#in that sense at least the novel just keeps them all pasty as fuck which is still bad for reasons but at least its not *that*

[mae-i-scribble]

So My Gently Raised Beast is a bit of a guilty pleasure manhwa for me (in that i would not like it if the main story didn't involve a leopard shifter and a female protag with a charming personality) so I have the first 3 official english released volumes. Pulling them out to read for the first time though oh my god they did not do this story any favors in the layout. All the pacing problems are dialed up to 11 because they don't isolate chapters they just divvy it up into "parts" for each volume that have no rhyme or reason. Like did nobody stop to consider that maybe you should just put an extra page to separate out the chapters instead? Now for nearly every chapter jump it just feels weird because there is nothing separating them- literally just one page to the next with no indicator so now it seems even choppier than before.

-_- Like its fine for me I know how the story goes bc I've read the beginning like 20 times but seriously please put some thought into how an average reader would perceive this. And yeah sure they already knew they had fans from Webtoon's digital release but maybe they also wanted reasonable chapter splitting??? Idk its just weird decision making

[storm-driver]

ep 17 : okay THIS is the johnny and kitty second episode, i remember now. it's also the one where i didn't realize what the plot was as a kid bc i never made it past the halfway point. but now im an adult and i can actually pay attention, yay

so danny's ghost sense detects johnny's shadow but...not johnny, i guess? or kitty who is possessing paulina? i dont know if it's ever been shown before if danny can feel the presence of other ghosts while they're possessing other people. i guess it's safe to assume he can't because maybe the human body acts as a way to deter them. but then id have to wonder why his human self is still detectable as a ghost via the fenton equipment. im overthinking stuff in a cartoon where the writers make up the rule per episode, arent i

this is the first time we hear phantom get called "inviso-bill" which made me CRINGE visibly, but i snorted really hard, so this joke still rubs off on me all these years later. they also...call him pasty-faced??? which i dont get because danny literally gets tanned skin when he's a ghost, you can see the difference in his colour palette in neutral lighting and it's such an awkward line that was clearly written for the ghost aspect rather than the physical quality aspect. i know danny gets interpreted with pale skin in other stuff, like his media shots or even the graphic novel. but he's ANIMATED to be tanned, i dont really understand where the connection got lost. it's not a big deal, but it's making me ask questions that i know don't get answered.

the fucking A-List joke being taken to a literal VIP membership level is actually hysterical. i choked on my water when dash explained the god damn hall monitor stamp pass with the free frozen yogurt. i have no idea why the idea of being a popular kid coming with literal membership club privileges is so funny to me, but it just is. mikey going "hi danny" and dash shouting "DONT TALK TO HIM" is ace.

this is unfortunately another episode where they paint sam in a bad light because of danny's potential romance options being with someone else. i feel the second episode handled this a lot better, by having sam downplay her affection towards danny as passive, while she was still trying to be a supportive friend when he got himself in hot water. in this episode, she's outright jealous and aggressive about it, which is believable? but considering how lax she was in a previous episode, it's jarring. especially because paulina knows he's the ghost boy, and even if sam isn't trusting that paulina will keep his secret, she's already gone out of her way to cover for danny's ghost hunting by covering as his date.

this is another case of me hoping the show writers would give some more nuance to characters that they don't intend to have that kinda complexity. which i can't be mad at, this show IS twenty years old and it was far from the expectancy back then. but the early signs of forcing sam to pine for danny are already showing, and this is one of the bad portrayals.

it's also kinda weird to see kitty and johnny get such a weird portrayal of their romance. i get it, johnny was being a player while kitty was having to deal with her boyfriend hitting on other girls. that sucks, it does. and it's a character flaw for her first idea of action to be using someone else to make johnny jealous, considering how far johnny was going to get kitty out of the ghost zone in the previous episode. feels like a step back for the sake of the plot, which is fine if the tone was shifted just a little. that's my opinion, at least.

the resolution being that they both go back to hating danny is kinda sour, considering these are some of the only ghosts danny manages to have some sort of understanding with. it'd be nice if the resolution was just kitty and johnny getting to thank danny for making them both realize they were lucky to have each other, rather than both of them arguing at the end anyways because of danny just doing his job. again, the execution makes it feel more that they bonded over hating danny. i still appreciate that they were able to look at danny peacefully for a bit though, it's a breath off fresh air for a ghost to not outright hate danny.

that shot of danny faking his murderous intent for johnny is kinda horrific, the line especially is such an eyebrow raiser. "SEE YOU IN OBLIVION" is SUCH AN INSANE READ??? obviously he can't say hell because they're already dead and they literally have been to hell. this is a kid's show, it's also that. BUT CHRIST, OBLIVION???? the writers are so insane sometimes, i love it.

yknow what I'm cataloging my feelings as i rewatch every danny phantom episode, here we go

[joshslater]

Almost Frozen

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Suddenly everything stopped. Literally stopped. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. At the back of my mind the small monkey brain was freaking out, screaming at the bigger brain that can handle complex issues and unforeseen novel events to get its fucking act together and continue exhaling. As scared as the big brain was, the small brain told it to be scared, it was also fascinated by the hovering bird in front of me in the distance. Not flying, but hanging still in the air, immovable with its wings frozen solid in a downward wing motion. There was also none of that feeling of running out of air, that buildup of carbon dioxide in the body if you don't exhale.

It was like being stuck in one of Einstein's thought experiments, his Gedankenexperiments. I couldn't move at all, even my eyes were fixated straight ahead towards the small ice cream hut just opposite of the road that acts as a barrier between the beach and the overpriced beach apartments. It made sense that I couldn't hear anything. Even if the air wasn't frozen the parts of my ear that could register it wouldn't be able to move. Given the bird ahead of me I doubt anything was moving. But I could still think, and leaving Descarte's musings for a less stressful time, it did mean that electricity was still flowing. Unless the philosophers arguing that consciousness was a different property altogether, not bound to the material world were correct after all. But to bring us back to the Gedankenexperiment I could also see, which means light waves are still moving and receptors in the eye are still registering them and sending signals to the brain. Or is there some chemistry involved in sight? I couldn't remember that much physiology. I could still feel the heat of the summer sun on my body. Perhaps someone just stopped the simulation we are all living in, and the subroutine for my consciousness for some reason wasn't halted. Man, it would suck to be stuck like this for...

Suddenly something went past me, interrupting my train of thoughts. "Hunted! Flee!" monkey brain shouted, unsuccessfully trying to engage fight or flight mode in the autonomic nervous system. Raise heart rate. Dilate pupils. Rerouting blood. Tensing muscles. Pump out adrenaline. None of it worked.

I could feel the sun being blocked out. Someone, something, was standing next to me. Something just outside my peripheral vision. Or was there something there I hadn't seen before. Hard to tell. So far in my 23 years my eyes have always been able to move in the direction of peripheral movement to get a better look. Not so now.

When all the clothes disappeared it wasn't a tactile experience. Apparently and quite logically the sense of touch didn't work, but I could feel the sun hitting me even harder. The lack of any sensation for what must have been minutes by then made the next thing even worse, though it would probably be pretty bad on its own. Bone-crushing pain all over the body hit at once. I couldn't scream or flinch or anything, just stand there motionless in agony. Perhaps not motionless. Somehow my vantage point was shifting, as if I was gaining height. Then came a sharp pain, like a bad headache. I twisted in pain and shouted out "fucking hell".

Some of the nearest sunbathers looked my way to see what was up, but quickly resumed whatever they were doing since I was just standing there. Everything was moving as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had just changed dramatically. But looking down I didn't see my Damian T-shirt, or even my pasty old body, but a meticulously sculpted, smooth, and evenly tanned body. "Fucking hell," I said again, but this time under my breath. This was like one of those events from the Bible where Jesus does magic tricks, but without Jesus. I turned to walk back to Simon. Would he freak out? Would he even recognize me? We've been roommates for like two years, but I don't know what I look like now.

"Hey, airhead! Where's the ice cream?" So he did recognize me, but he doesn't appear upset. I touched my head, why I don't know, and find a snapback. That's new. "Bro, do I look different?" Simon changed expression from annoyed to... what? Concerned and smiling? No, that’s not it. He got up from the beach towel and stepped towards me. He looked better than just minutes earlier. Just small changes though. A bit more toned perhaps. Fresher haircut. "Honey, you're an annoyingly good-looking beefcake as always. The ice cream is well within your macros. Don't worry. I keep track, as always." He planted a kiss on my mouth and got back on the towel and continued to read his book. Why did he kiss me? And come to think of it, why was he wearing my Damian T-shirt. No, Debian it says. Fuck. It felt like pulling memories out of mole asses. I know macros are the stuff in food you should eat enough of. But not too enough. I couldn't think of anything I knew about Damain. Debian. Whatever. I know I should. It's my job, isn't it? It's not the stuff with music and porn in. I know that much at least. That's the Google. "Do we fuck?" "Not before you've bought the ice cream."

[beardofkamenev]

@nuingiliath​

Seriously?! Jesus Christ. At least if O’Brien had paired it with Catherine’s neglect-filled, trauma-filled childhood (which probably wasn’t that bad in reality), it would’ve made sense in a “well, they barely remembered to feed her, why would they educate her?” way. But nope, for some reason, they just didn’t care that Catherine de Valois, likely future queen of England, didn’t know how to read because she was a girl. LOLWUT. Eleanor Cobham very likely could read (possibly not in French or Latin, but still) and she was well below Catherine’s status.

Honestly, it’s all so stupid. Catherine gets told as a child that Englishmen have tails because they’re evil (by a nun in the convent she’s raised in, no less) and then she’s so stupidly innocent on her wedding night she just straight out asks Henry V if he has a tail. I’ll never know why he doesn’t immediately the marriage annulled because she’s clearly an idiot and not suited to be queen at all? Most Catherine novels seem to be leaning heavily towards the romance novel so I think that’s something to do with it too? They go hard on how tragic Catherine is - she’s got a tragic childhood, she’s got her evil mother pimping her out and then she marries Henry V (who may or may not be a decent husband), then he dies and Catherine is immediately forcibly separated from her son (I think she was with him until he was about 8? So normal medieval procedure, then) and no one lets her get involved in politics or shag Edmund Beaufort… so Owen turns up not so much to be a character but her reward for suffering so much. So he ends up being anything you’d want in a romantic hero except interesting.

Maybe Edward IV was the original Weird Pasty English Guy That Women Go Nuts Over? (Now it’s Richard III). I watched a clip they did of the history behind The King (I’m still yet to watch the movie itself) and they talked about the arrow-wound and it’s not even in the film? WHAT. Honestly, I’m forever disappointed that we never get any actual arrow-wound in any Shakespeare adaptations. And how the fuck can you do Agincourt without any arrows?! What is the fucking point.

I finally decided to transfer our convo to new post to avoid eye torture lol.

It’s only part of her “trauma-filled childhood” insofar as her mother neglects to educate her because she is neglectful in general. I actually scrolled through The Forbidden Queen ebook again to see if I remembered it correctly and while Catherine isn’t 100% illiterate, she “struggles” to read and write. Then there’s this passage:

“Does she read? Write?” “Not that I am aware.” “She must be taught.” “Is it necessary? Such skills are irrelevant for her future role, and I doubt she has the mental capacity to learn. Look at her.” The Queen was cruel in her contempt as I snivelled in terror, wiping my face on my sleeve. “She will be wed for her blood, not for her ability to wield a pen.”

BAHAHAHA. A lot of these novels go so overboard on the pathos too. I’ve lost track of how many novels have Catherine starving and wandering around in rags, being ignored by Henry V, having Henry VI ripped out of her arms by his evil guardians etc. Like, is it really so hard to feel sorry for someone who had an insane father, was widowed at 21 and legally prevented from remarrying? And Owen Tudor is literally just a plot device half the time and any semblance of personality he’s given is pretty repulsive (Jarman pls).

The King is alright as a movie but it is an absolute HISTORICAL CLUSTERFUCK. It might as well have been a straight-up fantasy movie about High King Frodo, Fifth of his Name because that’s how little it resembles history or Henry V or the Shakespeare plays, for that matter. I don’t know if I should recommend it to you because you might lose your shit (I know I did). SPOILERS obviously but don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.

Henry gets disinherited in favour of Tommen Thomas of Clarence, and only ends up succeeding because Thomas is later killed by “Welsh rebels” (barely anyone in England seems to care about this, btw). Far from being a warmonger, this Henry loves peace. He averts the bloodshed of the historical Battle of Shrewsbury by challenging Hotspur to an unintentionally-hilarious silent wrestling match, which also conveniently ends all rebellion in England. He somehow pacifies the Welsh rebels by paying Mortimer’s ransom because their historical war for independence was apparently just a glorified hostage situation. He is reluctant to go to war against France because it’s little more than his bad nasty father’s pet project (because it’s not like the English kings had claims to France dating back to Edward III or anything like that), and only ends up going because the evil Dauphin is evil. He mercifully allows the women and children of probably-Rouen to evacuate, unlike the real Henry V, who let them starve to death in ditches. But the real cherry on top is the film’s depiction of the Battle of Agincourt, which is little more than a giant mud wrestling match with the occasional arrow-confetti here and there (I counted TWO VOLLEYS the entire battle). Weapons are merely decorative; instead Henry decides that his bare fists are the most effective weapons against a fully-armoured enemy. AND THEN EVERYONE JUST STOPS FIGHTING because the evil Dauphin turns up to challenge Henry to single combat, but he doesn’t even get to fight because he keeps slipping in the mud before five random English archers descend upon him and wrestle him to death (none of the French care enough to retaliate, btw). This ends the battle and Henry becomes the undisputed master of France. The film ends with Henry stabbing a dude in the head (whose name I literally fucking forgot because I was so distracted by the flagrant and egregious historical inaccuracies) and asking Catherine to be truthful with him.

I should also mention that almost all these events take place in near total silence, including the battles/wrestling matches. The costuming and armour is just WHACK (here’s a video of someone ranting about it lol). Also, Humphrey of Gloucester and John of Bedford do not exist.

[we-built-the-shadows-here]

it’s Snape’s birthday and I’ve been sitting on this for a bit so here is a new fic to close out my fic recs of 2018, and I’m just gonna throw chapter 1 up here on its own!

LD50 (ao3) (ffn)

January 3 1981: Belladonna

Knockturn Alley is full of furtive movement and mutterings even though it is thirty minutes until the newly-imposed curfew and bitterly cold. It is the first Saturday in 1981, and the street has well-hidden inlets and outlets; the people flow through like a river. No one wants to catch the ire of the Aurors who are, even now, certainly watching. Most of the legal transactions still have the sly movements of the illicit; most of the illicit transactions have the easy grace of a carefree conversation. Everyone’s head is covered in hats, scarves, hoods both to stave off the cold and to disguise identity.

That's how Severus hides: hood pulled high, collar turned up against the chill, stubbled chin and telltale nose hidden behind a lumpy wool scarf. It’s cold enough to warrant it. He’s looking at a fogged window at an assortment of cursed books, watching one drag itself to and fro past the others--the one that shakes, the one bound in human skin, the one whose gently shifting cover pattern could hypnotize if you weren’t careful.

The books are a pretense; his real focus is the reflection in the window of the people as they move up and down the street. He straightens when he sees his target: a bright yellow scarf, catching the dim streetlamps in the snowy gloom, strolling slowly down the alley. He jerks his head as the yellow scarf walks past, tugging his own collar tighter, making sure the tiny brass star pin--his own marker for his partner, nicked from a pawn shop--is exposed. He turns, and they fall in stride, looking straight ahead.

“You’re late,” Severus mutters.

“You’ll wait if you need it,” he drawls. “For your little haemophiliac customer, you said? Sad story.” He sounds as if he’s heard about a dozen of them today and gives credence to none. “It’s five galleons, now. Do you have the money?”

“Yes,” Severus huffs, the word making a puff of mist in the cold air. He had hoped for a discount, with the whole cloth tragedy of a sick child woven in, but clearly struck out. Perhaps the man was raising his prices to charge for the lie, as well.

What they are doing is not precisely illegal , which is why the item is not delivered by one and the payment taken by another to thwart law enforcement. But this transaction is also not entirely above-board. Were a Ministry official to inquire after it, certainly no tax would be paid, and Severus knows for a fact that the brewer would not be certified. There are a number of reasons not to be certified, though; one could be unable to find a Master to apprentice to, or one could be a registered werewolf or vampire or half-breed of some description, or one could simply lack the galleons.

Even galleons themselves are muffled where Severus holds them between his fingers, and the flagon of potion is swaddled in dirty canvas. They pass hand to hand with ease, and Severus takes the vial easily even though nerves have his fingers shaking. He’s bought ingredients from the black market like this, but never a finished potion before, and it feels less like a transaction between fellow professionals and more fully illegal, which means more frightening, with the Aurors permitted to attack with Unforgivables first and interrogate later.

But there’s more he’s supposed to get, more than just the vial. “Your supplier--” he starts.

But his companion has already turned to go into a dimly lit shop door. The shopkeeper greets the man with a thin smile and the door shuts behind them both, and Severus fights the urge to look after, to look around at all. Looking around is worse than walking alone, but his heart is still pounding. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, through his teeth, so it doesn’t make a huge puff of steam; it was clumsy to ask like that, clumsy to pry so openly at the supply chain when he’d only just won the dealer’s trust enough to sell. He has to keep his gait even, step by step, soles slipping on the icy cobblestones. Well, half of Dumbledore’s task was to get blood replentisher. He has blood replentisher. The other half--meet with his new contact and begin some kind of work with them in person--will be more painless. It has to be.

Near the end of the alley he slips into a doorway and, spine rigid with the effort it takes to not glance backwards, he disapparates.

The designated place Dumbledore had indicated is not so far as it might be; he makes two stopovers before coming to rest along the foggy, moonlit street. He walks five long blocks, takes two  left turns, and crosses a street to ensure he isn't being followed despite the fact that there is no body in the darkness trailing him, no footsteps in his ear to betray a follower. It helps calm him, and it is perhaps the only spycraft that he'd managed to think of on his own that wasn’t entirely lifted from a pulp novel. His heels are muffled on the sidewalk by snow and charm, and his dark cloak sucks in the light. He feels like a shadow, and is comforted by the thought.

The dingy, dim muggle lane with its dirty shutters and spindly trees comes to an end and there, in the dimmest corner, is the address he was given. One light is on in an upstairs room. Up the stairs to the door, and Severus pauses at the threshold, tugs his hood closer to his cheeks, and knocks.

The door opens of its own accord. Charmed, it must be. Or a trap. He could walk away. It would be safer. Severus thinks of the light upstairs. They must have heard. Might have opened the door using their own wand. It could be an Auror ambush, or a Death Eater ambush, or an Order ambush from those who embraced the more brutal methods Dumbledore claimed to not endorse.

Severus has scrounged in the dirt for as much information as he could for Dumbledore for over a year: it was, all of it, thin, barely sufficient, little of it actionable. Then, on new year’s eve, an owl carrying Dumbledore’s sprawling script: Acquire a blood replentisher potion and meet your new contact, I have an assignment uniquely suited to your skills. This is your opportunity to gain my trust-- and the date, time, and location, this anonymous, run-down home. He had barely managed to find someone who would sell him the blood replentisher in time for the meeting.

Severus decides that he wants Dumbledore’s trust. It’s the only hope he has of surviving this. He strides across the threshold and shuts the door behind him, throwing the bolt.

Warm light is pouring down the stairs in shattered shapes, carved by a banister, but no light is on in the first room, a parlor with an arm-chair and a fireplace. Dimly through a doorway he can make out a kitchen. He waits to hear someone call or speak, but no one does. When no one appears, he whispers, “Hominem revelio.”

His senses expend for a swooping moment and--yes, someone is upstairs in the lit room. He begins slowly moving toward the stair. A floorboard creaks beneath him and he pauses, briefly.

Someone is humming. The tune is half-familiar, half-remembered, something from the Muggle radio from a long time ago.

Two more steps. Only one room is illuminated, the one he saw from the street, half a bookcase and a desk visible behind the banister. No person. Two more steps, and still nothing. Three more, and he’s at the landing. Four more--

A door with no light behind him flies open and there’s a wand stuck in the back of his neck. “Don’t try anything,” a woman’s voice demands. “Were you followed?”

Snape's head turns slowly. Something very odd is happening in his gut. The seller’s voice had been an intentional cipher, but this one, that voice is-- “Do I know you?”

She scoffs, then. “I said, were you followed?”

“I wasn’t followed,” he says. He could shoot a hex over his shoulder, could sweep her legs out from beneath her, could run. But this is about trust. “I have what Dumbledore asked of me.”

“All right.” The pressure comes off the back of his neck. “You can turn around.”

He very nearly doesn’t want to. He stares for a single, flat moment into the opposite room, lit so well, and curses himself for being tricked, for having a secret, for defecting to Dumbledore, for being so damn predictable.

Then he turns.

There she is: red hair, green eyes, anger, and the reason Dumbledore hadn't told him the name of the handler who would meet him. “You,” he says, pushing all the loathing he has for himself into his tone. “Dumbledore didn't say--”

“Dumbledore didn't say because you wouldn't have come,” Lily Potter says. “Frankly I wouldn't have believed it myself if you weren't standing here.”

He had begged--on his fucking knees in front of the old man--for her life, this exact woman’s life, almost a year ago. Dumbledore had taken the defection and assigned it a price: information. He had paid it, over and over again, through a Protean charmed quill and through the Auror Bones and, very rarely, Dumbledore himself. Too much obvious, direct contact was dangerous to Severus himself. Dumbledore cared at least that much for his life.

He had wondered, briefly, if it was meant to be an Auror sting to lock him up. While gray market potioneering could lose his certification if it happened too many times, it wouldn’t put him in Azkaban, it wasn’t really any more illegal than the woman selling homemade pasties by the train station, and Dumbledore had far worse against him.

Far worse that was now standing before him. Severus spits on the floor at her feet.

Lily wrinkles her nose and glared down at the little wet patch on the carpet, then returns to glaring at his face. “Are you done?”

“I'm not working with you,” he says hotly.

“Fine,” Lily says. “I told Dumbledore you we're better suited to Azkaban anyway, when he gave me this assignment. Glad to know I'm right.”

The idea that she didn’t want to work with him-- that she had been assigned when all of this had been to protect her--and her prophecied son and her dreadful husband--that she might be right -- “Is that what you think,” he hisses, stepping closer.  He has grown since the last time they had stood so close together. He has also learned many things, learned to use his voice better than just to shout, learned to imply violence instead of just reach for the blunt tool first when anger flared, learned to be quick and smart and keep a level head in a fight, which maybe this was shaping up to become. He could look down his long nose at her, eyes narrowed in disdain, thinking you’re nothing to me and make it plain on his face without saying a word. He keeps his tone just barely level through sheer force of will. “You know what I am, then. Perhaps you should think twice before threatening me.”

Her wand must be up her sleeve, the way her finger twitches, as if considering bringing it to her hand. “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me,” she says, voice tight but even.

“The Dark Lord has murdered mothers before, witch.”

“I know he has. I don’t think you are going to hurt me.” Her eyes are fixed on his, even, open, brow knitting back together, but not in anger--in frustration, as if he were being particularly dense. She pushes past him, toward the light. “Come on. Let’s sit in the study. Don’t touch anything. This is the house of a Muggle on holiday so I’d ask you not to make me stage a break-in for him.”

He could leave. He could leave, right now, throw the swaddled potion down a sewer grate, disapparate, go home, get blind stinking drunk and go to sleep on the couch. He could do it right now and likely wouldn’t even suffer for it. Dumbledore wasn’t the kind to punish, not the way the Dark Lord is.

He follows her into the study. She takes the seat at the desk. There is a fat floral armchair that Severus would rather set on fire than sit in, so he stays standing.

“Our assignment,” he says, with all the disdain he can muster.

“Yes. Right.” She pulls a piece of thumbed parchment out of her pocket and sets it on the desk.“You’ve got your Mastery and certification, you’re probably brewing, right?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “There is an artificial shortage in medicinal potions ingredients, Ministry’s throttling imports and increasing hunting down home-herbologists growing ingredients. And there’s an all-time low of potions masters.” Her eyes go narrow and sharp, as if daring him to say anything about why she isn’t one--the marriage, the baby, her blood status and the fact that most potions masters would hesitate even in peacetime to take on a mudblood.

Severus is glaring at the window, at his own reflection and hers. He flicks his fingers at Lily as if he doesn’t care, gesturing in a loop. “Get on with it.”

Her hand on the desk becomes a momentary fist, but then she goes on. “The biggest pinch is blood-replentisher. Even St Mungo's is feeling pinched on that one. The only place that can reliably stock medical potions is the black market and the prices--”

“You owe me five galleons, by the way,” he interrupts.

“Five?” She looks shocked. “Last week the going rate was three.”

“I suppose they aren’t giving me the new customer discount that they offer to Order members,” Severus says bitterly.

“Not to slimy bastards like you, anyway,” she retorts.

He moves to the door. “Tell Dumbledore--”

“Oh, hell, sit down Sev.” She passes a hand across her brow. “I’m sorry, all right. That was uncalled for. You did what we asked.” And then she starts digging in her pocket. “I don’t think I have five. I only brought what I needed. I’ve got a few quid--”

“It’s fine,” he says harshly from the doorway. He can’t exactly afford all five of the galleons but he’s not about to beg for two. There is enough rice in the cupboard, he won’t starve.

She produces three coins and places them in a neat little stack on the desk, as if asking him to come back in. He does. They’re warm to the touch when his hand covers them--the warmth of her body, he realizes uncomfortably. He inspects one. It’s so bright, it must be fresh from the bank, but the mint date is 1716.

Potter gold, then, minted and then put in a bank. That, too, he swallows, and shoves the gold into his pocket. He can feel her watching him and tries not to allow the ugly flush that he knows is creeping up his stubbled neck to reach his cheeks.

“Anyway,” she says, clearing her throat and reverting her gaze to the well-thumbed note. “Fully half the potions the Order managed to source have turned up tampered with or outright poisoned. And they were poisoned really well, even I had trouble when I went through our stores.”

That is interesting. Some Death Eaters had died of tampered black market potions, and they suffered the same difficulties the Order had. Detecting the tampering was a feat in itself, Severus knew firsthand. “And you want me to inspect further? Follow up your work?”

“No,” she says. “Dumbledore wants us to trace the tampering back to their source. Figure out who’s doing it, and why. Maybe even stop them, if we can.”

“I would sooner suggest you stop taking medical potions,” he snaps, rattled by the ambition of the task--and the word us. Himself and her, working together; not the occasional report, but real work.  Low risk spy work compared to the passing of information that he had already done--that would get him killed, this could be played off--but still valuable or he wouldn't be doing it. But then again, he had never been a spy before. His forearm itches, at that thought. He doesn’t reach for it.

“People are dying, Severus,” she says, deadly serious. “We can’t trust anything but charms and you know well as I do that potions are better for the worst of it. People are dying and will keep dying and you and I are the best brewers the Order has. This is our assignment. Do you accept it or do I have to tell Dumbledore that I’m working alone?”

He resents that. It’s not as if he had a choice regardless. “Your first sample, then,” he says stiffly, dropping the cloth-wrapped vial before her on the desk.  “I take it you will require more?”

[thesaltydigest]

Joint Review: “And I Darken”, or: Everyone is Fucked Up and Toxic and Nothing Goes Well

Title: And I Darken

Author:  Kiersten White

Review By: Captain Clo and Bekworm

Verdict: So many bad decisions are made you’ll want to pull your hair out, but this violent girl is fascinating, and boy isn’t her brother adorable? but I don’t think I’ll be reading the sequel... wait did I just buy it???

This Review contains spoilers

And I Darken is an alternate history YA novel with a very specific twist: what if Vlad Dracul – the one who inspired Count Dracula – was a woman? Lada Dracul has all his story – daughter of the Wallachian Voivode, or Prince, Vlad II Dracul, she is sent to the Ottoman court as political hostage with her younger brother, Radu (who is instead an actual historical figure), when she is just a child. Inflexible and obsessed with the idea of going back to Wallachia and becoming its ruler, Lada is violent and cruel, convinced that love is weakness and that being a woman is a disgrace. Of course, she isn't completely wrong. Lada is a warrior at heart, but she has to struggle a lot in order to be respected as such. And she is a political hostage, in a precarious situation, and any weakness or soft spot she might show can and will be used against her – hence why she never lets her love for her brother show, for example. 

Radu is the deuteragonist, and is everything Lada isn't – kind, sensitive, averse to violence. Where Lada fights with all her might against any and all attempt to tame her with scathing remarks or her fists, Radu is more of a political animal, preferring to use his words and his good looks to charm and deceive. They are also complete opposites in how they see their future. Lada hates the Ottoman empire and wants to go back to Wallachia; Radu converts to Islam and has no desire to leave.

Their relationship becomes even more complicated when Mehmed, the future Sultan, enters their lives – since they both fall in love with him.

CHARACTERS

BEKWORM: The hatred for women in this book is a little much for me. Women who marry are weak or "A waste of air", and women who have children are even weaker or "broken from the inside". The only strong women are the ones who walk away from this life. The ones who marry and have babies are locked away and considered useless.  

CAPTAIN CLO: That's understandable for who Lada is, but is certainly there. She sees marriage as a prison – she knows she's going to be used as a political tool and made to marry whoever her father wants. You can either sympathize with her perspective or see it as a sign of how inflexible and spiteful she is. No one character in this book is a good example. Lada is very self-centered, and since she can't imagine a situation in which marriage doesn't mean her personal annihilation (and she's right in this expectation), she thinks any woman who is satisfied with marriage is stupid. Actually, self-centredness is exactly what makes her and Mehmed identical, and so toxic for each other.

BEKWORM: Mehmed did not grow on me one bit. My god. He is well and truly awful. I'm glad Lada walked away from him. And Radu's devotion is just pathetic by the end of the book. "Could never love anyone but Mehmed!" You're like 16, mate, calm the fuck down. But I guess I'm not romantic in the sense that I believe loving someone every day for years is a choice. People think it's something you fall into and can't get out of, but that's not true. And it's why I think a lot of long term relationships fail when people realize they're not hopelessly in love anymore. Because waking up and loving the same person every day is a choice you have to make. So if you love someone for years it's because you want to. So get the fuck over it, Radu. Sometimes people don't love you back. For fuck's sake. Am I heartless? I don't even care.

CAPTAIN CLO: I was actually struggling to rationalize what I liked about Mehmed and I came up short. What even is his personality? I can come up with a decent list of character traits for Radu and Lada, but not for Mehmed. Why are they both in love with him?  

BEKWORM: Exactly!! He's definitely a character you can't describe because there's just nothing there.

CAPTAIN CLO: I think Lada might like him because he's something to aspire to (powerful), and because for all that he's still sexist sometimes, he doesn't want her to change her ways. But that's very little. And why does Radu love him at all? What does he get from Mehmed that makes him attracted to him?

BEKWORM: I don't know. Maybe because Mehmed was his sexual awakening. But he gets nothing out of their relationship.

CAPTAIN CLO: This is always a big problem with YA romance, in my opinion. A lot of times you can't tell what makes a character attracted to someone. Certainly, Mehmed treats Radu with kindness and trusts him, but just like Lada, he's self-centred, takes him for granted, and hardly thinks about him at all. Radu is invisible to both of them. Maybe that's exactly why he falls in love with Mehmed? Radu has a few friends, and it seems like he looks for kindness in people, but if it's kindness he's after, he might have fallen in love before, with the first Janissary he befriends. Instead, even when offered a relationship with him, he's not attracted to him at all. He wants Mehmed. But why?

In general, the relationship between Lada, Radu, and Mehmed is toxic. Anyone expecting them to get better and understand each other eventually will be disappointed, probably – and I'll be the first in that sorry lot. I really want Lada to stop treating Radu badly. He doesn't deserve it, and they could be such an amazing team. And Radu could learn not to be a fucking doormat, but that's what he's used to, thanks to Lada. And although I want them to get what they want and both have a relationship with Mehmed, I know it won't happen – when does it, ever? No, let's have another toxic triangle. 

I think it's so amazing that there is a book about Radu that acknowledges his romantic ties with Mehmed – at least one historical source attests it, but I can't delve too much in it here – but the plot falls into the tired, old Gay Best Friend Who Is In Love With Straight Friend trope. Honestly. There is also a fair amount of angst about it – Radu feels deeply ashamed of his inclinations. And actually, I'm not sure how much that makes sense. He's an educated person, and his best friend was (historically) noted for his interest in Greek literature. Are you telling me Radu never stumbled upon homoerotic poetry from ancient Greece? Even Persian poetry had notable examples, and that would have been so easy for him to find. And the fact that Mehmed is firmly established as heterosexual... I'm not down for other two books of anguish and pining.

BEKWORM: I'm glad in the end Lada remembered what she wanted from life, because she fell into that classic trope of Ambitious Girl Falls in Love and Forgets EVERYTHING. And that she left. And Radu's reason for not joining her wasn't just Mehmed, and that was good too. Because the two of them having a conflict about what they consider Home is interesting. Having a conflict over Mehmed is not.

CAPTAIN CLO: That's definitely a nice touch. But knowing how history went between the two of them... Yeah, I can't see this ending well. It was inevitable too, they adjusted differently to living in the Ottoman empire. Although Lada will NEVER find a place where she can fit is she keeps going like this. The problem is not only what place they consider home, but their different personalities. Lada has ambitions, but they're STUPID ambitions. She just cares about ruling Wallachia, just like her father before her; she doesn't care about advancing the region or protecting people. Granted, no one does in this book (and historically that's also generally true). She lacks emotional intelligence, and she also suffers for it. Lada completely rejects the idea of home = trusted people I love, so there won't be any betterment in that, I don't think. I wonder if she'll come to realize all this or she'll just. Start to impale people.

BEKWORM: Obviously we hope she just starts impaling people.

Not but really. Lada is an absolutely fascinating protagonist, especially in a time where many female YA protagonists are pasty white girls with shiny brown hair, who has no friends, but she’s so clumsy guys isn’t that adorbs? Lada doesn’t have many friends, but that’s because she’s a feral she wolf who’s ready to cut some throats open with her damn fingernails. And it’s awesome. She’s ready to take over, and I’m more than ready to watch it happen. Lada is an amazing outlet for my lady rage, y’all. I love it.

ON HISTORY                         

CAPTAIN CLO: When goodreads suggested And I Darken as my next read, I was pretty conflicted about it. I'm a huge history nerd and I've been studying the area from the Republic of Venice to Istanbul in exactly the same years in which the plot develops. So of course, I had high expectations. At the same time, however, I didn't; this is a YA book, not a historical novel, and it would be unfair to expect of it the same attention to detail and history-related content. YA lit is (generally) focused on fast-paced adventure, romance, and characters – not on showing historical issues and give a broad, in-depth account of life and history of the time.

In the end, I was still disappointed by what I got – but I feel like I have to “confess” my inflated expectations.

There is one specific issue that I feel like was underdeveloped – the Janissaries. The Janissaries were a military corp at the direct orders of the Ottoman Sultan. They were also slaves, ailing from the Balkan area under the Ottoman's influence. Young Christian boys were taken by Ottoman officials (sometimes offered by the families themselves), mostly from peasant families, and then brought to Turkey. They were taught Turkish and converted to Islam, then brought to the capital to be trained as specialized infantry soldiers. Janissaries were salaried slaves, but were also highly respected and had many privileges. They didn't pay taxes, were the personal guards of the Sultan, and had great opportunities to advance socially – something a lot of them would never achieve otherwise. Promotions were given on the base of loyalty and meritocracy, not class. The more skilled became governors or even prime ministers. Some became governors and then rebelled to the Sultan, like a famous Albanian national hero, Skanderbeg. Some became immensely powerful Grand Viziers, like Zaganos Pasha, the prime minister at the time of Skanderbeg’s rule, and close collaborator of Mehmed the Conqueror. 

There are so many interesting things in just this little, scant description, I don't even know where to begin. Issues of conversion, religion, national identity, class, social advancement... The list is long. And the Janissaries feature heavily in And I Darken, yet these issues are barely touched upon. The Janissaries we directly see on the page are either resentful of their slavery and desire freedom, or traitors of the Sultan, only after better pay and privileges. The better prospects are only brought up once, by Radu, who isn't a Janissary. On top of that, he was partly lying. It's not like dissatisfaction wasn't possible in the ranks, but I think it's important to remember that, historically, Janissaries never revolted to be free. They only did so to have better pay. Seeing as slavery is perceived as morally revolting in contemporary Western culture, it's understandable that we expect them to revolt, Spartacus-style; I did for sure when I started to get interested in them. But history proves that something – their training, their sense of camaraderie, their new-found religion, their better prospects, I honestly don't know – made them stay, and made them mostly loyal. I am deeply dissatisfied in how this matter was brushed aside in the book, although I'm not surprised it was.

RELIGION

CAPTAIN CLO: The role of religion and religious conversion was more central, but still not developed very well. Radu converts to Islam of his own volition, finding peace and understanding in its practice. Which is positive, but the reader is never really told much about Islam itself. I'm not an expert, but my perception is that at the time – mid 15th century – Islam was a much more approachable religion for every class, but especially the lower one. Radu himself remembers the Orthodox rite he was used to as oppressive, dark, filled with notions of sin and hell, and a language difficult to understand. These are childish recollections, distorted by how much he hated his previous life – in which he was mistreated and abused – but they make sense. In Islam he finds something different... but what? Although we're treated to the scene in which he enters a mosque for the first time, we never know what, exactly, he learns that makes sense for him. One can read through the entire book and never learn anything about Islam proper but the superficial, commonly-known things – the five pillars, the muezzins, the mosques, the existence of the Quran. It's very little. It's even less when we learn that a lot of Radu and Mehmed's friendship is based on deep conversations about Islam – but we're never once shown them having such a discussion.

BEKWORM: I wonder if White worried that getting to deep into it would be seen as preaching. But you're right it would have been more interesting to see more about the religion, especially because most people don't know what it's about. I know I really don't.

CAPTAIN CLO: Maybe she did, and that's understandable... but such as it is, Radu and Mehmed's shared religious passion sounds like an informed ability. It feels to me like an important piece of the historical puzzle is missing. Conversions to Islam in the Ottoman empire were rarely forced – yet they happened a lot. Certainly in part for pragmatic purposes – non-Muslim subjects had to pay an additional tax and had various other restrictions – but the persuasive power of Islam shouldn't be underestimated, in my opinion.

OVERALL

BEKWORM: Overall we give this a solid Meh. Lada and Radu are worth the time it takes to read this book. Their relationship with each other is heartbreaking but sweet in an entirely new way. However, the focus of their romantic interest is definitely a big, dull dud. Sorry, Mehmed! But please get a personality you’re really bumming me out. (Oh my god, guys, I think he’s this book’s version of the pasty, shiny haired protagonist! Everybody loves him but no one knows why. He’s the Bella Swan of the Ottoman Courts)

We’re expecting the following books in this series to involve less pining, more impaling, and so much heartbreak you’ll probably be sitting there wondering why the fuck you’re reading it while simultaneously refusing to put the damn thing down. Should be fun! I’ll need a bottle of wine.

[excerptsfromunfinishednovels]

Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #12: A Little Town Called Cedar Springs

Genre: science-fiction, thriller

Warnings: mentions of character death, violence

Word Count: 2,790

Summary: Yesterday the world ended. Today everything’s back to normal and people are acting like nothing happened. Morgan’s confused as hell but determined to figure out what’s going on.

Excerpt is from the first chapter of the novel

Everyone was just…walking around like the end of the world hadn’t happened yesterday. Admittedly everyone looked wide-eyed and hollow-faced with terror, flinching at every unexpected sound, refusing to make eye contact with each other, but still, they were acting relatively normal. It didn’t make any sense; why wasn’t anyone talking about it? Why in heaven’s name were they trying to make small talk with each other even while standing several feet apart and staring at the ground?!

Morgan sighed and stared down at the shopping trolley in front of zir. Zie supposed zie wasn’t any better than the rest of them, trying to put the memories of the past week behind zir by attempting to do the weekly shop. Morgan sighed once again, pulled zir dark brown hair into a messy bun and resumed pushing zir trolley down the aisle, pausing occasionally to pick an item off the shelves and put it in the trolley. Zir trolley had a near-miss with another one and zie looked up quickly to see Mark, zir next-door neighbour, standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle, staring at zir.

Morgan’s chest heaved and zir muscles were aching as zie pushed a crowbar against Mark’s throat in a frantic attempt to stop him from moving any further.

“I’m sorry,” zie cried, tears rolling down zir face as zie pushed the crowbar down harder and harder. “I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t, you can’t; you’re infected and you need to stay put!”

There was a sudden snapping sound and Mark’s breaths died off with a faint gurgle. Morgan’s hands fell away from the crowbar, and zie scrambled away from Mark’s dead body, zir hands covering zir face as zie sobbed over and over again.

Embarrassment and shame coursed through Morgan’s veins, and zie swallowed and stared at Mark wide-eyed, before attempting to send him a faint smile. Mark stiffened, sent zir a quick nod and quickly walked away. Morgan stared after him, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to make it better. Or even if there was anything to try and apologise for; in zir memories, zie had killed him, had killed other people in the town, had watched the town go to absolute hell, but now…well it was like it had never happened. Everyone was alive and well, and the town itself was back to normal. If it weren’t for the memories, Morgan and everyone else in town would never have known that anything had happened.

As zie continued pushing the shopping trolley through the supermarket, a range of different memories flashed through Morgan’s mind; being in the town meeting when the virus had first broken out, watching in horror as more and more people started getting sick and dying, causing panic and terror to sweep through the town, helping Shayne and the other scientists to work on an antivirus, being unable to do anything when zie zirself became sick and slowly slipped away…only to wake up this morning as though nothing had happened. Which was unnerving as fuck.

Morgan stared once again at zir arms, still feeling unnerved at seeing healthy brown skin instead of the pasty, scab-covered limbs zir had grown used to from the effects of the virus. Morgan looked back down at zir trolley, and for a long moment considered just abandoning it and going home. Zie was broken out of zir reverie by Shayne herself, who appeared from around the corner and walked straight up to zir.

She paused and regarded Morgan warily, one hand twisting a lock of her platinum blond hair into a tight curl. “Hey,” she eventually said, her voice and demeanour clearly communicating her agitation.

“Hey,” Morgan said, frowning.

Zie bit zir lip, eying the other scientist critically before zie asked, “Are you okay? I mean, as okay as you can be given what’s going on…”

Shayne immediately relaxed and relief flooded her expression, though she said in a clearly false bright tone, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Morgan but yes I’m fine, absolutely fine thank you.”

“Um…okay…”

Shayne darted forward, grabbed Morgan’s arm and pulled zir close. She slipped a piece of paper in Morgan’s pocket and then pulled zir into a quick hug.

“Enjoy your shopping; I’ll see you in work on Monday yeah?” she asked as she stepped away.

“Sure thing; see you,” Morgan replied with a weak smile as zie waved zir friend off.

As soon as Shayne was out of sight, zie reached into zir pocket, pulled out the paper and unfolded it.

‘Buy what you need and then come straight to the lab. We need to talk.’

Morgan hastily shoved the note back in zir pocket, and shoved the trolley to the check out. Once zie had paid for zir shopping, zie jogged to zir car and drove straight to the lab, zir thoughts racing through all the different reasons Shayne had slipped zir that note, and why she would need to talk to zir. It had to be about the virus, there was no other reason for it.

Morgan pulled into the lab’s carpark and in no time zie was running into the lab where zie was tackled by Shayne who pulled zir into a tight hug as she cried out, “Oh thank God you remember it too! I thought I was the only one; I thought I was going mad!”

“Oh my God I didn’t even think that it would only be me,” Morgan gasped, hugging zir best friend back. “Especially given the way everyone’s acting…” Zie pulled away, keeping zir hands on Shayne’s shoulders as zie continued to speak. “Okay so let’s be clear about this; last week up to yesterday we were all killing each other and dying from a deadly virus yes?”

“Yes! And you and I and the rest of the team were working on an antivirus only it didn’t work – we all got sick; I remember dying!” Shayne hissed.

“Okay so why’s everything back to normal? The town was half-destroyed from all the looting and people causing havoc for the sake of it – I saw Meredith Lawson plough her tractor into the side of the high school for Christ’s sake! And now, now it’s like none of it ever happened except no one will so much as look at another person without looking like they’re about to shit themselves!”

“I know, and I haven’t figured it all out, but I’m starting to piece things together. I do know one thing; what happened last week wasn’t the first disaster to hit us.”

“Okay what? Of course it’s the first disaster to hit us – it’s the only one we remember.”

“I don’t think we were supposed to remember it. When I woke up I remembered that during the disaster I had kept a journal of notes about what had happened and the work that we did. I hid it, put it in a safe place when I got ill, and when I did I found these,” Shayne told her, picking up a pile of journals from her desk and handing them to Morgan.

Morgan took the journals and started flicking through them, zir eyes widening as zie took the words in. Each journal held an account of a disaster that had happened in Cedar Springs; earthquakes, terrorist attacks, wild animals rampaging through the town, freak flooding, and how the town had dealt with it, how Morgan and Shayne and the other scientists had done their best to try and deal with the crisis, tried to help the townspeople. Each and every time they had failed and for the most part, perished.

“H-how…what? What’s all this?” Morgan asked, completely confused.

“They’re my journals.”

“But…but none of these disasters ever happened!”

“I think they did,” Shayne said, her face solemn. “I know my notes Morgan and the way I write them; I don’t remember it, but I definitely wrote these.”

“Then why have you only found them now?”

“Because this is the first time I remember making them – or at least making one set. The rest were with the last set. I must have made them and hidden them during every disaster, and then obviously forgotten about them.”

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Morgan insisted, throwing the journals down on a nearby table. “You don’t just forget something like what’s in these journals!”

Shayne was silent as she stared at zir, her dark eyes boring into zir’s. She bit her lip, her expression conflicted before she sighed and said, “I have a theory.”

Morgan allowed a faint grin to steal across zir face and zie replied, “I expected nothing less.”

Shayne laughed softly and then said, “Do you want to hear it?”

“Oh go on then.”

Shayne beamed and turned to drag her portable whiteboard forward. She picked up a marker, uncapped it and started writing as she spoke.

“Okay, here are the facts. One: last week a virus broke out that killed pretty much everyone, including you and myself. The town was destroyed, but everyone woke up this morning remembering what had happened, even though by all appearances nothing of the sort actually did. Two: because I remembered what happened last week I remembered the journal I kept with all my notes from the disaster and our work. When I went to get it, I found a bunch of other journals with it. Each journal has details of a different disaster that has struck the town. Three: none of us remember any of these other disasters. And four: after reading some of my past journals I checked my lab and found these.”

At that Shayne pulled a few small devices out of her pocket and laid them out on the table.

“What are they?”

“Cameras and microphones. My lab was bugged, and I bet if we looked we’d find that most of the town is, which leads to fact number five: the town is being monitored.”

“Why would anyone want to monitor us, we’re just a small town.”

“I’m starting to think we’re not. So looking at the facts, I’ve come up with some conclusions. Because of the monitoring equipment and the details from the journals, I think that the town is being monitored to see how we react to the disasters. Because we’ve seen that everything goes back to normal once a disaster scenario is finished, I think that these disasters are being engineered. Because there are so many scenarios in these journals, I think that normally our memories are wiped after each one so we just carry on as usual after the clean-up, which means that there was some sort of flaw in the process this time around.”

“But it’s more than just forgetting,” Morgan said, feeling fear clawing its way up zir throat. “You said that most of the time we died in those scenarios. Hell I remember dying yesterday.”

“Yeah…that brings me to my final conclusion. We’re clones,” Shayne said grimly.

*

Several cups of tea and a packet of jaffa cakes later, Morgan was feeling more up to the task of discussing Shayne’s theory.

“Clones,” zie stated.

“Yes.”

“You think we’re all clones.”

“It’s the most logical explanation.”

“How are clones ever a logical explanation?”

“Think about it Morgan; we go through numerous scenarios, die over and over again, never remembering any of it when it’s over and yet, here we are. And we know it happens – we remember now. How else can you explain any of this other than by accepting that we are clones, created by whoever is monitoring Cedar Springs?”

“Who would do that? Who would clone an entire town and then destroy it time after time? And why?”

“I have no idea, though it’s more than likely some secret government agency. As for why…I suppose it would be valuable to know how the average town deals with various disasters and threats, especially from a military point of view.”

“This is ridiculous, it’s utterly ridiculous!”

“I know it is but it’s real.” Shayne stepped forward and placed her hands on Morgan’s shoulders. “I need you Morgan; we work well together and you’ve got a knack for thinking out of the box, when you’re not freaking out over being a clone,” she added with a wry grin.

Morgan felt a deep warmth settle in zir chest and zie grinned back at Shayne and said, “What do we need to do?”

*

“Right, that should be the last of them,” Shayne said, tossing the microphone she’d just found into the hands of Vivica Walsh, Cedar Springs’ mayor.

“Right…why are we being monitored again?” Vivica asked, her blue eyes fixed on the device.

“Because we’re an experiment by the government into the reactions of regular citizens to various disaster scenarios,” Shayne explained simply, hopping down onto the ground.

She held her hand out and Vivica quickly handed the microphone back to her before fussing with her short black hair as she walked to the top of the town hall. “Right…I still don’t quite understand.”

“That’s why we’re having this meeting; to get everything sorted,” Shayne said soothingly as she followed her.

The townspeople were filing in, still making awkward small talk and still avoiding eye contact with each other. Morgan was standing at the back of the hall, Shayne’s journals in a pile on the table beside zie, zir gaze flicking between Shayne at the top of the hall, and the people walking past zie. When everyone had filed in, Vivica stepped up to the podium, tapped on the microphone and cleared her throat.

“Good evening everyone,” she said, her voice barely wavering. “I’ve called this emergency meeting for well, you all know why…” She took a shaky breath, emitted a soft sob on the exhale, and then said, “I’m just…I’m just going to hand you over to Shayne.”

She stepped away, roughly wiping tears from her cheeks. Shayne put her hand on her shoulder and murmured a few words in her ear before stepping past her and taking her place at the podium.

“Good evening,” Shayne said, her tone as bright and warm as she could make it. “As all of you are aware, there was an outbreak of a virus here in Cedar Springs last week that caused the destruction of most of the town and the death of most of us. We can all remember what happened; what we all did, how we acted, what happened to us. We also all know that aside from the memories of what happened, it appears that none of it ever actually did, which is strange in and of itself. There is something else however; I have discovered journals, copies of which Morgan is passing out now,” Shayne announced, nodding at Morgan who was walking around the hall, passing out stacks of photocopies. “In these journals are records of a number of disasters that have happened here before – disasters that none of us remember. I don’t think we were meant to remember what happened last week, just like we don’t remember those other occurrences.”

“What does this mean?” a man called out, looking up from the notes he’d been reading in confusion.

“I can’t say for certain, but right now the most logical conclusions are that we are being monitored by some external agency – I have found cameras and microphones both here in the hall and in my lab – and that, given that we have been dying and losing our memories of it over and over again, I believe we are all clones.”

There was a sudden outbreak of murmurs and yells from the townspeople, everyone expressing their shock and disbelief. Shayne waited a few moments before she raised her hands and said loudly, “Everyone please! Please, I know this is frightening and confusing but we need to discuss what happens next!”

“What do you mean what happens next? What’s going to happen next?”

“I don’t know, but given the pattern from my journals, I’d say we’re due another disaster in at most a week.”

The noise in the hall raised considerably, and Shayne’s pleading for everyone to calm down and listen was drowned out by the people’s agitated yells. Morgan stepped forward and was about to start yelling when there was a sudden loud rumble and the ground started shaking.

“What the hell?!” zie cried out, as the people around her started jumping out of their chairs and moving around the hall in fright.

Zie looked around in confusion and then looked up at Shayne. The other scientist was staring out the window, and zie blanched at the look of wide-eyed terror on her friend’s face. Zie slowly turned around, and zir own eyes widened in shock and fright as zie saw a large bright object hurtling towards the town from the sky.

Well, what do you think of excerpt #12 from the Unfinished Novels? Did you enjoy following Morgan and Shayne as they attempt to uncover the truth behind Cedar Springs? Would you want to read more?

If you enjoyed this week’s short story please like and reblog, and if you have any questions or comments I’d love to hear from you!

Slán!

C.x

[anythingstephenking]

Multiverse Overload

It seems unreasonable to think I was finishing up Nightmares & Dreamscapes yesterday morning and a little over 24 hours later I am back, having just finished one of King’s longest novels, Insomnia, in one cycle of sleep. But here I am. Let’s get into it.

I suppose I wasn’t kidding that I was ready for a novel but I didn’t realize how hungry for this story it was. Or maybe call it boredom - 3 day weekends with 95+ degree temperatures don’t lend themselves to my pasty irish ass spending any time anywhere other than the couch.

I knew little of this story headed in. Actually a little embarrassed to say I thought it somehow related to the Christopher Nolan movie of the same name. Once I cracked the spine and read the teaser copy, I knew this was not true. Also, I was worried. Really, really worried. Exhibit A:

Ralph Roberts is seeing some strange happenings in Derry, Maine.

He sees auras around human beings that show him the horror threatening them.

He sees a nice young research chemist like Ed Deepneau turn into a savage wife beater.

He sees Charlie Pickering with blood in his eyes and a gleaming knife in his hand.

And he sees three little bald doctors in the homes of the dying - and he begins to suspect who they really are.

No wonder Ralph stays awake all night. You would too.

INSOMNIA

“JFC, if I’m stepping into another Tommyknockers I’m going to scream” I said to the cat, who was chasing a bug around the hotel room and has no fucking clue what the Tommyknockers are. Little bald men. Aliens for sure, right?

Well I was, thankfully, wrong in my assumptions. Making an ass outta u & me, or however that old saying goes. I’ve complained before about whoever is responsible for writing these teasers, deceiving readers into believing that Gerald’s Game was a spooky bedtime story, Pet Sematary scared King himself, or that Insomnia is about a dude with, well, insomnia.

In reality, this book is as close to a Dark Tower book as it could get without actually being one. I’d rack it against The Talisman in Dark Tower adjacency, and although not as an enthralling tale as The Tailsman, a good chapter in the mythology all the same.

Ralph Roberts, a senior citizen residing in our favorite vacation destination, Derry, Maine, loses his wife to cancer and spills into a depression as one would do when your companion of 45 years is snuffed out of the living. What begins as minor bouts of insomnia quickly evolves into an inability to catch more than 2 hours a night. As someone who has suffered from depression-induced insomnia and sleep paralysis, a terrifying phenomenon I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, I feel for Ralph. Sleep deprivation is no joke, even if you’re awake watching Arrested Development for the 400th time at 3am. Ralph’s understandably exhausted, and assumes his mind is going when he starts seeing brightly colored auras surrounding humans, objects, street lights, you name it.

(Side story: Once I went on a date with a guy who - after I expressed discomfort in discussing the difference between irony and paradox 5 minutes into our first date - told me I had an unclean aura. I told him to go fuck himself (certainly something someone who’s aura is a little dirty would say) and he gathered his coat and left without a word. Anytime someone mentions auras I can’t help think of this guy - do you think he ever found a gal with a nice looking aura and the ability to discern the difference between irony and paradox? We will never know.)

In any case, Ralph does find himself a lady by the name of Lois, who in fact, does have a real pretty aura. And turns out she’s caught the insomnia and can see the auras too, along with other things that most humans can’t process. Turns out insomnia in Derry can flip a switch to entering worlds that aren’t our own.

Without going too far down the rabbit hole that is the plot of this novel (which squarely lies in the top ten of longest King tomes - say that 10x fast), Ralph and Lois team up on a quest against evil, as so many of King’s protagonists do. I was obviously committed to learning how it ended as I stayed up past my bedtime last night and reached for my paperback copy before I had even poured myself a cup of coffee this morning.

The key conflict in Derry of 1994 revolves around a war between pro-lifers and pro-choicers over a feminist speaking in town about women’s rights. Probably the hardest part of this story to swallow - the realization that 25 years later we’re still having the same argument in America with similar violent and tragic results.

This book is not without it’s faults - King called it “stiff & trying too hard” which is pretty accurate. It is way too long. It reads like a first draft that probably needed a stronger editor hand (or two or three) before publication that it just did not get. King’s ability to paint a picture in your mind is, as always, on point; but the writing describing the aural states seem to clog up the storytelling every ten pages or so. The initial painting of these ethereal halos was beautiful; after the 15th or so description they were just in the way. The use of italics for dialogue was distracting; I had to work to keep my eyes from skimming to the dialogue lines and ignoring the rest of the text on the page.

But it also had so many of my favorite things. For one, the connections to other King stories was strong in this one. Like when I am watching Castle Rock, it makes me feel like an insider to notice the little things that connect King’s worlds together. Like a hipster that listens to a band “before they were cool” - don’t you hate those people? Yeah me too. But here we are.

Derry, and all it’s history covered in depth in the pages of IT is rehashed here. We have mentions of the sewers, the Black Spot Fire, the post-Pennywise storm of 1985. The darkness that hangs over this town lingers, even though we were hoping that the Loser’s Club vanquished the darkness in the mid 80s.

Because something else dark is connected to Derry. The Dark Tower lore sits squarely and open here; we see Roland in children’s drawings and travel between worlds like in The Drawing of The Three. We also are introduced to The Crimson King; the guardian of The Dark Tower, Roland’s adversary and ruler of the highest level. He appears here in our world first as Ralph’s dead mother then as a catfish. I mean, IT was a clown living in a macroverse created by a barfing turtle, so I guess that all makes sense. We also learn Ralph and Lois’s quest is to save a young boy named Patrick Danville, who we’re told is very important in the land-o-the-tower. God, I can’t wait to get to the fourth Dark Tower book.

Other than the obvious references to IT and the DT books, we get a quick mention of the untimely death of Gage Creed in Ludlow. There is also a mention of “Aunt Sadie” in Dallas, and my mind wandered to lovely Sadie Dunhill of 11/22/63. I don’t know if King had the foresight (or the initial manuscript) to reference a character that wouldn’t hit the bookstores for another 17 years, but if so, Bravo Mr. King. Bravo.

By far my favorite photo of King that I’ve randomly stumbled upon on the internet.

My remaining questions are really around the nature of Derry - how can Pennywise and The Crimson King exist (in whatever universe) in or around Derry, without bumping into each other? Why so much evil in this one little town? Are they somehow connected? Are they the same person? Like my friend that claimed my aura needed a good washing, we may never know.

7/10

First Line: No one - least of all Dr. Litchfield - came right out and told Ralph Roberts that his wife was going to die, but there came a time when Ralph understood without needing to be told.

Last Line: And she saw, the long white scar on his right forearm was gone.

Adaptations:

None to speak of - another one of King’s works that’s been discussed in depth but never pushed into any kind of actionable development. All the best I think - a movie version could very easily veer into LSD trip territory.

[crumpledsilkskin-blog]

Campus Fires:The dog.

Campus fires are a series of short stories. set within the six month time skip. That occurs within my Novel. Some of them will be funny. Some of them will explore side characters. All in All this is mostly a Primer for my actual novel when it launches.

“So! Now that we’re all in Agreement.”  The blonde haired, pasty skinned young man stood up and roared. His arms outstretched before him as if presiding before peasants and servants.

“Umm.” The curly haired, brown-skinned young man, raised his hand from the other side of the table. “I have an inquiry.”

A weary sigh left the blonde ones’ lips “About Nogi?”

“Why am I security? I’m the most skittish fucker here? I can barely stand cockroaches.” He protested.

A broad smile formed on the Blonde ones face as he pointed to the sheathed blade before him.

“Oh what the sword?” Nogi asked.

“Yes!” The blonde one nodded.

“Alvin I don’t actually know how to use that.” This was a lie. The young man did indeed know how to use it. He knew how to use it quite well. He was however, what one would call…unmotivated.

“It’s not like you’re going to be facing off against Musashi any time soon.” The young man to the right of Nogi responded. “Just pull it out, wave it around like you usually do. That ought to be enough to keep people in check.”

Nogi closed his eyes and winced.” There’s a penis joke I can’t be bothered to make in there…somewhere.”

Weighted sighs left the mouths of the young men around the table. Save Nogi of course.

“If you can’t use it then why do you have it?” The young man, arms folded, beside Alvin, folded his arms and leant back in his chair.

“WELL, Tom ASS. As most men over the age of fifty will tell you, it’s mine and I’ve had it a VERY long time. I’m not about to just give it up because I can’t use it.

“Do you always use insults to get your point across?” The one called Tõmas sighed.

“THAT!” Nogi held up a finger. A smile plastered across his face. “Was actually a penis joke. Plus an ass is a beast of burden so really, it’s your own fault if you take it as an insult and not a compliment.” Nogi laughed.

“Either way.” Alvin commanded. “Shit excuse. You’re still security. Moving on.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Nogi shouted. He held his hands out in protest. “I’ve got a good reason.”

A sigh echoed beside Nogi. “Not this again.”

“Shut up Louis!” Nogi shouted as he turnt to his right.

“You use that fucking story for everything!” Louis groaned.

“What story?” Alvin asked.

“Don’t judge me Louis! It was sad and heart wrenching and beautiful. Exotic love in an exotic land.”

“So you’re admitting you enjoyed watching a Rottweiler fuck a Yorkie?” Louis asked.

Nogi almost fell back in his seat. He frantically waved his hands back and forth in denial. “I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth man. If anything it’s like a bad car accident. It’s fucked up and somebody died, but damned if you can’t look away.”

“Wait someone died!?” Alvin asked.

“Necessary casualty. Plus I’m sure you can find another one like her if you look hard enough. Got to be a few stores that stock her around here.”

“What!?” Alvin shouted.

“That story is not true! You made it up with Maurice when you got drunk the other night.” Louis stated.

“It is true!” Nogi protested.” There’s still dog vomit in the dorms where—“

“Shut up! Shut up!” Alvin shouted.” Someone tell me what the FUCK you two are talking about?”

An excited smile crossed Nogis’ face as he readjusted himself and rubbed his hands together.”Ok! So!”

“Oh my god!” Louis exclaimed, as he covered his head with both hands and lay his head on the oval shaped table in front of him.

Nogis’ mind begun to travel back. It was a week ago. He remembered very clearly because, it was the first time he’d smelt fried chicken in months. His nose led him to the cafeteria. A frequent hidey hole of his. Although, he would deny that to death. On this day last week, Nogi was surprised to learn that somehow, after months of searching, someone had finally found raw meat. Raw chicken to be specific.

The oil it was being friend in smelt of grease and fat. A most unhealthy combination, prepared by chefs and staff who knew exactly what they were doing. After much pleading and careful manipulation. Nogi, or Nicolai as he’s known to TRUE friends, was able to acquire two pieces of succulent, juicy fried chicken.

How unfortunate for him, that he was so preoccupied with just getting the chicken, that he forgot condiments. Briskly! He ran inside to acquire both the ketchup and the mustard bottle. Only to be met with and eighty pound Rottweiler, drooling over his still hot chicken.

“Hey...Hey! You get away from that! You get!” Nogi shouted.

The dog became alerted and quickly snapped up the bigger of the two pieces on his plate.”Hey! You get back here you slobbery fuck!” Nogi shouted. He took off after the dog, but not before stopping to grab up the leg left on his plate.

Thus began a most comical chase. A massive black Rottweiler, chicken breast in its mouth. Being chased by an angry sword wielding young man, with a chicken leg in his mouth.

“Hold up!” Alvin interrupted. “I thought you said you had a problem waving the sword around?”

“No Tõmas said that about his penis. I just said I can’t use it.” Nogi nodded.

“I said no such thing!” Tõmas shouted, slamming his hands onto the table in anger.

“Enough.” Alvin pleaded, patting Tõmas on his rather bald head to calm him down.

Nogi continued to explain that in the rush of people, he had lost the dog. Not one to let things go easily, he began his search. The advantage he had, was that the dog was massive. It’d be borderline impossible, for anyone to miss a creature such as that. To top it off it stank of musk and dirt. The result of months and months of no owner to take care of it. Still, the dog had done well on its own. How else could it look so healthy.

It took all of fifteen minutes for Nogi to find it, but when he did, the sight he saw before him would be forever etched into his mind. The Rottweiler, chicken still between his jaws, was busy at work, pumping away at a Yorkshire terrier.

“I swear. It was like fuckin interracial porn for dogs.” Nogi shouted. His eyes were wide and his head shook slowly back and forth as he stared into the distance.

“What’s a Yorkshire terrier?” Alvin asked.

“Midget dog.” Louis groaned. His face still buried in the desk. “Really yappy, really tiny.”

“Oh!” Alvin exclaimed in realization. “Wait can a Rottweiler even have sex with a dog that size?         Without killing it at least.”

“I’m sure there were similar questions asked about muscular men and petite women back in the day.” Nogi laughed.

“You’re aroused by this aren’t you?” Louis asked.

“Not at all.” Nogi shook his head.” This is all a process. It’s all me setting the record straight.”

Nogi continued. He explained that despite the Rottweiler sewing his oats, he wasn’t about to let the theft of his chicken, go unpunished. However in his approach of the dog, he was rather noisy. This caused the animal to take off mid coitus. As one would know in biology, whenever dogs mate, they will become stuck together. This is due to the males’ genitalia swelling while within the female.

What followed was yet another humorous chase. This time the Rottweiler, Yorkie still attached to his genitalia. Took off! Chased by an angry bespectacled young man, brandishing a Japanese sword.

“I don’t get it?” Alvin stated.” It’s been in the dogs’ mouth. The dog has been fucking another dog. WHY? On earth would you still want that piece of chicken?”

“It wasn’t about the damn chicken!” Nogi shouted as he slammed his fists onto the table. “It’s disrespectful! He stole my food then went home to fuck his girl? What kinda shit is that? How am I supposed to let that go?”

“You’re the higher life form?” Louis shrugged, finally raising his head from the desk.

“So that means I’m not supposed to hold grudges? That’d go against my very nature.” Nogi nodded with a smile.

The entire room was filled with sighs.” I’m angry I can understand that explanation.” Alvin groaned.

Nogi continued to explain that the chase took him towards the dorms. Where the Rottweiler ran into an open dorm room, in which the resident was in the process of changing.

“Why somebody would change with their door wide open is a mystery to me.” Nogi shrugged.

In fact the dorms’ resident did in fact have a reason. He had freshly come back from a jog and was about to throw on a numbered t-shirt, when the dogs burst in. The Rottweiler seemed to become agitated and started to bark at the half naked resident.

“Wait! How is he barking with chicken in his mouth?” Alvin asked.

“He dropped it,” Nogi said.

“So your grudge is strong enough to supersede the chicken and everything else?”  Alvin asked.

An awkward silence fell over the room as Nogi mm’d ��aah’d and squinted his way toward a coherent response. “Ummmmm,yes?” Nogi shrugged.

Alvin proceeded to fold his arms and glare at Nogi “Once again. I’m angry that’s an acceptable answer.” He complained.

Nogi continued. The frightened resident scampered onto his dresser. Which! Mind you, didn’t actually stop the Rottweiler. Meanwhile the poor Yorkie yelped bloody murder. To defend himself the resident pulled from a nearby closet…A SEX DOLL.

“Wait!” Alvin interrupted.

“Please don’t make him explain that!” Louis pleaded.

“Why’d the guy pull out a sex doll?” Alvin asked.

“Are you honestly still trying to make sense of this story?” Tõmas asked Alvin.

“To defend himself.” Nogi answered with a smile.” Which I mean, I can’t blame the guy. He didn’t really have much options. All things considered, an anime blow up doll ain’t a bad weapon.”

Alvin made a little wince before he folded his arms. After paving up and down for a while, he stopped and said,” Ok! Continue.”

“Why!?” Louis shouted.

“I’m invested ok!? I have to know!” Alvin shouted back.

And so he did. Nogi continued to tell of how the resident grabbed the sex doll and began swinging at the agitated Rottweiler. However his aim was piss poor and he ended up hitting the poor, screeching Yorkie instead. At about the fifth swing the Rottweiler caught the doll. Deflating it until it was all too easy to tear to shreds.

“Where were you in all this?” Alvin asked.

“Outside,” Nogi responded.

“All of a sudden you’re not brave anymore?” Louis asked.

“Oh gee! Run in and attack an angry Rottweiler, attached to a scared Yorkie in a cramped dorm room. Fetching idea!” Nogi replied as he shook his head and glared at Louis.

“Can we wrap this up?” Alvin asked.” I’m getting scared to hear how much more this escalates.”

“Fine fine.” Nogi nodded.” So anyway. After tearing the doll to shreds, the Rottweiler and Yorkie took off out the dorm.”

“Oh come on!” Louis complained.” Where are they gonna go next? The hospital?”

“I don’t know if they did, but!” Nogi shouted, snapping his fingers as he did. “When I did find them again, they were under a tree canoodling. It was…so beautiful. So serene.”Nogi could begin to feel the sting of three intense glares baring down on him.

“How?...Is any of that? …A good excuse for not becoming head of security.” Alvin asked.

“Well one.” Nogi counted on his fingers.” Who chases a dog for fried chicken? It’s a dog!” He nodded. “Two, I hesitated to use my sword. That shows weakness. People need strength.” He counted his third finger.” Finally, when I saw him licking her little doggy vagina to soothe the pain…I cried. I wept like a baby! It was beautiful. It was…such a testament of love and marriage—“

“Wait marriage!?” Alvin asked.

“Well I mean…I’d like to think they’re married. I hate to think she went through all that for random street dick.” Nogi shrugged.

“Didn’t you say someone died?” Tõmas asked.

“Sex dolls are people too.”

“Ok stop! STOP!” Alvin shouted. Waving his hands back and forth in protest. “ If I believed ANY of that, it still wouldn’t disqualify you. You have a sword, the rest of us don’t! End of discussion.”

Nogi groaned and folded his arms. “ Ugh! Fine, but only if you call me by my proper name.”

Alvn looked at him like he was mad.” Dude…do you know how troublesome it is to say Nogueira every time?”

“Not Nogueira.” Nogi protested. “Nicolai.”

Alvin rolled his eyes and sighed. “Hell no!”

“Give me this one thing and I’ll do whatever you want.” Nogi pleaded.

Alvin put his hands on his waist and tapped his feet. He squinted in thought at Nogi for a few seconds before he pointed at him and said. “We’ll bring Gunther and Maurice in on it to vote.”

“On my name?”

“On your fucking position, you ass!” Alvin shouted.

“Fine.” Nogi nodded. He stood up and outstretched his hand to Alvin for a handshake. Alvin reciprocated. Breathing a sigh of relief, that he could FINALLY end the meeting in peace.

[excerptsfromunfinishednovels]

Excerpts From Unfinished Novels #12: A Little Town Called Cedar Springs - Roundup

Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged this week’s material, I really appreciate it! And hello and welcome to my new followers, I hope you enjoy following this project!

Mini-Playlist:

‘It’s The End Of The World’ – R.E.M

‘Spoilin For A Fight’ – ACDC

‘Ballad For Dead Friends’ – Dashboard Prophets

Genre: science-fiction, thriller

Warnings: mentions of character death, violence

Word Count: 2,790

Summary: Yesterday the world ended. Today everything’s back to normal and people are acting like nothing happened. Morgan’s confused as hell but determined to figure out what’s going on.

Excerpt is from the first chapter of the novel

Everyone was just…walking around like the end of the world hadn’t happened yesterday. Admittedly everyone looked wide-eyed and hollow-faced with terror, flinching at every unexpected sound, refusing to make eye contact with each other, but still, they were acting relatively normal. It didn’t make any sense; why wasn’t anyone talking about it? Why in heaven’s name were they trying to make small talk with each other even while standing several feet apart and staring at the ground?!

Morgan sighed and stared down at the shopping trolley in front of zir. Zie supposed zie wasn’t any better than the rest of them, trying to put the memories of the past week behind zir by attempting to do the weekly shop. Morgan sighed once again, pulled zir dark brown hair into a messy bun and resumed pushing zir trolley down the aisle, pausing occasionally to pick an item off the shelves and put it in the trolley. Zir trolley had a near-miss with another one and zie looked up quickly to see Mark, zir next-door neighbour, standing stock-still in the middle of the aisle, staring at zir.

Morgan’s chest heaved and zir muscles were aching as zie pushed a crowbar against Mark’s throat in a frantic attempt to stop him from moving any further.

“I’m sorry,” zie cried, tears rolling down zir face as zie pushed the crowbar down harder and harder. “I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t, you can’t; you’re infected and you need to stay put!”

There was a sudden snapping sound and Mark’s breaths died off with a faint gurgle. Morgan’s hands fell away from the crowbar, and zie scrambled away from Mark’s dead body, zir hands covering zir face as zie sobbed over and over again.

Embarrassment and shame coursed through Morgan’s veins, and zie swallowed and stared at Mark wide-eyed, before attempting to send him a faint smile. Mark stiffened, sent zir a quick nod and quickly walked away. Morgan stared after him, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to make it better. Or even if there was anything to try and apologise for; in zir memories, zie had killed him, had killed other people in the town, had watched the town go to absolute hell, but now…well it was like it had never happened. Everyone was alive and well, and the town itself was back to normal. If it weren’t for the memories, Morgan and everyone else in town would never have known that anything had happened.

As zie continued pushing the shopping trolley through the supermarket, a range of different memories flashed through Morgan’s mind; being in the town meeting when the virus had first broken out, watching in horror as more and more people started getting sick and dying, causing panic and terror to sweep through the town, helping Shayne and the other scientists to work on an antivirus, being unable to do anything when zie zirself became sick and slowly slipped away…only to wake up this morning as though nothing had happened. Which was unnerving as fuck.

Morgan stared once again at zir arms, still feeling unnerved at seeing healthy brown skin instead of the pasty, scab-covered limbs zir had grown used to from the effects of the virus. Morgan looked back down at zir trolley, and for a long moment considered just abandoning it and going home. Zie was broken out of zir reverie by Shayne herself, who appeared from around the corner and walked straight up to zir.

She paused and regarded Morgan warily, one hand twisting a lock of her platinum blond hair into a tight curl. “Hey,” she eventually said, her voice and demeanour clearly communicating her agitation.

“Hey,” Morgan said, frowning.

Zie bit zir lip, eying the other scientist critically before zie asked, “Are you okay? I mean, as okay as you can be given what’s going on…”

Shayne immediately relaxed and relief flooded her expression, though she said in a clearly false bright tone, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Morgan but yes I’m fine, absolutely fine thank you.”

“Um…okay…”

Shayne darted forward, grabbed Morgan’s arm and pulled zir close. She slipped a piece of paper in Morgan’s pocket and then pulled zir into a quick hug.

“Enjoy your shopping; I’ll see you in work on Monday yeah?” she asked as she stepped away.

“Sure thing; see you,” Morgan replied with a weak smile as zie waved zir friend off.

As soon as Shayne was out of sight, zie reached into zir pocket, pulled out the paper and unfolded it.

‘Buy what you need and then come straight to the lab. We need to talk.’

Morgan hastily shoved the note back in zir pocket, and shoved the trolley to the check out. Once zie had paid for zir shopping, zie jogged to zir car and drove straight to the lab, zir thoughts racing through all the different reasons Shayne had slipped zir that note, and why she would need to talk to zir. It had to be about the virus, there was no other reason for it.

Morgan pulled into the lab’s carpark and in no time zie was running into the lab where zie was tackled by Shayne who pulled zir into a tight hug as she cried out, “Oh thank God you remember it too! I thought I was the only one; I thought I was going mad!”

“Oh my God I didn’t even think that it would only be me,” Morgan gasped, hugging zir best friend back. “Especially given the way everyone’s acting…” Zie pulled away, keeping zir hands on Shayne’s shoulders as zie continued to speak. “Okay so let’s be clear about this; last week up to yesterday we were all killing each other and dying from a deadly virus yes?”

“Yes! And you and I and the rest of the team were working on an antivirus only it didn’t work – we all got sick; I remember dying!” Shayne hissed.

“Okay so why’s everything back to normal? The town was half-destroyed from all the looting and people causing havoc for the sake of it – I saw Meredith Lawson plough her tractor into the side of the high school for Christ’s sake! And now, now it’s like none of it ever happened except no one will so much as look at another person without looking like they’re about to shit themselves!”

“I know, and I haven’t figured it all out, but I’m starting to piece things together. I do know one thing; what happened last week wasn’t the first disaster to hit us.”

“Okay what? Of course it’s the first disaster to hit us – it’s the only one we remember.”

“I don’t think we were supposed to remember it. When I woke up I remembered that during the disaster I had kept a journal of notes about what had happened and the work that we did. I hid it, put it in a safe place when I got ill, and when I did I found these,” Shayne told her, picking up a pile of journals from her desk and handing them to Morgan.

Morgan took the journals and started flicking through them, zir eyes widening as zie took the words in. Each journal held an account of a disaster that had happened in Cedar Springs; earthquakes, terrorist attacks, wild animals rampaging through the town, freak flooding, and how the town had dealt with it, how Morgan and Shayne and the other scientists had done their best to try and deal with the crisis, tried to help the townspeople. Each and every time they had failed and for the most part, perished.

“H-how…what? What’s all this?” Morgan asked, completely confused.

“They’re my journals.”

“But…but none of these disasters ever happened!”

“I think they did,” Shayne said, her face solemn. “I know my notes Morgan and the way I write them; I don’t remember it, but I definitely wrote these.”

“Then why have you only found them now?”

“Because this is the first time I remember making them – or at least making one set. The rest were with the last set. I must have made them and hidden them during every disaster, and then obviously forgotten about them.”

“This doesn’t make any sense!” Morgan insisted, throwing the journals down on a nearby table. “You don’t just forget something like what’s in these journals!”

Shayne was silent as she stared at zir, her dark eyes boring into zir’s. She bit her lip, her expression conflicted before she sighed and said, “I have a theory.”

Morgan allowed a faint grin to steal across zir face and zie replied, “I expected nothing less.”

Shayne laughed softly and then said, “Do you want to hear it?”

“Oh go on then.”

Shayne beamed and turned to drag her portable whiteboard forward. She picked up a marker, uncapped it and started writing as she spoke.

“Okay, here are the facts. One: last week a virus broke out that killed pretty much everyone, including you and myself. The town was destroyed, but everyone woke up this morning remembering what had happened, even though by all appearances nothing of the sort actually did. Two: because I remembered what happened last week I remembered the journal I kept with all my notes from the disaster and our work. When I went to get it, I found a bunch of other journals with it. Each journal has details of a different disaster that has struck the town. Three: none of us remember any of these other disasters. And four: after reading some of my past journals I checked my lab and found these.”

At that Shayne pulled a few small devices out of her pocket and laid them out on the table.

“What are they?”

“Cameras and microphones. My lab was bugged, and I bet if we looked we’d find that most of the town is, which leads to fact number five: the town is being monitored.”

“Why would anyone want to monitor us, we’re just a small town.”

“I’m starting to think we’re not. So looking at the facts, I’ve come up with some conclusions. Because of the monitoring equipment and the details from the journals, I think that the town is being monitored to see how we react to the disasters. Because we’ve seen that everything goes back to normal once a disaster scenario is finished, I think that these disasters are being engineered. Because there are so many scenarios in these journals, I think that normally our memories are wiped after each one so we just carry on as usual after the clean-up, which means that there was some sort of flaw in the process this time around.”

“But it’s more than just forgetting,” Morgan said, feeling fear clawing its way up zir throat. “You said that most of the time we died in those scenarios. Hell I remember dying yesterday.”

“Yeah…that brings me to my final conclusion. We’re clones,” Shayne said grimly.

*

Several cups of tea and a packet of jaffa cakes later, Morgan was feeling more up to the task of discussing Shayne’s theory.

“Clones,” zie stated.

“Yes.”

“You think we’re all clones.”

“It’s the most logical explanation.”

“How are clones ever a logical explanation?”

“Think about it Morgan; we go through numerous scenarios, die over and over again, never remembering any of it when it’s over and yet, here we are. And we know it happens – we remember now. How else can you explain any of this other than by accepting that we are clones, created by whoever is monitoring Cedar Springs?”

“Who would do that? Who would clone an entire town and then destroy it time after time? And why?”

“I have no idea, though it’s more than likely some secret government agency. As for why…I suppose it would be valuable to know how the average town deals with various disasters and threats, especially from a military point of view.”

“This is ridiculous, it’s utterly ridiculous!”

“I know it is but it’s real.” Shayne stepped forward and placed her hands on Morgan’s shoulders. “I need you Morgan; we work well together and you’ve got a knack for thinking out of the box, when you’re not freaking out over being a clone,” she added with a wry grin.

Morgan felt a deep warmth settle in zir chest and zie grinned back at Shayne and said, “What do we need to do?”

*

“Right, that should be the last of them,” Shayne said, tossing the microphone she’d just found into the hands of Vivica Walsh, Cedar Springs’ mayor.

“Right…why are we being monitored again?” Vivica asked, her blue eyes fixed on the device.

“Because we’re an experiment by the government into the reactions of regular citizens to various disaster scenarios,” Shayne explained simply, hopping down onto the ground.

She held her hand out and Vivica quickly handed the microphone back to her before fussing with her short black hair as she walked to the top of the town hall. “Right…I still don’t quite understand.”

“That’s why we’re having this meeting; to get everything sorted,” Shayne said soothingly as she followed her.

The townspeople were filing in, still making awkward small talk and still avoiding eye contact with each other. Morgan was standing at the back of the hall, Shayne’s journals in a pile on the table beside zie, zir gaze flicking between Shayne at the top of the hall, and the people walking past zie. When everyone had filed in, Vivica stepped up to the podium, tapped on the microphone and cleared her throat.

“Good evening everyone,” she said, her voice barely wavering. “I’ve called this emergency meeting for well, you all know why…” She took a shaky breath, emitted a soft sob on the exhale, and then said, “I’m just…I’m just going to hand you over to Shayne.”

She stepped away, roughly wiping tears from her cheeks. Shayne put her hand on her shoulder and murmured a few words in her ear before stepping past her and taking her place at the podium.

“Good evening,” Shayne said, her tone as bright and warm as she could make it. “As all of you are aware, there was an outbreak of a virus here in Cedar Springs last week that caused the destruction of most of the town and the death of most of us. We can all remember what happened; what we all did, how we acted, what happened to us. We also all know that aside from the memories of what happened, it appears that none of it ever actually did, which is strange in and of itself. There is something else however; I have discovered journals, copies of which Morgan is passing out now,” Shayne announced, nodding at Morgan who was walking around the hall, passing out stacks of photocopies. “In these journals are records of a number of disasters that have happened here before – disasters that none of us remember. I don’t think we were meant to remember what happened last week, just like we don’t remember those other occurrences.”

“What does this mean?” a man called out, looking up from the notes he’d been reading in confusion.

“I can’t say for certain, but right now the most logical conclusions are that we are being monitored by some external agency – I have found cameras and microphones both here in the hall and in my lab – and that, given that we have been dying and losing our memories of it over and over again, I believe we are all clones.”

There was a sudden outbreak of murmurs and yells from the townspeople, everyone expressing their shock and disbelief. Shayne waited a few moments before she raised her hands and said loudly, “Everyone please! Please, I know this is frightening and confusing but we need to discuss what happens next!”

“What do you mean what happens next? What’s going to happen next?”

“I don’t know, but given the pattern from my journals, I’d say we’re due another disaster in at most a week.”

The noise in the hall raised considerably, and Shayne’s pleading for everyone to calm down and listen was drowned out by the people’s agitated yells. Morgan stepped forward and was about to start yelling when there was a sudden loud rumble and the ground started shaking.

“What the hell?!” zie cried out, as the people around her started jumping out of their chairs and moving around the hall in fright.

Zie looked around in confusion and then looked up at Shayne. The other scientist was staring out the window, and zie blanched at the look of wide-eyed terror on her friend’s face. Zie slowly turned around, and zir own eyes widened in shock and fright as zie saw a large bright object hurtling towards the town from the sky.

Congratulations, you’ve reached the end! I hope you’ve enjoyed your time with Morgan, Shayne, and the town of Cedar Springs. Please like, reblog, send questions and/or comments!

Slán!

C.x