim’s voice warned against the questions forming on the tip of Martin’s tongue. If Tim was talking from experience, the specifics were none of Martin’s business.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shook his head. “So, since I was the one who turned the dial, do me a favor and keep away from it?” When Martin nodded in agreement, Tim uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the panel. “Good. It’s a deal then. Now, when we get back down, we can pretend to have had a riveting talk about how fish hate your town.”

--

Once they were back on the main floor, disappointment washed over Martin. “Was it too much to expect anything back so soon?” He looked through his bag, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“You get used to it.” Sasha paused from collecting some papers to watch him sulk in his corner. “Can’t tell you how many follow-up calls I’ve made that led to nothing.”

“Or all the numbers we’ve gotten that were for takeout places,” Jon grumbled.

“I dunno, I’ve been pretty lucky with numbers.” Tim winked at Sasha, who shoved some of the papers into his arms.

Martin smiled, though Tim’s comment reeked of forced levity. He zipped up his bag and walked to the door. “Let me know if anything comes up?”

“Of course.” Jon pushed himself out of his chair and walked at a brisk pace to meet him. “Could I have a word with you, before you head home?” He opened the door and gestured outside.

“Oh. Sure?” He avoided Tim’s very pointed eye contact and walked through the door. Jon followed behind with his arms wrapped around himself, his thin, long-sleeved shirt doing nothing for him in the cold. “Do you need to-”

“I’ll be back inside in a moment.” His stubbornness did nothing to protect him from the shivers. “About tonight.”

With all excitement and distraction gone, the weight that had been balancing precariously in Martin’s chest dropped to his stomach like a lead ball. “Is there a way to make this not horrible?”

Jon frowned. “I don’t know the full circumstances, but ultimately, I believe you’ll be doing the right thing.” He placed a tentative hand on Martin’s shoulder and gave it a stiff pat. He immediately retracted his hand and wrapped it back around himself, keeping his eyes on anything but Martin. “You know her better than I do. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Martin clung to that confidence and the feeling of pressure from Jon’s hand. “Okay...” He took a large breath. “Okay. I should get going then. No point in putting it off.”

Jon nodded his head and hurried back inside, leaving Martin to walk home with more courage than he’d managed to gather for himself. As the sun drifted closer to its exit, Martin latched onto that little encouragement and thought of what to say.

“Hi, Mum. I found your skin? No, that sounds weird-”

“I know there are things I don’t understand, but-”

“Mum, I found this in the attic. I know it’s yours. Do you want to-”

“A guy from work said to give you this? Wait, no-”

And so he continued, muttering under his breath all the ways he could broach the subject without it being a complete disaster.

This could change things.

Would she scream? He’d never heard her truly scream. It wasn’t her way, but this could unlock something so much worse than he’d known. How dare he bring this to her if she’d hidden it for a good reason? That seemed a likely reaction.

Would she talk to him about her time in the water? Would she reminisce about a time before things went wrong, when he would watch her from the porch? Too hopeful to consider, but nice to think about.

Perhaps she would tell him to return it to the attic, and it would never be spoken of again. Things would be as they always were, just with a new secret to hang over them both. Another weight on their shoulders, another little barrier keeping them from being anything but what they had been for decades now.

Jon had said it would be the right thing to do. He would know about these things more than Martin, right? His word had to be worth something. No matter how she might react, this had to happen sooner or later.

The walk home sped past like nothing. The front door was before him, and then closed behind, and he felt more than ever like he was on a track, being moved from place to place without any consultation of his will. The night proceeded like clockwork, dinner prepared and completed with only his voice and the occasional terse response from his mother for filler noise. It wasn’t yet time.

The fog had rolled in thick as evening turned to night, and they looked out into it from the front porch, her breaths steady and bracing. Through his barely open eyes, Martin saw a hint of rolling waves before the salt brought out the tears and washed away his vision.

He walked his mother back inside and helped her prepare for bed. Once she was settled against the headboard, Martin coughed and began in a low, gentle tone. “Mum. Can I talk to you about something?”

She frowned, tired contempt rippling across her face. “Must you now? You’ve had all night to talk.”

Martin clenched and unclenched his teeth. “It’s important. Please, it’s...it’s about something I found in the attic.”

His mother froze, her hand gripping the quilt on her lap. Annoyance gave way to a wide, blank stare that brushed just over his shoulder. “I did not ask you to retrieve anything from there.”

Martin shrank back. “Yes, I know. I just went up to make sure there hadn’t been a-any issues with the roof after some of the rain recently since we keep some things in storage up there, and I wanted t-”

“Bring it to me. Now.” Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Martin stood too quickly, grabbing the rickety bedside table for balance and causing a loud thump as one of its legs slammed into the ground. The dim lamp on top of it wobbled, creating unnerving shadows on the walls. He winced. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and let himself breathe. Okay, he thought, this was a good thing. He walked up the stairs two at a time with his long legs, speeding down the hall while keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. She wanted him to bring it to her. He would do as she ordered. Everything would be okay, he told himself, ignoring the strange sinking feeling in his gut.

It was where he’d left it, folded loosely in the corner to avoid any possible creasing. It pressed heavily into his hands, and he brushed off a little more dust as he walked back down the stairs. At his mother’s door, he paused and adjusted it one more time to a position he felt was the most dignified. Then, he entered the room.

She was looking out her window, through the misted glass and into the fog that surrounded their home. Her hands were limp over the quilt, one placed gently on top of the other. When the door clicked shut behind him, there was an almost imperceptible turn of her head, though he couldn’t see anything but her clenched jaw.

“Mum? I’ve brought it. Do you want me to place it on the bed? I-”

His mother turned to face him fully, and as her eyes locked onto him a torrent of pure fury slammed into his chest. He stumbled, the selkie skin almost escaping his large, clumsy hands.

“Give it to me.” Her rasping voice made Martin’s throat hurt, and her neck seemed to throb with effort. When he failed to move his legs, she forced out, “now, you stupid man!”

He tripped forward, and when he was within reach she snatched the skin from him. She clasped it to her chest just as Jon had that morning, with the same smoothing motion over its surface. Unsure of what to say, he became a statue. Every muffled intake of air burned down into his chest.

Taking in a shuddering breath, his mother whispered, “Leave.”

“What?” There was a painful crack in his voice.

“Leave me alone.”

--

The only thing he could see were his own near-faded footsteps as he climbed up the cliff side, the fog doing well to obscure the surrounding foliage.

He needed to be out of the damned fog. That’s why he’d fled the house, and the beach, and the crashing waves. That’s all it was down there, a house adrift in grey nothing, and he was too loud of a presence to truly give her solitude with his tramping feet on the floorboards upstairs.

It was past sundown when he reached the end of his climb, and the corner lights looked as much as they had the night before. As they had on any other night he’d spent wandering the dark, emptying streets. Pulling his coat more tightly around himself, Martin marched forward, drawn to the only other place to which he had a key.

He looked up before he could think too hard about it, and the sky bore down on him until all he could do was fall back into the gaping pit waiting just behind his heel. Had it felt like this before? Yes, it had, hadn’t it? A giant emptiness in the ground waiting to swallow him whole, and as he had seen it, so from it the vertigo had come. Only now it was polite enough to slow down and let him see the horror below.

He woke up on the ground with a groan, just outside of the florist shop. It was closed for the night, and there was no one inside or out to stare as he lifted himself out of a puddle, the arm of his coat soaked through with water. He was halfway through trying to regain some semblance of focus when he realized his glasses had fallen from his nose and were now lying on the ground beside him.

Relieved that his impaired vision was no worse than usual, he reached over to pick up his glasses. As he did so, he glimpsed at the water’s surface, and for just a moment the blurry vision of his face looked just enough like someone else. He gasped, snatching his glasses and scrambling to sit on the curb.

She’d never called Martin that. She’d had other ways of showing her frustration with him, but that… that had been for someone else. Of course. He hadn’t even thought to warn her of his re-entry, so he had gone into her room and with just that lamp by her bed the doorway must’ve been so dark-

The pounding in his head grew more fervent, and he curled into himself until he faced the ground, head between his knees. As the minutes crawled by, the pain began to subside, and eventually he was able to stand, even if there was a slight shake to his legs.

“Twenty years and still you don’t learn.”

He continued without reason, thankful for the empty road ahead, his arm going cold in its dripping sleeve.

[scarjarbinks]

(1) The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story

Episode One A Clown, And That's All

Spires of apartments, each ubiquitous in their design, flowed like crude circuits along an ancient motherboard. Following tight alleys in the way a hawk-bat would delicately chase the scent of granite slugs, Vrina—a mauve Mikkian who favored a headdress to obscure his head-tendrils—navigated the dank streets as if guided by intimate knowledge of the sprawling maze.

With his presence masked by way of heel-toe footfall and springing steps, he successfully traversed the ground level of Coruscant without much interference—save, perhaps, the preference of avoiding detritus that would penetrate his worn leather boots.

A cramped alleyway, its stones glossy from fallen humidity, spat the wanderer into the shoulder of a well-traveled intersection. In less time it would take to light a death stick, Vrina arrived at the entrance of Gil's Gab as an intruder of a group that had converged on top of him. He was polite in the way most strangers are: a brief nod or a disingenuous smile. Two Human women and an Iridonian male were already under the influence of some unidentifiable and ostensibly trendy drug.

They kept their wits about them as they spoke with the Trandoshan bouncer. He grumbled in Basic, "Invite only tonight."

With confidence stemming from the ether, the emboldened Iridonian raised his chest and lifted his chin. "I'm—we're friends with Wegil."

"Old myth that all Zabraks know each other." The stiff guardian severed the conversation without another thought.

Vrina broke from the group while the two women fruitlessly argued with their companion. The Trandoshan peered down to the heretofore silent man. "Good evening," the Mikkian bowed his head but maintained eye contact. "I actually do know Wegil, but I'm not too sure how much you believe me after that guy. Do you, erm, have a list?" He searched the bouncer's attire. No tablet, just a DL-44.

"Name?"

"Uh, Vrina Hon. Impressive that you can remember all of those names without, y'know, a list."

"Smarter than most of my kind. Speaking," his eyes reduced by a fraction. "Why is a Mikkian so far from home?"

Vrina crossed his arms and cocked a hip. He was not offended by the amount of venom that laced the bouncer's tone. Most transients would pose the same question for a Trandoshan who appears to have been conned into a low-paying job. "I'm here to perform comedy."

A concave of seedy individuals, each imbibing and shouting. The Mikkian traversed with soft steps through Gil's claustrophobic aisles. Though he recognized very few patrons, some were, of course, impossible to ignore due to their status. Such entities dealt with business practices he would rather steer clear from, yet a pull of his excited consciousness understood when to bow as a show of respect and when to simply ignore them.

Vrina passed the stage where he was to perform and waved at the Ithorian drummer—a talented fellow by the name of Bup Nolot who rattled away upon two snares and three cymbals of various sizes. He appeared too-focused to respond, perhaps intent on keeping a steady rhythm or altogether refused to associate himself with a glorified jester.

The backstage was a small respite from the bombardment of intermingling dialects and languages, though it was only an inch-thick drape that separated him from the rest of the club. He did not expect to be alone. Vrina was meant to open for a favored comedienne dubbed Real by the regulars of Gil's and her absence meant he would potentially have to fill her time slot.

A knock on the wall behind him. With his eyes still glued to the audience, Vrina greeted Wegil with a click of the tongue. "Looks like I'm the headliner."

A copper-hued Zabrak approached the Mikkian from behind. He joined Vrina in scanning the sea of flushed faces and spitting lips. "Do you have enough material?" The low-scratch of his voice collided with the amount of noise that polluted the club.

"Eh, well," the comedian took in a sharp breath and crossed his arms. "Let's just hope that they don't remember the first five jokes from last week. Anybody I have to worry about?"

Wegil frowned. "In what way?"

"You know. Pirates, ganglords, politicians. Anybody notable?"

"Only you would rope a politician in with pirates. Since you mentioned it, sure." The Zabrak leaned to the left and gestured a nod outward. It was as if a beacon shone from the center of the crescent-shaped bar: an antsy male Human nursed eight ounces of scarlet liquid with hunched shoulders. He kept his head down, uninterested in those who took residence next to him yet kept a subtle conversation with the barkeep.

Vrina shook his head. "I have a feeling he wasn't invited."

"He's certainly found his way in here, though. He hasn't said a single word to anyone other than the bartender, one of his own kind. I would prefer not to deal with any acts of speciesism tonight. You and Bup are the only two who can see the entire club wall-to-wall."

The Mikkian thought back to the drummer's intense focus and exhaled. "So you'll pay me for my services of doing twice the work as a comedian and taking on an additional role as a spy." He sucked on his teeth, head bobbing while mentally creating an addendum to the first half of his set.

Wegil clasped Vrina on the shoulder and forced eye contact. "I'm not paying you extra for the simple task of paying attention. If anything or anybody suspicious worms their way in…" The club owner paused and drew his head away. "Try to work in a joke about me. I won't take it personally."

"You're acting as if that wasn't half of my set. Right, understood, but what about covering for Real?"

With a sniff, the Zabrak pulled away and nodded twice. Soon, the Mikkian was once again left alone and felt the weight of the near future pressing into his skin like the heat of too-many suns orbiting a desert planet.

Vrina did not have much time to prepare for the amount of improvisation thrusted upon him. The emcee of the night, a stocky Rodian, hyped those who were listening into an enthusiastic applause. After a lengthy introduction presented in choppy Basic, he introduced the Mikkian. As they exchanged the microphone, the reptilian whispered a few words of encouragement: "If you are not funny, I will take over. No problem." He backed away with two thumbs up.

The initial warm-up dragged on as expected with very few individuals chuckling and pulling the attention of their friends to the stage. With more eyes on him, he began to feel at ease. "Everyone's heard the buzz around the eff-ess-ess, right?" He pursed his lips and made eye contact with as many who cared to pay attention. "A federation of only six systems. What an arbitrary number! How are we supposed to check if that's even correct when they won't give up who the systems are?"

For the first time all night, the Human at the bar spun his stool to face the comedian. Though the lights had been dimmed, he could make out a few key features: jet black hair and a matching beard. The Mikkian did not hesitate to continue. "If they were really trying to be intimidating, they might as well have said six-hundred. Sixteen would instill more terror for a terrorist organization!"

A quarter of the audience responded with a lukewarm chuckle—Bup's drumline accompaniment made sure the comedian's jokes never truly fell flat. A figure entered his field of vision to the right. One passive glance drank in the sight of Wegil who did not seem to find any of the Mikkian's jokes humorous in the least.

It was time for his improvisation muscles to be flexed. "Well, you want to keep the numbers small, I guess. Zipping around in taxis would be more cost efficient than buying fuel." A tight grin appeared on the Human's face. Vrina prevented himself from paying too much attention to him. "No need for a base of operations either, really. Just rent a hotel room or, perhaps, meet at a club."

A movement in the back caught Vrina's attention. The Human exited from the bar to the bathroom, pushing his way past a drunk Twi'lek who gestured unkindly to the man. The energy of the room became dense and the once idle chatter fell away to usher in silence. It was as if he had captured the attention of every single patron.

His throat closed, but he knew that, as a comedian, there could never be dead air. "Everybody here knows our lovely host, Wegil, yeah? Let's be honest, of everyone on-planet, he would be the one to house the eff-ess-ess. Watered down coolers to keep them drunk and drain them off their coffer, ill-tempered Trandoshans to keep an eye on their credit pouch." Vrina began to wonder how much of his material was rooted in truth. The Zabrak unwound from his position backstage and navigated through the back. "Safest place in all of… All of—"

A pressure settled into Vrina's skull and he promptly returned the microphone to its stand as Wegil approached the bathroom with a drawn blaster, one bouncer trailing behind him. The Mikkian hurriedly waved a good-bye to Bup as the audience began to boo them both. His lungs inflated as he twisted through the narrow tunnel behind the stage and was forced to stop by way of another Trandoshan bouncer.

"You need to finish your, what is it, comedy," the hulking figure encroached on Vrina's personal space. "If you can even call it that. Wegil's already sent the credits to your account, so I'd recommend—"

A blast shook the lobby and a wave of truncated screams pinched the Trandoshan's focus. With the bouncer's lowered guard, Vrina slipped through what little space the corridor offered and sprinted toward the stage-left exit. If his movements were deft enough, he could remain under the cover of darkness for long enough to join the growing crowd of patrons that also attempted escape.

Rubble could be made out from within the thick plume of smoke that emanated from the bathroom. Vrina slowed to a stop and examined the situation. Two bodies writhed on the ground and another was motionless. He took stock of who was left in the club: half of the patrons, the remaining bouncers… The bartender was already gone.

As the smoke began to clear, Vrina approached the center of the lobby and squinted at the bodies on the ground. A familiar skull-shape, horned and round. He debated whether he should usher the Zabrak out to safety or—

Vrina was lifted from the ground by a pair of scaly, calloused hands. The Trandoshan heaved the comedian forward and watched as he rolled over a table and barreled into several chairs. Broken glass stuck to the Mikkian's simple outfit, a few shards hid in exposed skin.

"He infiltrated our place of business," the bulky reptilian guard sneered and stepped forward. Vrina attempted to straighten himself to a seated position. Two more bouncers slunk in from the corners of the club and approached the Mikkian as well. "And staged an attack!"

"I—what? Me?" Vrina rotated his torso to face the other Trandoshans and experienced a sharp pain in his ribcage. "Ah, dosh." He seethed and grabbed his side. "H-how could I have set off an explosive if I was up on the stage?"

The main Trandoshan signaled the others to stop. He looked down at the pathetic Mikkian with racing eyes.

"Also, whoever did that is doing all of you a favor. Now, listen to me," he exhaled as the guards began to close in once again. "You are all much too talented of warriors to be stuck in here all day catering drunkards. What have you been doing all this time? What's your motivation?"

There was a moment of hesitation, though his gaze never fell away from Vrina. For a moment, there appeared to be a modicum of empathy that flashed in the Trandoshan's eyes. "We've been waiting to tear someone apart."

The Mikkian flinched and swung both palms to defend himself. A gasp from the Trandoshan as a gust of wind knocked him off of his feet. Vrina's brow furrowed but there was very little time for him to ruminate as the remaining bouncers enclosed him with clawed hands outstretched.

Several bleats of a small caliber blaster sounded from the debris-laden corner of the club. Either bouncer roared when struck in their armor, another in his arm. With their luck pressed, they each drew their heavy blasters and scattered to find cover from upturned tables. Vrina spent this time erecting himself to his feet and so did the once-fallen Trandoshan.

Now careful of his enemy, the bouncer kept his distance with two fists balled and ready for use. Vrina blinked and did the same, though both palms were flat and directed in the same fashion as before. No matter how many times he mentally willed himself to throw wind, nothing as exciting occurred. He began to doubt that it had ever taken place—a trick of the eyes, an anomaly of a pressure shift within the building.

While he was distracted processing the anomaly, the firefight behind him resulted in the dropping of both guards. A bright voice shouted: "Duck!"

Without a second thought, Vrina shrunk to the floor and watched as the second of two red bolts struck the remaining bouncer in the center of his forehead.

For a one brief moment, the Mikkian considered snatching the DL-44 from the Trandoshan's holster to take charge of the situation, to feel as if he were not helpless. The same voice called to him with an edge that convinced Vrina the scenario was not quite over. "Are you armed?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not?"

Vrina turned to face the same Human he had been instructed to spy on earlier. Almond-shaped eyes and well-groomed, about the same height and body type as he was, though somewhat more muscular. "So I should, erm, get a blaster?"

The man rolled his eyes and turned the heel of his weapon toward the comedian. It was a feeble blaster with slender design, uniform in color, but did not seem to reflect a sheen. A perfect weapon to conceal. "I assume a Jedi would know how to use one of these."

"A—" The device was shoved in his hand and the mysterious man excused himself to fetch the much more powerful DL-44 from the fell bouncer.

"It's probably a good thing they didn't know how to handle one of these, huh?" Sucking his teeth, the man looked down the unmodified sights and nodded. "I mean, I barely know how to use one of these, sure, but they were just awful."

Vrina straightened his wrist after acclimating to the surprising weight of the small blaster. "What exactly did you just call me?"

The man threw a humored side-eye at the Mikkian. "C'mon. It'd be nice to have someone who knows what they're doing by my side."

"But… I'm—oh, dosh." He watched the Human step away while offering a tight hand signal that meant nothing to the comedian.

Kept crouched and insecure, Vrina trailed behind the Human with the blaster limp and pointed to the floor. In the many patrons' effort to escape, they had made quite a mess: shattered cups and plates, food tracked under heel, abandoned death stick cartridges. The unconscious form of Wegil caused the Mikkian to pause his trail.

"Do you know him?" The Human kept his weapon pointed to the only way in or out. An expectation of being ambushed was palpable. "You have to let me know now if this is someone worth saving. Like, now."

The truth bit at Vrina's tongue. He wanted to be honest and admit that he knew very little about the Zabrak, but the fear that he would be tracked down by a vengeful conduit of illicit affairs forced his hand. "Yeah, he's worth it." The man gave him a signal to fetch the club owner.

Calling out in just above a hushed voice, "I'm surprised we haven't run into the see-ess-eff."

"Right." Vrina heaved Wegil up and balanced him on his feet. "I-find-it-surprising…" He growled while ushering the unconscious body to the door. "How-heavy-people…" A moment to catch his breath. "Actually are."

The man ignored his sentiment. "We have one shot. I'm really going to need you to muster all the strength you have." He slipped a rod-shaped comlink from his jacket pocket. A pleasant chirp sounded when he began to transmit. "Rokkna-1, critical mission failure. Resort to plan-B, but with the pick-up coordinates of Plan-A."

A woman sighed as a response. "Always with the plan-B. Copy, Rokkna-2."

The individual identified as Rokkna-1 turned to Vrina and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, the mission failure wasn't exclusively, entirely your fault."

"I didn't think it was. Wait, was it?"

"Ready up your friend."

With a shake of the head, the Mikkian stood Wegil upright and braced him. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

The whirring of an incoming shuttle paired with sirens that belonged to that of the Coruscant Security Force. "You'll be back in time for breakfast. On five."

Vrina's heart rattled in his chest. Under his breath, "Dosh."

The feminine voice called in, but the sound was muffled while the comlink was tucked in the man's jacket pocket. "Clear, Rokkna-1."

"Nevermind—FIVE!" The Human set off through the front door with large strides. His shoulder checked the door and swung it open with enough force to allow his new companion the chance to exit the building's threshold and into the dark street.

A shuttle with seamless and bulbous edges hovered several feet above ground, its ramp already dropped and open for entrance. The bearded man hopped on board with an effortless bound but fell to his knees and spun to help the Mikkian and Zabrak aboard.

The excited but passive ambiance of each street in the intersection was interrupted by the aggressive whine of hidden speeders. Rokkna-1 demanded the Zabrak first and Vrina agreed, shoving the body onto the ramp with one final expression of strength.

With the CSF seconds away, the transport shuttle began lifting away from the ground. The pilot spoke through the comlink, but there was too much distance for the Mikkian to make out any one word. The Human disappeared inside of the hull for a handful of seconds. Vrina's chest seized as if a deadly poison had finally taken hold of him.

With the ramp now several feet above his head, he could just barely jump to grab on. His feet kicked the air, his fingers without a decent grip. The first round of blue bolts swept by him but missed by mere inches.

"Hold on, friend!" Rokkna-1 returned with a silver can in his right hand. He activated the device and rolled it off the ramp while extending an arm to lift Vrina onboard.

As soon as it struck the ground, the canister popped and began to spray a viscous white smoke to obscure the underside of the ship; flashes of blue looked like lightning trapped in dense clouds. Once the Mikkian had been pulled in and was comfortable enough, the ramp inhaled and sealed with a pressurized click.

[savrenim]

okay so looking at tma fic in general and tma time-travel fic and the various ways they decide to resolve things has given me an idea for a time travel fix-it fic premise that, like, I almost certainly will never write because way too many writing projects but it is Haunting me so I need to blab about it somewhere 

so clearly the way that the ‘time travel’ / ‘knowledge of the future’ bit works is that Jon stumbles across a book that he assumes is a Leitner but then there’s no name in the front cover so he opens it proper and oooh this is weird but it’s too late the compulsion has set hold and and reads it, oops

the experience of reading it is the experience of fuck-it-feels-like living the entire timeline of the show up through the end of episode 160

(actually all the way through When Jon Finally Dies if he ever does but the important bit is he gets that knowledge of the timeline)

(the book is channeling the power of the Ceaseless Watcher, it’s all about knowledge, although very specifically in my brain this book is something that future!Jon and future!Martin constructed and sent back, which still tracks because hey Archivist is an Avatar of the Watcher. it’s just important to me that this is active action as an attempt to prevent the apocalypse and not dumb luck)

so Jonathan Sims now knows his future and because I have strong opinions about memory/ personality/ what makes a person, has arguably just been replaced with his future self.

‘oh fuck’ Jon says 

‘I ended the world so I gotta fix this’

but how does he fix this, because oops Elias is still stupidly powerful and is going to notice if anything is up so he can’t act weird 

but he can’t bring anyone else in on this because he doesn’t want to Curse Them with such Angsty Knowledge 

he is acting a little bit weird, Martin notices that he’s acting weird because he is now being nice to Martin 

‘this cannot be how the universe exists, Jon is always mean to me,’ Martin goes. ‘like I want the universe to exist this way but Something Is Up With Jon and it would be selfish of me not to investigate just because Jon is actually being nice to me’

Martin stumbles across the book and reads it too

‘oh fuck’ Martin says and immediately goes and talks to Jon and Jon has terrible selfish mixed feelings because he missed his Martin but also didn’t want Martin to have to go through everything he went through but also now Jon is not alone in trying to figure out how to alter this timeline without Elias noticing 

(’wait what gave me away,’ Jon goes)

(’you were being nice to me,’ Martin goes)

(’fuck I really do need to be meaner to everyone don’t I,’ Jon goes. ‘it’s just really hard I’ve had Character Growth and I don’t want to be an asshole again’)

(’well suck it up you’re going to blow our cover,’ Martin goes. ‘maybe you should have thought of that before Being An Asshole.’ he immediately feels bad at Jon’s Very Sad Face. ‘you weren’t actually that much of an asshole you were just under stress and prickly and didn’t realize that the people you weren’t appreciating could be people that you would lose and now you do and that’s fine but you gotta still treat them like you’re an Asshole.’)

(’fine,’ Jon goes.)

so now they’re trying to figure out how to stop Elias 

but also their main priority is to stop Tim and Sasha from dying at this point and they kind of figure that Elias doesn’t know the timeline and as long as he’s getting what he wants which is naive Jon stumbling through interactions with Entities and getting marked but not killed, he won’t suspect anything, and he doesn’t know Tim and Sasha are going to die so that at least is something immediate they can fix 

‘I want to murder Jonah,’ goes Martin 

‘you are super valid but also Gertrude tried that and was 1000% more badass than any of us and she ended up dead so maybe we should concentrate on saving our friends like we’ve got a few years to figure out how to do that,’ goes Jon 

‘fine,’ goes Martin 

Tim and Sasha notice that something is up, OBVIOUSLY, because Jon was weird-nice for like a week and a half then is weird-mean like he’s actually trying to be mean and hates it, and has gone from brushing off Martin all the time to pretending to brush Martin off but obviously secretly pining 

he also gives off feral apocalypse energy

Martin meanwhile is pulling this all off perfectly 

he fooled Elias and Peter and everyone else back when he was faking out the Lonely, he can handle this

Elias does notice Jon acting weird and thinks this is a soap opera workplace romance gone wrong but because he hasn’t seen all of it as Jon and Martin have been very careful to be using Martin’s Lonely powers when they want to Actually Talk and make it look like they’ve just casually wandered off when Elias isn’t paying attention to them so Elias doesn’t actually look like anything is up, he calls Jon in for a ‘performance review’ to make sure 

(Martin has Lonely powers and Jon has Archivist powers from the future and they can both feed off of the long terrible fears that they remember from the horrible horrible lives and deaths they and the entire world had in their own timeline, just give me this I need a plot device that can explain why they can Actually Talk to each other while not being able to use the tunnels) 

anyways Elias starts his performance review and pokes about Martin

‘um yeah,’ Jon confesses. ‘I um had a very awkward conversation with Martin because it seemed like he was being nice to me and I asked him about his feelings and he Confessed to me that he Liked me and I was caught by surprise and was thinking about it for a few days because idk nobody ever Likes me but then came to my senses and um but also it’s totally inappropriate because I’m his boss and I told him and we’re trying to forget that the conversation ever happened and just go back to concentrating on the statements’

‘you seem very nervous right now,’ Elias goes 

‘please do not report me to HR,’ Jon goes looking appropriately mortified and trying to remember everything Martin has been coaching him about lying by telling people what they want to hear. ‘I know I should have rejected him immediately it just caught my by surprise that he would actually Say It To My Face people have been saying a lot of honest things to my face it’s very weird and I know that I shouldn’t have run away from that conversation and acted Weird for a few days but I did come to the Correct Conclusion I am very devoted to this job and don’t want to do anything but this job and didn’t do anything with Martin we just had a conversation and I’m really trying to do a good job here and please don’t fire me’

‘nope you’re good that’s fine concentrate on your job,’ Elias says, quite satisfied that his Archivist is developing truth powers very quickly 

Tim and Sasha are not so easy to fool

Tim and Sasha find the book

Sasha, who worked in Artifact Storage, is Actually Smart and goes ‘dON’T READ THAT’

Tim reads it anyways

‘oh fuck I die stopping the apocalypse’ 

Tim doesn’t seem to die from reading the book and doesn’t seem to change except for being given this foreknowledge but Sasha is Smart so she doesn’t read it. Tim does fill her in on her future.

‘oh fuck I die when a weird worm-lady attacks? and don’t even get to help with the apocalypse? that’s bullshit.’

they start their own little huddle conspiracy 

which Martin immediately finds

‘nO YOU GUYS YOU GOTTA BE MORE CAREFUL TALKING ABOUT THIS STUFF’ Martin explains the future and methods of communicating without Elias watching, which is mostly him subtly hiding them in the Lonely

(’why do you and Jon have secret special powers that’s not fair,’ Tim goes)

(’because we went through literal hell??? and also didn’t die??? idk maybe if we keep you from dying you will also get special powers but seriously Tim they are very evil these are Evil Powers we don’t want them they just kind of happened to us in the process of trying to survive,’ Martin goes.)

‘so what is the plan,’ Sasha goes. ‘like besides us not dying how are you actually going to deal with the real apocalypse’ 

‘well we want to kill Elias but we haven’t figured that out yet because he’s watching our every move perfectly and if we’re not acting like he think we should act he’ll dispose of us and start again with a new Archivist,’ Martin goes. 

‘okay but like in your story there is a part where Peter Lukas personally escorts you to the panopticon and tells you to kill Elias/Jonas and you go no and Elias wins the bet,’ Sasha says. ‘what if you just murder him then, he says he wasn’t going to stop you and if he tries you’ve got another Avatar backing you up’

‘huh we didn’t think of that,’ Martin goes. ‘why didn’t we think of that. I swear there is a Very Good Reason we didn’t think of that. um. uh. there’s also the problem anyone working in the Archives will die if he dies unless they are powerfully enough connected the Ceaseless Watcher which is like. MAYBE Jon.’

‘W H Y did you not lead with that,’ Tim goes

‘yeah I really agree you should have led with that,’ Sasha goes 

‘this has been a very stressful time and we have been doing our best and right also everyone can quit they just need to blind themselves to do it,’ Martin goes. ‘or I guess pledge allegiance to a different evil god but that is really unpleasant you have to sacrifice fear to it or you starve’

(’okay why did you not lead with--’ Sasha goes. ‘I’m starting to really see some benefits for being an evil fear-monster,’ Tim goes. ‘Like we could be ethical evil fear-monsters. like ethical vampires. only scare really shitty terrible people who deserve it and, like, scare but not kill.’)

(Martin looks like he is about to cry.)

(’okay maybe not p l e a s e stop making that face I cannot stand your puppy-dog-but-also-on-the-verge-of-tears eyes,’ Tim goes)

(Sasha stops death-glaring at him as Martin looks slightly less like he is about to cry.)

‘so everyone loves rituals what if we, like. construct a secret ritual. that you’re saying Jon is dumb powerful chosen one Avatar right so let’s just, like. switch over being the ‘Heart of the Institute’ from Jonah to him. big proper paperwork ritual passing on of ownership claiming his position as Jonah’s heir or something,’ Sasha says 

‘that seems like just the sort of bullshit that might actually work. Sasha you are the smartest person in the world and I’m pretty sure the apocalypse wouldn’t have happened if you had survived the Prentiss attack,’ Martin says 

‘actually honestly Gertrude wanted you as her replacement that sounds very true and is probably why Elias didn’t choose you,’ Jon says. he has entered the room at this point as he was curious where literally all of his assistants had wandered off to. he does actually have work to get done the Archives are A Mess and Martin has been gone at this point for far longer than it takes to Make Tea so he figured something might be up and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s finding Martin in the Lonely

‘real rude to not let us in on this,’ Tim goes. ‘also are you SURE this is not a weird Leitner fucking with you’

‘we’ve obsessively kept track of the things that are supposed to be happening and they’re all happening on the right days and stuff,’ Jon goes. 

‘okay so let’s stop like two apocalypses and not die,’ Sasha goes. 

the rest of the fic is everyone subtly not-so-subtly trying to recreate the exact timeline while also making events Less Terrible while also trying to seem Not Too Competent 

because this is a fic there’s gotta be adorable ridiculous fluff so everyone decides that the Cover Story in case Elias thinks people are acting weird has got to be Jon and Martin starting to secretly date 

(Jon and Martin are in absolute h e l l over this and it is a hilarious comedy of errors because they didn’t tell everyone else that they got together they both decided that was too private so everyone else is aggressively trying to actually matchmake them through this all and they’re now too embarrassed to drop the act because Sasha has been giving them hell every time they have accidentally withheld information from her so it’s like. three layers of fake dating.) 

(Elias decides all this drama is simultaneously the funniest thing he’s ever seen but also kind of a Bad Distraction and is subtly trying to break them up but doesn’t want to mess with things too much because he is Very Impressed with all the ‘progress’ Jon is making)

(Jon who is a complete badass and is mostly desperately attempting not to reveal all his powers)

(there are also a lot of different things that can go various ways. like do Basira and Melaine still join the Institute? I think they all read the book and make Informed Decisions about their futures but I have not decided yet what those Informed Decisions are. Daisy learns how to control Hunt powers without it overwhelming her, because Tim is totally right about it being possible to be an ethical fear-monster although as Jon and Martin can draw from the fear of the apocalypse-world they don’t really need it so it’s just a question of whether or not I want to give everyone else cool powers. we’re in a fix-it fic everyone gets cool powers without terrible consequences Because I Say So)

(Elias doesn’t give them trouble over this because he is delighted that he’s kind of collecting avatars of other Entities because it makes it really easy to make sure Jon has marks and he thinks this is his genius plan going even better than expected) 

we get to episode 158 

Martin really wants to dramatically kill Elias i m m e d i a t e l y but is waiting for a walkie-talkie signal that the ritual above is going as planned so he stumbles through all of the dialogue the same 

“Then do it. Kill him and help me save the world.” Peter goes 

Martin pauses in silence because oops there’s really not that much more Avoiding he can do

“No” Martin says.

Elias starts to laugh. 

The Signal Comes Through

‘fUCK YEAH,’ Martin says. ‘F I N A L L Y. I am murdering him and I’m saving the world but this isn’t for you, asshole, and Imma deal with you next.’

stabbity stab 

it’s very satisfying 

‘okay but what do you mean it’s not for me, you’re supposed to sit in the chair and help me look for the Extinction?’ Peter goes 

‘nah fuck that I’m from the future and I do what I want that was me stopping the Jonah Magnus’s final ritual,’ Martin goes. ‘you really think I fell for that Extinction bullshit you aren’t nearly as good a liar as you think you are, you stay right there and we’ll decide what to do with you when everyone gets down here it’s Jon’s Institute now and we’re both very pissed at you’

Peter tries to escape into the Lonely 

it Does Not Work as Martin has More Angst than Peter to draw from so is Way More Powerful 

everyone gets down there 

ritual worked nobody died!

‘okay but why DON’T we try to look for the Extinction.’ Sasha says. ‘that seems to be a pretty important thing to stop.’

at this point everyone agrees Sasha has the best ideas 

have I mentioned that every single female character is very gay for Sasha

quite frankly maybe Tim too

Sasha is a Badass and this fic portrays her as Gertrude Robinson’s Rightful Heir 

she Deserves Good Things

and she is Gonna Stop All Future Apocalypses so actually going through with Peter’s plan is maybe not a terrible idea 

they do the thing but in a careful way that traps no one in the chair and get the info

the Extinction is still very stoppable 

there are lots of ways but honestly the best way to do it is to manipulate humanity into actually Being Better and not being on the brink of extinction 

‘this is my Institute now let’s use it to fucking save the world,’ Jon goes 

and they use all their knowledge and power to go from being a massive conspiracy about causing the apocalypse to being a massive conspiracy about bringing kindness and preventing wars and stopping the rise of fascism in politics and poking humanity from behind the scenes into something Better that can Rise Above its fears 

and everyone lives happily ever after 

but yeah this entire fic is around the premise of ‘what if the actual fix-it isn’t Change Everything To Stop Bad Things From Happening it’s Keep Everything The Same Until We’re Handed The Opportunity To Stab Jonah On A Silver Platter And Then Take It’ which I have yet to see a fic do and oops that kind of grew away from me there but anyways that’s it that’s the fic

[luci-cunt]

Hi, welcome to my open worm can, here’s me not being able to shut up Cureless and Cynical version @sargent-major-jane​ whyyyyyyy do youuuu doooo thiisss too meee aksdjfl;askdj XDD <33

Ok so first of all, here’s the cast: Izyc, a demon; Walter, a vampire; Lou a werewolf 6 year old

The story starts out with Walter summoning a demon (who happens to be Izyc) because he wants to bring his friend (Caine) back from the dead. Walt’s at this point basically a dumbass rich fratboy and him and Caine had this pretty not great friendship that was super co-dependant and toxic because Caine is not a good person. Anyways, Caine ends up dying, but the circumstances seem fishy because no one will talk to Walter about it so he gets the fantastic idea to bring Caine back from the dead. 

Izyc’s a little ass tho and he’s like “how do you want him?” and so Walter orders one supersized friend resurrection. 

“Alright,” Izyc said, cracking his knuckles and standing up, “which one is he?”

Walter pointed to Caine’s grave and Izyc walked over to stand in front of it. He scanned the grave stone, it was made of lacquered wood, with Caine’s name burned into it. “A wonderful son and friend with an honest soul, he will be missed.”

“Must be nice to have one of these,” Izyc remarked, more joking than wistful, “I think my parents buried me in a Payless box in the backyard.”

“Sorry,” Walter said, not sure what to say. 

Izyc just shrugged, “them’s the apples,” he said, which didn’t make sense to Walter but Izyc was moving on.

There’s just one problem with this whole thing, and that’s the fact that Caine does NOT want to be alive. The reason no one told Walter about Caine’s death in detail was because Caine killed himself, and now he’s back as a nearly unkillable monster. 

So Caine mauls the hell out of Walter’s arm and turns HIM into a vampire. 

Some details about vampires in this world: they’re nearly unkillable. The only thing that can kill them is another vampire. The sunlight thing is a myth, Walt is allergic to garlic tho. Also he’s got fangs, and has better senses. Oh and there’s a wrinkle: the vampiric disease can be transfered thru bodily fluids--I promise this will be important later XDD

Anywhoo--Walt’s a vampire now and he’s grouchy and grumpy about it. he goes all emo and the story flashes forward 7ish years to him sulking in a bar even though he can’t get drunk he just LiKeS tHe BuRn. 

this is where we find out Izyc has stuck around, and that him and Walter hunt monsters. Also that Izyc really likes his pair of jeans. 

Izyc cried out as he hit the ground, scrambling to hold onto something as the gnome dragged him down into the tunnels. His arms hit the sides of the tunnel and stopped him and he cursed. 

Walter was on him in a second, grabbing him by the coat as Izyc held onto his arms and pulled against the gnome. 

“Fucking– catch– fire!” Walter yelled, straining to pull Izyc out of the hole. 

“I like these jeans!” Izyc yelled back, “Ow! Shit!” he yelped, probably as the thing’s claws started digging in. 

Oh also: since Izyc is a demon he’s got some magic powers, most namely: the ability to set himself on fire, the ability to conjure anything in the world as long as he makes a deal, and an immunity to vampire sicknesss. 

Also also: these are gnomes in this universe (description courtesy of Izyc’s bestiology)

Surprisingly large, looks a bit like if a mole and a man decided to shit on god’s face by fucking. Claws for hands and pointy faces with milky eyes covered by big, bushy eyebrows. Does not wear clothing, which is a sight, and known for dragging unsuspecting women into their dens during mating seasons. The species is exclusively male and very reclusive/ meek. Will not inhabit anywhere within a mile of another gnome.

So.... moving on.... Izyc and Walt have an odd relationship, they travel around the US living out of hotels (specifically one that’s run by a man eating ghoul named Klancy who may or may not be 100 years old). 

Some details to know about demons: most of them were desperate people who sold their souls to other demons for something in their life. Then when they die they get stuck in this limbo and are basically hellish office workers. People can summon Izyc, but the only ritual most know just pokes at him and he can ignore it. It’s actually how him and Walt get jobs, someone summon’s Izyc and gives him details and then Walt and him zip on over. 

So Izyc’s got nothing better to do and Walt was his first ever deal so sue him, he’s lonely, he just kinda sticks with Walt. After a couple of years tho they start fucking, and both claim it’s for convenience sake--mostly Walt tho, cuz he can’t have sex with anyone who isn’t a vampire unless he wants to make them a vampire and -- yeah anyways.

Izyc catches feelings though, and he tries to pipe up about it, but then Lou crashes into the story. 

Some details to know about werewolves: they don’t only transform under the full moon, but that is a sacred time for them. They’re very ostracized by the world, forced to live in tiny communities and keep to themselves because they’re “dangerous.” 

One day, a vampire comes through and murders Lou’s entire pack

and the two other packs living in the town with them. 

Lou is the only survivor, and she’s friends with a woman named Luca who mentions a bitchy-but-nice vampire named Walter. 

And so Lou’s grieving 6 y/o brain goes “only a vampire can kill another vampire, this is perfect” and tracks Walt down and twists his heart strings until he agrees to at least check the scene out. 

Details about Luca: she’s Walter’s ex-boyfriend’s step-sister and she’s also half banshee. She’s also also one of Walter’s only friends. 

Some details about banshee’s: contrary to popular belief they aren’t omens of death, rather just really fucked up people. They’re usually the product of a hateful birth and feel emotion so strongly they’ll only be able to feel one single emotion in their lives. Usually people’s first emotions when their born is fear, and thus--screaming banshee’s. However, if you’re only part banshee you feel other emotions but they’re still super strong, so Luca’s basically cracked out bipolar. She takes meds that help but if she doesn’t take them it gets BAD.

Anyways, Walter goes to the crime scene, it goes a little like this: 

It started as splatters, dried and dirty looking on the ground. Then it got thicker, darker, and more concentrated. The walls of surrounding buildings were painted with it, and the street looked like it had been bathed in it. At the end of the street, however, was a schoolhouse, which seemed to be the source of all of it. 

Walter’s shiver had nothing to do with the cold. 

“Hey!” a voice called suddenly, stirring Walter out of where he’d been standing, staring at the school. It wasn’t very large, just a long, single story building that had a lot of windows and big doors. Above them were rusting metal letters spelling ‘SMITH CREEK ELEMENTARY.’ Most of the windows were broken and the doors had been torn off their hinges. The lawn in front of the school – which had probably been grass before – was now torn up and muddied from countless claws scrambling and tearing it up. 

“Hey!” The voice called again, this time closer, “you can’t be here.”

Walter turned to find a man walking up to him. He was wearing an officer’s uniform and his face was scrunched up in annoyance behind a big paper mask that covered his mouth and nose. Walter could smell lavender on it. The officer was also quite a bit shorter than Walter, and he had blond hair and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Walter. 

“I’m on business,” Walter said, “a consultant,” he lied. 

The officer gave him a shrewd look, “we didn’t hear anything about you coming up,” he said. 

Walter sighed, “it’s not my fault your department is useless.” The man’s face twitched. “I’m going back to work now, unless you want me to bother my superior and admit you messed up,” Walter said, brushing past the bristling man. 

“What kind of consultant are you supposed to be?” he asked, jogging a bit to catch up to Walter as he picked his way up to the school. There was a shallow set of stairs leading to the doors. The stairs were dark with blood and Walter almost expected them to be tacky. It had been days though, and they were dried by now. 

“Vampiric expert,” Walter said. 

“What are your credentials?” 

Walter turned and flashed his fangs. All the blood drained from the mans face and he took a few quick steps back. Walter didn’t stop walking, just tore through the caution tape blocking the doorway and went inside.

We find out later on that this is actually Caine’s doing, and Caine goes on a bit of the murder spree, which is what the book devolves into. Before it was some cases, a bunch of undocumented kishi (people with hyena faces on the backs of their heads) run into a wyvern problem that turns into a monster smuggling scandal. Izyc pisses off pirates which results in them kidnapping him to try and make Walt murder a bunch of mermaids, which just leads to the mermaids and Walt eating all the pirates. They meet another vampire named Marissa who happens to also be a warlock and zips them into a pocket dimension that’s like a 1950′s nuclear family where Izyc goes crazy, manages to escape, and then has to get into Walt’s pocket dimension and kill his alternate self.

yknow, the usual. 

This is so fucking long I’m so sorry if you managed to get all the way down here I owe you my whole soul aksjdf;lakjsdf;lkajsdf here’s some snippets: 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “The Challenge”

(Insert evil laugh) manipulating people’s emotions shouldn’t be this much fun. I loved writing this, part two to “Out of Warp” linked below. Ha ha, I had a grin on my face the entire time because none of you got it quite right, and I love it. I very much hope you enjoy how things are unfolding, if you can keep my appraised of how you are feeling on how things are unfolding, I would appreciate it. 

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/183722582375/humans-are-space-orcs-out-of-warp

General Cosma stood at the head of the small shuttle just behind the pilot’s chair lording over her domain with a steely eye. Her soldiers sat stiffly in their seats with their weapons resting softly on their laps. The rest were aboard the human ship patrolling and ready to quell any sense of uprising. She knew better than anyone the kind of problems humans can cause. Break their spirits, not their bodies, they have this way or rebuilding themselves when you break them apart.

She had proof of that too.

The human “Captain” Slumped on his knees at the center of the ship. His hands were tied behind his back, his wrists locked to the ankles of his legs. His head was bowed, the human did not move. She was quite pleased with her soldiers, with herself. After the war she had spent many long hours planning her revenge against the humans. She was forced to learn about the squishy disgusting creatures in her search for answers.

The Galactic Alliance should not have made access to medical and psychological studies so widely available. With the help of the rest of the Drev they had perused these documents to find the truth of humans, their true weakness. Sickness wouldn’t do, injury wouldn’t do. Physically, the creatures were surprisingly hard to kill, and she didn’t wish to kill them…. She wished to do something worse.

She could see it now in the posture of the human, the defeat written alone the lines of his body as he lay kneeling at her feet. The human that had killed her mate, and the closest human to the Galactic Alliance she could think of. The other Drev tribes spoke with each other about alliance with the galactic community, a thought that made her skin crawl and her insides burn. The last thing she wanted was an alliance, she wanted war, she wanted to destroy them all for what they had gone and done. It would take much longer for her plans to unfold on a galactic level, but, for now, she would take her personal revenge.

Looking down the line of her soldiers, she caught sight of the bright metallic blue shape hunched in the darkness of the back corner. It was quite a beautiful color for carapace, rather rare, but it hardly mattered when the height was taken into consideration. Cosma’s daughter, Sunny. Compared to her elder brother, since birth had failed to maintain family expectations. Even despite her good breading, she had been born to short, to stubborn, and with too much a mind of her own. She had embarrassed the family repeatedly for years and years bringing Cosma to the brink of just letting her go in the volcanic lands. She wasn’t a particularly good soldier, but she had played her part this time.

She was a good spy.

Cosma had come up with the idea during the night while reading over one of the papers, slowly trying to peace out the strange alien language coming across something called “pack bonding”. Apparently humans had the capabilities to socially bond with pretty much anything. It was strong enough to bond with other species, and even with inanimate objects. They were known for being surprisingly gullible and trusting if given the right circumstances, so she thought….. it couldn’t hurt, but who would be expendable enough to try.

A daughter desperate to win her mother’s favor perhaps? Yes…. That would be good enough. She would be small enough for the humans anyway, less threatening.

And it had worked, Worked so much better than she could have imagined. She chuckled at the thought. The human actually seemed to have thought they were allies, friends even. Oh how niece could he have been. Like a Drev could ever be friends with a human. Besides, even Sunny wouldn’t have been stupid enough to foster such a bond. Friendships weren’t for rue soldiers, and Sunny was desperate to be a good solider.

Outside, in the vastness of space, the reflected light of their moon broke through the darkness cutting through the window and onto the human’s porcelain skin. It was a stomach churning sight, like the dried skin of a maggot, or a mossworm. She stepped forward grabbing the human below the chin and lifting his head.

He didn’t bother to fight against her hand. One green eye stared bleakly out at her from the creature’s face. She turned his head towards the window, “See that, worm.” The green eye failed to focus for a long moment, she shook him, “The moon.” The human pupil locked onto it, and an odd dark shadow upon its planet-side surface. She let him go, “The Galactic Assembly does not have a monopoly on technology. Our scientists developed it, a device that can sense and disrupt warp tunnels, quite the feat don’t you think?”

The human said nothing dropping his head once again, “We’ve been waiting for you for a while… did you know, information is also sent through warp tunnels, your radio signals. They wouldn’t make it across the universe otherwise. Much faster than that ship of yours, but if you have a signature, you can catch them. That Vrul of yours is a very astute little weevil, and he has a habit of recording your plotted courses in his transmissions to the Galactic Assembly, Isn’t that interesting?”

The human said nothing slumping even further towards the floor. The maggoty skin on its face was wet under the single eye.

Uh…. Pathetic. She walked past the creature kicking it over with a kick of her foot. It hit the deck with a clatter and a grunt. The soldiers that sat around looked on in humorless boredom. At the back of the shuttle Sunny was turned away.

“Daughter, come here.” Cosma snapped.

When Sunny didn’t move immediately, she was hauled to her feet, “That was an order, soldier.” She hissed

Sunny looked at her with a blank expression. Her golden eyes, So much like Cosma’s, were blank and unseeing as she stared straight forward.  

They were entering the atmosphere now, and the shuttle rattle and jerked around them. Sunny reached for the side of the shuttle wall to steady herself. Cosma watched the movement as she did. Something was strange about her daughter, something in the way she moved. It was oddly…. Predatory, not like a warrior, but like something else, was it the way her eyes moved, slowly tracking the moving landscape both inside and outside the shuttle. Whatever it was, it was hardly the Drev thing to do, and it made her uneasy. She would have to speak with Sunny about that in the intervening hours.

The shuttle landed against the stone with a rocky thud that jarred the two of them forward. Cosma took a few steps forward to balance herself. Sunny kept her grip against the outer edge of the shuttle. As the engines shut off and began to cool, Cosma slapped her hand against the release button, “Watch the worm.” She ordered her soldiers, pushing outside and onto the rocky, moss covered face of the Drev homeworld.

Behind her, Sunny took a few hesitant steps pausing to look up at the sky and the volcanic ash which blotted out the sun. The landscape was awash with the red haze of the filtered sunlight. Distant dwelling crouched in the moss interwoven with small specks that were, clearly, other Drev.

Cosma walked the two of them away from the ship pausing to look down at their village, just on the outskirts of the fertile belt. She liked it here, with their backs against the volcanic lands, they had a greatly defensible position. She didn’t bother to look at Sunny as she stared down at the village, “Your report, soldier.”

There was a long silence, Cosma turned to look at her with annoyance, and only then did Sunny speak, “You got what you wanted, what is there to report?”

Cosma’s movement was almost too fast to be perceived, and the slap landed with a sharp crack Sunny’s head jerking to the side. Cosma stepped back arms crossed a muscle in her cheek twitching, “Don’t you dare backtalk me, I want to know why it took you so damn long! You were out there almost a year cavorting with the creature that killed your father. And it seems that a year hasn’t done anything to curb your insolence.”

Sunny slowly turned her head back to look at her mother, “I don’t fly the ship, General, I don’t decide where we go; that’s the captain’s job. Plus we stopped on Earth for a few months, and that wasn’t in my power either.”

Cosma barked a sharp tone of bitter laughter, “Taking orders from humans….. wait….. earth you say?”

Sunny paused, “Yes?”

Fire sparked in Cosma’s eyes, “You’ve been to their homeworld?” When sunny said nothing Cosma began pacing very suddenly and excitedly up and down the outcropping, “You know where it is, you could take us there. Oh daughter….. this is better than I could have planned.” She turned to look at Sunny, “Do you understand what this means?”

Sunny shook her head as Cosma beamed teeth gritted, “You have finally managed to do something right.”

Cosma turned away unaware of Sunny’s reaction if she had one at all, the possibilities of knowing the location of the human homeworld was too exciting. She had so many plans, plans that would be fulfilled all thanks to her daughter. Who would have thought something so ludicrous, but it was true.

***

Captain Vir knelt at the center of the ship head hanging low, heart hanging even lower. How could he have been so stupid, so trusting? It was so obvious, you couldn’t trust a Drev, especially not the Drev that mutilated you on the field of battle, and now he was going to die, his crew was going to die, all because he was so stupid and so trusting.

He felt hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, once he would have fought them down, but he let them flow freely now, what did he have to loose, his dignity? That was already gone. Small dark droplets thudded softly against the shuttle’s metal floor. His entire body hurt, his soul hurt, and he was attached to it, the LEG, a piece of her, the very symbol of his idiocy and trusting nature. He desired nothing more than to rip it off and throw it across the room, scream and curse, rip this entire damn planet apart. The Courts had been right, he had been a fool, he should never have brought her aboard the ship. Inside his chest, his heart twisted with a terrible constricting beat that closed up his throat like that bitch still had him around the throat.

He squeezed his eyes shut as thoughts of his fallen crewmembers flashed through his head. Krill lying lifeless over the seats. His lieutenant bloodied, his coms expert twisted into a horribly painful position, and his dog lying whimpering and unable to move. The surge of hatred that followed those images could have torn him apart, would have torn him apart if he let them, but instead the flow of tears only increased in intensity as he stared at the floor below. Around him the Drev soldiers stared on in silence.

A loud clatter at the back of the shuttle, and he glanced up from under his bowed head to see the General step in, trailing Sunny in her wake. He could barely look at her, the traitor, could barely look at those blank, and unfeeling eyes. The general stopped to stand over him hooting with sadistic glee as she dragged him to his feet by the hair. He gasped in pain and struggle against her. He tried his best to keep his feet as she dragged him towards the exit, “Look at what you’ve done, worm.” She laughed, “You’ve condemned your entire species to destruction. You idiot, giving away the coordinates of your home planet.” More cutting laughter, “Once I’m done with you, your planet is next.”

Even to his own ears, the sound Adam let off in response to the revelation was horrible, a strangled sob mixed with a pained scream, not physical pain, but horrible psychological pain. His cry broke across the open space bouncing outwards and down the hillside. Heads snapped upwards to look at they passed, as he was dragged down the dark obsidian pathway ad towards the center of the village where a large circle was carved into the stone.

He was thrown to his belly there tears wetting the rocks turning the black stone blacker and washing away the dust. His mother had been right, and now, because of him, they were all going to die. His brothers, his sister, his Neace and nephew, his father. He had condemned them to death

What had he done?

Around the circle, other Drev had begun to congregate, watching the spectacle with their impassive, angular faces multiple hands and arms still occupied with their earlier tasks, now forgotten. The traitor stood in front of him, but he couldn’t look at her.

The general stepped over him, still laughing as she raised her staff, and brought it down against him with a hard crack. He gritted his teeth against the pain, unwilling to give her anymore satisfaction with his cries.

She chuckled, “Don’t worry, worm, I’ll make this slow.” She lifted her head to the other Drev, ranting and raving like a madman speaking of revenge, of her dead mate, of the war. As she spoke she grew in frenzy. Looking around, the captain was confused to find the Drev staring on blankly, a blankness that covered….. something more.

Her rant grew to a crescendo before she leaned down, “Earth is next,” She hissed, and then spit out a string of umbers at him. For a moment, he couldn’t tell what the words were supposed to mean. Suddenly, it dawned on him….. Coordinates. His heart sank, but, something was wrong. He ran the numbers over in his fuddled mind for another long minute. As he did, his heart quickened, he ran them again, and as he did once, twice, three times, a sharp bark of laughter broke from his throat.

The general stepped back in shock and confusion. The laughter grew from choked to manic, until he was howling with it. The tears that now ran down his face were tears of mirth, he looked up at her through bursts of laughter, “You…. Idiot.”

Anger in her eyes, the general lunged forward slamming him back against the stone. He felt the leg of his pants rip as they caught against stone. The breath was driven from his lungs, and the laughter cut off.

“What are you laughing about you insolent maggot.”

“Those…. Aren’t…. coordinates to… earth.” He choked out through his gasps. She stared at him uncomprehending. He couldn’t help the laughter, “Those are the coordinates, for the black hole in Messier 31. In other words NOT coordinates for Earth, but the supermassive black hole at the center of Andromeda you absolute fuckwit, not even in the right fucking galaxy.”

The laughter broke from his throat again.

She stood in terrible anger jabbing her staff towards him, “You LIE you-“ She paused suddenly, her eyes dropping down to his legs, and the torn fabric. Her eyes widened and then narrowed.

With a quick jab, she cut the fabric the rest of the way, and the two pieces fell apart to reveal the glittering prosthetic, and the metallic carapace, which covered it.

A gasp filled the square, the General froze in place her body tensing fire igniting in her eyes. She turned towards Sunny who stood outside the circle. Her blank expression had grown to one of absolute and sadistic satisfaction.

“What did you do…..” The general choked out.

She bared her teeth at her mother in a very human snarl, “What’s wrong, mother, did someone ruin your execution.”

“YOU, YOU….” She suddenly deflated, taking a deep breath, “No matter, I can still duel him. It will be like an execution anyway, and THEN. I deal with you.”

“No mother, you deal with me NOW.”

Her voice rose so the entire village could hear, “General Cosma, I Weapons Officer Sunny challenge you to a duel!”

    https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

[erail411]

The Taken Guardian

It was a quite day at the Tower. More so than usual. For some reason, everyone in the Knight's of the Eve had plans to go out on that exact day. Everyone except one Guardian, Polaroid. She sat quietly in her room, reading a book while petting Daifuku, her Ghost, who was resting in her lap.

"IoT fundamentals" was the name of the book. Truth be told, she already failed to understand what any of this meant around page 90 or so. But she pushed on.

She was about to continue on to the next page, when she heard a faint beeping sound coming from outside her door. Curious, she peeked outside and looked both ways down the hallway, trying to find where the beeping was coming from.

The echoing of the noise made it hard to follow, but she eventually found herself standing in the social area, a wide open space indoors, but had a high ceiling. That's where most of the clan members would gather.

She looked down on one of the tables in the corner. Someone had forgotten their communcation devices, and it was recieving what seems to be a distress signal of some sort.

Polaroid walked up to it, and stared at the thing. She had the urge to pick up, to check if everything was okay, to see what the message was. But... This was someone else's device. She shouldn't touch it. She turned away and backed off from the table. She should get back to reading, but in her mind, she felt wrong to just leave the device beeping.

What if the person is in grave danger? She recalled other guardians' stories about Cayde getting caught in a Vex trap of some sort, trying to teleport.

With guilt hanging from her heart, she rushed to pick up the device and took a quick peek of it. Before she got to see anything, she closed her eyes to look away. Peeking at other people's messages on other people's devices! She must apologize for it later.

"Looks like a request for back up." Daifuku said, looking at the device and reading the message. "In the Dreaming City." The ghost blinked and turned to look at his guardian. "I've heard of it, never been there before. It might be risky. We don't know what's out there. And from the tales of the other guardians, there seems to be this new kind of Fallen."

She looked at the ghost, and then back to the device. She shouldn't take any risk. Not with her.... 'Little problem'. But her thoughts brought her back to the stories of Caybe being trapped in Vex tech...

The guardian then looked around the clan base. Empty. Everyone was out. Everyone was busy. No, she had to go. She might be the person's last hope. So without word, not that she had any to begin with, she rushed back to her room, grabbed her armor and weapons, and made a dash for her ship. Next stop for her was the Dreaming City.

While Polaroid was on her way to the Dreaming City another Guardian of the same clan as Polaroid was already there, his name was Erail and he has taken a job from Petra to investigate and if needed to purge the Blind Well of the Taken. He was a skilled Hunter but even he couldnt stand against hordes of Taken all alone.

He was the one who asked Lilly, his ghost, to send out a back-up signal to the clan, so he would get some help taking over the job. He waited for a while, leaning against one of the many walls of the Well before deciding to start alone for now. If the other members would join later he would at least have something to boost about. With a slight chuckle he grabs his Malfeasance from his holster and activates the well.

Erail touches the Well as it starts to resonate with energy surrounding the entire area in a weird mist. He spins his Malfeasance around his finger by the trigger as the barrel starts to resonate with a weird energy wich usually only means one thing. Taken.

The Taken horde starts to charge towards the Well and at Erail. He wasnt startled or scared as he fought them more then enough already. He readies the Malfeasance in his hand and takes the first shot at a Taken Thrall as the bullet literrally burries into the Thralls bodie.

A few more bullets are shoot at the Thrall, again burrying into its body before exploding and killing the Thrall in the process. He keeps on going against the Horde of Taken hoping that one of the Clan members would soon arrive in case it would get too dangerous.

Erail kept on going against the horde of Taken, more and more would come for each kill he does. They would slowly start to overrun him as his helmet starts to glow brighter then usual. Void light start to form in his hands, taking the form of the Nightstalker bow.

With a single precise shot the arrow hits one of the Taken and forms a ball of void light tethering any Taken that gets close to it.

With precise shots and jumps in the air he takes out the Thralls and other Taken until they slowly start to get less and less. For a moment he thought he finally beats them as a massive Taken Ogre takes form in the Well. Erail knew he was probably the one leading the current Horde as he reloads the Malfeasance and readies his aim shooting the drill like bullets into the Ogre.

He runs and rolls all over the Well dodging any attacks the Taken throw at him, only getting hit a few times by incoming eye beams and Thrall claws. A last magazine gets filled into the Malfeasance as he gives it a spin around his finger, hitting every single bullet into the Ogres eyes giving it the killing blow and the Taken slowly vanishing.

While Erail was fighting at the Well, Polaroid has arrived in the Dreaming City by now with her Jumpship. Polaroid quickly hopped off of her ship and raced towards the marked destination, not even paying attention to what was surrounding her. She tunnel visioned, only thinking and worrying for the guardian who sent the signal. By the time she had gotten to the location, she realized her whole right side was.... corrupted.

Oh no. Where is she? What happened? Are there... Taken here?! Where is the guardian? Is he down? She needed to get them out of here fast. She could feel the darkness spreading within her body, expanding quicker than ever before. She was losing control of her thoughts, but not of her body.

Her body was moving as if it was instinct, running towards the only place that had brightness and gun-firing sounds, all while shooting down all the taken that was going in the same direction.

There! A guardian! That must be the one that sent the signal! She didn't run any closer, instead, she stayed back and shot as much taken as she could. The left half of her body hurts like crazy, like something was throbbing in her head, and punching her straight in the face, that half saw redness in her eyes, but the other half -the taken half- felt absolutely fine, better than fine, even. She endured the pain, seeing how it was slowly fading as time goes by, and kept shooting until the last big ogre fell to the ground and disolved into thin air.

Polaroid panted, she dropped to her knees as her vision lost all it's color. She could heard her ghost speak, yelling something in panic, but she couldn't make out what she's saying. Every word was just a blurry sound ringing in her head.

"Help!" Daifuku called out to the only other guardian in the room, Erail. "My Guardian! I lost my Guardian!" he cried, like he was about to burst into tears. The pieces of his shell jittered, as a human's hand would if they were trembling with anxiety, fear and devastation.

Erail lowers his weapon as the last Ogre fell and the Taken vanished. Malfeasance was still resonating with energy, confusing Erail quiet a bit since the Ogre was defeated and no more Taken in sight and it only resonates like that with Taken near the weapon.

He hears a quiet voice behind him, the voice was familiar but he couldnt tell who it was just yet, he turned around looking for the person who called out as he sees only the small Ghost floating in the air "A Ghost? Hey what are you doing here bud-". He suddenly stops mid sentence as he sees the Taken figure on the ground not too far from Daifuku.

Erail quickly aims his weapon at the Figure as he wouldnt recognize it, only the Taken appereance it has."Quickly get away from there!" He pulls the trigger as the drill like bullet flies out of the barrel towards the figures left arm.

When the bullet hit, the creature screamed like a broken audio file of nails scratching a chalkboard. It was unbearable to listen to, but familiar at the same time. The corrupted being's head twitched and violently jerked as it turned it's sights towards Erail. It leaped backwards, and landed right on top of the beam that was located in the center of the Blind Well, creating distance.

It took only a few seconds for the arm to heal, and then it took out a dangerous weapon: Whisper of the Worm. The being, while in a croutching position, aimed the sniper rifle at the guardian's head.

Erail holds his helmet from the screeching sound making his ear bleed slightly from under the helmet. It was weird, for some reason it sounded kinda familiar to him but he doesnt know why. He shakes his head from the pain after the creature stopped only to see it ontop of the Well with the Whisper aimed at his head.

His eyes jump open as he realises its about to shoot and grabs Daifuku quickly before rolling into cover to hide from the creatures sight. A quick look down to the Ghost makes him realise it was Daifuku, Polaroids Ghost. "Daifuku? Why are you here? And where is Polaroid?" He was utterly confused but mostly had his mind on the creature right now.

A yell echoed at a distance, and then... silence. Erail stopped the conversation temporarily to check the Taken creature's position. He wasn't happy to find it close up to him with a blade. The Quickfang sword. Polaroid's favorite sword.

He dodges and jumped away, trying creating more distance, but when he realized the creature was pressuring in on him, he had to give it a punch to the face to knock it back. He then once again, ran for cover.

"M-My guardian..." Daifuku was still shaking with devastation.

"Keep yourself together Daifuku whats with Polaroid?" Erail grunts as he looks out of the cover again to find the creature only to quickly aim his Malfeasance at it and pulling the trigger to shoot a few bullets at it before quickly running out of cover towards the next.

He tries to create distance between him and the creature as he takes a deep breath to concentrate "Since when do Takens use Guardian weapons? ... Quickfang ... doesnt Polaroid ..." Suddenly a feeling of discomfort overwhelmed him as he looks at Daifuku with fear in his eyes "DAIFUKU TELL ME DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO POLAROID?!?!"

"She got corrupted! It's a long story! I- I'm sorry, I should've stopped her from coming!" The tiny ghost quivered as he spoke in Erail's arms.

It was only when the dots connected, did Erail see how the Taken creature resembles Polaroid's silhouette in every way. The bird beak, the hood, the long sleek cape...

Every time he pulled his distance from her, she'd pull out the Whisper of the Worm and attempt to aim it at them.

"Corrupted?" Erail was confused. He didnt exactly understand what Daifuku means by that as it suddenly clicks in his head. "Youre telling me that this ... Taken is Polaroid?"

He slightly looks out of his hiding spot to look at the Taken and takes a deep breath. Polaroid was taken, there was no mistaking it "Can we ... heal her somehow?"

"No- I mean- I-... I don't know... We never found a cure." The ghost stuttered. "This is why she never leaves the base."

The Taken was visibly getting frustrated with them hiding behind pillars and decided to rush in with her blade to slice them up. Erail was, again, forced to give her a punch to the face and run for another cover. The punch made Polaroid's head turn sharply to the left side with a loud cracking noise.

They peeked out of their cover just a tiny bit, and saw the Taken's hands on the head, trying to get the helmet off. As soon as the head piece was removed and thrown on the ground, the taken effects faded on that armor, revealing a huge crack that ran across it. Her face was now a complete blob of white with swirls of darkness on the side, flowing upwards from the tip of her hood. She was completely Taken, inside and out.

Erail grunts as he sighs and looks at Daifuku. He grabs his Malfeasance and spins it around his finger, loading up a new magazine of 15 bullets. "I know you wont like it Daifuku but I have no choice, I have to at least weaken her enough so she will stop rampaging" he takes a look at his Ghost Lilly and nods as he suddenly jumps out of cover.

He aims his weapon at the taken Polaroid and keeps shooting as he runs from cover to cover to make sure he wont get hit by a devestating bullet from the Whisperer.

A few of the bullets would hit Polaroid as they drill right into her, due to her body being Taken the bullets would drill even further inside then usually leaving a burning pain inside her.

As Erail reaches another hiding spot he quickly reloads his weapon once again before repeating the same process again and again running and rolling from cover to cover.

As the bullets kept coming, the energy was drained more and more from the Taken being's body. It started to get hard to hold up the heavy sniper rifle, and the healing wasn't fast enough.

Polaroid took out her blade, and with her last bit of strength, she flung the sharp weapon at Erail, aiming for his head.

Erail was in the middle of reloading as he saw the blade flying towards him. With a quick relfex he managed to dodge the blade just barely to prevent a mortal wound or even a death blow on his head. The blade missed his head but was now stuck in his left shoulder as he feels the warm blood flowing down his entire arm. He would feel a Taken energy resonating from the blade wich makes it impossible for Lilly to heal the wound until it healed on its own.

He takes out the blade from his shoulder and drops it on the floor, blood dripping down from it. He slowly stumples towards the Taken Polaroid with the Malfeasance constantly aimed at her head until he was standing right infront of her and the barrel of his weapon pressed against her forehead. "Nobody deserves to live like this Poli ... no matter what they did. I know the pain you're going through right now ... having to attack your friends against your will ... even trying to kill them ... I hope you can forgive me for this Poli ...".

His heart was heavy as his weapon was pressed against his friend's heas. His finger was at the trigger ready to shoot the last bullet to end Polaroids suffering.

"Aim true, Guardian." The Taken said on Polaroid's voice. A sign that she was still in there, fighting somehow.

"No, wait!" Daifuku said upon hearing his Guardian's voice, but it was too late. The trigger was pulled and the shot was fired. The Taken Polaroid dropped to her knees, headless. Her body collapsed on the floor. Silence followed, a quiet hum of the well filled the room.

"W-...Why did you do that?!" Daifuku then said. His voice cracked with sorrow. "She was still in there!" He had his face up to Erail's, angry out of the immense sadness he was feeling right now. "You know what?! Might as well kill me, too!" He then exclaimed, clearly emotional. He was losing it. His whole world was falling apart before his very eyes.

The ghost flew down and pressed himself against the gun's barrel, ready to leave this world and join his Guardian, wherever she may be now. "Do it!" He yelled at Erail. "I-... I can't live without my Guardian..." He said weakly, out of will to yell any more.

Erail grunts as the Ghost was infront of Malfeasance's barrel and lowers his weapon. "You have any idea how it feels to be ... consumed?" His voice was low and bitter with a bit of anger in it. "How it feels to attack your loved ones, your friends, hurting them and even killing them?" He was almost shouting as he throws away his helmet revealing a male face with short blond hair and two void filled purple eyes and a scar over the right eye

"This isnt how you want to live. She was in there yes and how do you think she felt?" Erail voice was getting lower again as he looks at Daifuku holding him up slighty with both his hands "And how do you think she would feel when she would know that her favourite Ghost ... her best friend just dies?"

Daifuku shook. The sound of shell pieces clacking against each other could be heard. He was speechless. If he had tears, they'd be flooding Erail's palm right now.

He looked down at the Taken corpse. For whatever reason, it didn't just desolve like how most Taken normally would. Polaroid was still headless on the floor, it was a heartbreaking sight. He looked away.

"I just-" Before he could say another word, another voice came from the entrance to the room.

"Hey!" Said a familiar voice to them both and in walked a familiar guardian: Head-71, the clan leader, who just so happens to be in this area. After he finished up his own business, whatever it was, he dropped by to see if help was still needed. Unlike Polaroid, he could tell if a request was an emergency or not, so he didn't rush it.

"I got your call, my dude! What's the situation?" Head-71 said with a rather chilled tone, waving his device up, further expressing his words. He couldn' tell what just happened or how serious everyone felt right now, since he wasn't close up enough to even see Polaroid's dead body on the ground.

Erail hears the familiar voice of his leader as he turns around to look at the familiar figure. It was the first time he had no helmet on infront of anyone else as the void purple eyes look towards Head-71 before looking down at Daifuku in his palm. He didnt really know what to say right now. He was still bitter and kind of devestated but wouldnt let it show towards his leader as he takes a deep breath closing his eyes.

"We got ... a Guardian down" was all Erail could have said he was still holding Daifuku in his palm before lookind down at the Taken corpse. "Polaroid she ... I ... I didnt have any other choice ... its my fault she came here ... I sent the back up signal" A feeling of guilt overcomes Erail as he looks at the headless Taken corpse with his purple eyes. He wasnt wrong, without him sending the signal Polaroid would have never come here.

He looks at the Malfeasance in his hand, the weapon he just killed one of his friends with "Nothing kills you faster ... than another Guardian" he says with a bitter voice before letting his hand just hang down without any reaction

Head-71 walked up to them, finally getting a good view of the corpse. He fell silent, and stared at the dead guardian as if he was staring at a distance. One could feel it, even without directly seeing the Exo's eyes, that the clan leader felt... a bit empty right now, like a part of his spark died along with Polaroid.

Erail never knew how close Head-71 was with Polaroid. All he knew was that they were already there and were already friends when he joined the clan. He can't help but try to imagine his sorrow.

Finally the Exo lifted his hand and gave Erail a light pat on the back. "You did well, soldier." He said, his voice broke as well. "It was.... uh... It was suppose to be my job." He then said. "It was-... Well, she told me that if she ever lose herself, that I should end her as quick as possible."

Head-71's hand kept abscent-mindedly patting Erail's back. "Thank-... Thank you... I'll... I'll let the others know." And by others, he usually mean Shoulders and Knees, since he and the other two where the 'big three' that runs the clan together. Them and Polaroid.

Erail grabs onto Heads shoulder as he looks at the helmet of his leader "What exactly ... was wrong with Polaroid?" He was still holding Daifuku in his palm. He kept a straight face no matter what happened right now even if it was clear that he felt sadness and a little bit empty.

"A Guardian cant just get ... Taken. There was something wrong with her I know it. Did she have ... some kind of corruption?" Erail's eyes looked straight into the Leaders helmet with his bright purple colour, like void light "That would explain a lot of things since I know exactly how it feels and what it can do ..."

"Yeah... yeah, something like that." Head-71 mumbled. He wanted to kneel down and touch Polaroid one last time, but he feared the corruption spreading in some way.

"She was uh..." He still sat down beside her. Just a few inches away from touching. "She was caught off guard one time, during some patrol mission on Io. Something happened. But no one knows what happened. Heck, she can't even remember what happened. But... Last thing she knew, something struck her head, and everything went dark. When she was ressurected, she had this scar on her head." He pointed at his own, to show the location of the scar. Not much people know of the scar, since Polaroid either doesn't come out or wears her helmet at all times in public.

"At first, we thought nothing of it. But then we realized that she... would act out around Taken beings. At first, she'd get aggressive, sometimes blindly rushing into battles. We through she was just bottling up stress or grudges from that incident on Io. We told her to calm down. And she'd listen. But uh.... she loses it whenever she gets close to them again. " Head-71 looked away for a few seconds. "Turns out..."

He sighed. "Turns out that... that scar still had some Taken corruption of some sort... rooted into her flesh. We couldn't take it out, and we realized it was spreading. We tried to look for cures of any kind, and at the same time, tried to keep it a secret. As you might've known, the Vanguard don't really... treat people like her and... you well." The Exo looked at Erail, seemingly expressing sympathy for the void guardian's condition.

"We didn't tell her to never leave the base. She did. She kept herself away from everyone to keep them safe." He sighed again. "And here we are." He hung his head low.

Erail sighs as he walks over to the place he threw his helmet away and puts it back on as now only the purple void light of the Graviton Forfeit can be seen. He takes a last look at the corpse of his friend and got confused a bit as he sees that the corpse is actually still there.

"Hey ... do Taken not usually just ... disappear when they die? I mean yes its Polaroid but shes still Taken and the corpse is just .... still there like this" He kneels down infront of the corpse and lets his hand move over the corpse, just slightly above it to not touch it just in case

"I mean everything is still there ... I expected the curroption to maybe just disappear when she dies or ... the whole body" he looks up at his leader being slightly confused about the corpse's condition.

"Some take more time than others... Usually it's the big ones that are slow to disolve." Head-71 said while he texted Shoulders on his device. There was an awkward silence between them while he typed. Erail didn't want to interrupt and break his chain of thought. And it was a good thing he didn't speak up. A few seconds later, a call came through.

The Exo picked up. Erail could only recognize that Shoulders was speaking to him. She sounded rushy, trying to force down as much info on Head-71 as she could. No surprise. Shoulders, out of the big three, was the one that experienced everything. Strikes, Missions, Patrols, Adventures, Public events, Crucible, Iron Banner, Gambit; heck, even the Forge. If there were any activities that were available, Shoulders would be the one that had experienced them all. Head-71 usually only hangs around the Crucible. Knees.... Well, she never even been to the Dreaming City before.

Erail listened and waited quietly beside the Exo. Most of what Head-71 was saying were just little noises to keep the conversation going. Daifuku was quiet, too. Perhaps because he saw the call as a sign of hope, but it might also be the fact that he had no hope left. But if anyone could find a way, it might just be Shoulders.

They could then hear Shoulder's familiar voice yelling in the distance with stomping noises, getting louder and louder. She only hung up as soon as she was in the room with all of them.

"Come now!" She said to them all, immediately taking charge. "We might be able to save her!" She asked the two men to pick up the body and take it outside while she fends off the enemies that they'll encounter on their way out.

Swiftly, each of them got to their ship and boarded. With the ships containing only one seat for the pilot, Polaroid's corpse had to be stuffed into her own ship and programmed to follow Shoulders' ship. They didn't blast off into space, but they did fast travel to an uncharted area of the Dreaming city, mostly because the Awoken people there didn't want Guardians snooping around in the area. Besides, there's nothing to be fought there.

"From what I gathered, the Techeuns have found a way to remove the Taken corrruption. Polaroid may still have a chance." Shoulders said to all of them through their ships' linked communication.

Erail perked up from what Shoulders said but was also conflicted about the situation. Even if it would be true and they can purge the corruption wasnt she ... dead?

"But does it even help now? We only have her corpse ... if we get rid of the corruption wouldnt she still be just ... dead?" Erail thought for some time as he follows the Ship of Shoulderd with his own ship. He had a few explanations in his head on how it could save her.

Maybe Daifuku could be Polaroid's Ghost again and ressurect her like before but then again even Cayde couldnt be revived later on by other Ghosts so he wasnt sure if it works like that, if it would, would she still have her memories?

Erail grunts slightly in anger over the communication as he just kept following shoulders "But even so its the least we can do for her and purge this corruption" He still couldnt think straight, he was still slightly in shock about what happened in the Blind Well as he looks at his weapon. If Polaroid could be safed ... could she forgive him for what he did without even considering other options?

"Polaroid's corpse didn't dissolve, right?" Shoulders said, answering a question with another question, though she didn't wait for a response from any of them. "That means that her ghost is still connected to her somehow. If we can get rid of the corrpution, she can be revived."

"Really?!" Daifuku said through the comm link, finally sounding hopeful.

"Worth a shot, tiny strawberry." Shoulders responded.

They then landed at their destination. Nothing too out of the ordinary, whatever ordinary is for the Dreaming City. Most of them weren't allowed in, only Shoulders and Daikufu. It only took them around 3 minutes, and only Shoulders came back out.

"They said it'll take a week or so. Hopefully less than that. Her corruption was surprisingly shallow, so it shouldn't be a hard task. It just needs time. Daifuku will be staying with her." The Warlock then pointed to the head of the clan. "Head-71, you're in charge of bringing her back then."

"Gotcha!" The Exo saluted.

Erail was mostly staying in the background leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was still feeling extremly guilty, not only did he make Polaroid come here but he also was the one who 'killed' her.

He takes a look at Lilly and sighs as he stands up straight fixing his black cloak. He doesnt know how it will be after Polaroid gets revived but hes happy that it will end well for her.

"At least one good news today" He says with a low voice and turns around. He didnt want to face any of his leaders right now as Lilly brings Erails ship around "Ill see you guys later in the city" Was his last words before he transmats into his ship again and flying off towards the EDZ, his place to think, shortly after the other 2 Guardians return to the Tower and let the events of this day sink in.

[levinea-yuuki]

I've been thinking recently

We don't have much foundation. Both Millennials and Gen Z are stuck with so much responsibility for our futures. We're judged for our quirks, called special snowflakes by the most entitled generations, and tossed out on our own by Baby Boomers and Gen X.

Now I definitely don't feel like a Generation Z child because of two reasons:

I'm 22 years old and that just makes me feel like a millennial based on the whole structure and my lack of a sense of timelines.

I've never gotten into fortnite or the majority of these memes or dabbing.

But honestly that is not going to stop me from enjoying watching all of these people having dance-offs or making cleverly woven jokes or saying things I'll never fully grasp, (I still don't understand "worm"), or simply feeling refreshed about the open-minded beliefs of equality and acceptance, understanding, and kindness. Pour as much of that on as your hearts can show.

Getting back to the point. Though there's not much of a generation gap between Millennials and Generation Z in my point of view, seeing as we're both dragged into the same issues that arose with having to deal with the baby boomer generation in the same manner that we're having to deal with Gen X, though maybe not to the same extent, I feel like the older Generations are trying to shove a gap between us or push the blame.

This link takes you to a website that expresses just how much there is to think about with what Baby Boomers have done to our economy... Even though they blame millennials. https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/apr/29/millennials-struggling-is-it-fault-of-baby-boomers-intergenerational-fairness

It's not just our economy that I'm worried about in the long run.

We can repair that type of damage, what I'm really worried about how the younger ones are raised. Striking on a highly personal and sensitive note, my mother born in Gen X married young to my baby boomer father and had my brother and me, my brother being in the millennial generation. After seventeen years of supporting us, forced into not seeing us very much at all with working two jobs and still expected to cook and clean while he made no effort to get his own job, criticized her for everything she did as well as prevented her from having literally any friends in or out of work, she got out. Good for her, right? She left the abuse, lived a little, remarried, and had my siblings.

Now here's where it gets sticky.

This left us with our father (me as a sheltered albeit pampered 11 year old and my brother the inexperienced 16 year old who was also pampered) because he fought her in court and somehow won full custody of us. It came to the point where my brother was suddenly the sole money maker for the household (while also in school) in the time frame of a week after she left because dad still refused to get a job but insisted on smoking and drinking a six-pack a day anyway. At the same time his pride got in the way of accepting my mom's help because she had optional child support and when he did accept it he immediately went and spent it on his booze, so she ultimately stopped the fruitless. He cut ties between my mother and us and pretended everything was fine and dandy now that she was gone. When he died of an impending and incurable death triangle (kidney failure, liver failure, and sever diabetes) almost five years later we were left with his debts and he didn't teach us a single thing to get us started. Almost three years later, I left to live with my mother because she found us and got back in touch. My brother rejected her offer and went out on his own, swimming in the unbacked pride dad had set, and since then has been entirely incapable of holding a job for more than a few months before he's fired for one thing or another. He still refuses to speak with her.

Now on my end, everything started fine. I was expected to do some of the chores, finish highschool, and I finally had the chance to learn who my mother was the first time in my life... but once I had settled in I came to understand that she was in a constant defensive state anytime she was questioned and was afraid of moving forward. She suddenly had a late teenage daughter that didn't know a single thing about living. To this day four years later she has had a very easy-to-boil temper. It started as a self defense mechanism, she had to become this way to keep herself alive with my dad as a husband, but she became more than the overseer of the new family, she became an overbearing abrasive woman to make sure things were going her way so that there was no way she could slip back into what she had been living in.

She is now the type of person who considers pain to be a competition, a concept of reality she got from her father, my father, and her generation as a whole. Her existence is work, bills, her new spouse, and figuring out how to set me on my siblings on the best path. She has experienced more pain than I can picture, lived a longer life with many challenges, gave every ounce of effort to get back to her senses and I respect that wholeheartedly, but what I can't seem to respect or handle is her needed to feel like she's right all the time even when she's dead wrong, how deaf she is to the hurtful things she says, and how she goes about getting things done.

It's not just life she tackles harshly now, but pain is measured on her own set of scales. It is her competition in order to feel sturdier about her situations and I see this a lot in her age group, frequently and everywhere, but in the process of all of this she invalidates anybody else's difficulties if they are less than her own. In her eyes, "if I can tolerate it then you should be able to" or "if it's not bothering me then it shouldn't bother you" is the only reality. There are no extra spoons or forks, no in between, no consideration for how somebody else perceives a situation or how much somebody else can handle before they burst, and particularly with people in my age group she holds absolutely no patience. It's almost like she considers us a to be hypochondriacs because we haven't learned how to "suck it up" or "save face" when the physical aches or mental loads are too much, or the shambles they've left our economy in and voting Trump in because they think he will just fix it right up like changing a tire. It's entirely irresponsible, immature, inhumane, and unreasonable. She and most people her age, and people like my father, are incredibly blind to it. I can no longer respect them or trust them.

Now here's the kicker.

She as well as many other mothers claim that people in my age group have tunnel vision, that each day is brand new for us, that we don't know hardship or real stress, when in reality we are all facing the teeth gritting consequences for their choices. We are trying so hard to have optimism and open hearts, the patience they lack, and the wisdom to break free from their mislay of twisting roads and bare minimum guidelines.

As an example of her mindset and the challenge it presents, she believes I am entirely incapable of taking care of stressful situations when she hasn't taught me how, just like my father but and almost an exact opposite sense. My father pampered me and sheltered me, my mother drowns me only in harsh reality and expectations. It's not just her, the society these Generations have built are also malfunctioning and sending catless mixed messages. There are scores of American schools that don't teach a lick of daily knowledge like how to clean without making freaking mustard gas or how to go about sewing on a button. Cooking, paying bills, skills like changing a tire or what to do when the electricity goes out and it's not the breaker. Finances and taxes. They believe that schools only need to teach things like the states and capitals, sports, math, language (but only English and Spanish, I wanted to learn Japanese and sign language guys...), wars, a collection of science subjects, and maybe music. They've cut the budget for anything else. Screw the general public. Even my mom acts like her goal is to become middle class so that my siblings have more opportunities to learn what they need, but she's so fixated on raising her rank in society's standards thinking that it will solve everything she can't comprehend the real issues.

She believes I don't get certain responsibilities done the instant she tells me to because I'm lazy or inconsiderate, but mostly it's because my mind doesn't allow me to multitask like hers does, or I'm not sure how to go about it because I have to teach myself, and therefore it's just one more thing she has to add to the list of what I am not putting any effort into. She doesn't understand, or maybe she doesn't WANT to understand, that I have anxiety when I'm put on the spot because if I don't have a moment to think about what to do she chooses to scream at me instead of simply suggesting a solution or helping me think, and then decides to take over the responsibility with an added bonus of guilt-tripping and gaslighting. After years of this I've grown apathetic to her to the point where she has started calling me heartless and disrespectful. It is incredibly difficult to respect somebody who treats you like a tool that needs fixing but also doesn't make the effort to find out what's wrong in the first place.

I've read so many cases of this, just terrible awful parenting, it's to the extent where it's old news and that's unfortunate because it still hasn't changed. Make situations like these current news, spread them with a warning for our future, this problem has been around for so long it is almost entirely ignored by the older Generations in exchange for the opportunity to push blame. I myself have gotten so tired of asking "what is wrong with them? Why don't they see what they're doing? Don't they understand how harmful this is?" I see my mom giving sexist excuses about the behavior of men into the mind of my younger brother, I see her pushing my sister to tolerate him instead of stopping him from acting this way, and I think, "why can't they take responsibility for the damage they've done, re-evaluate themselves, or feel any regret for the stigma they choose to keep planting in young minds?" At every turn I'm invalidated, and though I'm expected to watch my siblings, I'm not allowed to stop them if they choose to play recklessly, rebel, or cock an attitude if I tell them they need to do something like brush their teeth or put a toy away. Unless there's an obvious chance of injury, I'm prevented from intervention. What kind of children are these siblings of mine going to grow into with this mindset? What are the claims that her generation are going to throw on them when there's no one else to blame? Why am I expected to relent to her demands and stretch and mold myself into her concept of what an adult should be if I can't suggest a compromise or take a stand? How am I or anyone else supposed to know what to do in shaky situations is if were not given the chance to learn, shown an example of how, or charted a better path instead of setting expectations and just demanded to reach them? I can't stand this. Each of these generations all hold individual, unique, brilliant people but the younger ones are treated like entirely different entities based on societies obsolete standards and malformed beliefs. This needs to change.