#my only question is what drove her to magic overload

[shidoukanae]

i love reading the official translations of TME because there gets to be so much additional context and nuance added that i couldn't pick up in a rough translation and it absolutely still bamboozles me how deep this story continues to go

like what do you mean there's now an insinuation Lyla was forced to call "Lyla" into this world? What do you mean Daniel implies there's still another facet of Lyla's past that's been completely unexplored? Does Lyla know about "The Voice"? Does she know something about Helene that forced her to summon The Voice in order to protect Helene? Who let Lyla know this information? Did she hear "Lyla's" voice too and decide it was necessary to bring her to this world?

Hell, I thought Lyla magic overloaded because she got so overwhelmed by the grief of her personal realization Helene, the last person she has left, turned against her. But nope! The implication is that Lyla purposely magic overloaded herself for unknown reasons, probably aware of the fact her soul would switch with someone more capable of protecting Helene, I'm presuming?

Which if so,,, oh,,, oh no,,,,

Why do i get the feeling that knowing that information is going to be the only thing that stops Helene from hurting "Lyla" once she realizes "Lyla" isn't her real sister? The angst potential,,,, god,,,,,,,, i LOVE this story so freaking much

[jarienn972]

Weathering the Storm - Part Three

When I started writing this story months ago, I had the events all plotted out and honestly planned to finish writing it over the course of a few weeks. Unfortunately, the stresses of real life got in the way and I all but abandoned writing for a while. I'm finally getting back to a place where I can form complete, coherent sentences again so I'm getting a few new chapters out for my WIP stories. In this chapter, we're picking up from Emma's POV again as she tries to figure out why Killian has yet to return or contact her amidst the severe thunderstorms pounding Storybrooke.

Since it’s been quite a while since the last chapter was posted, you can catch up here on Tumblr - Part 1  Part 2  All 3 parts are also available on AO3 and FF.net

Was this storm ever going to end? Emma found herself wondering as she silently cursed the rain that continued to pelt Main Street. The typically bustling street itself was already looking more akin to a swollen creek than a roadway as the storm drains overflowed. Mini rivers of rainwater gushed along the curbs in search of an outlet while they flowed towards the harbor.

The power had flickered a few times but still wasn't coming back on. She figured there were likely some lines down around town due to the strong wind gusts or maybe even a blown transformer somewhere that overloaded the grid. Anything was possible with the severely outdated infrastructure around here. They really needed to conjure some upgraded utility systems in Storybrooke but no one ever seemed to get around to it.

A thought crossed her mind about the possibility of controlling the weather with her magic before she sighed somberly and closed the blinds covering the station's front window. No use sitting out here watching the rain falling, she thought as she made the short stroll back to her office determined to try reaching Killian, either by phone or over the radio. Maybe it wasn't raining as bad on the other side of town…?

Her backside had barely settled onto her chair when the vibration of her cell phone on the desktop startled her. She spun about and snatched it up in hopes that she'd see her husband's name on the screen. Her excitement immediately diminished when she noticed that it was her father calling instead.

"Hi, Dad," she answered, trying to disguise the disappointment in her voice. "What's up? Are you staying dry out there on the farm?"

"Very funny…," he groaned over the crackling connection. "We've got more than an inch of water in the barn and a lake where the garden should be, but that's not why I'm calling. Were either of you out patrolling on County Highway 2?"

"Killian was headed out to Zelena's place earlier. Somebody threw a brick through her living room window so he went out to get her statement and see if it might have been related to the recent string of vandalism around town. He left here about two hours or so ago, maybe a little longer… Why do you ask?"

"Because our favorite melodramatic dwarf just stopped by here to say that he drove by the cruiser out there while on his way into town. He said it was parked on the side of the highway and appeared to be running, but he didn't see anyone in it. Of course, we are talking about Leroy so he could have been exaggerating... But since this seemed to have bothered him enough to stop here and tell me about it - although not enough to get out and take an actual look at the cruiser - it got me a little concerned, so I figured I should check with you…" David knew he was rambling but he also noticed Emma's hesitation before replying.

"I've been trying to reach Killian but he hasn't answered. I was actually hoping it was him when you called…"

"You've tried the radio?"

"Of course, I have," she snapped back in frustration, but she tempered her ire before continuing. "I figured he got stuck out at Zelena's. With the power out all over town and the already crappy cell phone service out there, he might not have been able to call…" But then why would the cruiser be out on the side of the highway running? "Did Leroy happen to say how long ago he saw the car?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Maybe ten? Fifteen?" David replied. "Look, I can drive out there and see what's going on if you'd like…"

"No, Dad. I'll go check it out."

"Emma, my truck will handle these flooded roads better than that little Bug of yours."

"I wasn't planning on driving," she informed him as she hurried to collect her still-damp leather jacket. "I'll poof out there and take a look. Hopefully I'll be able to see what's going on but I could still use your help. Could you come here to the station? Henry's here with me waiting out the storm since the station generator at least gives us some lights. He might need a ride home…"

"Why don't I just stay there at the station? I could help field any calls that might come in…"

"Dad…"

"No arguments. I'm volunteering," he insisted.

"Okay, okay… I'll let Henry know you're coming. Thanks for the help."

"That's what family is for. Now get out there and see what's going on with the cruiser and that husband of yours."

David disconnected the call as Emma tugged on her jacket. She pocketed her phone, not particularly keen on going back out into this lousy storm but she had to find out why Leroy saw the cruiser parked on the side of the road but no Killian inside it. First though, she needed to tell Henry she was leaving and before she could even take a step towards the break room, she spied her son rounding the corner.

Sometimes this kid really did have a sixth sense she didn't fully understand.

"Who was that you were talking to? Was it Killian?" he asked as he approached.

"No, it was David. I have to head out to investigate something that just came up. He's coming here to help man the office until either Killian or I get back."

"Must be something pretty serious for you to go out again in this weather…"

"I honestly don't know yet," she answered, trying to be as vague as possible so the boy wouldn't worry. "That's why I'm going to go check it out. Just stay here and stay inside, even if the rain lets up."

"The only place I'd even think about going right now would be Granny's. I'm getting pretty hungry and at least she could throw together a sandwich…"

"You can raid my snack drawer," she chuckled. "I'm not going to worry about you spoiling your dinner tonight."

"Okay! Good luck with your investigation."

"Thanks, kid. I've got a feeling I'm going to need it…" she lamented as she gave a slight flick of her wrist and vanished in a puff of grey smoke.

**********

Brow knitted in a blend of confusion and apprehension, she approached the vehicle with caution. It might be the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a thunderstorm, but this was still Storybrooke. She'd learned the hard way that anything could happen here at any time so a Savior-Sheriff had to be prepared. While she didn't see anything out of the ordinary through the rear window, aside from the fact there were no visible heads above the seats, she wasn't going to rush.

"Killian?" she called out as she inched towards the car, sloshing through puddles that were soaking through her boots. If she'd come all the way out here to find him curled up sleeping in the back seat of the cruiser…

Only she found the back seat empty once she finally had a view through the side window and the front seat was unoccupied as well. A quick glance through the driver's side window revealed the keys in the ignition as expected but it also appeared that the dash camera had been turned on. So, this was a traffic stop? Then where in the hell was her husband?

Her first instinct was to yank open the driver's side door and climb inside but her instincts led her to take a moment and do a precursory inspection of the scene first. While the rain would have washed away any tire tracks or footprints, her gut told her that there might be other clues and it didn't take long for her to locate the first one when the toe of her boot kicked something out of a puddle next to the front tire.

Something that looked strangely like a cell phone.

She discarded the currently useless umbrella as she stooped to retrieve the phone and winced as she sliced open the pad of her thumb on a sliver of shattered glass. She wasn't surprised to find that the device was dead, which could have resulted from it hitting the ground, but the damage was definitely hastened by the rain. Killian must have dropped it. That's why he wasn't answering the calls. It just didn't explain his disappearance.

Placing the useless phone onto the hood of the cruiser, she continued her survey of the area and walked around to the front of the car. She noted that the passenger side tire was flat which provided another small clue. Trying to change a flat tire during a thunderstorm with one hand and a hook wouldn't have been a safe thing to do, but this small fact raised as many questions as it answered. She lifted her head and stared out at the expanse of dense forest that extended for miles on either side of the highway although she couldn't imagine that Killian would have been crazy enough to venture out there in this weather, even if it was in pursuit of a suspect.

No, there had to be some other explanation. Some important piece of this puzzle was missing, she thought as she tugged open the passenger side door of the car and flopped onto the seat, thankful to be out of the rain for even just a little while. Her eyes immediately went to the dashcam that, from outside of the car, had appeared to be recording. Up close, she could see that the Recording light was indeed illuminated although the LED display screen had turned off. She'd only had these things installed in the cruiser and in the Bug a few months ago so she wasn't entirely sure if the screen was in standby mode or if it was malfunctioning, but she was thankful that at least Killian had remembered to turn the thing on.

She fumbled with different buttons surrounding the screen for a few tense moments trying to figure out how to make it stop recording and switch to playback. She really should have read the whole manual when she put these in... There wasn't time to hunt through it right now but somehow, she managed to get it working. As the screen lit up, the grainy, black and white display showed that there was two hours and sixteen minutes of footage, a lot more elapsed time than a traffic stop should have taken. It was also right about the time that the storm front would have reached Storybrooke.

An eerie sense of dread washed over her as she pressed the Play button and the digital replay opened to a view of a parked, dark-colored sedan. She'd have to see the footage on a bigger screen to make out more of the detail but it appeared to be a Toyota. She was just happy that she could make out the digits in the license plate even if she'd have to take a guess on the state. It definitely wasn't a Maine or Massachusetts tag. She'd be able to recognize either of those but hazarding a guess, she thought it was probably New Hampshire.

There was no sound to accompany the video so there was no way for her to know exactly what was being said as she watched the image of Killian walking casually up to the driver's window of the stopped sedan. She could see that there was a short conversation before Killian took a step backward and then suddenly staggered out of the camera's view. Emma's breath hitched in her throat as a man appeared at the passenger side of the dark sedan, climbing into the vehicle just before its engine started up, the driver leaned out of the window, brandishing what looked like a gun for a few seconds, and then the car peeled away and disappeared down the lonely highway.

What the hell did I just watch? The feed was too blurry for her to get a good view of the driver and she had only a few fleeting glimpses of the other suspect's profile. Had they shot out the front tire? It seemed pretty likely but what had caused Killian to fall out of the frame? Why hadn't he called this in?

Had they shot him?

She fast-forwarded the footage a few minutes ahead to see an image of Killian stumbling awkwardly back toward the cruiser and then slumping against the front end. His dark clothing may have obscured any overt signs of injury but the distressed expression on his face revealed all she needed to know. He was hurt and she had no way of knowing how severely based on the video.

He slid out of the camera's range again and she continued to press the fast-forward button until she saw his hook catch onto the void between the hood and the frame and his face appeared in front of the camera. He looked unsteady on his feet, his features scrunched in agony. At one point, he looked directly into the camera, eyes pleading for help that wasn't coming. And then he pushed himself away from the car and staggered out of the camera's line of sight again. She forwarded all the way to the end of the feed and he didn't reappear.

"Oh, god, Killian… Where are you?" she asked aloud, not that she expected anyone to hear her.

He had to have been shot. It was the only thing that made any sense, but everything had happened so fast... Why hadn't he called for help? Had he broken his phone during the altercation or had he dropped it later because his hand was too shaky? Why didn't he get in the car and use the radio? Even if he hadn't reached her at the station, he could have contacted the State Police over the emergency channel. Had he not remembered how to do it or which channel he was supposed to use? She couldn't even imagine what must have been going through his mind but if it was anything like the panic she was experiencing just watching this on replay, she wasn't even sure if she could recall which channel was the emergency one.

She grabbed the radio's microphone from its cradle and depressed the button on the side, hoping that her dad had arrived at the Sheriff station by now. She was going to need his assistance.

"David, are you there? Over." She released the button and waited impatiently for his response.

"Emma - I'm here," he replied after a few short seconds. "Did you find anything out there? Over."

"The cruiser, yes. Killian - no." Her response was blunt and she allowed enough of a pause for David to know she was done with the formal radio etiquette.

"Damn…" was the first response she heard before David realized he'd pushed down on the button too soon. "Any indication of what happened?"

"Thankfully, Killian remembered to turn on the dashcam. He made a traffic stop and apparently, there was an altercation. I'm going to need you to call the State Police and see if they can run a plate for us while our systems are down."

"Sure. Just give me the tag number. And just what do you mean by altercation?"

She dodged his question and provided just the necessary facts. "Vehicle is a dark sedan, likely a recent-model Toyota. Plate is New Hampshire, I think. J73 422."

David knew instinctively that something must be wrong for her to avoid his question but he didn't press her for it. "Got it. Should we have them put out an All Points for the car? If so, what reason are we giving them?"

"Possible officer-involved shooting," she replied as matter-of-factly as her current state of mind would allow. She could picture the look on her father's face right now though as he processed her statement.

"Can you repeat that?" his voice begged over the tinny radio speaker.

"It looks like the driver may have shot Killian but I can't verify that until I find him, and that's what I need to do… Have them put out an APB for the vehicle which was occupied by two men. Unfortunately, I don't have a better description. The dashcam video screen is just too small and too fuzzy."

"Will do, Emma. Where do you think he went? There's a lot of forest out there…"

"But there's only one farmhouse. I think he would have headed towards Zelena's place."

"It's not very far but why would he leave the cruiser behind and go on foot if he'd been shot?"

"The suspects shot out the front tire. His phone's shattered and I have no idea why he didn't try to radio for help. I just know that he'd try his damnedest to reach the closest place he thought he could get help."

"I'll put the call in to the State Police. You go find your husband and Henry and I will man the fort here. Your mother sent a three course meal and a thermos of hot cocoa with cinnamon with me so we're well provisioned until we know what's going on."

"Thanks," she replied, managing a weak smile as she replaced the microphone into the cradle on the side of the radio and reached over to turn off the cruiser's engine. She slipped the keys into her pocket figuring she'd worry about retrieving the vehicle later. She didn't need a car to reach the former Wicked Witch's farmhouse.

[ariainstars]

Sorry, But I Don’t Support Minorities (Any More)

For a start: I will not use inclusive language in this text. (I usually don’t, only in this case I want to make sure it’s known from the start.)

Secondly, if you identify as trans or non-binary and / or are a huge Harry Potter fan, I am warning you: don’t read this.

If you do want to hear me out, be respectful in your comments or hold them back altogether. I won’t tolerate bullying merely because I am expressing my own opinion. Though the topic touches a sore spot in me, too, I will be as objective as I can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am not and never was a fan of J.K. Rowling and her works. I found the Harry Potter hype strongly exaggerated, the books mildly unoriginal and biased, the films ok until they became so overloaded with derivation from other sources (dragons, elves, magic wands, brooms, unicorns, centaurs, phoenixes, basilisks, flying horses - stories like Star Trek or Star Wars at least have their own world-building) and later so dark that they were no fun anymore. In my opinion an average writer was lucky because she tapped into a trend and was at the right place and right time with her stories. I daresay years from now many fans will wonder why they liked these stories so much and realize that they just jumped on a train, having been too young and naïve to question it.

I don’t own any of Rowling’s books or DVDs or merchandise and I never have been part of the fandom. So, I come from a different corner when I say that I have my own attitude about the current shitstorm regarding J.K. Rowling now being coded as “transphobic”. This is due to personal reasons of my own.

  1. The Discussion Can Add Confusion

Rowling stated that in her youth she had problems with her own identity due to her father having wanted her to be a boy. I can understand that because I went through a long period in my late teens and early twens where I had difficulties identifying with the sex I was born with. At times I also felt physically attracted to females. In my case, it turned out to merely be a phase: I am an average cis woman. I can understand that for some people, such doubts may turn out to be more than a phase. But I know what Rowling refers to because I have been there. And I am grateful that there was no gender discussion when I was young because it would have confused me even more than I actually was, and I already had more than enough other problems. I was and I am a “common” woman, but there was a time in my life when I did not like it very much. That time was bad enough, combined as it was with other aspects in my life I had to come to terms with, which at times almost drove me to despair to the point where I contemplated suicide. So, I am glad that in my time being gay / straight / trans / cis / non-binary or other was not such an issue, at least not where I grew up. With my confusion and disorientation, well-meaning people might have taken the opportunity to encourage me to “embrace my lesbianism / trans identity”, when in truth I am neither. I was discouraged, from many sides, to liking myself, and that self-loathing took many forms. 

I am extremely cautious when it comes to gender identification because I know that finding one’s way in life under difficult circumstances can take years and years and end in a very different place from where it started, well beyond adolescence. In my case, for a long time I thought I was “not really female” because I love my independence and never wished for children: this is not due to some masculine trait inside of me but to my growing up with a disturbed mother who strongly invaded my life and mind and did everything that was in her power to trap me. I suspected that something was wrong with her since my early teens, but I found out the truth only about twenty years later. I had to accept her the way she is and put distance between us. 

Then there were my peers: where and when I grew up it was trendy to be (or appear) as tomboyish and easy-going as possible because this was seen as a sign of a “strong, modern, emancipated female”: fie on you if you wore your hair a little longer, liked clothes or only had to much as a flower-pattern on your notebook. Again: I simply had to get away. For many years I had been led to believe that my too “female” or “masculine” traits were a problem, when the actual problem was not mine. And if this happened to me, I daresay there may be many others in similar situations; which is something that who supports and encourages trans people usually does not consider. People who are confused about their sexuality without actually being trans need understanding as well.

  2. What About Us?

As a native Italian, I cringe when I only think e.g. of Lady and the Tramp’s silly “Bella notte” scene or films like Good Fellas or of The Godfather trilogy, cultural phenomena that did a lot to cement the general audience’s idea of how Italians are like. Not to our advantage. - No, “bella notte” is not correct Italian. No, we don’t play the mandolin, it’s an outmoded instrument that you are more likely to find in a museum. And no, spaghetti with meatballs are not Italian food!

Following the 2009 economic crises many countries in the European Community applied for financial “umbrellas”; Italy didn’t, it paid into those funds. Italy was the first Western country who went into lockdown as the Covid-19 crisis struck. The country functioned, though under huge restrictions and security measures. In both cases, other countries’ reactions in and outside Europe were like: “Typical - Italians are too lazy to work!” When it came to negotiating an economic pact to help Europe start again, the countries who had said this the loudest held their purse-strings tight - after having locked down too late and hidden the truth about the casualties in their own countries. Convenient.

Italians are generally often seen as silly and not trustworthy. And nobody talks about how demeaning and disrespectful, and on the long run damaging, it is to portray us in such a stereotyped way which at best is good for a laugh. The prejudices stick, and they have destroyed or turned into a living hell many existences.

There are huge now discussions about banning films like e.g. Gone With the Wind due to its “clichéd portrayal of Blacks”. Nobody talks about abolishing The Godfather or other films of that kind although they contribute to the stigma that Italians are either all in league with the mafia, or easy-going, silly folks who sing and drink wine all day and have no idea of what hard work means. Most Italians have too much personal pride to victimize themselves and bo-hoo “the rest of the world just won’t understand us”. They love their country but that does not make them not blind to its shortcomings. I hope they stay that way. In any case, I intend to.

  3. The Actual Problem: Bullying

I can sympathize with anyone who comes out as trans because I know what it’s like to be bullied. I was bullied myself for many years due to my Italian origin as well as my upbringing while I had to live among persons who were on a lower social level than I. I was e.g. accused of being stuck-up and “inhibited”. I know now that the female bullies were envious of my self-esteem and insinuating that I was missing “fun”; while the males were counting on another girl being at any guy’s disposal for free and were angry when I didn’t let them have their way with me. 

The actual problem with any kind of intolerance and discrimination is bullying. Whatever form it takes, bullying is or ought to be unacceptable. Bullies will be bullies, they do not care who they harass and why: if they e.g. can be convinced to leave trans people alone, they will vent their frustrations and build up their self-image by bullying people who are fat or black or whatever. Except trans people won’t be there to witness that (unless by coincidence they are both trans and fat / black etc.) 

We live in a world that gives a great deal of importance on competitiveness; as a result, even in families, schools and other institutions that ought to educate children and youngsters to be respectful towards themselves and others, bullying is often not seen as such, or simply downplayed as “assertiveness”. Bullies do not want to hear reasonable argumentation and learn to be sympathetic: they want to show off their power, provoke an emotional reaction from their victims to see how far they can go, and gloat when they can hurt them. They will not change their minds and they will never be trustworthy, no matter how many discussions about your particular situation you have with them. 

To bullies, the world is a jungle where only the strongest have the right to survive; any attempt to make them rethink their attitude will only make them laugh at their victims’ alleged stupidity (because that’s what a humane, respectful attitude is to them) even more. The only language they understand is violence. If you are bullied, protect and, if you can, defend yourself; never try to discuss. Minorities were silent and subdued for such a long time with good reason: because they knew that the more they held their heads up and did not hide what made them different, the more targets they offered for bullies. No one ought to go in hiding because he is queer or black or Jewish etc., but sometimes it’s unavoidable simply for self-protection. I am almost fifty years old and I have never witnessed a nasty person changing for the better. If anything, they became worse, because every time they got away, they felt more superior than before.

Particularly sly bullies will make their victims believe that they have changed, maybe even pulling off the role “I’m a victim myself”. Please, please, whether you belong to a group of minorities or not: don’t listen to them. Ever. Maybe they once were victims, but it turned them into arseholes, and now they are sunk too far in their own filth to care. Compassion is a good thing, but it should never go as far as to delude yourself, endure abuse and sympathize until you become an object for compassion yourself.

For instance, I like wearing dresses, cooking and sewing and looking after my household. Fifty years ago, that would have made me a pattern housewife; nowadays, feminists would either want to strangle me or at least have a good laugh at my expense. This just goes to show how short-sighted any kind of prejudice and bullying is. Any human being ought to follow its own nature with a healthy self-esteem, and esteem others as well. But with our today’s view of the world we are supposed to be not altruistic and respectful but “strong” so that “we will make our way in life” (i.e. feed capitalism in any way we can); and nothing can make you feel “strong” more easily than finding someone who is allegedly weaker and pick on him. We are expected to be “winners”, and the first thing winners need are “losers” to serve them as a foil. The pool from which to choose is large.

  4. Who Is Subject to Intolerance Can’t Be Intolerant… Really?

For many years of my life, I always found myself a supporter of someone who was ostracized for one reason or another.

A woman who had left her husband. (It was the early Eighties.) A gay man. A girl who had been harassed by being called ugly. A woman who had been abused sexually by a family member. A woman from East Germany (I live in the West and there are lots of prejudices.)

For the record: these persons were of different age, origin, upbringing, social status, intellectual level and character, and they did not know one another.

I knew and supported them for years, listening, loyal, supportive, interested in their problems and personal development. I never attacked or criticized them. And each and every one of them sooner or later accused me of “not understanding them” and “being prejudiced towards them”. In the case of the abused woman this was particularly unfair because I have been abused myself in my family, though psychically and not sexually. The divorced woman, my own mother, viciously accused me of lying and being in league with her ex-husband after I had been loyal only to her for entire decades.

It appears these people only were my “friends” as long as I told them what they wanted to hear. When I suffered, I was put off with “pull yourself together”. Like I had no problems, because the only people in the world having problems were them. Thank you very much. So, I was supposed to accept their growing insolence due to their being such poor victims, while from their point of view I deserved neither understanding nor respect.

Only recently, in the aftermath of the riots caused by the killing of George Floyd, I posted a comment on a video on youtube… guess what. I was immediately attacked by a black woman saying that my “stupid remark” just went to prove how a white person would never understand “things like these”. She had not even read my post carefully enough to understand what I actually wanted to say, she simply felt entitled to offend me.

I do not say that I dislike trans people or that they are bad, I’m sure there are as many good or bad people among them as anywhere. If someone says e.g. that though born with male organs they identify as female that is their very own affair. I must not like it or understand it. Tolerance means leaving other people alone to do as they please. Any person is “bad” only the moment they behave badly towards others; being different from the mainstream does not count.

But when I have to watch and read people nowadays defending trans or gays or blacks or some other minority, believing to be being open-minded or particularly noble and heroic by supporting them, all I can say is that I have been there and it did me no good. I won’t get caught up in another wave of “minority tolerance”: in my experience, it’s a waste of time. Many of those who now proudly burn their Harry Potter books and proclaim that they will no longer support the author, respectively that they “love Harry Potter but love trans people more” will make the experiences I made. Except they most probably won’t talk about that, because these experiences are so humiliating.

Minorities of any kind do not want to be supported, understood and defended by people who are not in their shoes: it hurts their personal pride. Which I can understand, although it’s a lame excuse for being mean to the very persons whom they expect help and support from. They will tend to envy the ones who do not have their problems due to being white / straight / cis etc., and consequently turn a blind eye to the fact that these can have huge problems of their own. Many of them expect their supporters not only to understand them but to support them enthusiastically at every turn, and if these don’t, (or if there is the slightest reason for them to assume that they don’t) these “victims” will feel entitled to be offended and become vicious aggressors, with a whole fan club behind them protecting their backs and convinced of promoting a honorable cause.

I am fed up with being tolerant. It seems you can hardly do anything anymore without offending someone: watching Disney movies or old classics, wearing a pink dress, calling a woman a woman instead of woman / trans / cis / non-binary etc. There is always someone who will point to these things saying why they’re not right.

I’m sorry but clichés, prejudices and stereotypes can’t be totally avoided: the human brain is not wired to know all facts about everything and everyone. What you can do is teach children and adolescents to be respectful towards everybody, even if they don’t like a particular person or group. Nobody has the right to force you to like everybody and to agree with every life style. But it seems the world has become full of people who seem to have nothing better to do but feel personally offended at the drop of a hat and make a fuss about how hurt their feelings are. Helping someone out who is in a difficult situation is not the same as catering to the keyed-up hysterics of some entitled brat. Seeing the difference between these two can be quite difficult because the latter often show their true face only after years and years, when they realize that for some reason or other, they can no longer squeeze you out for their personal benefit giving nothing back.

Who follows my account is aware that I did not like The Rise of Skywalker. Heaven knows I wrote enough about it. But I did not and will not harass the studios twittering, mailing, making youtube videos etc. ranting and raving about what rubbish it supposedly is for years, like the haters of The Last Jedi. Listening to them, one would think their whole reason for living had been destroyed on purpose. We most probably largely have to thank them for the Episode IX disaster, the flattest and most uninteresting Star Wars film ever made; not to mention the harassment the actress Kelly Marie Tran was subject to. Anyone has the right to dislike the development the authors chose for the saga, but for heaven’s sake: after all, it’s just a movie. If such a relatively insignificant thing can be hyped up like this, I don’t want to know what’s in store coming from people who feel offended for much more personal reasons, like race or gender.

Tolerance cannot be one-sided; it cannot mean that whatever one side wants does not have to be reasonable or useful, but they are entitled to scream and yell until the other side gives in. (If for no other reason than to satisfy them so they will finally shut it.)

  Conclusions (I did warn you…)

I. Hogwarts is not my world

Hogwarts is supposed to sound like a dream come true, but I never liked the idea of a “school” where pupils, who are still children and adolescents, are taught spells and engaged in games and tournaments where they have to risk life and limb. These facts are commonly overlooked, I guess, because “the heroes” usually don’t get hurt. The heroes overcome their traumata but do not get wiser from them, on the contrary: their suffering is supposed to make them seem nobler so that we will root for them more. Harry loses his parents before he could get to know them; his adoptive family mistreats him, but he doesn’t care about them; Cedric dies in his stead, but they were not close friends; Dumbledore dies when Harry was getting too old for a father figure; Snape dies, but Harry never liked him either. The list could go on. Harry always remains an innocent; he never gets to look into a metaphorical mirror where he has to see all of the bad that is inside of him, his darker sides are always projected and personified by someone else. (When he does look into a metaphorical mirror in the first book and movie, he finds out that the Philosopher’s stone is, magically, in his pocket. How convenient.)

I can’t invest emotionally in a fictional character who stands out before having earned or deserved it. Harry is like a Chosen One who skips the hero’s journey: from an abusive household, he is catapulted into a whole new world made of mystery and wonder, where he immediately is singled out, admired before he lifts a finger, unexplainably lucky, awed due to his heritage, envied by who is not as special as he. Harry remains untainted by own sins because other people do the dirty work for him; which seems ok because they are, for one reason or another, uncool - Dumbledore = old, Ron = weak / foolish, Hermione / Snape = unpleasant, his parents = dead, and so on. Yes, Harry sometimes makes mischief, but people usually cut him slack because of his past as an abused child, his parent’s tragic death, and his undefinable power that makes him resist the Evil One. The Dursleys, Snape and Draco don’t tolerate him, which is why they are coded as villains or at least very disagreeable characters. How do you recognize a villain in these stories? Simple, he’s being mean to Harry. Everybody else gives him special treatment because you don’t want to upset the person whom you expect to defeat the ultimate villain. I always found his character bland and uninteresting. We e.g. learned why Snape was so lonely and bitter, but not why Harry was so “good” although he had grown up unloved, in an abusive household, until he was eleven. 

For decades now Harry Potter fandoms and clubs gather all over the world proudly proclaiming that they are something really special and not like “them Muggles”. No wonder these stories are so popular with who feels misunderstood and downtrodden. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with capacities ordinary people can’t even dream of? When maybe you’re just a common person, shocking thought. Nowadays, if you want to be someone outstanding, make it up in your mind and it automatically becomes true. And if you identify with the protagonist, you get to be a hero before you did anything special into the bargain. Harry is a victim of other person’s sins and / or blunders and his story is about unfolding the details of his victimhood and correcting them so he gets his happy ending. We are supposed to sympathize with this: well, I can’t. Victimhood and alleged inborn virtue are insufficient to make a protagonist “overcome his trials” and emerge triumphantly over his sidekicks or enemies, without any real loss on his side, while they get killed or, at best, ridiculed. And I will not pick up the part of that sidekick any more.

 II. Feminism Is Not My World

While I am an advocate for women’s independence, I do not identify as a feminist. I have an independent nature: that does not mean I am or should be ashamed of being a lady. This where we live is the era of the tomboys, of the feisty, cool, tough females. And often they don’t just go their own way but feel entitled to scorn women who do have their own job and live with a man who respects them, but also like the color pink, pretty clothes, flowers, romantic stories and everything else the new wave feminism likes to dismiss as “brainwashing”. Today you can hardly let your daughter watch a Disney movie without being accused of undermining her identity with false ideas about womanhood because, oh wonder, it seems a “real woman” must think and act like a badass guy.

Louder for the feminists in the back: you can actually look and behave in a way that is coded as “female” and be intelligent, independent and self-respecting. Women who went their own way have existed in every age and culture, often making great achievements and changing the world around them; they were intelligent, compassionate and took matters into their own hands. They did not proclaim that they unfairly were victims of men: they knew how to make men respect them. Being a woman is not a stereotype thrust upon you, it’s natural. If someone rejects qualities that are identified as “female”, it’s their very own affair. If I wanted to return the offense, I might as easily say that “feminists” and “empowered females” are just too smug to do the dishes.

 III. Trans, cis, binary etc. is not my world

For millennia, people had to accept the sex they were born with. Now you can have surgery and take hormones to get rid of a problem which you can’t solve on your own. Sorry, but I can’t get my head around it: to me the gender diversity discussion is unnatural. Good and right things are always the same, they cannot change with time and “scientifical / medical progress”. Tomboyish females and same-sex lovers are as old as the world, but it’s only a few decades since you can surgically have your sex changed if you feel uncomfortable with it, and even less time since you can claim the right to be both male and female or not to choose any sex at all. Excuse me, what’s behind it? Fear of missing out? I know, nowadays we are supposed to “change the stars”, but excuse me, it’s not possible. Rowling did not change the stars: as I wrote above, she got lucky.

I can say from own experience that for healthy growth a person needs limits. It is not “tolerant”, in my opinion, to say that one can be male or female or binary or none of that, all by choice. If I raise a child calling it a boy because he was born with male organs, or by Catholic standards because I am a Catholic myself, I believe no one has the right to say that I am intruding into its personality. I would be intolerant if said child would later come out to me e.g. as trans or atheist and I would dismiss its identification and opinion as a matter of principle, or disown it altogether. Rejecting rules and values is like pretending that it is wrong to be e.g. female, or straight, or that Catholic values are rubbish. None of that is true. It is true that a trans or gay or atheist or Buddhist etc. is not automatically an immoral or inferior person.

I can accept other people’s choices about their gender identification; that doesn’t mean I must like or support their mindset. It doesn’t automatically make me “transphobic”. If it is intrusive or intolerant to say that someone is male because he was born with male organs, what will come next? Will “normal” females no longer be entitled to protect their most intimate privacy because any guy can share our private space, like a public toilet or dress room, claiming he’s a woman (and he might well not be trans, but a lying voyeur?) Will we no longer give our children male or female names? Not teach them any values? No longer send them to kindergarten, to school, maybe not even feed or clothe them or furnish their nurseries according to our own judgement, because the poor babies can’t choose by themselves yet?

We all did not choose to be born in the first place.

If you want to protect your children from suffering, don’t have them: suffering is a part of life. Trans is not my world. I don’t want to destroy it or to behave rudely towards it; I simply do not want to have part in it. I want people to care for me, and to do so because I am me, not because I come out with this or another sexual orientation or make myself an advocate for people who belong to this or another minority.

All of the above is why I will not jump on the current “I defend minorities” respectively “I defend downtrodden victims” train. The good part is that I don’t have any Harry Potter book or merchandise I could burn anyway. 😊

Anyone who is uncomfortable with my point of view can unfollow me. Bullies will be blocked and reported without further ado. Greetings from a notorious Muggle.

[vulpinmusings]

Letters from Buxcord #3 - Bayou Basilisk

Mystery 3 of my group Monster of the Week campaign (See Episodes 1 and 2 here) concluded last night, wherein we had a most unpleasant experience in the local bayou.

Samantha,

I’ve struggled over whether or not to write this letter for weeks, uncertain if it’s worth the effort if I can’t even send it or the previous ones to you.  I just decided to keep carrying on for two reasons: because I know you’ll want to know my stories once I return and I’ll appreciate having these letters on hand as notes, and because writing them will make me retain a hope of returning eventually.  

I make a promise, I will get back to Taryn.

I just don’t know if it’ll be through my own efforts.

So, why was I so down?  I went to see Madam Weaver to see if she was as informed as her note claimed.  She lives in a somewhat run-down part of Buxcord, but her own house is in great shape.  Weaver’s an older lady and definitely well attuned to the ways of magic, although I can’t quite place what her personal style is yet.  She gave me some insight into this universe’s magic, and apparently the streams are individually far more potent than I’m accustomed to using, so my issues are less a matter of mis-aligned Weaving than creating overloaded Weaves.  That’s going to take a fair bit of time to adjust to; I may have to unlearn everything I’ve assumed about the ratio of strings in a Weave to the power and versatility of spells.

It could also be a result of magic not being as widely used here as it is in Taryn or most of the ‘verses along the Chain, or part of the fallout of recent events. Madam Weaver told me that not too long ago, but before I arrived in this universe, there had been an explosion of magic on the scale of a uranium bomb which had caused a kind of “refreshing” of the magical energy in the world.  That wave I suffered through prior to the incident with the pig-faced murder ghost might have been an aftershock of that explosion; if so, it’s the first one to have occurred.

None of that is what distressed me though.  What did it was Madam Weaver’s knowledge of inter-universe portals.  To summarize, if I wanted to create a stable portal to Taryn from Buxcord, I would need to sacrifice something that originates from my destination universe. Something more… substantial than some of my cards or other personal possessions. I’d have to give up part of myself.  The only other option right now is to sit tight and wait for someone – be it Rubia or that skvetchte Raposinho that got me into this mess in the first place or our friends at the end of the Chain – to figure out how to pinpoint my location in the multiverse and cast a portal my way.  And that without any of you actually having this letter in front of you to inform you of my situation!

Also, “True Name” magic is apparently more than just a charlatan's facade for coercion techniques in this universe.  I haven’t had any reason to question my defenses against such things here yet, except for the fact that I did get mind-controlled that one time by a form of magic I still don’t fully grasp...

Bah re...

Might as well put what just happened into this letter, try to end it on a more upbeat note.

Although magic is not a commonly accepted reality around here, I’ve managed to establish enough of a reputation as a solver of problems to pull in enough money to afford the rent on an apartment.  You’d laugh to see how empty it is, but I at least managed to acquire a couch so I have somewhere soft to sleep.  A few days after moving in, I was awakened by a knock on my door.  It was a young man leaning on a cane, one of my new neighbors who goes by Rocky.  He asked me for my help in locating his missing twin brother, William, who had left the previous evening claiming a sudden need to test one of the new boats at Bayou Boating, and had not returned.  Always eager to be doing something, and needing a bit of a refresher to the finances, I set off immediately.

My first clue that things were going to be more interesting than a simple missing person’s case was bumping into the ever-uncanny Nollthep just outside Bayou Boating.  Once again, the fellow was on an errand for his mysterious boss, who wanted a mage to lend them a hand.

I must admit, I’m growing slightly suspicious of Nollthep.  Last time we worked together, he was seeking a Wiccan, and after the pig-face was dealt with I saw Penelope Clemonte’s name on the official list of its victims, when I know she was in perfect health.  Now, here Nollthep was looking for a mage and being very intent on the word “hand.”  Partly out of my ever-honest nature and partly out of a desire to try and protect any innocents, I volunteered that I am a mage.

We went inside the Bayou Boating storefront to find the last member of the unofficial “Buxcord Weirdness Magnet” trio, Lea, observing the company’s boss, Fitz, dressing down two of his employees over a missing boat.  When questioned, none of them knew where William was but were willing to believe he was responsible for the missing boat.  Fitz had already called in the police and was in a very bad mood, so it took a lot of fast-talk and at least one dose of Lea’s charm magic to convince him to let us go out into the bayou with another of his precious fan-driven boats.  He only agreed on the condition that one of the employees, Piper, came with us and drove the boat.

Nollthep, in his usual straightforward style, dragged poor Piper out to the boat and hacked the mooring rope apart before anyone could make a move to untie it properly.  As we started out, following the usual route used for testing new boats, Piper and Lea realized they knew each other from early childhood and spent a while catching up.  I didn’t pay them too much mind, being more focused on looking for signs of William and his boat.  I don’t recall what I said, exactly, but some comment I made to Nollthep’s rambling prompted him to pull out his own eyes and swap them around, much to Lea’s horror. Somehow, Piper failed to notice the trick. How Nolly’s managed to last so long with next to nobody suspecting him of not being human, I may never know.

As we drove by the second of many islands in the bayou, we spotted a boat upturned on the shore.  Piper brought us in for a closer look, but after a thorough search of the island we found no signs of William or any other human presence.  As we boarded our boat, I saw Rocky in the near distance in a small motor boat, so we went over to ask him what he was doing.  After all, he’d asked me to do the bulk of the foot-work.  As Piper was helping him onto our craft, Lea spotted something moving in the water and floored the accelerator, nearly knocking the rest of us off our feet, and ramping off the back of the 20-foot long python that was starting to breach the surface.  As she was not sitting in the driver’s chair, Lea’s control over the boat was lacking, and we ended up whirling around and crashing into the snake and throwing everyone but Rocky into the water.  Nollthep sank like a rock and stayed under for a few seconds before teleporting himself back onto the boat.  As for myself, I managed to call up a swell of water to shove the snake back long enough for Rocky to drive over to us. Nollthep locked eyes with the snake and froze for a crucial moment before throwing a handful of his exploding powder, buying enough time for Piper to get out of the water.  As Lea was trying to follow suit, however, the snake charged in and slammed the boat, launching Lea into the air, where she proceeded to defy gravity until Rocky hooked his cane around her ankle and pulled her in.

The snake – basilisk, rather, for that’s what I soon determined it was – tried to wrap me in its coils as I struggled toward the boat, but Nollthep caught it around the neck with his chain of handkerchiefs, freeing me to climb back aboard and give the basilisk a perfunctory fireball in the face. Piper took control of the boat and whipped us around to head back to the docks at speed.  The basilisk made chase as Nollthep threw his cards at it to try and convince it to leave.  It didn’t break off, though, until Rocky leaned against Nolly for balance, raised his cane, and channeled a beam of ice magic through it at the basilisk.

I do seem to be attracting all the local mages as hoped, albeit slowly and sporadically.

The police still hadn’t arrived when we returned, and Fitz was none too happy to learn we’d basically accomplished nothing of note.  William was still MIA, the stolen boat was still marooned, and there was skvetchte big snake swimming around Bayou Boating’s tour area.  Actually, the snake bothered him far less than it should have, since he declared he fully intended to open the tours in two days’ time as scheduled, man-eating snake or no man-eating snake.

As we stepped outside to discuss our next move, Nollthep unexpectedly blinked away for about a minute and returned with a white dove that took an immediate and insistent interest in me and Rocky.  Nollthep claimed the bird, which he called Sven, was a new friend, but he seemed nervous and more jittery than usual with it around.

I wanted to consult with Madam Weaver about how to deal with the basilisk, to confirm its weaknesses and find out where to obtain what we would need, but I was uncertain about introducing her to Nollthep just yet, so I convinced him and Lea to let me go alone.  The Madam informed me that basilisks are fatally allergic to weasel blood and griffon tears and that the lab that had produced the Santa-squatch and not-deer from back around Yuletide might be able to provide the materials.

When I returned to Bayou Boating, I found Lea yelling at Nollthep about him attempting to kidnap Rocky via teleport and misplacing the man.  The police had also arrived in my absence and Lea had barely managed to convince them there was a dangerous snake in the bayou, so they were waiting on Animal Control rather than heading out in their own boat.

After assisting Lea in brow-beating Nolly into teleporting around town to find Rocky, Lea and I made our way to the lab.  Nollthep popped into the lab well ahead of us, much to the annoyance of Professor Thomas, before rejoining us just outside and proceeding to annoy the professor again via the intercom.  I shoved Nolly aside and told the professor our reason for coming, and he invited Lea and me in.  Nollthep had to stay outside, as Thomas believed he’d done something bad to the former Professor Case.  So, that was another mark against Nolly…

As it turns out, Professor Thomas’s lab holds a wide variety of tissue and fluid samples from all kinds of creatures, mundane and Mythic, explaining where Case had acquired the materials to make his Christmas monsters.  Thomas handed over a vial of weasel blood without much comment, but was hesitant to give up his only sample of griffon tears, as he was hoping to use them to save the beasts from either current or eminent extinction.  We managed to come to an agreement: I could have the tears in exchange for bringing Thomas a sample from the basilisk, Nollthep, or both.  It was a fair enough deal.

Back at Bayou Baoting, Lea went inside to work her magic on Fitz so we could take a boat out again. While she was doing that, Nollthep got the bright idea of building a boat of our own using the wood from the docks.  He ripped out a good part of a pier before I managed to stop him, and he only did a half-baked job at fixing the damage, all the while twitching under the stare of the dove that I’m sure is not actually a dove which was still insisting on using me as a perch.

Lea came back with Piper in tow, and we launched back into the bayou.  As we neared the island where we’d found the basilisk the first time, Nollthep saw something hanging in a tree and swam over for a closer look.  As the boat drew nearer, I saw Rocky’s cane floating in the water, fished it out, and then looked up to see that it was Rocky himself stuck in the tree.  I tried to levitate him down, but I must have over-corrected for the power difference because the spell fizzled quickly.  Lea jumped out to catch Rocky and wound up floating under her own power again.  As I held out the cane for them to use to haul themselves back aboard, the basilisk’s head emerged from behind the tree and locked eyes with me.

Some say the stare of a basilisk is instant death, but I can say with authority that the Buxcord variety at least merely instills a partial paralysis.  Lea panicked and tried to fly away, dropping Rocky onto the boat and drawing the beast’s attention.  It lunged at her as Nollthep, who had teleported back to the boat, tried to hit it with his explosive powder and only succeeded in momentarily blinding everyone on board.

While I struggled to overcome the double disadvantage of sluggish muscles and abused retinas, the basilisk bit Lea in the leg and pulled her into the water. She she reacted by causing a nearby tree to slam into and ensnare the snake.  As Lea climbed aboard the boat, Nollthep lassoed the basilisk to try and pull it closer and I applied a Tangler to twist its head around for a dose of weasel blood and griffon’s tears.

Lea, in a panic and maybe a bit delirious from basilisk venom, attempted to fly away.  Nollthep pulled her back to the boat so he and Rocky could attempt first-aid. Nollthep revealed a rare moment of actual knowledge in attempting the method of sucking the venom out of Lea’s wounds, which he actually managed to do.  He then swallowed the venom, revealing the incompleteness of his knowledge.  Rocky’s contribution was to try and seal the bite wound with ice.

As this was going on, I was force-feeding the basilisk.  The weasel blood and griffon tears didn’t kill it immediately, but it still had a violent reaction. Convulsions and blood from the mouth, all that good “dying from the inside out” stuff.  Lea and I sped the process up via another tree slammed into the basilisk’s back and an explosive fireball to the head.

Meanwhile, Nollthep tried to expel the venom from his system as quickly as possible and shed around half his skin in the process, much to Rocky’s disgust.

I grabbed a floating chunk of basilisk from the water and bit of Nolly hide, figuring there was no sense in not giving Thomas both of the things he’d requested if they were both available.

Once we got back to shore, Rocky and Piper loaded Lea into a golf cart and took her to the hospital, adamantly denying Nollthep’s request to join them.  Once the two of us were alone, putting aside that creepy dove, I took the opportunity to lay out a long list of advice for Nollthep regarding his erratic, uncanny, and decidedly not-human behavior.  He thanked me for the input, and we went our separate ways.

I had pegged Nollthep for a non-human from the start, and that engendered a feeling of camaraderie with him, but I find myself starting to question the wisdom of treating him as an ally.  Even ignoring his version of normal behavior, which has grown harder and harder to excuse over the months, there have been two instances of people who Nollthep has shown high interest in and survived encounters with dangerous entities only to later come to harm.  Once is chance and twice is coincidence, but if something happens to Rocky or someone at Bayou Boating…

I’m not sure what I’ll do, yet, but it probably won’t end well.

So much for upbeat endings.

- Ash

[novarasalas]

Not to put any pressure on you but I'm really interested on your thoughts about how Krolia and Honerva compare as mothers to their sons.

Oooo…that’s agood one. I was just thinking about this, as I’m getting later intoreviewing season 7.

Even then, I have toadmit that my first reaction to your ask was “Uh…haha…theydon’t?”

Then I managed tohave an actual thought, and I rewatched a few episodes, learning abit along the way.

I’ll preface thiswhole thing by admitting that my idea of Honerva lines up with thefan theory that she and Zarkon had been trying to start a family, butfor whatever reason, it wasn’t working out for them. Her coldnesstowards Alfor when he mentions Allura could possible support thattheory. But it’s when they meet again later, when she screams that“quintessence is life” before collapsing that sealed it for me.Since we were told in an (interview? con panel?) that she was pregnant when they entered the rift,it really seems to me that she was about to lose the pregnancy, andmay have lost others before then.

Unless they actuallyconfirmed that at some point. I have a hard time keeping up with allthe new interviews.

…Ok, onward.

These two ascharacters don’t seem to truly have much in common, do they? Theyonly thing I could really think of is that they met their respectivelovers because of Voltron, and that they both lost contact with theirsons until said sons had grown into men.

So let’s start atthe beginning.

Before having Keith,Krolia was shown as being willing to sacrifice herself to keep theBlue Lion out of the Empire’s hands. Even though she said that hership being destroyed was the best thing that ever happened to her,she still made that her mission. And when the Empire came back, sheknew that she had to leave to fight them, risking her own life,knowing that she’d probably never see her lover and son again.

Specifically, shesaid: “I must go[…]I’m sorry. But this is the best way for meto keep you both safe.”

Honerva was ascientist pushing the boundaries of knowledge and scientificadvancement, eventually to her own detriment. Nothing wasgoing to stop her from opening that rift, no matter what her reasonswere for studying it. At first it was all about the science, andthen, if my idea about her is right, it became about the possibilitythat the quintessence would help her carry a child to term. Thequintessence corrupted her, drove her mad, and the encouragement fromZarkon only made it worse. And in the end, even he didn’t careabout his own people’s welfare. Even if it doomed the planet andeveryone on it, he was going to save them.

As she’s laying onwhat was possibly her deathbed, Honerva is babbling almostincoherently: “We must have it […] Quintessence […] into therift. It’s the only way.”

In the end, theyboth did what they felt they needed to for their sons.

Krolia was willingto sacrifice herself to keep her son safe.

Honerva was willingto sacrifice everyone else so that her son could live.

Later on, both womenreunite with their sons, and the way these meetings go down couldn’tbe much more different.

I doubt that Kroliawas thrilled to find that Keith had made his way into the middle ofthe space war. And I would think she was even less thrilled to findthat he was a member of the Blade, and now pretty much in a constantstate of danger. She could have, in the moment of realization, lether emotions get the better of her. She could have panicked, gottenangry, come to weeping. But she didn’t. She only gave Keith a sternlook.

“You’re late.”

There were biggerthings to worry about. They needed to first make it out alive, thenthey could deal with it all. She doesn’t launch into an expositionon the subject, but instead lets him ask the questions. This allowshim to set the pace of his own learning. After all, being reunitedwith your mother after 20 years is a very big deal. Just the act ofit can be overwhelming, so avoiding an information overload is amust.

In the end, they’reable to understand each other (with the aid ofdense-star-time-magic), and by the time they leave the space whale,they stand as equals. They’re still mother and son, and they loveeach other as such, but they are both capable adults that can rely oneach other. Their relationship is built on trust and understanding,which is a beautiful thing considering Keith’s own hang ups earlyon.

And I mean it about them being equals. As she apologizes about having to leave him in “The Ruins”, it’s him that puts her at ease about it. It’s a great and mature relationship they have.

Honerva andLotor on the other hand….oh boy. It wasn’t so much of a reunion, was it? It wasmore of a forced realization. For Honerva, she finally rememberedthat she had actually had the child she’d so desperately wanted.And for Lotor, he was forced with confronting the fact that the witchwho had helped his father torment him for 10,000 years was actuallythe woman he’d been damn near worshiping this entire time.

She has him broughtto her without his consent and stands over him, looking down on himas she claims him as her own. She offers the barest hint of anapology for her previous actions, but still, it doesn’t seem tooccur to her that the way she’s treated him in the past could evercloud his feelings for her. After all, she’s Honerva, the once he’sbeen striving after. He should be oh so happy to have found her.

Instead, he callsher an abomination.

She orders him to betaken away.

Even though he hasjust thoroughly rejected her, Honerva isn’t about to let him gonow.

She’s doing thisto protect him, you see? She knows how people have always felt abouthim. She knows the way his own father treated him. And now she knowthat his only real and true allies have just turned their back onhim.

It seems at thispoint that to her, nothing matters except Lotor. I couldeasily imagine her standing in front of her Kuron-a-vision™portal,muttering “my son, Lotor, mine” over and over for hours on end.

I’m not even surethat Zarkon getting dusted mattered to her. Though, to be fair, wedidn’t see her reaction. It may have, for whatever reason, made hereven more obsessed with Lotor, even thought he’s the one who killedhim.

In any case, insteadof trust and understanding for Honerva and Lotor, there’s onlyjealousy and obsession.

—

Ok. I sure did typea lot of words up there. To sum up, I’ll put it in abstract terms, because that always helps!

Krolia as a motheris a gentle hand that helps you back onto your feet so that you canstand beside her. She’s a soft nudge in the right direction. She’sthe firm, yet reassuring, word: Go. Do what you must. Wherever lifetakes you, I’m here for you, and I support you.

Honerva as a motheris a sharp, clawed hand on the back of your neck, making you bleed.She’s a harsh shove into the dirt below you. She’s a cruel word:I’ve sacrificed everything for you, and this is how you repay me?You’re nothing without me.

So after all this, Ifeel like they don’t really compare; they contrast, almostperfectly.

And I have a reallybad feeling that these two are on a collision course.

Honerva watchedKeith introduce Krolia as his mother. She watched as they snitched onLotor, causing  the team to turn on him. I have a bad, bad feelingthat given her own issues, Honerva is going to be out to hurt them.They hurt her son, and he’s all she ever wanted.

…I hope I’mwrong. I’m usually wrong. Please come through for me, guys…letKeith be happy, at least. Don’t make him lose her again.

[g0ldpainted]

chocobros react to s/o having powers like Negasonic Teenage Warhead?

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for requestion something!

Sorry that this took so long! Aaah and this is only part ½ because this post would be too long otherwise. The second part can be found here and it contains Gladio and Ignis!

This one only features Noctis and Prompto.

I’ll be honest, I had no clue who Negasonic Teenage Warhead was until I looked it up - and I found out there are two versions with different powers. All info’s been taken from the Marvel wikia (1, 2).

I didn’t quite know if I should just flat out write one scenario for all of them or headcanons for each of them. But then I felt like HC would be too repetitive. So I just decided to write little scenarios for each character and write some “sum-it-up”-headcanons before.

I hope you enjoy it. :)

Sum-It-Up-Headcanons:

They’d all be very surprised 

They’d all be very curious and supportive

Wait you can travel through time? Can I do that, too? Can you make me travel with you?! How does that even work?!

They’d love to be able to use them

Not even once upset you didn’t tell them before 

Oh lord, his S/O’s abilities will definitely be used during fights! They. Are. So. Useful.

Of course not if they hurt them

But if they’re fine with it and they don’t cause too much damage for them; go ahead. 

They’re rooting for their S/O (especially Prompto)

Hey, she’s preparing her special attack! GO (Y/N)! GO (Y/N)! 

They all admire those powers tremendously

Can you imagine all the cool new combat strategies? Oh, hell yeah.

Scenarios start beneath the read more! *app users open in phone browers pls I’ll find a solution to this soon*

Noctis: (“Nuclear Detonation” & “Reality Warping”) (plays pre-game)

“Watch out!” his s/o shouted from afar as a magitek assassin prepared to attack their precious lover.

The fight wasn’t going well. They had been ambushed in the middle of the night by a swarm of magitek infantry. From close combat magiteks to range attack magiteks - they were all on the field. Some wielded their rifle, others their axes or swords and snipers were also nearby, aiming at them. Their tent was surrounded by vicious enemies, there was no way out. It was kill or be killed; fight or die. They chose to fight.

Noctis turned around only to face the assassin who was already lunging back to strike his attack. It was close, very close but his S/O managed to protect him. For the first time in months, they used their powers by altering reality, creating a wall of stone right behind her lover to shield him from the attacks.

“Wh-what?!” Noctis stuttered in confusion as he finally managed to dodge an oncoming attack and warp away.

Once beside his S/O, he seemed utterly confused about what was happening while they were planning their next move. “There is only one thing I can do..” his S/O thought as they dropped their weapon and balled their hands up into fists.

“What are you doing?! Are you insane?!” Noctis growled, not understanding what they were doing.

Bullets kept flying their way, Noctis managed to protect himself by using one of Gladiolus’ old shields. It took him a few moments before he saw how flames were beginning to radiate around his S/O. But once realization hit him, his eyes widened but before there was anything he could do, his S/O wrapped their arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Close your eyes” they commanded as they combined their powers and only seconds later caused a massive explosion around them, sending enemies into the distance, killing them with the shockwave or the flames.

Grass burned, enemies broke apart but Noctis and his S/O were okay.It didn’t take long before the flames died down and their body grew limp against Noctis’ body.

“Holy.. Six.. - What just happened?! Is.. Is that some new magic? Did I mess up, was that one of my flasks and I overloaded it?!” he panicked as he held their body.

They sighed, shaking their head as their body started trembling. Seconds later, they passed out. Noctis brought them back to their car. Their clothes, their tent and other items were all burnt, there was nothing left to pack up. The little lovers trip they both planned was officially canceled and he drove both of them back to Insomnia. 

“I’m sorry I put you through this, this is my fault” Noctis blamed himself as he drove, always checking on his S/O by looking through the rear mirror.

They were sleeping peacefully in the back, regaining all the power they used in an attempt to protect their beloved prince from all the magiteks.Roughly an hour later, the Regalia drove in front of the Citadel. Although the prince lived on his own in an apartment, he believed his S/O needed urgent care by one of the King’s own personal nurses. One of them was always on duty, even at 4am in the morning.

“They used one of my flasks and I think I did something wrong - they must’ve gotten hurt!” Noctis called out while he entered the Citadel, holding his sleeping S/O in his arms.

Much to his delight, the guards came to aid him by calling their nurse. Turns out, Noctis’ S/O was only overly exhausted and needed rest. Nothing made sense to him. He took the blame, the scolding by his father, King Regis and helped his beloved get good rest. It took them 2 days to finally wake up.His S/O found themselves in Noctis’ bedroom, on his soft, King-sized bed. Their head laid in Noctis lap who gently brushed through their hair.

“You’re finally awake..” he whispered, taking on of their hands into his.

“Yes” they replied, their voice weak and rough from lack of usage and water.

“Here, have something to drink” Noctis leaned back towards his nightstand, quickly pouring water into a glass before handing it to his S/O.

They slowly sat up, leaning back on their elbow before they took a sip.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve known.. I didn’t know I messed up a flas-” he began to excuse his actions and what happened the night they camped outside but his S/O cut him off.

“Ssh, no,” they hushed him, placing their index finger on his lips, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

At that, the prince went quiet, his eyes pinned on theirs, listening intently.

“Ever since I was a child, I’ve been having these.. Special skills,” they began to explain, “As far as I understand, it’s similar to your magic but not granted by the Six… because I’ve been experimented on back when I was younger.”

With a soft gaze, he pulled them into his embrace, cradling their body carefully.

“You’ve been experimented on?” he wondered, placing a soft kiss on their hair.

“Yeah but.. It wasn’t painful or anything. I.. I just have these powers,” they elaborated, wrapping their arms around Noctis’ body.

“So you’re saying.. You caused those flames and that stone wall behind me with your own powers?” he asked, curious of what his lover had in store.

“I.. I guess I did” they nodded.

“But that doesn’t hurt, right?” the prince continued his row of questions.

“Not really. It’s just a.. Little.. Exhausting” they replied, nuzzling their face in the crook of his neck.

“A little, sure,” he joked, leaning his head on top of his S/O’s.

“Yeah” they laughed, knowing that it full on rendered them unconscious.

After a few minutes of holding each other, enjoying the other’s near, Noctis was the one to break the silence: “Your powers are amazing. You’re insanely strong, I admire that. You just blew those magiteks away like they were weightless?!”

Again, his S/O laughed.

“Those skills are absolutely unbelievable, yet I witnessed them with my own eyes. I bet you’ve got more in store!” he exclaimed, full of excitement.

“I.. I actually do” his S/O shyly admitted.

“Oh Six, you have to show me!” he proclaimed, “Tell me everything!”

Never in his entire life had he imagined that he’d meet someone that had equally - or even more powerful - skills than him. And his S/O was an absolute badass at using them as well.From there on out, they became a perfect, matching team.

Prompto: (“Telepathy”) (plays right before the time skip)For their 3 year anniversary, Prompto took his S/O out for a trip to Galdin Quay. The past months hadn’t always been easy. Daemons roamed the world, he was on a dangerous trip with his best friend, therefore had less couple-time with his S/O. But, for now, it was all over and they desperately needed some time together. Although they deeply loved each other, Prompto leaving to accompany his best friend caused a gap between the two. His S/O understood, didn’t hold him back but as weeks and even months passed by felt neglected. Prompto knew. That’s why he saved up as much money as he could and gave you a voucher for a day at Galdin Quay. This included a night at the hotel, dinner and breakfast and a trip to the spa - the full program. Only the best for his S/O.

“This is delicious, don’t you think!?” the energetic blonde called out as he took a bite of his Galdin Gratin. 

“Yeah..” his S/O replied, poking their fork into their Steamed Crab with Rock Salt.

“Too salty?” Prompto wondered while he continued to devour his dinner.

“I’m just not hungry,” their S/O stated, attempting to eat.

“Oh.. Okay” he murmured, confused by his S/O’s cold demeanor.

“Their mood was so good earlier.. Why are they acting so strange right now?” Prompto thought, frowning lightly while he ate.

“I’m sorry, maybe you’re right and I’m acting strange” his S/O read his mind and replied, “But this simply doesn’t feel.. Like us.”

Prompto’s eyes widened, shocked by what his lover said. 

“Did I say that aloud or did they just read my mind?” he thought, staring at his almost empty plate.

“Oh.. Sorry..” his S/O quickly apologized, realizing that they mistook his thoughts for his said words.

Prompto’s eyes met theirs in confusion.

“What do you mean this doesn’t feel like us?” he asked, trying to remember if he spoke his thoughts out loud or not.

“W-well.. You’re dressed in a fancy tux and your hair is styled differently.. And this is a very expensive place..” they started explaining, continuously shoving forks full of food in their mouth, not wanting to waste the food.

“Y-yeah but it’s our 3 year anniversary.. I.. I thought I’d take you out to some fancy place..” he reasoned, “It’s something special after all.”

“They don’t like it” he thought, gulping hard.

“It’s not that I don’t like it.. But I fear you’re wasting all the money you saved up on this” his S/O continued.

“How do they know!?” he thought, his eyes widened lightly.

“Prompto, we’ve been together for three full years. You’ve been working very hard as of lately and then you suddenly take me to this place. Adding both of these aspects together I assume you worked hard so you could afford this - for us” his S/O accidentally replied to his thoughts again.

“Exactly - for us. We haven’t spent a lot of time together lately and I really just want to make it up to you” he elaborated, biting his lip softly.

“But, love, why don’t we just go for a hike or camp somewhere like we used to?” his S/O suggested, watching him intently.

“I can’t tell them that I saw them talk to that rich guy.. He was so into them..” Prompto thought, sighing in reply.

“Are you jealous?” they wondered, catching him off guard again.

“N-no” he stuttered, blushing furiously because he was lying.

“You saw me speak to that one guy, didn’t you?” they continued to ask, putting down their fork and leaning back into their chair.

“I..- N-no” he continued to lie, searching for some other topic to talk about by glancing around the area.

“Oh Six, how do they know?!” he asked himself in his thoughts, internally panicking.

“Well.. Prompto, maybe it’s time that I tell you something special..” his S/O changed the subject after hearing his thoughts. 

“O-okay” he stammered, forcing another spoon of food into his mouth.

“Come here” his S/O leaned forward, ordering him to close the distance.He did as they demanded.

“I can read your thoughts. I know what you’re thinking.. I always do” they whispered into his ear.

Again, Prompto’s eyes shot open and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you serious?” he questioned their words.

“Yeah, wanna test me?” they smiled as they sat up straight again.

“I.. I actually do” he nodded, not knowing if they were teasing him or actually telling the truth, “Tell me what I’m thinking about right now!”

“You hope that I’m lying” they quickly replied, raising on eyebrow while they smiled, “And now you thought that.. You’ve been wondering why I replied to your thoughts.”

“Exactly!” he proclaimed, carefully slamming his fists on the table from excitement, “That’s incredible!“ 

After both of them laughed for a few moments, his S/O’s expression turned back into a serious one.

”I know about your insecurities. I know that you do this because you saw me with that guy. Prompto, I’d never leave you. I don’t care about what we do all day; we could watch a movie at home.. Create a very bad version from one of Ignis’ recipe(h)s.. Or build a sandcastle in a sandbox - I don’t care. As long as I’m with you, everything is fine with me. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate this but.. I fear it’s rather forced“ his S/O suddenly said, explaining their behavior earlier.

”Y-you.. I.. - Oh..“ the blonde couldn’t find words to say, ashamed of the mention of his insecurities.

”Hey.. No” they spoke softly, gently reaching out for Prompto’s hand on the table, “Because I could always read your thoughts, I decided to be very honest with you. It just makes it fair. And I highly appreciate that you never, not even once, lied to me. The only things you hardly ever talk about are your insecurities. I found out about them because you.. You think of them all the time.”

“That explains why you always know the right words to say” he joked, smiling at them for a short moment, “You can literally read me.”

“Yeah” his S/O chuckled then squeezed his hand reassuringly, “I want you to know that you’re perfect the way you are. It’s been bothering me all day that you’re so.. So not yourself.”

“Wanna ruffle through it?” Prompto suggested after he noticed that his S/O stared at his slicked back hair.

“I’d love to” they nodded, reaching out for his hair and ruffling through it tremendously.

Eventually, his hair began to rise back to its original state - perfectly resembling a chocobo’s butt.

“So much better” his S/O smiled at their gorgeous boyfriend.

“Didn’t think you would prefer the messy-hair-me,” Prompto ran a hand through his hair to ensure it was in place as he spoke.

“This is more you; the funny sunshine I know” their S/O assured him.

“Okay, now tell me more about your amazing talent!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement 

“What do you expect me to say? I know that you don’t feel good enough for me but I can assure you, you’re better than anyone else I’ve ever met. Also, it’s very cute how you always think about my butt” they went on.

His cheeks flushed more than before and he hid his face behind one of his hands: ”Oh Six, you know that, too?“ 

”I also know how much you love that one special lingerie set because it hugs my behind very well“ they began teasing him.

”Holy,… - that’s so embarrassing..“ he quietly admitted, ”Even though your little power is incredible maybe.. Don’t use it on me next time, please?“

”I enjoy reading them, though“ they started drawing hearts in their lover’s heart. ”But those are so..-“ he rung for the right word to say.

”Intimate? Yeah. But guess what?“ their S/O finished his sentence only to find something new to tease him with, ”Look at me for a second.“

Tugging at their clothes, they revealed that they were wearing his favorite set of lingerie right then and there. The blonde removed his had and glanced at the beauty before him while chewing on his inner cheeks. It was a lot to handle for the awkward and somewhat shy Prompto - at a public dinner spot, too.

”I know about your plans for tonight - I prepared myself for it just right, didn’t I?“ they said seductively.

”Oh holy astrals, oh six, oh mother” he cursed, hiding his face again, not able to handle it.

You bet that night ended interestingly for the two lovers. It took Prompto a day or two to finally let it sink in that his S/O had superpowers. But once it had settled, he found lots of fun and smart ways to use it. It’ll surely benefit future quests of him and his best friends.

[opisasodomite]

Answer all of them. That's right you bastard, every damn one. We're gonna overload this site with the cuteness that is your relationship. Happy goddamn Easter.

You sent me this just to torture me damn you Nicole 1. Have you met your soul mate?Well that term is cheesy as hell but I literally can't imagine anyone more compatible with me than Act and I love him super lots so... Yes? I guess?2. Favorite color when you were younger, and now?I used to really love green partly because Irish but now I'm all about the purple because I am the Byzantine emperor3. Do you wear eye-shadow? What color?Get anything away from my eyes I am terrified of anything makeup related near my eyes even eye shadow4. Are you in love right now?YES5. In your opinion, is love at first sight real?No but the fact that I literally saw Act's OkCupid profile and immediately thought wow what a cool dude sure says a lot about my judgment lol6. Are you an optimist, realist, opportunist, or pessimist?I guess I consider myself a realist? Like things aren't either wholly bad or good and I do believe you can advance if you take opportunity but ultimately you are limited based off of your circumstances like wealth race status and mental health, stuff like that. 7. First kiss details? (If you haven’t been kissed, reply how and if you would like to be.)lol I'm going to do both first kisses because I really wish my first was actually Act. So it's high school and no other gay kids existed ooexcept my friends friend. We start dating because duh gay. We go to a school concert and I'm like trying to be cutesy and romantic so I tell him, because I'm dying of heat in the winter because Florida, "if I had do be overheating at least it's with you~*~" and then cue kiss. He was an ugly dude but damn did he know how to kiss.My first kiss with Act was actually damned passionate. We meet up after talking for months for the first time. I drove six hours from Tampa to Savannah and we meet and hang out all day right. It's all very simple and very chaste. We go hang out at my hotel afterwards though where we pretend we don't know what we wanna do. So we start cuddling... My god I've never felt such electricity from someone touching me. He says he's wanted to do that all day as we just hold hands. I then ask if we can kiss. We lean in gently and it's awkward but feels so good...We didn't do anything else except make out but it was great.8. Do you own stickers, an stationary?No but Act taught me calligraphy and I really should learn it again and get some nice stationary for fun.9. What’s your aesthetic?Uh... Colorful pants? That's all I guess lol 🤣10. Do you wear dresses, and skirts?Nah11. What is your hair like?Resistant to change. I have blond and wavy hair but no matter what I do it always wants to lie flat on my head so I've given up doing fancy stuff with it and just do some decent styling.12. Does time go by fast or slow to you?Too damn FAST when Act is here and too damn SLOW when I'm bored to death.13. What time do you go to bed? What time do you wake up?This question assumes I have a regular sleep schedule.I guess normally I fall asleep around 2 and wake up at 10 though.14. Favorite sweet food?Hmm... Lately I've kinda become an endless cheesecake eater. That and cookies or ice cream.15. Tea, coffee, or hot cocoa?I would die without coffee but tea is also good. 16. Space, Ocean, City, or Forest?I'm a forest gay.17. Favorite game as a child?Video game: the Legend of Zelda: Wind WakerBoard game: this weird version of chess called stratego? I would always play it with my mom lolOutdoors: uhhh baseball? If by baseball you mean hitting a ball and not having to run lol18. Comfort book?It's hardly a comfort book because it's the embodiment of Angst™ but the only book I can just open and read a bit of is Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. The narrative voice and theme of adolescent identity crisis really kinda got to me when I first read it. I still identify heavily with the characters and love the surreal, almost cerebral tone.19. Princess, Fairy, Mermaid, or Unicorn?I'm a forest fairy boy thanks 20. Do you fall in love easily?Lol very much so. I met Act in person once, and we were just chatting one night on the phone and he was translating "Now I See the Light" from Tangled from Swedish into English and it just hit me: this super nerd is the cutest and most interesting guy I've ever met, and has a beautiful voice and personality. 21. Favorite word?Apparently. It's quite versatile and always has a ring of sarcasm to it.22. Describe your life in 3 words.AHHHHHHHHHHH (grad school), Act, Nicole 23. Do you dance? Slow dance?lol nope 24. Do you wear fake nails, or paint your nails?Nah 25. Has anyone ever confessed to you?I'm literally the confidante of both of my best friends (Act included) so yes26. Do you lie?Yeah. White lies though, I can't stand being deceitful unless I'm trying to avoid something unpleasant for me or anyone else. Like I'll say I'm going to bed but really just want alone time or I'll say I need to get home instead of I really don't want to be in social situations right now.27. What makes you smile?Thinking about my boyfriend :)Otherwise it's my super cool friend @stained-glass-rose That jerk 28. Have you ever cried in a book or movie?Duh. I sob at any emotional scenes 29. When and who was your first crush?Hmm that's hard to say really. The first super super deep one was with this guy Chaz in high school, my best friend at the time. He and I had 6/7 of our classes together and spent every day eating lunch with each other. During the summer he would ask me to come over every day and after I came out he got even more physically affectionate with me. During freshman year English class we watched a shitty version of the Odyssey and he just rested his head on my arms and napped there. It was super super gay for me. We still suspect he was probably attracted to guys.30. Marriage or kids?Marriage without a doubt, it's legally convenient and frankly I like the idea of a nice commitment thingy. Kids I'm gonna need a long time to think about because I'm an anxious and depressed mess who can hardly handle himself and is afraid of getting a pet even. I like the idea of giving a sweet kid a good home but I'm worried I'm not up for it. We shall see. 31. Are you superstitious?Not at all. Tbh I find ghosts, magic, superstitions, and all that to be completely silly.32. Who’s your 3 am thought?Take a wild guess lol(Act~)33. Do you like candy? What’s your favorite candy?I have a horrible sweet tooth: I love mostly fruit flavored candies like skittles and twizzlers and life savers especially.34. Favorite holiday?Christmas because winter :p35. Favorite season?WINTER I AM A FURNACE36. Cat or dog person?I love dogs so much they are my life's goal. I've always had one until I moved away.I used to be meh about cats, neither liked nor disliked them, but now I'm appreciating them and their personalities which are so much different from what I'm used to with dogs. They're beautiful and elegant and dumb and adorable creatures all at once. I still don't think I want one though but when a cat lets me pet them I feel Blessed™37. Are you quiet or loud?I'm quiet if I don't know you and I never shut up if I do38. Favorite time period? (80′s, 60′s, etc.The 80s would've been great if Reagan wasn't president and AIDS never existed. The music, aesthetic, movies, and all that are some of my favorite enduring things.39. Favorite fashion fad that went away?Skinny jeans. I'm very disappointed because absurdly tight pants are my go to fashion choice40. The best dream/ worst nightmare you’ve ever had?I have weird nasty horror nightmares but the freakiest one was a weirdass realistic one.TW: Sexual assault, pedophilliaMy worst nightmare involved my old roommate that me and Nicole used to live with. An old friend's friend contacted me and asked to hang out in the dream. I agree and he's on his way over: while he's out in my living room I hear my roommates door close and I find graphic pictures showing the dude into those diaper kink things and somehow this made me certain he was gonna hurt her.I burst out of my room and try to open her door only to find he's locked it and assaulting her at that exact moment. He then mocks me through he door as I desperately try to get in and stop him.God I was so scared for her and Nicole from that point on41. Worst fear as a kid?... To be honest it was (and still is) being raped or kidnapped and molested.44. Do you flirt?With my boyfriend :p45. What’s your style?I have none I'm a giant spastic nerd 46. Do you blush?Not often anymore but I get bashful when flirting with Act or when he gives me an unsolicited compliment. Also Nicole's mom called me and him adorable while we were being cute and me and him both blushed lol47. Do you feel everything, nothing, or you don’t know what to feel?I feel numb a lot of the time but I think I'm able to feel some things again. I still don't feel like I feel as much as I should48. Are you a crier? Do you smile?I'm not as much of a crier as I used to be but I can still break out at the slightest touch if I get in an argument or stressed.49. First love?Act.50. Last love?Still love Act :p

[floralharjuku]

Flaws (repost from Fanfiction.net)

She likes her coffee way too black, the bitter and deep taste and stench of burnt caffeine all too unappealing. Whenever she drinks it, he makes it a point to not kiss her deeply until she's had a chance to either cleanse her palate or brush her teeth. Not out of any distaste for her—never that, he adores her far too much to ever be that way to her—but because the flavor of such strong coffee makes his head throb painfully. His father drank the stuff while he was still alive and it always wafted through the manor whenever it was brewed, giving him aggressive migraines. It's her favorite, so he tolerates it with a smile that makes his eyelid twitch. ... He might as well have diabetes, what with all of the sugar he pours into everything. She's tasted his tea once and spit it into the sink, her teeth aching long after she had expelled it. He had come back into the room, noticed the missing amount and asked her how she had liked it. She had beamed at him with pained teeth and lied right through them that she could really taste the orange. (It was earl grey.) ... She knows that he likes the temperature of their apartment lower because of the climate he was used to back in Tenebrae, which lay to the north, and his office, which might as well be the North Pole. But when she has to spend the summer bundled in sweaters, she begins to find fault in it and starts ticking up the thermostat by two or three degrees. He knows what she does when she thinks he doesn't notice the temperature change. He doesn't mind it much, just ticks it down when she's in the bathroom. ... She's sitting up in bed, scrolling through her phone with the cord extended from the port and continuously charging as she uses it. She always complains when he does business on his laptop when he's in bed, but she can flick through Moogle and not face any criticism. It's a shame too, that she seems so detached from her partner. He's actually in the mood to indulge her strange little fantasies she always tries to prod him into attempting. ... She never actually expected him to say "yes" and now she's in a hole. She's never done anything quite like this before and it makes her face burst into blush. He doesn't laugh when she admits her hesitation, but she can see amusement in his eyes. She spends the night wrapped in the blankets, still embarrassed that he actually agreed to it. ... When she gets sick, he stays home with her, stroking her hair and fetching her soup as she sniffles about how she's going to just die from this horrible disease. She has a cold. It's quite adorable actually. ... She wants to return the favor when he gets sick, but it doesn't seem to faze him in any fashion. He gets up, gets dressed and leaves before she can drag herself out of their bed and she spends the day feeling jilted. When she returns home, still in a funk of sorts, she finds him on the couch, his pale hair plastered to his skin with sweat and his body burning with fever. She spends the night with him, brushing his annoyingly stubborn hair out of his eyes and holding his head when he vomits, once on her pants. She swears that she hears him mutter how sorry he is and how embarrassing this is before he's in a fitful sleep again. She vows never to let him go to work that sick again. It's terrifying, really. ... It's late and he's pretending to work from his darkened home office when he hears her enter, closing the door quietly behind her. She doesn't say anything for a moment, probably still rehearsing the apology that caused her to pause at his door for a full ten minutes. He's been writing his out in the most anal flowchart known to man. It's one way to regain control in a situation where he rightfully had none over her. Control is something he needs to feel useful, to feel as if he has a purpose in any relationship facet no matter if it's professional or intimate. He simply can't stand in the kitchen and let someone make dinner for him; he has to micromanage or even do it himself. (Read: that surprise Valentine's Day dinner that turned into a shouting match about how to cook salmon) And it works in business. It's lauded and applauded that he is such an involved leader, and so young at that. But with her...he can't control her and he would never want to. That willful personality that demands to do things on her own even when the odds are against her and her diminutive stature. (Read: that Christmastime when the building's main elevator was out of service and she insisted that she could carry fifteen gift boxes down fifteen flights of stairs instead of taking the other elevator at the end of the hall like a normal person) That person he cared about above all else. "Noctis—" "Ravus—" They both paused when they said the other's name at the same time. Now it was that awkward pause between two people who couldn't decide who should go first. They were both standing, unconsciously leaning to their other half, willing this frigid argument afterglow to thaw. They never were the couple that was skilled in the art of perfumed words and hollow promises easily broken in the matter of clichés and just enough desperation to sound feasible. They would rather be together and let that end the divide. Still, before she could hold him again, she had to appease her own conscience. "...I'm sorry, Ravus." He steps closer, tentatively at first and when she doesn't shy away in anger, he closes the distance between them. "You don't need to be sorry." He mutters into her hair, holding her with care as if she would shatter in his arms. "It was my fault." "We're idiots." He laughs and she mutters something else into his chest. "What?" "...you're a bigger one." She chirps, reaching up to peck him on the chin. ... He's sweet and considerate, despite always hiding behind his dry tone of voice and computer. She learns this after he meticulously plans her a surprise birthday, despite his own distaste for parties. She could tell that he was strained to the limitations of pleasant annoyance when Prompto got a bit tipsy and started belting out shrieking, half babbled renditions of Yuna singles and the one Carley Rae Jensen song Noctis knew that happened to be the one that drove Ravus to contemplate suicide. But he didn't jump out of the plate glass windows and onto the street below, for which she was eternally grateful. ... She buys him a chocolate cupcake, sticks a question mark candle into the frosting, lights it on fire without torching the curtains and, cheeks red, gently singing "Happy Birthday" to him. He smiles against his own will–why did she get a question mark?–and stops her less than stellar singing voice with a kiss. She's sweet and considerate in her own way. ... When she cries, he doesn't know what to say. It so rare that it takes him aback and momentarily, his brain has to buffer. She sometimes laughs that he's robotic and that moment has to advance her idea. But still. Each tear that falls from her eyes corrodes him and he wants to stay them, but lacks the honeyed words and charming voice to do so. He sits beside her, wrapping his arms around her and brushing his hand over her hair, comforting her by being there. Ravus only cries once during their relationship when his mother passes. She's the same as him, finding it so difficult to give charisma and optimism to a person emotionally fractured. All she can do is bury her face into his shoulder as he shakes with all the grief and pain of a son who lost his beloved mother. ... He's squinting at his cell phone, trying to decipher the lines of emojis she's sent in place of words. He hovers in between 2% and whole when he reaches milk and a double underscored red one hundred, knowing that she liked lower fat for tea but being oh so confused by the message. He doesn't want to face her fat deprived wrath, but also doesn't want to hear her complain about fatty tea. He gets both despite the fact that half of it will spoil in the refrigerator. "Why did you get so much milk?" "...there was a sale." "But why?" "...next time don't send me a bunch of cartoon doodles instead of words." "Seriously? Why didn't you text me back?" "You said you were at work." "Ravus, I work on a computer all day with a bunch of slack jaw coders who throw Doritos at each other. Me using my phone is probably the least distracting thing in that office." "...I'll keep that in mind." "Are you mad? Why are you mad? It's not my fault that you can't read basic pictograms. Geez, even my dad knows this." She teases him by sending eggplants and water droplets in annoying frequency. Finally breaking down, he decided to Moogle the meaning and promptly closed the page, his ears a soft red. How did she even know something this...lewd? He buried his face in his hands when he heard her bark in laughter. ... Her father is staring down the bridge of his nose at him, pretending to sip water for the last four minutes. His glass is magically still full when he sets it down. Noctis is all too aware of the world's most awkward dinner playing out and she is an unwilling actor in it but has no way out of it. And she was also aware of the exasperated looks on her and her mother's face as the older woman pushed her salad around her plate, probably pinching Regis underneath the table with her free hand. She doesn't know why he's sizing Ravus up, since their families have known each other since perhaps the dawn of time, but he is and it's honestly tiring. She is an adult but she adores her father and he wanted them all to have dinner together as a family. One big, happy, neurotic family headed by a psychologically torturous patriarch who enjoyed lobbing overloaded questions in bomb form and demanding that Ravus carry them all in proper form. This was either going to end with Ravus dead or Regis suffering a stroke when that vein in his temple exploded. As long as he didn't— "So, how long have you been sleeping with my daughter?" Noctis's water spewed across the tablecloth, Ravus's grip on his fork tightened and Aurlea took a sharp inhale through her nose, mentally slapping her face with her palm when he clearly ignored the signals she had been sending him through pain. Finally, she turned her head in eerie fashion and muttered something to her husband before turning back to the younger couple across from them. Regis definitely took on a pale pallor but didn't break his gaze on Ravus, expecting an answer. "I...I can assure you that I treat Noctis with the utmost respect..." "That isn't what I–" "Well, that's fine! Right, Regis? That's all we need to know." Her mother was nearing the end of her patience and it showed through each syllable, which increased in shrill pitch. Both hands were under the table and Noctis could've sworn she saw Regis twitch away from her mother. And they still had three courses to go. By dessert, her father has a limp and her mother has been smiling for so long, Noctis thinks her muscles have frozen that way. Ravus has been thoroughly put through the ringer and she's considering dashing her face against the wall but they lived. ...sort of...? ... Their couch is more like a loveseat that irritates their guests because about two children can fit on it at one time. There's other seating, she always has to point out, but she refuses to buy anything to replace her favorite seat. She's on the smaller side and can curl up besides him, her toes under him and back supported by the armrest. He doesn't mind the slight squeeze, just gives her a glance and turns back to the news. For once, he's not watching television while obsessively working and she's relieved by that. She takes a sip of her less than black coffee that has an odor that doesn't offend him as much, pauses for a moment in thought and holds back a snicker. His face changes only slightly but dismisses her laugh until... "Eggplant, water droplets." He chokes on his diabetic tea. ... AN: Do, de do, da. Hi~! I decided to take a break from trying to decipher and encode the complexities of characters in my chaptered works and decided to take a break to write this. It's fluffyyyyyy! :D

[edo-salandria]

FanFic: SENSORY OVERLOAD

SUMMARY: Natsu and Lucy have been targeted. A mysterious tattoo appears on both of them that changes their relationship in ways they could never have imagined.

RATED: M

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Also can be read on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12234990/1/Sensory-Overload  (Up to Chapter 16)

Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8 ; Chapter 9 ; Chapter 10 ; Chapter 11 ; Chapter 12 ; Chapter 13 ; Chapter 14 ; Chapter 15 ; Chapter 16

CHAPTER 15

The game of cat and mouses ended quickly in Lucy's bedroom. Through lots of playful taunting and giggling Lucy found herself pinned under Natsu on her bed. Lucy glanced over to her night table which was askew and her lamp was missing. "Did it break?" she asked breathlessly from all the laughing.

Never breaking eye contact he responded "Nah, it's fine." Looking down and the beauty under him, his eyes drank in every small detail of her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the activity and excitement of things to come. Her chocolate eyes had a haze of desire in them, her lips were plump and slightly chapped. He examined all the small scars that marred her former pristine complexion. To him she was absolutely perfect, in this moment he felt an overwhelming love for the Celestial Mage that had become his partner and best friend and he wanted to articulate how he felt as physically as possible.

"What? Is there something wrong with my face?" Lucy was growing a bit concerned with the intensity in which he was looking at her. She felt like she was being examined.

"Hey Luce" his voice was soft and innocent, "I'm gonna kiss you now." he leaned down before she could respond and his mouth slowly grazed her soft lips, he savored the moment of softness and he pulled back with gentle grin.

Lucy's heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. She felt his overwhelming desire and she was touched that he kissed her so soft and sweetly. She knew however, that this was not the Natsu she knows best, he was holding back and the last thing she wanted was him holding back. "Is that the best you can do?" she smiled "My turn to kiss you now."

She reached up and thread her fingers into his wild pink hair and grabbed it tightly while pulling face to meet hers. Her kiss started out as gently as his but then she captured his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged briefly. He responded with a small groan and that was all she needed to hear as she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

As their tongues danced eagerly darting back and forth exploring each others mouths their bodies started to respond more strongly. Lucy's hips rolled gently while Natsu's hand started roaming more freely down her side. Landing on her hip, he squeezed and pulled her into his body more firmly. Natsu finally broke the kiss needing to catch his breath "Is that what you had in mind?"

She looked up at him pleased "Yup." she propped herself up on her elbows which forced him into an upright position. "So, before we get too far ahead of ourselves. How far are we going with this?" she looked pensive for a minute "Better question would probably be what are we now?"

Natsu thought for a moment while he scratched the back of his head. He removed himself from being on top of her since he knew that no good answer would come while straddling over her. "I love you, and right now I want nothing more than to show you just how much. If you're not ready for that then obviously we can slow down and wait. You are to me what you always have been Luce, my best friend, my partner and the love of my life. Do we need to label it Luce?"

Lucy carefully measured his words "No we don't have to label it, I feel the same way about you." She knew she didn't answer all of his questions she thought that actions would speak more loudly. She adjusted herself to sit on the edge of the bed and looked toward Natsu. She wanted to see him in front of her, she wanted to strip him of all his clothing so she could see his muscular and toned body, thinking about it made things twitch between her legs. "Natsu, stand here." she pointed to a spot just about a foot in front of her.

"Umm… Ok" Natsu did as he was told and he could feel the sudden spike in her arousal. He also caught the distinct scent that was Lucy when she was feeling all sexy. The sexy Lucy scent always drove him wild. He watched her as she stood up slowly and walked toward him.

Gently she removed his scarf and folded it neatly, she walked to the bureau behind him and placed it neatly. She walked back over to him and started to unbutton his waistcoat "you're my best friend." His waistcoat opened exposing his bare chest, she glided her hands underneath to his strong broad shoulders and pushed it off him letting it fall to the ground. She placed a chaste kiss where she could hear is rapidly beating heart, "you're my partner." She looked up into his eyes as dark as the night sky she loved so dearly, "I love you." Without breaking their gaze she started unbuckling his belt. "I want you to know…" She slid her hands around his waist under the waistband of his pants and boxers, she felt his a shimmer of heat course through her veins. Sliding her hands down and giving a light squeeze to his very toned and very perfectly sized ass, she continued downward until his pants and boxers fell to the ground, "...that I am ready for whatever comes next." She stepped back knowing that his next move would be to grab her.

Natsu kicked his clothes away standing in front of her completely naked. He let out a soft growl of sorts. He could feel the now familiar tingle of her celestial magic, it only made him hum with tension and desire for her. He watched her like a predator watches prey.

"Please, don't move yet." Her eyes traced over every muscle in his chest and arms, she reached out and delicately traced all his battle scars. Every touch of her fingertips made him tighten up. She walked around to his behind him where she admired his back, again tracing her fingertips along his scars. She loved every one of his imperfections, especially the ones that she remembered him getting. She backed away so she could take a good look at the backside she had squeezed moments ago. Without a doubt his years of training and fighting had left him with an incredibly defined and muscular ass. Walking back around she traced the well defined V in his hips with her eyes, it was one of the single most sexiest spots on his entire body and she wanted to trace it with her tongue. She refrained though because that was not what this moment was for. Right now she wanted to drink in every inch of his body. Her eyes followed the deep cuts in his hip right to his manhood, his arousal was evident. She heard a low growl of approval as she stared at all of him. "You're absolutely fucking perfect." Lucy said breathlessly as her desire to touch him was becoming more and more overwhelming. She felt the spike in pleasure from him and the fire in her veins from his magic.

In a low gravely voice Natsu said "I'm glad you like what you see, but it's about time I see what you have for me." She met his intensely seductive stare.

"You're right, why don't you go sit on the bed." She sidestepped him as he walked by, she didn't dare make physical contact with him because she knew the moment would be completely over if they did. Right now she was in control and she wasn't ready to relinquish it, that time would come shortly.

As he settled on the bed and she turned to face him he wondered aloud "Why don't you let me undress you?"

"Shhh..." she smirked at him "Just be patient." Natsu responded with a groan as she winked at him. She stared at his naked form sitting on her bed and it made her want to drive him out of his mind.

In one fluid motion she removed her shirt revealing a simple black bra. The color made her skin look like fine porcelain. She flushed a little when she met his eyes, his eyes were hungry and full of desire and she loved it. She turned, facing away from him, she removed her key belt and leaning forward with a half step to her bureau, she placed it gently on top of Natsu's scarf. Righting herself she unfastened her skirt and hooking her thumbs under each side of her hip she slowly pushed her skirt down bending over exposing the backside of her brand new panties.

"Fuck Luce, those are hot as hell!" Natsu could feel a spike of arousal from her when commented. She turned back around so he could see the front and she teased "You like? I actually, grabbed them tonight at dinner." she spoke as she removed her bra to reveal her rather large and rather perky breasts. He sucked in a sharp breath at the intoxicating sight in front of him, his mind racing with all the thing he could do to and with her voluptuous breast. He watched as she slid her panties off and kicked them aside. His eyes trailed along her curves up and down, he licked his lips and growled "fuck" under his breath. Again he felt the spike of her excitement at his words. He made the connection very quickly, and used it to his advantage.

As Natsu rose from the be and walk toward her she smiled but also felt a brief flicker of embarrassment. She realized just how very naked they both were and just how turned on he was. He walked behind her and he pressed himself against her body. She could feel his hard length in her lower back, right above the curve of her shapely ass. His hands came around the front cupping each of her breasts as his thumbs rubbed over her hard and rather sensitive nipples. He leaned over and licked the outer edge of her ear and whispered "Hey Lucy?" she responded with a small purr as she was getting lost in the moment. "Do you like it when I talk dirty?" Natsu himself could feel the intense pleasure of her nipples being caressed. All she could manage was a moan in response. He tweaked her nipples with a little more pressure "Answer me Lucy." he growled in her ear.

"Yes!" she yelped in a cry of pleasure.

"Do you know what I am going to do Lucy?" after a moment with no response he tweaked her nipples a little harder than before.

"What…. What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly.

In a deep erotic voice he told her exactly what he was going to do "I'm gonna fuck you Luce" as he said that he ground his hips into her body.

She was so incredibly turned on by his vulgar language that her knees felt weak. She turned around and her hand grabbed the base of his erection and she stood on her tiptoes and bit his earlobe playfully and in a seductive voice "And when your done, I am gonna fuck you Natsu." She gave him a swift stroke and in that moment he picked her up cupping his hands on her ass and fell with her onto the bed. Their mouths eagerly devouring each other, their bodies rocking against each other. Not only could they feel each their own heat building but they could feel each others as well and that only amplified their sensations. Lucy broke from the kiss first and in a breathy pant she told him "One more thing… you better not hold back."

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER NINETEEN – ON FALLEN EMPIRES AND ASH-LADEN SHORES

The water around the speeding Fortune exploded violently as volley after volley of cannon shot zeroed in on the escaping vessel. Behind them, the mystical tower of the Storm Bell finally sank beneath the unruly waves, ringing what its listeners could only assume was the death knell to the intricate workings of the sea. As Blackeye took the ship’s wheel, Polly desperately tried to concentrate through the din and make the ship invisible again to no avail. Undeterred, she rushed to the aft of the ship where Wally and Wistea conjured what they could to deflect any of the many incoming cannonballs. Behind them, Hector focused and channeled every last ounce of magic he could into his sword. He’d been able to hobble the ship before, so he’d try to do it again.

It was then that everything shook with the sudden resonance of a mighty chime, and the chaotic waves behind them calmed. The Storm Bell rang again and the sky was instantly filled with dark and heavy clouds. A third ring birthed a maelstrom that almost lifted the Fortune out of the water, disrupting the flight of the pursuing sky fortress and many of its shots. A fourth ring brought lightning and thunder the likes no living being had ever seen. With the fifth ring, the waters below the spontaneous tempest began to spin and reform the once collapsing whirlpool. It was nowhere near the size of its predecessor, but large enough to expose part of the sunken tower.

Powerful bolts of lightning quickly snaked through the ink black clouds and cascaded over the warship. The bolts homed in on several spots and seemingly did no damage until something in the body of the vessel exploded violently. The warship’s propellers locked instantly and it fell toward the ocean. Half the distance from splashdown, its mighty supports rang to life once more and its armored belly skipped along the water.

All eyes turned to Hector who shrugged, “that wasn’t me.”

“Was the Storm Bell!” Blackeye shouted over his shoulder. “Looks to me it’s tryin’ to do the work of the Fount, but that ain’t gonna keep for long!”

---

A harried Insicai soldier rushed onto the command deck of the warship; Aegis. He was soon followed by a plume of billowing black smoke. “General!” he almost coughed. “The Lightning Collector has been overloaded! We are doing our best, best, best to halt the spread of the fire now, but it may grow out of hand if-”

The Indomitable Smith rose from his seat and walked toward the smoke. “Maintain this position until repairs are completed. After which we shall make way to Insicai, the next Mobius Glass should be completed by the time we arrive.” His helm turned to the right, indicating he was looking over his shoulder. “Re’duvae, see to our return course with the navigation team.”

The armored Insicai that had greeted him at the dispatch port stood and saluted before heading down a nearby stairwell that lead from the Command deck to Navigation.

---

The door to the Fortune’s interior opened and Rozzi hobbled as far as the door frame, looking everyone over. She could easily see the undeniable frustration and disappointment on all their faces.

“Anyone wanna fill in the particulars for me?”

“We saw their ship over the Storm Bell’s tower so we assumed that was their target,” Wally replied. “And while we were busy with puzzles and fighting an all together pointless battle, they were lifting the Fount of the Sea right out of the water.”

“Puzzles?” she asked.

“The tower challenges anyone who comes in, even the front door has a task before you can even enter,” answered Hector.

Rozzi stood and thought on that for a few seconds. “Hold on, everything was still intact by the time you got to the top of that thing? Nothin’ bashed in, or blown apart? The guy you fought actually made it past the stuff you did?”

The landing party all exchanged a look before Blackeye spoke.

“Its different challenges for everyone… But overall they reveal somethin’ about yerself. My first time, I learned to move more calmly.”

“I should be more careful not to burn myself out.” Wally added.

“An overabundance of pride could kill me.” Wistea volunteered.

“Focusing too much on the big picture means I miss important details that could save my life.” Hector concluded.

“But,” Wally began to reason. “That we didn’t pass through a bunch of smoldering ruins means that giant must’ve faced the same philosophical test. He had to tell the truth to enter, face a challenge of personal worth, and show the willingness not to fight.”

“Wally!” Hector quickly replied. “You asked him a question right? If he was being made to fight or fought of his own volition?”

“He said ‘both,’” Wally recalled the scene. “It was strange… My insight didn’t work on him like it did with the Rogue and the Princess. Granted he’s clearly less emotional than them, but it was more than that.” He scratched at the back of his ear to help his thinking. “I don’t quite know how to put it; it was more like he seemed…”

“Hollow?” Wistea volunteered.

Wally nodded. “But maybe I was wrong?”

“Well!” Rozzi shouted with a clap of her hands. “Not a total loss! The Storm Bell’s safe at least, and we learned more about what we’re facin’. I saw that little magic gizmo they pulled out for the Fount. Since they got here ahead of us and everything was still intact, I get the feelin’ they only had one of those on them. So, could be they could only pick one of the two magical artifacts to wreck up, or maybe they take a while t’ get ready, or there’s only the one.”

A slim smile grew on Hector’s face. “Gaining knowledge might be a tiny victory, but it still counts toward the whole.”

The whistle of the Kettle Engine finally faded and the ship began to slow. Blackeye worked the lever back to its neutral position and twisted the handle. The sensation of something large opening traveled across the deck beneath their feet. “It’s gonna take a day before the engine’s workin’ again. I sure don’t want to head to Sauro without it. Works out, we’re two days away at best. Nurse your bruises and steel yourselves, it’s gonna be a wild ride once we’re close.”

There was a loud thud off to the side that was quickly revealed to be the exhausted body of Polly Cofresi. At some point during the conversation she’d leaned against the railing, fallen asleep, and then finally slipped the rest of the way down. With a chuckle, the captain locked the wheel, gently scooped her up, and took her down to the bunk room with a few whispered words of praise.

Rozzi leaned on the door after it was closed and pouted slightly. “So you mean to tell me, I missed a magical game of Honest Consequences.”

Wistea’s expression grew pensive as, they all could tell now; she began to check her sizable catalog of memories and facts to figure out what Rozzi was asking about.

“It’s a children’s game in Animana,” Wally told her. “You sit ‘round in a circle, then go and challenge the person across from you to answer a question truthfully, or pull some outrageous stunt.”

“Except this particular outrageous stunt was having to almost fight my fellow knight.” Hector patted Wally on the shoulder.

“Wait? You saw me?! What’s that mean? I had to almost fight Sir Hammond!”

“Ah,” Wistea began. “No doubt it was a test of our personal feelings of inadequacy. We all faced someone that in some way made us feel weaker by comparison, no doubt to encourage us to fight it and fail. I can understand Hector’s imposition, after all, one of the last things you did was hurl one of Kota’s Generals across the Storm Bell’s belfry. That sort of thing can be very imposing.”

“AHHH! I CAN’T BELIEVE I MISSED THAT!” shouted Rozzi in frustration.

“Don’t you worry; I’m sure the next time we’re all in mortal danger, Wally will no doubt do something just as impressive and startling,” Hector chuckled.

Wally sighed, grateful for the levity that Rozzi seemed to have revitalized in everyone, but still frustrated that he could do nothing to prevent the day’s loss. It all left him in a somewhat frustrated mood he couldn’t immediately shake. “I’ll stay up here on first watch, you all relax…”

As he tried to walk toward the foredeck a sudden gust of air threw him off balance and back toward the group where he was met by Rozzi’s stern expression.

“I’ll have none of that, thank you very much! ‘First watch’ my tail, you just wanna stand up here and mope at the sky like that’d make you feel any better. Now,” she reached over and grabbed the fur on his cheek. “You’re gonna come down to the galley and make us all somethin’ to eat and I guarantee you’ll be smilin’ by the end of it… Also someone has to make sure I don’t fall down the stairs. I barely made it up here y’know?”

“What?” Hector said with playful incredulity. “Don’t you trust me?”

“About as far as I could THROW you,” she retorted.

He sighed and looked to Wally with an earnest smile, “not gonna live that one down, am I?”

“Probably not,” Wally answered plainly as he took Rozzi’s arm over his shoulder to help her down the stairs.

---

There was a disquieting stillness to the air as they sailed toward Sauro, Blackeye said that with the Storm Bell dividing its power, both the sea and the sky would suffer from an unseemly calm until the Fount was either restored, or the Bell lost its strength. The sails drove them forward as best they could with the steady but weakened winds. In another day’s worth of sailing the air grew much warmer and on the horizon, the crew of the God’s Fortune could see a faint glow. It was neither sunrise nor sunset, but the eternal fires of the twin molten peaks that flanked the island nation of Sauro. Soon its mountainous shore came into view, a natural and enormous barrier of peaks all along the island’s shoreline that made it practically unassailable from any angle, save the ports built into the mountain caverns.

According to the captain, the ports had all been sealed by cannon fire induced landslides after the end of the war, in order to prevent citizens of Sauro from ever leaving their island again. Every so often a ship would be conscripted to check on the ports to make sure the fallen stones hadn’t been disturbed, and in the 20 years since the end of the war, not a single Sauroian had come back to, or left from, Sauro.

Many of the refugees of Sauro had been taken in by Animana after the war’s end, while some others sailed and worked amidst the Icthy Isles. Planae, Orni’Hu, and Insicai however had denied them entry. In his quest for kitchen work back home, Wally had a job in the part of The Outers where the Sauroians had been allowed to settle. They were quiet and cautious whenever he was around, no doubt afraid any indiscretion would rob them of another home. They wore cloaks to hide their appearance, and kept to themselves whenever possible, all to avoid causing any uproar by simply existing. All said, there was absolutely no telling what life was like beyond the mountains of Sauro after the war, they’d be going in almost entirely blind.

The Fortune’s crew looked out over the waters ahead as the imposing mountain range loomed ever closer. “I suppose the loss of the Fount made the waters here more traversable,” said Hector curiously. “Seer Cinera made it sound like we’d be dealing with the most violent waves imaginable.”

“It ain’t the waves ones concerned with, lad.” The captain turned the wheel quickly, the God’s Fortune narrowly avoiding a spontaneous geyser of steaming water.

Everyone stared at the heated plume as Hector calmly stated, “oh.”

“Them hot spouts ain’t the bother either…” Blackeye warned. “You’ll know it when we see it.”

The God’s Fortune weaved around several more dangerous blast of superheated water as it came ever closer to Sauro. Everyone kept their attentions as extended as possible, readying as best they could for whatever imposing threat the mysterious island had to offer. Finally, they were close enough to see the tall red tower with a single light shining at the top, just as Cinera described. The many eyes on deck tried to get a better view when the clouds above them began to swirl unnaturally. At first they seemed to simply orbit one another until there was a loud snap of air and the clouds were replaced by a titanic orange eye with a thin and jagged black pupil. It stared down and drifted along with the ship it so easily dwarfed, and shone down with an otherworldly light.

“I hope Cinera was right about that Tetsu fella,” the captain said quietly. “Don’t think I’ll be able to trick Kota the same way twice…” Blackeye flipped the Kettle Engine’s switch and the Fortune shot forward, leaving the massive mystic eye trailing. The shine of the eye increased and Hector could see the water under its gaze begin to boil and the air above waver with a thick haze of heat. As the chase continued the air beneath the eye seemed to ignite, creating a pillar of shimmering death that only speed its pursuit with every passing second.

“How’d you trick it last time?!” called out Wally.

“Water canopy! Made us look like empty sea!”

“Grandpa! It’s gettin’ closer! Shouldn’t I make the ship invisible?!”

“Keep that for later! We’re gonna need it if we wanna get out in one piece!”

The giant eye vanished instantly, leaving only a trail of steaming seawater. As everyone quickly looked to see if they could spot it elsewhere, the snap of air signaling its appearance rocked their ears, as it spontaneously manifested directly ahead of them. They could feel the air temperature skyrocket as the captain desperately tried to change course. Suddenly a large black slate rose in their path and the ship raced into it at top speed. Between the ticks of a second the crew of the Fortune found themselves saved from certain death and thrown into uncertain surroundings. Their eyes slowly adjusted and their ears sought out what they could as Blackeye shut off the Kettle Engine.

In the low light of a few scattered torches and distant gleaming crystals, they could see the vague impression of a ship builder’s dock built into a mountainous cavern, long disused and left to rot beside a now stagnant pool of water. Of course, all that was less impressive than the fact they were hovering a dozen feet above it all.

Below they could hear a feminine voice grunt with effort as the ship slowly drifted down to rest in the water by the dock, affording said voice’s owner a slow reveal to the ship’s crew. Illuminated by a bright oil lamp by her feet, a short female frog stood adorned in a flowing dress and head scarf that bore the red, black, and yellow of a sunset, as well as a number of silver coins that shimmered in the flickering light. Her golden flecked eyes finally opened and looked up, taking the sight of them in with elliptical pupils. Her smile was one of content relief that certainly helped to lighten the mood of what had just occurred.

Polly gasped as she could see an ornate glowing halo behind her, similar to Cinera’s. However, the outer ring of it was darker than the inner structure. This did nothing to diminish the beauty of its ethereal presence as far as she was concerned.

“Please,” the Sauroian stranger spoke. “Follow me to Master Tetsudin; I can only shield us from Kota’s sight for so long.”

Every pair of eyes that didn’t belong to a wallaby settled on the only one in the cavern.

“Does everyone need to check with me every time we meet someone new?”

“They say power and responsibility are steamy bedfellows,” paraphrased Hector

“I don’t think anyone in the whole of history has ever said anything even remotely like that… And the answer is yes, we can trust her,” replied the slightly annoyed wallaby.

The heroes hopped down to the creaking docks that hadn’t felt much in the way of weight in two decades. The young Sauroian girl, who was just barely an inch or two taller than Wally, politely curtsied for the group. “My name is Hyla, Hyla Areo. I am Master Tetsudin’s current apprentice. Please, before we go, I must take the Flarebearer’s hands.”

Wally raised a curious eyebrow at her as she outstretched her broadly rounded fingers. Sensing nothing dangerous about the gesture, Wally placed his hands in hers.

There was a sudden rush of emotions, memories, thoughts, and experiences that twisted like a tornado around the wallaby’s consciousness. Some recent, some from long ago, and some that were clearly not his own. He grit his teeth and braced himself to weather the typhoon of it all, only to see it fade as rapidly as it arose. Hyla slowly shook a somewhat awestruck expression from her face.

“F-… Forgive me; I just had to make sure. You… Really are everything Master Tetsudin said you’d be.”

Wally blinked a few times, finding it a little difficult to see at first. “He knew about me?”

She nodded. “There is little my master does not know.”

Rozzi cleared her throat, “S’pose etiquette’s on that list somewhere, eh?”

She tapped Hyla on the wrist gently, revealing she’d yet to release Wally’s hands. “Oh! Yes, right, of course.” She released his hands before bowing her head apologetically. “Please, this way. I’m afraid we’ll have to take the long way since moving your ship took a lot out of me.”

“S’long as you can put her back where she belongs, we’re fine, lass.” Blackeye patted the ship’s hull before following.

The dock’s facilities were naught but the ramshackle remnants of a ship building yard. Tools and scrap materials strewn all about, no doubt due to a hasty retreat by the workers. Everything creaked, groaned, and shook at the passing of these new travelers. Even shadows moved like old, broken wrecks as the oil lamp’s light slid along every surface. They soon came to a boulder set before a sheer stone wall. Hyla whistled and the stone moved aside like a polite gentleman on a narrow street. Beyond it was a stone staircase, carved directly into the mountain’s interior; Polly had a giggle as her broad shouldered grandfather had to walk up it sideways.

“Life’s been hard here, hasn’t it, Hyla…” Wally began to speak amidst the sound of stair climbing.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, saying nothing.

“Seems like when you were ‘looking’ at me… I saw a little bit of you. I know it’s probably not much but, from one almost starved child refuge to another, I’m sorry.”

She smiled and nodded silent thanks.

Rozzi walked up and nudged him gently, speaking softly, “’bout that. Just how much did she see y’think?”

“Felt like all of it,” he said quietly. “Even parts of my childhood.” Wally frowned. “But growing up in Sauro after the war? Leagues worse than The Outers ever were…”

The group came to another sheer wall that a whistle from Hyla opened. The room beyond was lit by a series of floating orbs, with no clear support or mechanism. Every inch of their surroundings was a surprising contrast to the tower’s exterior, a deep almost black blue. The only features within were the four pillars that reached high toward the domed ceiling and the massive chains attached to each one. At the end of the chains sat a titanic figure that dwarfed anyone they’d met thus far. Clothed in tarnished silver robes, there could be no doubt this was Master Tetsudin, an absolutely gargantuan turtle.

“Welcome,” he said in a voice best described as that of a beloved family elder just waking up from a nap. “Lovely to finally see you all in person. Ah, so to speak.”

It was baffling that such a kindly voice could come from such an enormous body with a face like ancient brown leather. But beyond that, Wally saw something that truly shocked him. Where there should be a set of eyes or even the vaguest impression of them on a wrinkled face, there was nothing, an empty darkness.

“No, young Flarebearer, your eyes do not deceive you. As part of my penance, I surrendered my gift of sight before I built myself this prison. The beauty of nature is something I shall rightfully never see again… Despite my other ways of seeing.”

Wally tucked his initial shock away as well he could and approached Master Tetsudin. “I… Well, sir, we were told that if anyone anywhere could tell us more about the Stellar Flare and how to restore its power, it’d be you.”

Tetsudin reached out his enormous hand, and the chains attached rung like church bells thrown down a flight of stairs. “Present the blade, please.”

Wally readily unsheathed it and held the broadside up, quickly wondering if trying to hold it up higher would make any possible difference at this point.

The old Sauroian tapped a single clawed finger against the blade, causing it to chime like a tuning fork.

“Mm, as is to be expected. The sword expended all its power to banish Kota the last time it was used against her.”

Everyone but Hyla replied in varying shocked tones, “Banished?!”

Wally was the first to continue, “You mean that… Sir Hammond the Only didn’t actually slay Kota?!”

The ancient Sauroian gave a small yet genial laugh. “Would you be fighting her now if he did?”

“I… I guess we all assumed she was back from the dead…”

“Death is a rather permanent event, young Flarebearer.” Tetsudin leaned back and looked up toward the ceiling. “There may linger some lesser presence in your stead, or you may simply live on in memory or legend. But there exist no magic in this world to truly resurrect the dead. I do not know why Sir Hammond chose to banish her; the Flare at full strength could easily have ended her life in his skilled hands. Now she has returned from her banishment, and the Flare came with her, having expended its power to keep her sealed these twenty years.”

Hector spoke more to calm his mind than anything else, “I’m certain, whatever the reason, my father did what was best for all of us…”

Blackeye patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

Tetsudin leaned down, finally directing the whole of his attention to the slightly shocked wallaby. “Wally, heed my words. You must take the Stellar Flare to the tallest peak of Krust Mountain; there and only there can it be restored.”

“Krust Mountain?” Blackeye chuckled. “Fella, I been sailin’ the seas since I was a wee lad, so while experience says I can believe it exists, it’s most likely in the Southeastern seas, which is a big patch of nothin’ for ages. So, even if the place’s real, findin’ a bloody island that MOVES on such a big empty stretch’a ocean is damn near impossible.”

Tetsudin smiled at him. “So you’re up to the challenge then?”

“Course I am y’ daft shellback! Just ‘cause it’s impossible don’t mean I can’t do it!” The captain slapped Hector on the back, causing him to stagger slightly in surprise. “‘Specially with a crew this hardy!”

Tetsudin laughed, or at least that’s what the deep rumbling noise in his throat made everyone think. “I have a great deal of faith in you all. I can only apologize that I could but answer only one of your questions. Unfortunately,” the great turtle pulled back from the heroes. “We are out of time.”

A green armored soldier had leapt in through the single window in the tower, landing between them and Tetsudin. While the sagely turtle outsized it by a measure of ten, its full height loomed over the band of heroes. It was the opposite of the Indomitable Smith, a living metal testament to imposing physiques.

“Hyla!” Tetsudin shouted. “You must aid the Flarebearer on his quest! Go with him and his allies!”

“But Master!” She cried out.

The large emerald armored figure turned toward her. “Have you no respect for your elder’s wishes, little mage?” The voiced of the intruder carried the air of aristocracy and dignity in every last properly pronounced syllable. “How shameful! I shall see to it you are properly punished.”

With speed that blatantly opposed his enormity, the green armored assailant rocketed toward Hyla, a shimmering blade of unknown make in hand.

Wally quickly sprang from his position to intercede, bringing the Flare up to block the overhead strike. The blow rang through the Flare’s blade and shook Wally’s bones as the ground beneath his feet shattered.

“Interfering in my duties to defend a lady, truly a commendable act by the Flarebearer!” Wally suddenly found himself struggling, his opponent pressing down against his sword with a force he’d never felt before. “But I am the Peerless Knight. Not even you could rival me!”

With a sudden upward thrust the Knight’s crossguard caught the edge of the Flare, breaking Wally’s guard. Unexpectedly, Wally rolled backward with the force of the blow and narrowly dodged the following strike. However, the force of its impact shattered the floor, giving Wally no way to reclaim his footing. Instead he landed flat on his back with a hearty thud.

The Knight unleashed loud triumphant laughter as he closed the distance between them almost instantly. In that far too quick of a moment, Wally knew this was the fastest and strongest opponent he’d ever faced. Before he could even lift the Flare, the enemy’s blade was mere inches from stabbing a superfluous hole into his chest. Then, as he closed his eyes to brace himself for the death blow, he felt himself fall a short distance and greet the floor with his back once again. When his eyes finally opened, another portal was sliding shut above his head, having dropped him behind his friends.

“Young Sauroian,” the Knight spoke with a subtle tinge of frustration. “You would betray your own people? Did you forget the devastation wrought on this land by his predecessor? Do you feel no honor, no patriotism?”

Hyla glared furiously at the Knight. “You can’t begin to imagine what I feel!”

“Such presumption from someone so young, do not fear,” he said as he bowed gracefully to her. “I shall be happy to mentor you properly at the end of my sword!”

The sound of enormous chains being rattled filled the air as Tetsudin slapped his hand down against the floor, and the heroes all vanished from sight in a cascade of blue flashes.

The Peerless Knight looked over his shoulder to the ancient mystic and spoke in a civil tone. “A pity… You recall your vow to never use your magic, do you not?”

Tetsudin made a small noise in his throat to scoff at him. “Visit whatever punishment you like upon me, I can assure you there is no suffering in this world I could not endure for the sake of others, especially my pupils.”

---

The deck of the God’s Fortune suddenly found itself populated by several tumbling bodies. Hyla was the first to her feet, helping Wally to his. “We must go quickly! If the Knight is here, Bulfo won’t be far behind.”

With a grunt, Blackeye righted himself. “Little Miss, Fast is what the Fortune does best!”

“How far can one of those gates you made go?” Hector asked as he helped Wistea up.

Hyla thought on it for only a second or two. “I’ve never moved anything this size before today so I have no idea. But I shall do my best!”

“Right then!” Captain Blackeye gripped the ships wheel. “We got one good go left in the Kettle Engine, and we might be ambushed by a toad in a dress! Miss Areo, are you ready?”

Hyla took a few deep breaths to center herself, and a prismatic shimmer rushed over her hands. “Whenever you are.”

“Once we’re through, Polly makes us invisible, and we make for Galaga, got some old Orni’Hulan friends who can get us some leads on Krust Mountain. If anyone in the world even has the vaguest idea of findin’ a mountain that dances about the Southeast, it’ll be one of those crazy feathered nomads, livin’ on old stories and pub snacks.”

Everyone braced as Blackeye nodded to Hyla and the pitch black portal slid open before the ship. The captain kicked the Kettle Engine into action and the fount of steam jolted them through. The second open sky and the sight of Sauro at their backs met her eyes; Polly reached up to form a shroud of invisibility around the ship once again, only to have the nascent energy shatter to ethereal dust. With the ugly sound of air being torn apart, Vizier Bulfo appeared on the deck of the God’s Fortune.

“Mmman excellent effort on transporting an entire ship, Miss Areo. As should be expected of a student of Master Tetsudin.” Croaked the aging sorcerer.

Wally, Hector, and Blackeye charged at him with all the speed they could muster, only to find they’d been transported behind him in the blink of an eye. Without a moment hesitation, Wally spun and launched a sizable volley of fire at Bulfo. He barely acknowledged it, the fireball rebounding off an instantly summoned barrier of light sending it back toward its caster.

Had he paid more attention however, he would’ve seen Wally closing the distance the entire time the shot was flying, with quickness instilled into him by weeks and weeks of training with Animana’s greatest soldier, Wally slapped the mystic conflagration with the broadside of the Flare, sending it right back at Bulfo with twice the speed. Wally could see the barrier clip the very end of the fireball off as it slipped past Bulfo’s defenses and hit him full on the chest, sending him tumbling and burning along the deck with a howl of pain.

Wally kept his momentum, ready to bring the Flare down on him as Rozzi ran up alongside to also strike the still sizzling sorcerer, their blades only sliced through open air and the remnants of mystic fire as he vanished and reappeared above the ship.

“GGRRHA! NO MORE GAMES! I’LL CRUSH YOU ALL NOW!” Bulfo pointed his ugly staff at them and the Fortune was lifted harshly from the sea and high into the air.

Terrifyingly loud groans and creaks rang in every ear as the Fortune was subjected to intense stresses, Bulfo’s magic slowly crushing it.

“NO!” Polly shouted as she thrust her hands out and formed a protective bubble of light around the ship.

It rocked slightly inside the bubble, but the pained sounds of the ship’s timber ceased. Polly shook and grunted with effort as Bulfo sneered and floated closer, the air beneath him a strangely distorted mess keeping him aloft. He brought his staff back and struck the barrier with it, the impact cascading over the entire surface. Polly shrieked in pain and recoiled at the blow, but the barrier did not fall.

The wicked mage cackled hoarsely as he hit the barrier again and again, each strike transmitting great pain to Polly.

“Wally!” Hyla shouted as she ran up to him. “Throw the biggest punch you can, I’ll handle the rest!”

Wally, entirely done with thinking twice, pulled back his hand and delivered the best straight right he could toward Hyla. The Sauroian sorceress placed a very small portal between herself and Wally, sending his hand on a mystically aided journey. Beside the villainous fiend a much larger portal came into being. Through it, the magically magnified fist of the Flarebearer emerged, ten times the size of its owner. It slammed into the unsuspecting toad’s broadside, and sent him flying against his will toward the horizon.

“G… Grandpa…” Polly shook with pain and exhaustion, eyes filled with tears. “Is… Is it safe? D-… Did I…”

The world fell away in that moment, as Blackeye could do nothing else but fall to his knees and embrace the child he’d raised. The fact the ship would plummet toward the ocean without her magic was a banished thought as he held her and said, “You saved us all, my dear… I’m so very proud.”

Polly managed a smile before consciousness slipped away from her.

The barrier vaporized.

The ship fell.

Every hand scrambled for something to hold onto.

Hyla shouted something unheard, and they all fell through another portal.

<[Chapter 18]–[Index]–[Chapter 20]>

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Thirty-Four

I carved the words into a stone, 'rumors of my demise have been greatly amusing', then departed once more. Just a simple joke for me, and me alone, but I pictured a stranger exploring the desert and coming across the rock to see the message inscribed and wonder what it could mean. Then, as it would turn out, that it means nothing, nothing at all, and I would always be the only one to know the answer to such a mystery.

I woke up not long ago in a sweat and an aching head. I didn't know how far I would have to go. Escape was something unimaginable and here I was, outside, in the dead heat of the sun. If only I had a map or a compass. Maybe that would have taken from the fun.

So where did that leave me? Out, in the open, I suppose. Drones, missiles, you name it. They could have struck me down. Turrets, landmines, can't forget those.

Except it felt like all had been forgotten.

Oh, I could remember everything, but it was all wrong. Unreal. It was said that no one who enters who isn't supposed to be there could escape alive and yet here I was, right? Maybe there was something to that, though. Maybe I never really left. Or maybe I did leave, but not alive, or not alive in the same way that I was before.

All of those thoughts might have just been musings of a delirious person, lost in the desert. It was so hard to tell...

“...I deserve this,” my dry mouth croaked.

For what must have been miles, I trudged on. No end in sight. At one point I tried to count each second that had passed, but then I lost count.

I collapsed once more.

Across the desert, I drove my morning stroll with my pickup truck. Bumps and rough terrain abound, but I was used to such things. There was just something about getting away from the main road out on the highway and sitting in the vast nothingness.

Usually that was how things went. I'd sit in my truck at about six in the morning and watch the sun rise. That particular morning I went out, my serenity was interrupted.

“Holy shit!” I slammed on the brakes and stormed out. On the ground was a redheaded lady in a strange attire, laying there, motionless.

I went up to her, my first thought being that she was dead, or if not dead, in need of serious medical attention. Slow breathing could be heard, although not quite a relief just yet. She might have still been unwell. After all, the heat can be unbearable, and those unprepared run the risk of severe heatstroke and dehydration.

So, knowing this, my first thought was to alert the authorities. Shouldn't have been my first thought, though. My second thought was a good scolding from myself to myself, because, of course, knowing where I was and the events that had transpired just a few day prior, I could put two and two together...

In the end, I lifted her up and brought her into my truck. She remained asleep as I placed her in the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt against her.

I'll just drive her to the nearest hospital. They'll know what to do with her, plus they're less likely to ask too many questions.

“I'm gonna get you some help, okay?” I turned my head to her as I started my truck. She didn't say anything in response. I didn't expect her to, anyway.

The drive ought to have been a smooth one. Once back on the road, anyway. There were still a few bumps here and there in the dirt. Couldn't be helped, just par for the course. I considered stopping at the inn first, as it would be open soon, and it might have been a good idea to let the rest of the staff know where I was going.

Not soon after starting the ride did my truck drive over a rock and sure enough, there was the thud. It was enough to wake her up and I heard her groan at first, then from the corner of my eye, saw her rubbing her eyes. I turned to her.

“Finally awake, huh?”

She nodded.

“You were trying to break into Area 51, right?”

“Something like that,” she spoke, her voice low and hoarse.

Her stomach rumbled.

“Need some breakfast?” I offered without even thinking of how I was previously going to drop her off at a hospital.

She nodded. Not much for talking, it seemed. Not that I could blame her.

I watched as she held her palm over her forehead and shook her head.

“This damn headache...how long have I been out, anyway?”

“No idea. I just found you here.”

“Figured as much.”

Her lack of shock or surprise was a complete surprise to me. I imagined that anyone in her position waking up in a stranger's car would wake up in quite the shock. Something told me she was used to things like that.

“We'll get to the diner soon.”

She didn't respond to that. Instead, she rested her head against the window.

However weak I was, I managed to walk out of the truck and into the diner. Outside I was met with alien and UFO decorations, trailers and RVS parked off to the side, and a giant green alien sculpture next to the diner that doubled as an inn.

Total tourist trap.

I looked up and groaned. Even the name of the restaurant was some extraterrestrial pun not worth mentioning. Please understand, not knowing the name was for the best.

Inside, I took my seat at a booth near the front counter. Around me, the restaurant was empty.

“In case you're wondering, we don't open for another hour.”

“So, it's...”

“7 AM.”

“Right.”

She served me a cup of coffee alongside a glass of water.

“Drink up,” was her commandment, as if I needed her permission. I was going to do that anyway.

It was a hot, black coffee. I took slow sips as to savor the flavor, even if said 'flavor' involved bits of coffee grounds.

“Wow, this is the best coffee I've ever tasted,” I remarked.

“You don't have to lie to me, missy. It is what it is, I get it.”

After a few minutes, she brought me a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage links. Of course, I chowed down. Regardless of quality, it felt like an eternity since my last proper meal and so it may as well have been the best breakfast I've ever tasted.

“You missed it, you know. The 'Storm Area 51' raid was a few weeks ago,” she informed me, as if this was information I really needed to know.

“Don't people attempt that every day anyway?”

“...And get themselves killed, yes. But 'Storm Area 51' is more like a party that goes on near the entrance. Third annual year it's been going on, in fact.”

“Ridiculous...”

“What about you?”

“Huh?” I acted surprised, my mouth full of egg.

“What were you doing out there?”

“Being ridiculous as well...” I grumbled.

“I take it you've not heard of the event before?”

“Not really, no.”

“Have you been living under a rock?”

“More like a pyramid.”

She laughed. It was one of those friendly laughs you might find from a hairdresser. In fact, she looked like someone I would have loved to have been my hairdresser if said hairdresser also doubled as a hostess at a diner.

Above me in a cabinet were mugs with aliens printed on them. Cute, tacky...cacky? Wasn't so sure about that last one being a word. Ought to be. As soon as I had access to the internet, I would start a petition to make that a word. That sounded like a good idea. I was allowed one of those, wasn't I?

“Yeah,” I added. Her laugh was cute, which gave me further incentive to ramble on. “That's where the aliens really are.”

“Oh, are you one of those 'ancient aliens' types?” She egged on. That reminded me to finish eating.

“No. I don't really believe in much.” I took another sip of bitter juice.

“That's a shame. We're all about the unbelievable here in Rachel.”

“Yeah? Name one unbelievable thing that you've encountered in the last few days.”

“Well, something magical happened. These trees and grass grew just a few miles out, then disappeared. We think it may have been government experiments. Maybe they have some environmental technology that they were testing. Or maybe we were all drunk at the right moment to think we saw something like that.”

Right. That happened.

“Okay. Name anything else.”

“Well, I found you.”

“I don't really believe it, either. How do I know I'm even here right now?”

I shook my head, my headache persisted. There was a constant dizzy feeling that refused to leave. As if at any moment I would reawaken in a cold, metallic room, suspended in the air by clasping claws, and watch as I was experimented on.

None of that happened, though.

We continued our chat. She turned out to be quite the conversationalist and prone to telling jokes, albeit, her sense of humor was very dry. Then again, her humor could have been much livelier had she not been through such a rough time and didn't sound so dry, herself. I poured her another cup of coffee, half to help her, and half so I could keep listening to her. Usually this place was covered with tourists and all of our staff was too busy for conversation. This was a nice change of pace.

“So if you didn't take part in the 'raid', how'd you end up out there?”

She mulled it over after a few slow drinks.

“My friend and I were going to check out the gates. Just go on a little sightseeing, is all. Our ride broke down, so we had to walk.”

Ouch. That must have been quite a walk.

“So you walked all the way there?” I balked.

She shook her head. Her voice was still a low mumble.

“Heavens, no! We hitched a ride from someone named Art.”

“Kind of husky guy, into cryptids?”

“Yeah. You knew him?”

Past tense. Wasn't a good sign.

“Yeah. Used to pass by here every so often. Liked to carry around fake IDs to try to buy drinks, but come on, 'Artoria Pendragon'? Really?”

Her eyes widened, then lowered them. Like she just heard some kind of revelation. She lowered her head as well, having folded her arms onto the table and resting her head on them.

“Anyway,” she continued. “There was an accident. Crash of some sort. Car burned up, went up in flames, like in movies. As I said, ridiculous. But it happened. Or at least, I recall something like that happening.”

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry...”

“Don't be, it was an accident.”

Wasn't sure if that was her dry humor, or actual reassurance. Couldn't understand how it could be the former, seeing as it must have been a traumatic situation for her. But the latter made little sense either.

“What about your friend?” I felt I shouldn't have asked.

“I...” She winced, looking like she was about to shed tears. “I don't know. Really.”

I handed her the dispenser of napkins, thinking she could wipe her eyes with some. She didn't use them.

“It's funny. It seems that wherever I go, I meet people, and then they die. Like I'm cursed or something.”

“I don't think you're cursed,” I did my best to assure her. “You've just been dealt a bad hand.”

She shook her head. “I dealt myself this hand. It was my decision to go.”

“That doesn't mean...”

“You know,” she seemed to be changing the subject. “I used to work for the CIA. I could tell you all of their secrets, if you want.”

I wasn't sure whether to humor her or not. She shook her head once again.

“Actually, I'm not even sure if I know all of their secrets anymore. Not that I ever did. Just enough to get me into trouble.”

“Did you really? You look so young.”

She smiled, then let the smile fade. “What does it matter?”

“Well...?”

“I'm an enemy of the state, just so you know. Some days it feels like Will Smith, other days it's more like Edward Snowden.”

“I'll humor you: if any of what you said was true, why tell me?”

She shrugged, then stretched out her arms and yawned.

“I guess I just don't have anything to live for.”

I crossed my arms and scowled. “Now, come on! None of that nonsense! Especially after I just served you a free meal!”

She smiled and it seemed genuine this time.

“You're right. Sorry, I have a bad habit of telling tall tales.”

“Well, you could at least try to keep them light.”

She leaned in. She must have been reading off my name tag. I forgot I was even wearing it.

“Say, Connie. I've told many lies, but I feel like I can be honest with you.”

“Of course.”

“My name's Mavis. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can meet again some day.”

She got up and walked out the door, just like that. I ran toward the door and yelled after her.

“Should you be going anywhere? Do you even have a place to go? Why don't you stay at the inn?”

She just waved back as if she didn't hear a word.

Make no mistake, I was grateful for the hospitality, but there was my own matters to deal with. Things left unresolved. My ship, for instance.

It wasn't too hard to find. Blanc and I had walked toward the highway in a straight line. Now, one could refute 'but Velvet! Which direction toward the highway!' and to that, you'd probably get called an idiot by yours truly because obviously it would have been the direction leading to Area 51. Now that we got that out of the way, I can get in the way. Of my ship. What I was trying to say was that I wanted inside already, dammit!

There was just an eensie-teensie problem and that was even though I knew it was near, from the outside, it was still the vast, empty space as usual.

I paced about. That was the problem, wasn't it? My stupid ship was a magnificent thing, but I could have walked through it without even knowing and then what?

“Hm. How have I been able to get in in the past?” I pondered, still pacing. I already knew the answer. Whenever it was stationed somewhere, it was in its physical form. There was no need to put it in the intangible form because it would be hidden underground and I could come and go as I pleased. When it was in the state it was currently in, I was already inside, safe. Now, on the outside...

I was stuck. If there was one thing I hated, it was being cooped up in a place. Sure, there was a limitless canvas I could walk across, but why should I have to do such a thing.

Frustrated, I tried out a hypothesis. Rather, a meaningless gesture in a world that no longer made sense.

I gave a good knock in the air, then pulled my arm back. The door opened.

No, it shouldn't have worked. Yes, it defied logic. But I was past that. I had come and gone from a place that felt like a fever dream that overstayed its welcome. Whether or not I was in the realm of reality no longer mattered, all I had to do was jump in and close the door behind me, and so I did.

There was the main deck, there was a room adjacent with beds. To the right of me, the pilot's chambers. In the main deck was the table where my laptop sat, and a chair to study in. As I looked around, I was hit with this ghostly air, the feeling of emptiness washed over me. Nothing had changed since I left, yet I was back to being the only occupant.

Then the feeling went away. Instead, the feeling of joy overtook me as I ran up to my desk and hugged the chair.

“I missed you so much!” I cried out. “If there's one thing I hate, it's a ship that doesn't go anywhere!”

I said that as if there was really anyone else around to hear. No. Not this time. In a sense, I think I would enjoy it. That is, being without company.

“Now, I have work to do. I didn't just risk my life on a whim.”

I pulled open my laptop, then pulled out a fingerprint scanner attached to a USB cable. Once plugged into the laptop, I got to work.

Here I was, in my office, just a simple manager of a simple antique shop, when two ruffians walked in. Two ruffians, and my cashier, Jeeves. Oh, the boy had a different name, but Jeeves suited my little cashier much more, as all associates should first and foremost be prepared to serve the manager as a personal butler.

“Boss, this American demands to speak with the manager.”

Just what I need. Tourists.

I walked right out and greeted my two lovely guests. My, what ruffians they were. One was a redhead who wore what I had to assume was some kind of militaristic outfit and the other was a young ruffian in their 20s with messy black hair and eating lamb on a stick without a care in the world.

“Oh, what beautiful rose graces us on this fine day? To gaze upon such a presence, I am simply unworthy! Please, angel, what ever shall I do?”

“Can it!” She grunted. “I'm gay.”

I straightened my tie and scowled. “So am I, but I appreciate good aesthetics when I see them.”

“Cool. Look. I'm looking for something in particular.”

“By all means, feel free to browse around. Whatever pleases the beauty.”

She groaned and handed me a card.

“Here's my request,” she said. Her words plain. To the point. Not sure whether to like or dislike her demeanor. Not to mention, with her attire, I was expecting mercenaries to flood my humble establishment at any moment.

At any rate, I stared down at the card, then looked back at the nuisance.

“I'm terribly sorry, but we no longer do business with members of The Order of the Rat Mom.”

She gave a nervous smile, then took out another card. “Sorry, I forgot, that was expired. Here, this should do.”

My eyes widened.

“Consider me impressed. To think that the Lamp Chasers was an not only actual organization, but to be blessed with one of its members. Please, allow me to show you the wares in the back.”

She smirked, then turned to her companion and cupped her hands.

“Hey Blanc, wait outside, okay?”

“Why?”

“This is adult business.”

“The fuck? I'm an adult too!”

“Okay, well, you know how porn shops are called 'adult stores' and doing your taxes is considered 'being an adult'?”

“Yeah. Which one is this?”

“This is like doing your taxes, but in a sexy way.”

“Ah, okay.”

She threw a couple of coins their way. Her companion failed to catch the coins, but picked them up and gleamed.

“Go buy yourself a Millennium Puzzle or something! I'll be out in a few!”

I walked back into my office while my esteemed guest followed close behind. I flipped the sign on my door to 'sorry, we're closed', then locked my office door. Once inside, I examined my bookshelf and picked out the right book.

My bookshelf slid to the side to reveal a passageway down a flight of stairs. We exchanged no words until the bookshelf closed back in behind us.

“How did you find this place?”

Air grew thicker as the light grew dimmer. My beard tingled. The silence had to be broken.

“I asked around and was referred to your shop. Was told to look for Sucon,” she answered with a sense of urgency.

“Well, it is I, Sucon, at your service.”

“Is that really your name?”

“No. But we deal in secrecy, as you know. My clients are all important people. Some may know me as Sawcon. It all depends on what you're looking for.”

We made our way down the steps where an ambient glow emanated from rows of glass cases. She browsed around and I had to admit, I stood in place, also taking a browse. Browsing at her, and what it was she might have been after.

“Tell me something, miss...”

“Valkyrie,” she sent me her reply without a moment's notice.

“Alright, Valkyrie. Tell me: is Agarttha real?”

She didn't look interested in answering, focused on one thing in particular. Still, she answered anyway.

“Yeah, and it's trash. Shimosa's so much better.”

“Oh, but what of Atlantis?”

“Could have existed. Don't see why not.”

“So you don't know, but you're not ruling it out?”

“Look, man. There's already cities that are technically below sea level. If one of them gets hit with a big enough flood, I'm sure they could go under as well.”

“I see, I see...”

I walked over to what she was looking at and peered into the glass as well. What she was so fixated on was concerning, to say the least.

“What need do you have with this?”

“I'm looking to gather some sensitive information.”

“I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem for someone of your expertise.”

“Believe me, I've tried.”

“And?”

“No results.”

“So you expect to get your results with this item?”

She nodded.

“Tell me how you intend to get such information.”

“You can already imagine how,” there was a look in her eye that implied something dangerous. “Seeing as you're the merchant. You know how this thing works. Besides, what's it to you what I do with it? Working with someone?”

That struck me as odd. Something wasn't adding up.

“I work with whoever has the means to buy from me. As for you, you're not who you say you are, are you?”

“I never said who I am. Just who I'm associated with.”

“Did your organization put you up to this? The Lamp Chasers?”

“In a sense. We want to dig up dirt on a rival organization. To do so, I'm going to need to use your device and scoop up as much data as I can.”

I thought it over. She was still fixated on the device. Could anyone blame her? Still, there would be no sale without a sense of trust between us.

“Tell me, who was your favorite of the valkyries?”

“Hm?”

“Mine was Brynhildr. Such a tragic figure, that girl.”

“Yeah, that's cool. I don't really have a favorite. Is this thing fireproof? If my fingers bleed, will it still be able to record data?”

“We can make the necessary modifications.”

“That's what I'm talking about. Now what about payment?”

I cleared my throat. “Come back in a week and we'll discuss this further.”

“Oh, come on!”

I waved my finger. “In a week. Then we'll make the arrangements.”

She left, disappointed. But I had all I needed to begin my research on her: her fingerprints.

So obviously I obtained the device in the end. It worked like a charm. If not for it, I may have never been able to get back into my ship. I think I was banking on the idea that I could grab a remote or something to control the ship. I had the keys, didn't I? Of course, they weren't any good if I didn't take them with me. I took a peak and sure enough, they were still in the ignition.

Velvet, you idiot. Once again, you make things harder on yourself.

Oh well, that was neither here nor there, right? What my current focus was on was the data being uploaded to my laptop. It all looked like strings of code. No files, but codes filling themselves. I couldn't even believe my eyes; they kept changing. It was like watching a virus at work, spreading. But this wasn't a virus, was it? It was a living organism in digital form. Some sort of limitless being forming and reshaping itself before my eyes.

I saw it once before. Way back in the city when I tried to hack into the underground cameras where the clone Blanc was located. “Clone”, as if that really mattered. As if they weren't the Blanc I had come to know since the beginning.

Yes, Conrad asked me to monitor them. But after a certain point, the camera seemed to override my command and change its code on me. Every time I tried to get back in, the code kept changing and growing more and more complex.

It looked like the same was happening here. Luckily, my merchant friend gave me another piece of equipment in case the following were to happen.

The bells chimed, my eyes darted to the door; I was ready.

“Hey, what's all this?” She entered, along with her companion. Those two hooligans weren't going to get the drop on me. I hired some armed mercenaries who stood by the door, their weapons drawn. My guards did not speak a word, but I knew that sly vixen could taste their malice.

“Dang,” the black haired one looked toward the guards. “This is some high-end antique shop.”

I nodded. “This one gets it.”

“Okay, but what's the deal?”

“Don't worry, they're for my protection.”

She glared. “...We can discuss this downstairs.”

“Good girl,” I stroked my chin and led her back down. The black haired one behind her wanted to follow suit and I couldn't quite trust them not to be some devilish figure either, but it was the redhead I had to be wary of.

“Blanc, stay outside.”

“Now, there's no need for that,” I played coy. “You can browse my many wares while the girl and I discuss our matters.”

Blanc, as the name the redhead referred to them as, gave a sudden and grave expression. “You better not harm her.”

“That all depends on her intentions, not mine.”

“Blanc, this isn't so serious. We've been through worse. Remember that time we accidentally raided that tomb?”

Blanc nodded and a smile crept. “Yeah, silly us!”

...Just who were those two?

Never mind that, there were more important matters. After Blanc stayed behind, the redhead and I made our way down the stairs and closed the bookshelf behind us.

“You were sloppy,” I began pointing out. “You left your fingerprints all over here.”

“Who cares? Are you accusing me of being a thief? I offered to pay upfront.”

“Nothing of the sort. I deal with many shady characters, some independent, some contract hires, some who belong to secret organizations. However, neither the Lamp Chasers nor the Order of the Rat Mom exist.”

She sighed. “So I made some shit up. I had to get in here somehow.”

“I've dealt with liars, no doubt. You must have your reasons. That's not of my concern. However, I did some research on you.”

“Don't tell me you looked into my love life.”

“No jokes, ma'am. Not today. Not when I have a serious threat in front of me.”

She gulped.

“Your attire, it already made me suspicious. Sure, I get mercenaries. Folks in military gear. They are of no concern to me. The thing is, you could have been one and if you were, there would have been no need to hide it. Instead, you walk all casual and try to be discrete.”

“So? You don't want what you do out in the open, do you?”

“I have my provisions,” I reminded her. “You must already know this. You must have done your research to know that I would have what you desired. It so happens that I did my research on you as well, and my suspicions were correct: you're the lady who stole a aircraft from Groom Lake. You have a death warrant put on you by the US government.”

“What about you? It's not like you've told me who you really are. 'Sucon'? Really?”

“Some call me Sawcon. My full name is Sugon Dhese.”

“...I'm not finishing that joke.”

“As for you, you're not really Valkyrie, are you?”

“Of course not. My actual name is Mary Sue Doe.”

“...It's Velvet. Or, that's the name that's listed on your file from the CIA. Velvet Waver.”

She held back some laughter. “Only one of those names is correct. Guess which one.”

“I don't care what your name is. I care about your reputation. I deal with hooligans and scoundrels, but not those of ill repute. None of my clients have sullied my name. You're a wild card.”

“So, am I in trouble or  not?”

I shrugged. For all the tension I brought her, I was a simple man.

“As long as I get my money, you may receive the device. However, I don't like it.”

“Don't like giving it to me?”

“I know you well enough. You intend to go back. It wasn't enough to steal a ship, was it?”

“In a sense, no, it wasn't enough. Or, maybe going back there isn't the right place to go, but it's the best lead I have. The place I'm most familiar with. With all the secrets they hold, they're bound to have what I'm looking for.”

“What about your companion? What is their significance?”

“None whatsoever. They're no one special.”

“Are they now? They seem rather attached to you and you to them.”

“I told you I'm a les--”

I shook my head. “That's not what I mean. What is their significance to you? Why have you brought them with you?”

“Blanc is a best friend of a friend, or was once. I feel a responsibility toward them.”

“Yet you would endanger them by returning to that forsaken place where the air force has been made aware of your presence once before?”

“I'll think of something.”

“Will you? Where will you leave them behind?”

She hesitated. “I didn't say I would...”

“I'm not saying they're a liability, but I don't fancy the idea of you so carelessly throwing away the life of someone innocent for your personal gain.”

“What about you? You're a capitalist.”

“What I do to others is on me.”

She leaned up against the wall. “Assume that I acquire this data, but it rewrites itself. Scrambles itself like an endless cipher.”

“You're talking about the code.”

“Yes.”

“If the code can rewrite itself, it must have had it written in the code to do so in the first place. If you can delete that line, the code will have no choice but to stay still.”

“What if the code rewrote that line already?”

“Nonsense. Nothing is truly 'rewritten', just 'overwritten'. The original is still there, underneath, somewhere.”

“Do you have something that can help with that.”

“Yes.”

“I'll wire the money to you.”

I allowed her to leave after that. In the end, I still had my business, and one life, two lives, they were no loss to me. 'Velvet', or whoever she was, would one day have to live with her actions, but I? I would remain rich.

Blanc and I would travel around during that time. We were two and a half years into the pyramid scheme with Conrad when I learned of the merchant. Although at the start of year three was when we left, I had grown restless much longer than that.

The merchant was right; those groups didn't exist. I just banked on the idea that they could have after researching names of many secret societies.

There wasn't even a certainty that I would need such a device, but my doubts of Conrad's effectiveness grew. If Blanc and I didn't leave, if we were more patient, maybe...but then again, maybe Conrad wanted it to happen the way things did. It was impossible to tell.

The merchant's descrambler worked, thank goodness. My laptop only had 300 TB of hard drive space, not to mention a terabyte of RAM. There was only so much it could take.

“Finally, I am uncovering these fleshlight fuckers' secrets...” I murmured.

But before I had a chance to look at the contents, a knock pounded at my door.

“That's odd...did they find me already?” I closed the laptop just in case. My mind raced to this hypothetical 'flashbulb' or the feds. The CIA. Or the military. Was my ship about to be seized? Did they have a tracker on their data? Did I just put a sign on myself letting everyone know where I was?

My mind continued to race and the knocks grew louder. I could hear a voice this time.

“OPEN UP, IT'S BUTCH!”

I don't know a Butch, do I?

I opened the door a crack, even though I could have played into the enemies' hands. The short figure appeared before me, glowing, tanned from the desert heat. She wore a baseball cap with the name 'dirty sox' written on it. Her blue hair had been cut short, so she looked more like an angry pixie. Still, it was a familiar face if there ever was one.

“Mavis?” I tilted my head. “How did you get here? How did you survive, for that matter?”

“I told you, I'm Butch.”

Oh no. There was just NO way I could help myself. I burst into laughter.

I pointed to her and poked her shoulder. “You, a butch? Since when?”

She growled. “Shut up and let me in!”

“No. Nope. No way.”

She wouldn't listen. She shoved her way past me. I don't know where she found such strength when I remember her just a shrimp behind a computer desk...just like me. I blinked.

“Fine!” I slammed my door shut. “But I demand to know how you got here!”

“I did terrible things...things I would have rather not done. But I'm here. That's all that matters.”

“Damn...I'm sorry.”

“You better be!” She snapped. “Besides, this is property of the United States Air Force!”

“No, I think it's Property of Velvet. Finder's keepers.”

I plopped back into my chair and swiveled around. When I came back toward my desk, I propped my legs up and opened my laptop back up. What I found out what astonishing. Documents pertaining to the ETNA Corporation. The same one that took residence in that city. In fact, Dr. Chekhov mentioned something to that effect. Dr. Etna providing resources to him. I proceeded, parsing and skimming through other documents.

“Hey! Don't just ignore me! I'm right here!”

“I'm not ignoring you. For all I know, you're not real and I've just gone insane. For all I know I may be back there and never left and me being here is an imagined scenario that I've put myself in to cope.”

“...You're insane.”

“That is a side-effect of being down in that place. Now, if you excuse me, I would rather not be interrupted.”

My eyes darted from window to window. Documents on the research of an organism these scientists labeled an 'angel'. Programs in place to fuse the organic structure of this 'angel' with an artificial intelligence, then use the extracts of the organism with other forms of technology. The link between the research on this otherworldly being and the elevator that got put into place.

The start of this whole mess.

I knew what those did already. Conrad knew, Kelly Roger knew. We all saw those documents. But did we know the extent? Maybe Conrad already did. Kelly Roger was always too contrarian. Conrad always went on about The Flashbulb and was so convinced, but this...

It seemed they did and they didn't. The Morale Department, the real name for the ETNA Corporation. It was put into place by a group known as The Flashbulb, but then who or what they were was still missing. One other thing was missing: the most vital information of all.

Where were they located?

“What are you even doing?”

I turned around and I don't know how I found myself with such a delirious smile, but there I was.

“The real reason I went back there. It's on my computer now.”

She crossed her arms. “That reason being?”

“My ship never needed fuel. It wasn't designed to need fuel. I just needed a distract. I was the distraction. While everyone was focused on trying to kill me, thinking I was scrambling about like a chicken with its head cut off, I was running my hand along every wall, extracting all I could.”

“You...”

“No one ever took notice! Not even you! If I tried to extract information from you guys remotely, I would have been caught and the information would have never ended up in my hands! I needed to risk my life just for a little bit of proof!”

“Proof of what?”

“Conrad always went on about how he needed to stop The Flashbulb and his conviction was good enough for him, but never for me! He thought he could wait it out, wait for the opportunity, but not me! I get restless, I need proof! Here, in front of me, now, is that proof!” I couldn't help myself. I was cackling. I had won. I had lost so much, but I had won.

“I was suspicious if I could even trust Conrad. I needed to know what he was saying was true. So I did my own research. But it all came up with false leads, or half-leads. I may be an idiot, but I am no fool. I know there were things being obscured, obscured in such a way that I couldn't find it. But I needed to know. I was itching to know. What was so worth hiding that not even I could find it?”

“You were just looking in the wrong places...” She suggested. I brushed her words aside.

“No, the places were everywhere. They put up these conspiracies. The truth, the lies, they're everywhere. Leaked documents, symbols. Most of them false leads, but they allow them to leak, they allow people to think they mean something, so they can get away with their real crimes. That's what they do.”

“Divisions, corruption. It's all a calculation. They allow rumors to spread. Rich, those of influence. Secret societies. Part of them may be part of this and that. All of those things are bad and they flood the senses with the sensation at such a rapid rate that they're unable to see anything else. The truth? The truth isn't out there. It's here. It's everywhere. It's all a lie. They want to save humanity. They want to ruin humanity. They are humanity.”

“You're beginning to sound paranoid,” her voice cracked. She looked a little frightened.

“Yeah, maybe I am a little paranoid. Maybe I always have been and I've just had different methods than Conrad or Kelly Roger. Maybe that's why we worked so well as a trio. Because even though all three of us served similar roles, we were all varying degrees of paranoia. Alone, we're dysfunction. We're reckless. We'll explode. Together, we might have done something.”

I looked back at some more documents.

“Conrad helped keep me in check. I was never meant to be a leader. He could take what he needed, safe in the shadows. I'm too reckless. This is the only way I know to operate.”

“Look at this right here: 'The ETNA Project'. It's gone under many names. Dr. Etna herself, leader of the ETNA Corporation has called the project many things. This supposed 'angel', being one of them, but damn...none of them are quite right and yet all of them may as well be. Etna is the ETNA Project. She was the first creation to combine the properties of this organism with a piece of technology. She was designed to command and be who she was, designed by The Flashbulb.”

It was her turn to laugh.

“That's what this whole thing has been about? The Flashbulb? That's child's play! I could have told you all that! Everyone in Area 51 knows that!”

“Everyone there also has this 'angel' in them, apparently,” I added.

“Yes, as does much of the world.”

Right. The elevators.

“That's why we've brought ourselves to ruin. Just look at recent events.”

At her request, I opened my browser. In front of me lay articles detailing the destruction at the city I once took residence in. People flying into manic attacks; raging acts of self-destruction with smiles on their faces. I looked back at Mavis. She looked stifled, a sweat building up. It was similar to how she acted in the facility when she tried to attack me.

“We tried to put a limit on the limitless. As you can see, it didn't last.”

I grit my teeth. I knew I wasn't responsible, but I felt that for all the time I had wasted, I could have done more.

“I need to know where they keep their headquarters.”

“I could tell you,” she offered. “But I wouldn't know how we could there.”

I sighed. Back to square one.

“You know what's funny about all this? You think The Flashbulb is the big conspiracy here, but they're just another company and like a company, they answer to investors. Those investors, answer to other investors. Those other investors answer to them. There's always someone bigger until it goes back to where it started. But the real conspiracy is you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I thought I knew all about you. We all did. Even the CIA knew nothing.”

“That is true. I put that I had a Master's in Computer Programming. I was an English major.”

“The thing is, they didn't know your resume was falsified until after you leaked that document and fled. They're usually very thorough. Nothing should get past them, or us. The first time, it all checked out. The second time, nothing. No such records. So, how?”

“I needed a reason to get in in the first place.”

“Why?”

“I had a girlfriend in high school, her name was Violet. One day she just vanished. I tried looking for her, to no avail. I did all the searching I could online, no results. Even as I entered college and worked toward higher education, I was determined to find out what happened to her. I thought that if I entered the CIA, I would find my answer. Sure enough, while there, I learned that she had joined the military at one point, but it didn't say which branch or where she was stationed. I thought that if I made my way into the Groom Lake Testing Site, that one of their databases would give me an answer. I got careless, however, and was caught, so I fled in a stolen ship.”

“That's the truth behind it all? The big twist? You did all that you did because of 'the one who got away'?”

“Many people thought I must have been some sort of spy or secret agent when really I was just an ordinary girl who learned all these things in hopes of learning the truth about her old love.”

“You're crazy.”

“What can I say? People do crazy things when they're in love.”

“No. That's not what I mean. Your story is full of holes.”

“Are you saying I would lie about someone so dear to me?”

“That's the thing about you. 'The truth is...' this, 'the truth is...' that. There's partial truths somewhere. But never the whole story. When you were first at the facility, back when you stole this ship, you left many fingerprints and strands of hair behind. No gloves, nothing to keep us from finding out who you really were. Except...your fingerprints didn't match anyone's. Nor did your hair. There were a couple theories for this: you erased your own history, your own records, without anyone ever finding out, or you never had any to begin with and were born to a secret organization where they never gave you a name or any records. One that we didn't know about.”

“I--”

“I know. You're independent. All your messes are your own. But that's the thing: we went through every high school in and outside of the country. No one who matched your description. You could have changed your image. You could have used something to mask yourself.”

“I--”

“And no, you can't use that 'people do crazy things when they're in love' line. I've seen Hercules! That movie is too iconic to not get the reference! Next your tell me your actual girlfriend's name was Megara!”

Damn, wouldn't that have been great?

“In fact,” she continued in the rantings of her own. “We've recorded conversations you've had. Compiled a list of names you've used for yourself. Most of them contain the letter 'v' within. Usually starting with 'v'. Violet, was one of them. For all I know, maybe 'Velvet' never existed, or maybe she did, and maybe Velvet did have a girlfriend named Violet, but you're not Velvet. For all I know, the person I'm standing next to is Violet.”

“Purple isn't my natural hair color,” I smirked. Clone or no, she was more clever than I ever gave her credit for.

“Was purple Violet's natural hair color?”

“I have used that name. In fact, just earlier today, I told someone my name was Mavis.”

“What?! Why would you do something like that?!”

“I thought you were dead!”

“That gives you an excuse?! Just use a dead person's name as your own?!”

I shrugged.

She looked fucking pissed. Like I just pissed on her grave and she rose on up to exact vengeance upon me. But rather than strangle the life out of me, she composed herself.

“It doesn't even matter what your real name is, if you even have one. It seems your preferred name is Velvet seeing as that's what you've used most often.”

I tidied up my collar and looked rather pleased with myself. Good. Best to let a good thing keep going.

“You know, you kind of remind me of her...” I mentioned, looking away. “I thought for a while back there that maybe you were a clone of her. Or a clone of me. Or some sick combination.”

“Do you still think I was?” Was. Was?

I shook my head. “It doesn't matter. The most likely scenario is that they thought so high of me that they could find someone with what they thought had a similar set of skills and cultivate them until they resembled something like me, but obedient to them.”

“Well, regardless, I'm me.”

“That's a good way to look at it. Speaking of, where do you think you'll go now that I told you what you wanted to know? Think you'll snitch on me?”

“I can't do that. Thanks to you, I have no home.”

“You never had a home in the first place,” I said, without even thinking about how harsh that may have sounded. “They just created you to serve a role.”

“Excuse you?”

“Sorry. What I mean is, even before you found out what you were, you didn't really care about the military or any bullshit like that. You may have gloated in some nefarious things, but it was mostly to get at me. No, you justified your actions because of the supposed money you thought you were making, or would make. But you were never allowed to leave, and you never saw that money, so what good would that hypothetical money would have been?”

“I know that now, okay?”

“So where are you going to go?”

“I'm already here.”

“No, nu-uh. That is NOT what I mean.”

“I have no home, you said so yourself. I'm staying right here.”

“No, you're leaving. This is a one-person ship. It's reached its maximum capacity!”

“You and I both know that's not true.”

“Well, I work best alone and with you here, I am not alone.”

“That's a lie as well.”

“Look, bucko, butchy, whatever you wanna call yourself: if there was some sort of enemies to lovers thing going on, it was on a slow path. First there's enemies, then there's reluctantly working together and tolerating each other, then friends, then close friends, then lovers. We didn't even reach the friends category! This ship is reserved for me and my friends.”

“Well, too bad. I'm staying. End of discussion.”

I gave up, or gave in, I forgot the difference. I let out a deep sigh. There was too much to unpack and I hadn't even looked through my ship for any snacks. I needed a nap. With a look of resignation, I got up out of my seat and headed to the bunks.

“Where are you going?” She demanded.

“To bed.”

“It's 2 PM!”

“I've had a long day. Goodnight.”

I climbed into the top bunk and laid on my back. Underneath a pillow was a stick of gum. I stuck the gum in my mouth and chewed.

“You're not going to lose control again and attack me, right?”

“No way! I'm past that! You know that!”

“...If you like my face so much, why don't you kiss it?” I muttered, then blew a bubble.

“WHAT?!”

“Just kidding.” I turned to my side. “Unless...”

“No! For your information, I hate your face so much that I want to find some gorilla glue and prevent you from ever opening your mouth again!”

I felt like I was going to giggle like a schoolgirl at such a childish remark. Oh well, good enough as any to get some shut eye.

Velvet was right to question how I was alive. I really shouldn't have been. Nor was I. At least not as the person she knew.

It happened as she ran off after I told her to go on without me. I sat, awaiting whatever fate may come. Sure enough, Etna appeared before me.

“You failed to kill her.”

“That's right. She's still alive, so why don't you get it over with and kill me?”

She looked down at me, her tall figure staring as if I was an animal in an enclosure at the zoo and she was a curious child.

“What would you have done if you were to have made it free?” She asked me. My head was down. I couldn't even tell if she was looking at me or just in my direction.

“That's easy. I would have changed my appearance, changed my name. Find some place to hide where no one would ever find me and settle down. Even if it meant a boring life, just to know that I'd be alive and safe, that would be enough for me.”

“What name do you think you would have given yourself?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“I don't. Answer anyway.”

“Butch.”

“Funny.”

“Shut it.”

“I could grant you your wish, if that is what you desire. However, you will still die.”

“You mean one of your elevators? You'd just expect me to walk through there and become a new person? Can you even make one appear now?”

“Yes. Or something similar”

“Why would I agree to something like that? Being a new person, that is.”

“Not only that, but there is a chance that you would lose yourself again. There is an even higher risk, in fact. You may find yourself more relaxed in some aspects, but more prone to instability.”

“I'll do it.”

“Why?”

“Because in truth, I want to teleport to her. I want to meet her and kill her, then replace her. Then and only then can I be a new person.”

“Is that what you believe?”

I had no response. Maybe the effects hadn't worn away. Not fully.

“If that is your wish, it will happen. But if you do not truly desire it, it will not.”

“Why are you helping me, anyway?”

“I was in a similar situation, just a moment ago. I thought I knew everything and that I was in control, but it only takes someone who knows something you don't to undo it all.”

“Do you really care about humanity?”

“No. But call it the human side of me to want to be recognized by my peers, just as you.”

“Funny. You have your pride to maintain.”

“Yes, and that too is slipping. At one instant, I thought I saw my other half, but it was just an image that I had conjured up, a defense mechanism in my programming to convince me to keep going. She may never show up in this universe, but then again, it could have been a premonition. I cannot say.”

I looked up and told her to take me through. I didn't understand anything about her “other half” but Etna was known for being a cryptic, self-indulgent piece of shit.

She raised her head, understanding my request. What opened up was not one of her elevators with its blades and razors, but something more like a door. No darkness. It looked like a swirling light show of lasers, shades of silver and aquamarine. I knew when I stepped through that the version of me inside the facility would be disintegrated and yet I went through anyway.

What emerged on the other side was the 'me' that landed next to her ship, able to knock on its door. That 'me' was now hovering over her on her bed, on my knees, and holding a knife pointed toward her. My intention was to stab her while she was unaware. If she were to wake up, I would have kept doing so until I knew she was gone, out of my life, and I could claim this life as something new, free from her influence.

...But that wasn't how it worked. If I did it, plunged it into her, that would have been it. I could have been successful. She didn't even seem to notice me. But what would the point have been? She'd be dead and I'd be there, alone, with nowhere to go.

Yes, I could have flown the ship, found somewhere, and landed, but the reality was that I knew the world was ending. She was right and I was right. I didn't have a home. I didn't have a place to go. It was the reality of the situation and no needless bloodshed would change that.

What would change that was a push, not from anything I noticed, but just me, and a loss of balance. There was a heaviness in my eyelids. Even if very little happened, the truth was that I too...

I fell over. The knife dropped onto the floor.

What I landed on was her chest and I couldn't break free.

“Did you just try to kill me?” She asked.

I was startled. How long had she been awake.

“I'm too tired...”

She wrapped her arms around me. Tears began to form around my eyes. She felt warm, I didn't even try to break free.

“You should sleep, then.”

I wasn't really sure what was going to happen the morning after. She didn't seem to know what she was doing, either. Maybe we were in the same boat in that regard. We at least were in the same ship. I drifted, not knowing where we would go. Not believing that we could go anywhere. But I tried to have hope that we could find a place, somewhere.