#river is just stuck in one giant bad day on a loop

[ladylynse]

Dimensional Displacement [FFN | AO3]: Danny has a love-hate relationship with the Fenton Booo-merang. This time, it didn’t do him any favours. This time, it knocked him through a portal—and from what he can glean from the Water Tribe siblings he meets, odds are, there’s a reason for that.

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For @geronimo-alonzi as a thank you for donating to my ko-fi. (Yes, they won my fic giveaway, but I finished this one first.) Loosely based on this three sentence fic.

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Danny had been clobbered in the head by the Fenton Booo-merang more often than he’d like to admit, let alone count, but this was the first time it had knocked him through a portal.

That wouldn’t have been a particularly bad thing if the portal hadn’t immediately closed behind him.

One minute, he’d been minding his own business in the Ghost Zone, coming back from a visit with Frostbite that Jazz must have forgotten about if she’d sent the Booo-merang after him. (Sam was stuck with her parents at some fancy dinner party thing somewhere and Tucker was working on designing a computer game for his comp sci assignment, a class neither Sam nor Danny was in, so it had to have been Jazz.)

The next minute, Danny was…. He didn’t even know where he was. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He’d caught the Booo-merang before either he or it had hit the ground, but once he’d righted himself to look around, there was no familiar skyline or something equally useful to him. There were only trees and rocks and dirt roads as far as the eye could see, even from a considerable distance up in the air.

Well.

That wasn’t quite fair. He could see a silver river cutting through the trees in a path roughly parallel to the road, but in terms of helpful things, he was coming up empty.

He didn’t even know which direction he’d need to fly to get to a city. It was too light out to see any distant glow of city lights against the scattered clouds, and all he could smell when he breathed in was fresh air and pine needles and something else—moss? The general mix that was pretty much mulch on the forest floor?—that was decidedly natural, not the signs of human activity he’d been hoping for. Sure, following the road or even the river would get him somewhere sooner or later, but what was he supposed to do, pick a random direction or go eenie meenie minie moe?

Danny did another loop above the trees, looking for some sign of anything, and came up with nothing.

“Come on!” Danny yelled at the patch of blue sky where the portal had closed. He spun in a circle, the Booo-merang clutched tightly in his fist, but it didn’t pull in any direction, and he didn’t catch so much as a glimmer of the familiar green of the Ghost Zone. “Just open up again already!” It was as effective as he’d expected it to be, which was not at all, but screaming out his frustrations made him feel a bit better. “Now! Please?”

Unsurprisingly, the portal didn’t listen.

Out of appealing options, Danny threw the Booo-merang. Logically, he knew it wasn’t the Infi-Map. Logically, he knew that the universe did not often do what was convenient for him, even if he sometimes got incredibly lucky in a fight. Logically, he knew that the chances of the Booo-merang deciding to reprogram itself to find portals just because it had done it this one time (likely coincidentally) were slim to none.

Illogically, he didn’t expect the stupid thing to circle around and hit him in the back of the head again.

Danny cursed and landed to retrieve the fallen Booo-mang from the roadway, muttering under his breath about how much he’d like to just dismantle the thing and hide the pieces. He wouldn’t, of course. It worked too well to risk Sam, Tucker, and Jazz losing the ability to find him if they really needed to. It had been dicey enough the few times his parents had decided to try to ‘fix’ it, only for disaster (Vlad) to strike in the meantime.

That didn’t mean Danny couldn’t fantasize about bashing it against a rock, though. There were plenty of those around.

“That’s a weird looking boomerang,” someone said from behind him, and Danny nearly jumped into the air right there.

He didn’t, mostly because he was getting used to Sam and Tucker trying to surprise him, but it was a near thing.

He wasn’t used to people sneaking up on him. His ghost sense was reliable, Dash made more noise walking around than even Jack Fenton, and, well, most of the people who hunted him couldn’t be subtle if they tried, especially since a good chunk of them liked hearing their own voice. He’d only ever really had to worry about Jazz, and self-preservation in the face of tickle attacks had given him the ability to be extra sensitive to her presence whenever she was in a certain mood.

The two who’d caught him by surprise now must have come from the trees on the other side of the road, and he hoped that meant they hadn’t seen him do anything particularly ghostly. Granted, neither of them was screaming, so he should be safe. They didn’t look terrified, either. Wary, maybe, but not scared.

Danny guessed that they were both somewhere around his age. Siblings, by the looks of them, but probably not twins even if they’d both decided to leave the house wearing oddly styled blue clothes today, at least compared to the usual jeans and T-shirt combo Danny was used to seeing. Unless he wasn’t anywhere near the States anymore? Or unless he’d been flung through to a different time. But the boy had spoken English, and it hadn’t sounded funny to Danny’s ears, no lilt of a foreign accent or strange phrasing that he associated with Shakespeare or something.

The girl was his height, the boy a bit taller, and they were both staring at him.

They probably thought he was the one who was dressed strangely.

The boy pointed. “Your boomerang,” he repeated. “It looks weird.”

The girl elbowed him in the gut—none too gently, judging by his immediate wheeze—and hissed, “Sokka!”

Yeah, those two were definitely siblings. And even if the girl wasn’t older, she definitely had the annoying (and annoyed) sister tone down pat. Danny had heard (and been on the receiving end of) the same from similar exchanges with Jazz more than once.

“Sokka’s going to apologize, right, Sokka?”

The boy frowned and then threw up his hands. “Right. I apologize for saying your boomerang looks weird. It looks interesting.”

The girl stepped on his foot, and he yelped. “What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Maybe the portal had dumped him out in the middle of some historical re-enactment thing. Granted, there should really be more people around if that were the case—or at least hidden cameras. He was better at spotting them now. Vlad and his creepy spy tendencies aside, Danny had gotten good at noticing (and avoiding) cameras so he didn’t let his secret get caught on tape. (There were a surprising number of places in Amity Park not under video surveillance, or at least not under real video surveillance even if they had fake cameras out; he could practically transform in the middle of the street sometimes.)

Still, nothing about this felt staged. It didn’t even feel like one of his enemy’s tricks, some giant setup that was meant to trap him or whatever. That’s not to say Danny was wholly convinced this meeting, whatever it was, was merely chance—he didn’t particularly trust Clockwork not to arrange things as he saw fit without warning anyone—but it didn’t feel overly contrived, either. There was just….

Something felt off, and he couldn’t explain what it was.

“It’s fine,” Danny repeated, since the two were looking at him dubiously, but the familiar phrase felt strange on his tongue, almost like—

Wait.

“Okay, this is going to sound like a weird question, but where are we?”

The boy, Sokka, blinked. “Did you hit your head or something? We’re in the Earth Kingdom. Or, wait, do you mean where in the Earth Kingdom? Look, if you need new supplies, there’s not much in the last few villages, but we’re about a day from—”

The girl elbowed him again, and he fell silent. Danny could see the growing suspicion on her face for what it was, could see suspicion settling on the boy’s face as well, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d asked the wrong question or because he’d asked something at all. He’d been paying attention this time, watching Sokka’s lips, and Danny didn’t have to be a good lip reader to know that he hadn’t been saying the words Danny had heard.

Well.

More accurately, he hadn’t been saying them in English.

And Danny, in answering, had somehow not been speaking English.

That was not, as far as Danny was aware, something Clockwork could do to him.

He didn’t know a ghost who had power over language, though, unless the Ghostwriter had something else up his sleeve and this mess was it. Nocturne would be able to pull anything in a dream, but Danny couldn’t see why he’d bother including something that would be an obvious tell like this, so it shouldn’t be him even if he had decided to come back. More likely, it was someone he hadn’t fought before, someone who had targeted him, seen an opportunity when the Booo-merang had hit him and seized upon it to throw him…here.

Wherever here was.

The Earth Kingdom, apparently.

“Um.” The girl still looked like she expected him to start fighting, and her stance…. Danny didn’t recognize it, but he did know that she looked ready to move at any moment. Her brother had taken her cue and, while Danny hadn’t been paying attention, pulled out a boomerang of his own. That couldn’t be good. “Look. I know how this sounds.” How he sounded, more like. If he had some accent he couldn’t hear because he wasn’t speaking their language properly, whatever it was, this had to be a setup after all.

Someone had sent him here to be dealt with. By this world, this dimension or construct or whatever it was, if not necessarily by these two people.

Granted, Danny wasn’t sure why someone would go to the trouble of letting him understand and be understood in the first place if that were the case, since he could get in just as much trouble without speaking the native language.

Surely he wasn’t actually supposed to help someone here, right? This wasn’t even his world. Or the Ghost Zone. Whatever was going on here was most definitely not his business.

Except now he was in the middle of it, so if there was something going on, it would be beneficial to find out what it was sooner rather than later.

This wasn’t some Jumanji kind of thing where he’d been tossed into a game and had to do whatever it was to get out again, was it? It didn’t feel like the time he’d gone into Doomed, but that had been intentional, and this….

Okay, no, he didn’t have enough information to speculate, which meant he needed to get some information out of these two in order to get somewhere. “I just…. I was kidnapped and dumped here for some reason, and I’m trying to find my way home.” That was close enough to the truth that it shouldn’t raise any red flags. Hopefully. “My name is Danny.” Introducing himself as Phantom, even in ghost mode, wasn’t something he wanted to do when he had no idea how these people felt about ghosts. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d ever see him as Fenton. He just needed to stick to the ground and pretend to be a normal human being, which he could most definitely do—at least when the sun was bright enough that his slight glow was basically nonexistent. He doubted it would be terribly noticeable even under the cover of trees.

“Danny,” the girl repeated, not relaxing her stance. “That’s an unusual name.”

Sokka just cocked his head at Danny. “Why would anyone kidnap you?”

It was spoken like it was an innocent, thoughtless question, something that could be brushed away with a laugh, but Danny could read an underlying tension in each of their faces. Sokka was waiting on his answer, and so was his sister. Danny’s response might very well determine what happened next.

Consequently, Danny didn’t miss the fact that Sokka didn’t offer up any potential explanations that he could jump on.

Another lie wasn’t going to do him any favours, not when he knew so little. “I don’t know.” He could guess, but he didn’t know. From the looks of it, though, these two wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Chances were good they wouldn’t be particularly satisfied with his suspicions, either, which was that someone wanted him out of the way for whatever they were planning—or maybe that someone had decided they wanted to have a little fun with him at his expense, if world domination wasn’t on the table. “My parents are inventors. Maybe that’s why?”

“That doesn’t explain why whoever took you would leave you here,” Sokka pointed out, and Danny wished these two weren’t so smart. “If you were taken because you were valuable, you wouldn’t have been left behind unguarded.”

“So maybe they kidnapped the wrong person and realized that I wasn’t who they wanted?”

Sokka exchanged glances with his sister before murmuring, “We can ask Toph. I mean, it’s possible they found us, but if he is really a Fire Nation plant picked solely for his eye colour, they’d have at least dyed his hair and given him some normal clothes.”

Danny decided not to ask who the heck picked people for something based on eye colour and not skill or merit or experience or something normal like that. Aside from derailing the conversation from anything potentially useful, Danny was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t realized he’d been overheard, and it wouldn’t be in Danny’s best interests to let them know how good his hearing was.

Still, he took the opportunity to tuck away the Booo-merang before they could ask any questions about it that he wasn’t up to answering. Maybe it would make him seem like less of a threat if they didn’t think he was ready to use it as a weapon—not that he knew how to use a boomerang as a weapon, but he was pretty sure Sokka hadn’t pulled his out to see which of them could throw it farther or throw it properly—and maybe then they’d trust him enough to answer his questions. Hopefully. He was perfectly willing to meet this Toph if it meant figuring out where he was and how to get home, especially since it would be easy enough for him to cut and run later.

The movement was enough to draw the attention of the siblings, though, and both pairs of eyebrows rose. Had they not expected him to make what he hoped would be taken as a gesture of trust or were they wondering how the heck he’d gotten it into his pocket? Maybe they thought he was trying to hide it, which wouldn’t help matters at all. Then again, if they thought that he thought it had been a subtle move, then maybe—

No.

He had to stop doing this. He didn’t know enough about these two to try to guess their thoughts, let alone what actions they might take against him.

Danny shifted on his feet, glad they hadn’t jumped to attacking and that they weren’t even asking questions about the Booo-merang, since practically anything about it would be difficult to answer. At least they hadn’t seen him flying. Even for people familiar with ghosts, unknown ones tended to be cause for concern until their threat level was assessed, and Danny didn’t want to invite trouble and immediately find out what this world had that messed with ghosts. Sure, he wanted to know what could hurt him here, but finding out while it wasn’t actively being used against him was infinitely preferable.

“Where did you say you were from?” the girl asked after a beat, even though they all knew he’d never said anything about that.

“Nowhere you would know,” he hedged, which was true enough.

“We travel a lot,” the girl said, and her brother snorted.

“What Katara means is, try us. If we can help you get back to your family, what do you have to lose?” Sokka offered Danny a grin, and his stance had visibly relaxed, even if he hadn’t put his boomerang away. It might be just for show, especially since he still had a weapon out, but at least the girl hadn’t drawn any knives or something like that. “Look, from one guy to another, you don’t need to make up some crazy story if you’re a runaway or something like that. We’re basically runaways.”

“We’re running towards something, not away from it.”

“We were almost runaways.” To Danny, Sokka added, “Gran caught us, but she let us go.”

Katara rolled her eyes, and Danny looked between the two of them as Sokka continued talking. It was obvious that they’d changed tack for some reason, no doubt trying to get him to trust them, but the blatant switch made him uneasy. Did they not realize how obvious that was or was this just their usual dynamic?

“I’m from Amity,” Danny eventually interrupted. He knew from the way that they were looking at him that neither of them had forgotten he had yet to answer the question. He’d already told them they wouldn’t know the place, so technically he could’ve said Amity Park, but for all he knew, these two had been sent to get information out of him, and the less he told a potential enemy, the better.

Come to think of it, maybe he shouldn’t have told them his real name, and maybe he should’ve just made up a village name rather than dropping heavy hints about his hometown.

“Which is near—?”

Danny ignored Sokka’s prompt. He didn’t even have a good enough idea of the geography of this place to make that up, especially when there was a chance they knew the area, runaways or no. “Do you know where I could get some water? I haven’t found any since I woke up.” That wasn’t true, but they wouldn’t know that unless they were getting some more intel about him from someone unseen.

The siblings looked at each other again, and then Katara faced him and said, “We’re headed to the river. Come with us. You can get your water, and we can share our catch if we get anything.”

“Wait, I didn’t agree to share my meat!” Sokka exclaimed. Katara’s only answer was a dirty look, but it was enough to have Sokka subsiding into grumbles.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Danny said, which also strictly wasn’t true, but he knew he didn’t need to eat much.

“You might be hungry by the time we’re finished,” Katara said over Sokka’s griping.

Danny hesitated, trying to figure out how weird it would be if he made up some excuse not to go with them. What were the chances that this was a trap when he’d brought up the river—or at least water—before they had? It wasn’t that he thought they’d be able to take him out if it came to that, even if Jazz had more experience fighting normally than he did, since he typically relied a lot on his powers when he could.

These two might be better fighters than him—there were almost certainly better hunters, given how silently they could walk—but he’d always have something like intangibility in his back pocket if it came to it, and they wouldn’t. Still, when it came down to it, he wasn’t used to fighting humans. What if he didn’t pull his punches enough and seriously hurt one of them?

“You can tell us about Amity,” Katara added. “We’ve never been there.”

Danny really hoped that was true and that there wasn’t a place in this world called Amity that they knew well. Still, when they started walking, spreading out so he was always in sight and they never had their backs to him, even when they hit the trees on the other side of the road, he kept pace with them. “It’s pretty much like you’d expect.” Except for the ghosts. At least his ghost sense hadn’t gone off here. Yet. “This is probably the farthest I’ve ever travelled from home.” He couldn’t get much farther away than a completely different dimension that (probably) wasn’t as connected to his world as it was to the Ghost Zone, anyway—unless he counted when he’d time travelled, but he wasn’t about to bring that up.

Katara opened her mouth to ask another question, maybe to press him for details, so Danny cut her off. “What about you two?”

They looked at each other again. How many times were they going to do that? Hadn’t they already decided how far to trust him? Danny knew it wasn’t very far, but they’d clearly decided he wasn’t going to straight up attack them at this precise moment, so even if they didn’t tell him the whole truth—

Sokka gestured at their clothes. “We’re Water Tribe.”

He said it like it was obvious, like Danny should’ve known already, but of course it explained absolutely nothing.

“Southern Water Tribe,” Katara added unhelpfully, despite Sokka’s frown. “We wanted to see the world, and now we are.”

As cover stories went, it was better than Danny’s. Barely. “Right,” he said, wondering again why he’d been dumped in the path of these two. “It’s a nice world to see.”

Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, because they were both looking at him like they’d expected him to say anything but that. “What?”

“There’s a war on, you’re supposedly kidnapped and dropped off somewhere in occupied territory without any of the proper paperwork, and the best you can come up with is it’s a nice world to see?” Sokka turned his incredulous look from Danny to Katara. “He cannot be Fire Nation. This kid is more sheltered than Toph was supposed to be.”

Danny, who had stumbled at the word war, kept walking and hoped they hadn’t noticed. If they had, maybe they’d think he’d tripped over a tree root or fallen branch or hole or something. They weren’t following a trail, so that was a perfectly reasonable explanation, right?

“It’s all right,” Katara said as she reached out to touch his arm, and, okay, from that gentle tone, which was a complete change from anything earlier, it must mean she had noticed, knew he hadn’t tripped over anything in the terrain, and—from how she was looking at him now—thought it wasn’t surprise that had tripped Danny up, either. “Trust me, I know what it’s like to be a little naïve until you have a chance to leave home for the first time, but unless you’re got a camp around here, you’re not prepared at all.”

Sokka finally put his boomerang away and smirked at Danny. “We at least left home with supplies.”

“Did you have to run without any warning?” Katara asked, giving her brother a pointed look.

“Oh, uh, kinda.” Danny winced, knowing that had to sound like a lie. “I…I didn’t really plan on leaving when I did. This just…happened.”

Sokka raised an eyebrow, but Katara said, “You don’t have to worry. We’re the last people who would turn you in to the Fire Nation.”

Right. So the Fire Nation were the bad guys, at least according to the Water Tribe and, if he was putting things together correctly, the Earth Kingdom, where they were. Meaning the Fire Nation had invaded the Earth Kingdom if this was occupied territory. Danny thought about asking why these two had come into occupied territory themselves and then decided he didn’t want to risk getting into a discussion that would show off how little he knew. If they had decided he was a runaway who knew practically nothing about the world, well, that worked in his favour.

“Thanks.” Danny wasn’t sure what else to say. “Why are you helping me, though? Won’t that put you in danger?” That had to be a fair question in this situation.

“We can’t help everyone,” Katara said quietly, “but we can help some people, even if it’s just a tiny bit. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”

Danny really didn’t know what to say to that, because she certainly wouldn’t understand if he said he knew the feeling, so he smiled weakly in thanks and let the conversation drop.

They were still watching him, but they were more subtle about it now, and it didn’t look like they were watching him more closely than they were watching everything else.

Being downgraded from a threat was a win, though. Danny hoped he didn’t do anything to mess it up.

“There’s no shame in being a refugee,” Sokka said after a moment. “Being from a richer family might’ve bought you an isolated childhood, but it wouldn’t guarantee your safety.”

“We won’t try to hold you for ransom if you tell us where you’re really from,” added Katara.

Danny glanced at her. “I said I was from Amity.”

“I could say I have a platypus bear as a pet,” Sokka interjected. “That doesn’t make it true.”

“We know what it’s like, thinking you understand the way things are and then realizing how little you know,” Katara said quietly. “It can be overwhelming.”

“And it would explain why you’re in your nightclothes,” Sokka said. He’d come in range of Katara’s fist, but he danced out of the way as she swung in his direction. He hadn’t even needed to look at her to know it was coming. “You didn’t know enough to keep your valuables hidden and got robbed your first night on your own, didn’t you?”

“I—” Danny knew it was an excuse for his ignorance being handed to him on a silver platter, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with a lie like that when he knew so little. “These aren’t my pajamas,” he said instead. Let them believe what they wanted to believe; that would make his life easier. Even if it blew up in his face somehow, he could truthfully say he’d never said they were right.

They might be suspicious that he hadn’t outright denied it, but then again, he’d already told them something a lot closer to the truth.

“Uh huh.” Sokka glanced at Katara again, and she gave a slight shake her head that Danny didn’t understand.

“Let’s get you some food and water first,” Katara said. “Then we can see about finding you other supplies.”

Danny decided not to point out that they’d already told him it was slim pickings for supplies around here. Not that he had the money to pay for anything, but Sokka had already guessed that. Besides, they thought he was running around in his pjs.

Judging by the sour look on Sokka’s face, he’d evidently translated his sister’s words to mean that she wanted to give him some of their supplies, something Sokka clearly wasn’t sure he approved of.

Katara must have had similar thoughts on Sokka’s expression, since she murmured, “It’s this or bring him with us, and you know what’s safer.”

Katara might not have minded that Danny could overhear her last words, but Sokka closed the distance between them, pulling his sister farther away from Danny before hissing, “It’s not the only option, and you know it. We can’t afford to give away any of our supplies, and just because Toph can make sure he’s not coming in with the intention of stabbing us in the back, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t blab to anyone once he figures out who we’re travelling with. You know as well as I do that that wouldn’t take very long.”

“He’s just kid.”

“Technically, like Aang keeps reminding us, we’re just kids. Who very much cannot afford to so much as drop him off in the next village. Show him the river and teach him how to catch and cook his meals? Fine. Picking him up as a stray when he’s not bringing anything to the table? Not fine.”

“He’s lost.”

“So? He’s not hurt. He’s already in a better position than some refugees. He’ll survive until he can walk to the nearest settlement. Then he can try to get help from people who can actually give it.”

Katara bit her lip and slowed to a stop. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

Danny very much wanted to know the answer to that—what had Katara figured out?—but he tried not to react so they didn’t know he’d been listening in. He deliberately turned away and stared around the trees instead, a mix of deciduous and evergreen. He couldn’t pick out any specific types of trees—nothing distinctive like oak leaves that he could see—and, as far as he could tell, the woods were utterly devoid of critters. He had no idea if that was because this world wasn’t real or if it was simply because all the animals in the region had had warning of their coming and hidden accordingly.

Danny knew his disinterest wouldn’t be very convincing, but if he was lucky, they’d think he’d given up on trying to eavesdrop.

“There’s something…off about him. Not necessarily something wrong, but something different. I can’t…. When he asked about water, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding any on him or nearby in case it was a trap, and— He didn’t feel the same as you or me. I can’t explain it. Toph might have a better idea than I do. Or…or Aang.” The last word was a barely audible whisper.

“You think this might be a spirit thing?” Sokka’s response was closer to a suppressed shriek than anything else, and Danny winced.

“I think he might be spirit touched,” Katara answered, and Sokka’s sharp inhalation was painfully audible. “I wasn’t good enough back then to notice anything about Yue, but—”

“Fine.” Sokka’s voice had gone flat. “I don’t want to shun someone and accidentally anger the spirits. I’ll teach him to fish. You go back and interrupt advanced earthbending practice and pick a meeting place, but make sure everyone’s packed in case this doesn’t go the way you think it’ll go.”

“I know to be careful.”

“We all know to be careful. Some of us just need more reminding than others.”

Katara didn’t say anything else, but she must have nodded or done something similar because Danny heard Sokka stalk back over to him. “Katara’s going back to talk to the rest of our group about what we might be able to spare,” he said as Danny turned back to face him, “and I’ll show you how to fish in the meantime. If you don’t catch anything, I’ll give you one of mine.”

Danny wasn’t about to admit that he’d overheard their entire conversation, so he smiled and said, “That sounds great, thanks.” It didn’t stop the uneasiness from settling in his gut, though. Sure, now he knew these people believed in ghosts, and Sokka’s response made it clear he didn’t want to get on their bad side, but Danny had no idea what being spirit touched meant. He didn’t know if that was seen as a good thing or a bad thing.

More to the point, if it was a bad thing, he didn’t know if these people had something suitable with which to attack spirit touched people, since if they did, chances were good that it would work on him.

He was not lucky enough to get a free pass here.

Still, the odds were good that he’d be able to escape if they did attack since he’d know to be on watch for something, and he wasn’t about to turn down an offer of food. He had no idea when a portal would open and he’d be able to go home. Until then, the best he could do was survive.

He’d survived this much, and his life had hardly been a walk in the park since the accident, let alone before. He wasn’t about to let some ghost fling him into an unknown world and succeed in taking him down. He needed to get out of this to kick their butt and prove to them that they couldn’t get rid of him that easily.

Assuming this wasn’t all a series of genuine coincidences and not the result of the careful manipulation of events.

Danny didn’t want to think about that, though.

He had a much better chance of getting home if there was someone he could beat, and he was going to get home.

Somehow.

(see more fics)

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hopefully I’m not too early but What if Jiang Fengmian went “they only asks for blood heirs” and gave Jiang Cheng up to the Wen Indoctrination Camp because he cannot bear Wei Wuxian going and possibly getting hurt. JC is very hurt by the blatant favouritism of his father but still went as his duty dictates. He somehow become close friends with Huaisang, MianMian, and Jin Zixuan. Please give me Jiang Cheng Protection Squad. MingCheng sort of happens? Thank you so much!

“…wow,” Nie Huaisang said when Jiang Cheng finished explaining. “That’s – that’s bullshit.”

Jiang Cheng flushed. Secretly, in his heart, he agreed a little bit with Nie Huaisang’s assessment, but at the same time he couldn’t just sit around while someone said things about his father…

“Before you say that I can’t say something like that, I’m not being cruel or dismissive, I’m describing the situation accurately using crude words,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “It’s not the same.”

That…sounded wrong.

“Back me up here,” Nie Huaisang said to the others in their group. They’d been put into a single group by the Wen sect, all of them but Mianmian who’d snuck over by climbing a tree, and given a too-small, too-crowded tent to sleep in and a single fire pit to warm themselves. How that had let them to sitting by the fire and sharing stories of how they’d been sent here, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure. “Sect Leader Jiang deciding that because the Wen sect only asked for blood heirs that he wouldn’t sent Wei-xiong here alongside Jiang-xiong because he might get hurt is a situation can be, and indeed must be, accurately described as being total bullshit, right?”

“…it kind of is,” Jin Zixuan said. “Sorry, Jiang Wanyin.”

“It definitely is,” Mianmian said, emboldened by her sect leader’s agreement. “Absolutely bullshit.”

Even Lan Wangji hummed. It was a pretty neutral sound, but it might be an affirmative hum.

Well, if everyone agreed…

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders went down a fraction from where they’d been hovering around his ears. 

“I wasn’t just taking it too personally?” he asked, seeking confirmation. “I mean, Father’s right – it doesn’t make sense to give the Wen sect two hostages when they’ve only asked for one, and there’s always the risk that Wei Wuxian would get hurt –”

“Your father should be concerned about whether you get hurt!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, slapping the ground. “They don’t feed us, they make us work in the fields, and who knows what else…! When my brother heard about their request, he nearly killed the Wen sect’s messenger, he was so angry!”

“My mother was angry, too,” Jiang Cheng offered. “She and my father got into a big fight –”

Nie Huaisang jabbed a finger at him, rather rudely. “From the story you told, your mother only got really angry when she heard Wei Wuxian was staying behind.”

“…so?”

“There’s a difference between being upset over your son’s well-being and being upset that – that – that, I don’t know! That your favorite dog is losing the race!”

“My mother threw a vase at my father’s head when she heard that he’d agreed to send me here,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. He was actually a lot more tolerable without his retainers puffing him up and egging him on all the time, and having to work side-by-side in the fields had revealed that under the flash and arrogance there was an introverted boy who disliked dealing with people nearly as much as Jiang Cheng did. “Then she spent the next two days trying to find a way out of it, then hovered for the rest of the week before I left.”

“My father punched a wall,” Mianmian recalled. “Mother had to sit on him before he tried something crazy, like petitioning to remove me from the sect or something. Not that’d I’d ever have let Jin-gongzi come here alone, of course.”

“See?” Nie Huaiwang said, gesturing at them all. Lan Wangji hadn’t volunteered, but obviously no one would ask him, either; they’d all heard about the burning of the Cloud Recesses. No one had agreed to send him here. “Violence in response to an unreasonable request! Violence! Anything less is unacceptable!”

“You know, for the very first time, I think see your resemblance to the rest of the Nie sect?” Mianmian said, chin on her hand.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said. “No, not about the resemblance, about – the other part. It’s not anywhere near as bad as you’re all making it out to be; Wei Wuxian’s always been my father’s favorite, and Mother’s always been angry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“They should not compare you,” Lan Wangji said. He didn’t talk much, so everyone always listened when he did. “It is inappropriate.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never not been compared to Wei Wuxian, not since he’d arrived at the Lotus Pier all those years ago���and maybe even before.

“Even Lan-er-gongzi agrees,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling his knees up and putting his chin on them with a pout. “It’s all bullshit, I’m telling you. I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng told him.

“You could come to Lanling if you prefer,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him. “What? Your mother and mine are friends. It’d be fine. I wouldn’t – it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m the heir of the Jiang sect,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I can’t not go back!”

“Don’t think of it as not going back,” Mianmian said. “Think of it as taking a long detour.”

“You’d like Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang put in. “My brother’s really cool. He gives great hugs.”

“I bet he does,” Mianmian muttered appreciatively.

“Gross, Mianmian.”

“He’s seventh on the list of most attractive male cultivators, and in my personal opinion should be a good few places higher up. Get used to it.”

“I don’t do hugs anyway,” Jiang Cheng interjected before he somehow got sold up the river – he knew how this sort of thing went. “Father doesn’t like them.”

“…your father hugged Wei Ying when he arrived at the Cloud Recesses to collect him,” Lan Wangji said neutrally.

“Fine. He doesn’t like them with me. Never did, not really, the whole time I was growing up…well, I mean, I guess he did sometimes when I was really young, before Wei Wuxian came...”

“Are you seriously saying your father hugs Wei Wuxian and not you?” Jin Zixuan asked. “And that he - he stopped hugging you when Wei Wuxian was there? Because that’s – that’s…”

“Bullshit?” Nie Huaisang suggested.

“Bullshit,” Jin Zixuan agreed with surprising vehemence.

“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

“No, what? No they’re not exaggerating, no they’re not –”

“No. It is bullshit.”

“…did we just get a Lan to curse?” Mianmian asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know Lans were allowed to do that. Ever.”

“It is not a curse,” Lan Wangji said with dignity. “It is an accurate description of the situation.”

“Vindication,” Nie Huaisang hissed. How Jiang Cheng had missed that he was such a vicious little snake during their time at the Cloud Recesses, he had no idea, and judging by the amused expressions on everyone else’s faces, they felt much the same. “See, Jiang Cheng, this is why you –”

“Time to sleep,” Lan Wangji interrupted. His internal sense of time was more reliable than any clock when it came to sleeping and waking, and no one complained – if they stayed out much later than nine the Wen sect guards would come to accuse them of making trouble, and no one wanted to be labelled a trouble-maker.

Mianmian disappeared back over to the women’s camp – boring in comparison, according to her, but more likely she just wanted to keep her word about watching over Jin Zixuan – and the rest of them shuffled back to bed.

Some time later that night, when Jiang Cheng was lying in the middle of a pile of arms and legs he could no longer differentiate, he stared at the ceiling and asked quietly, “…is it really that bad?”

An arm looped around his waist tightened, and a foot lightly nudged him from the other direction.

“It’s not that it’s bad,” someone said, and their voice was so faint that he couldn’t tell which of the boys it was. “It’s that you deserve better.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that.

He continued not to know what to say the next day, but that was the day that they got forced to act as bait on a night-hunt into a giant lightless cave and Mianmian nearly got herself killed, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji for standing up for her.

Under normal circumstances, Jiang Cheng would think first about his sect and only later about everyone else, and he tried, really, but – well, the Wens were attacking anyway, and somehow it’s Nie Huaisang of all people who hisses, “Get Wen Chao!” and Jiang Cheng had, and for a moment there it looked like they were going to be okay.

And then they all got stuck in a cave with a corrupted Xuanwu.

Minus the Wens, which was at least something.

“There are fresh maple leaves on the water,” Lan Wangji said. “There must be a way in and out.”

“I can dive in and check it out if someone distracts the Xuanwu,” Jiang Cheng offered. When they stared at him, he shrugged. “I’m a good swimmer.”

“You’d better be an amazing swimmer,” Jin Zixuan said. “I don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”

“I don’t think we get funerals here,” Nie Huaisang put in. “So if you die, you’ll stink up the whole place and we’ll all be very upset. I mean, gross!”

Jiang Cheng had by this point gotten used to Nie Huaisang’s – Nie Huaisang-ness, but it couldn’t be denied that everyone was a lot less terrified after listening to Nie Huaisang complain about nonsense for a bit. So much so, in fact, that it abruptly occurred to Jiang Cheng that maybe Nie Huaisang was doing it on purpose which…he wasn’t sure what to do with, so he decided to just put out of his mind.

Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan put their heads together and eventually decided on each of them using a fire talisman as a distraction, alternating between them, while Jiang Cheng crept to the water and found a way out, which he reported back.

“Someone will need to stay behind as a distraction,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. His hands were clasped together, and Jiang Cheng knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“No way,” he said. “You’re not staying behind. If anything, I should; I’m the best swimmer, I might be able to get around it even if it’s not distracted.”

“You know where the exit is; it is better if you lead those going out.”

“A description will do the trick just as well,” Jiang Cheng argued. “And anyway, it’s not – it’s not as if I’ll be missed at home, the way all of you would be.”

They all glared at him, then, and he shrugged angrily.

“It’s true,” he said, and he could say it only because Wei Wuxian wasn’t there to stop him. He wouldn’t even think it, if Wei Wuxian was there; Wei Wuxian always knew when it was coming and interrupted him with a smile or a joke or something, and so the bitterness never got a chance to be let out. But he wasn’t here now, they were, and everyone else seemed to think it was all bullshit and maybe it was, okay, maybe it was. But it didn’t make it any less true. “My father has always said that Wei Wuxian understood the sect motto better than I did. He wouldn’t be upset at all if the sect went to him instead, and if I was dead or injured he’d probably just give him the Jiang surname in my honor or something. Let me be the one to stay.”

“Uh, question,” Nie Huaisang said. “Why does anyone have to stay? Can’t we just set up a trap or something?”

“A trap?” Jin Zixuan said. “What do you mean?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged and looked at Lan Wangji. “Do you know Chord Assassination?”

Lan Wangji blinked, surprised, but nodded.

“Okay, so, here’s the idea…”

It was an extremely stupid idea, based on using the chords as part of a pulley, some Wen sect soldiers and swords used as counterbalance weights, but as a distraction it worked pretty beautifully right up until the last moment when Jiang Cheng was helping Lan Wangji – whose leg was broken – swim through the water and the Xuanwu abruptly noticed that they were all going to leave and dashed after them, getting its head stuck in the exit hole they were using.

“Should we behead it or something?” Jin Zixuan asked, staring at the thrashing beast. “It can’t be allowed to hurt others.”

“Using what?” Mianmian asked, holding up a Wen sword in disdain. “These pieces of – well. These swords? It wouldn’t work.”

“I can still do Chord Assassination,” Lan Wangji said, and with all of them heaving together they were able to hold the string down tight enough to eventually cut the thing’s head off at the neck.

Nie Huaisang even used the opportunity to go pick out some sort of sword that was sticking out of the creature’s side, which he’d declared to be extremely ‘aesthetic’ if you looked at it from a certain perspective.

By that point, they were all exhausted, but no one wanted to stay a second longer in Qishan than they had to – especially since one of the small sect cultivators who’d wandered further away had seen Wens incoming – so Jiang Cheng put Lan Wangji, now totally exhausted, on his back and they all ran away.

“Come visit me in Qinghe sometime!” Nie Huaisang shouted, waving as the Nie sect disciples split off in a different direction. “I promised you some high-quality proper affection hugs from my da-ge, Jiang Cheng! Just you wait, you’ll see how good they are!”

(They are every bit as good as promised.)

[peterxwade24]

Jonc de mer and Acropora

For Maribat March 2021 day 3 prompt Warmth. (If you squint hard enough).

This is part one of an I don’t know how many part fic. I hope you stick around because it’s going to be a ride.

Jonc de mer is French (I think) for Seagrass while Acropora is a type of coral (purple coral actually). Sticholodinae is a subcategory of Ladybugs that, as far as I can tell, have either no spots or one big splotch surrounded by smaller spots. The email address in this is fake, please do not send emails to it because they may get redirected to a very real person named Menene.

Of course a big thank you to @maribatmarch-2k21 for putting on the event, now lets get on with the fic.

The only thing Marinette remembers of her mother is the warmth she provided against a harsh cold. She remembers very little about her mother’s family, only that she seemed to be surrounded by purple anytime they were close. She only remembers so little because her mother, and her mother’s family, were slaughtered by the false king and she was left for dead. Thankfully, a pod of passing merpeople heard her cries and carried her to the closest shore. She tearfully waved goodbye to the pod as the surf carried her ashore.

She was taken in that day by a wonderful man, stocky in build with short brown hair and green eyes. She knew her life would change, beginning with the man renaming her. The name her mother gave her would always be what Atlanteans called her, it was as much a part of her as her purple eyes and her permanently tan skin. The man, named Tom, renamed her Marinette because she seemed to rise with the sun.

---

Marinette and Tom met Sabine in Paris, France. Sabine was a beautiful woman of Chinese descent with black hair and grey eyes. She smiled at the father-daughter duo sweetly and when Tom wasn’t within hearing range Sabine told Marinette that whomever her mother was, she was one lucky lady.

Sabine was aghast at the sight of little two year old Marinette struggling to hold herself together while she has to tell the kind lady that her mother is no longer with her.

Sabine walked right up to Tom afterwards to demand he married her right that instant so they could raise Marinette together.

They were legally married by the end of the day and Sabine had started the process to legally adopt Marinette.

---

Marinette had always felt drawn to the Seine, it is what drew her parents to purchasing a building just down the street from the river. Tom and Sabine wanted to always be close by when she had access to the river. One of them would always accompany her, needing to know she wasn’t going to get swept away in the Seine.

Marinette was five when she met him. Tom was sitting a few meters away on a nearby bench reading a newspaper.

The boy, who could only be the same age as her, had short blond hair cropped close to his head, deep brown skin and pale green eyes. His eyes reminded her of seagrass, the way they seemed to be hundreds of different shades of green all at once.

Marinette smiled, her eyes following the lines his gills left as he began treading water. “Hello.” She bowed her head in greeting and was delighted when he bowed his head in return.

“Menenne. I am Kaldur’ahm, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The boy, Kaldur’ahm, extended his hand in greeting.

Marinette simply clasped his hand and shook it in greeting, tucking away that name for later. “It is certainly a pleasure to be meeting you.”

---

They continued to meet up for years, Kaldur’ahm getting more and more comfortable around her, eventually enough so that she could introduce him to her Papa. He introduced himself as “Kaldur Durham” and Tom is hard pressed to find anything he doesn’t like about his baby girl’s new friend.

In the end the two Dupain-Cheng’s introduced Kaldur to Sabine, who simply smiled and asked if he was staying for dinner.

The Dupain-Cheng family simply gave him what he needed, time to tell them about himself and the opportunity to relax. However, Marinette continued to feel a pull to the Seine.

---

They were eleven when Kaldur, who Marinette had taken to calling Jonc de mer, told her that his mentor, Arthur Curry, was joining a conglomerate somewhere in America and that he was going with him. Kaldur held Marinette as she cried, not knowing that he was surrounding her in a familiar warmth.

The very next day, when they were saying goodbye, Marinette looped a scarf made in orchid, black, melon green and pale yellow yarn around his neck. “This will keep you safe, no matter where you go. No matter how far away you are.”

Kaldur grabbed her hands and nodded. “I will have you with me wherever I go, Acropora.”

Marinette smiled and pulled her hands away so she could quickly write something down on a scrap piece of paper. “When you get settled in America, email me.” She handed over the piece of paper and smiled as he looked over what she’d written on it.

“menenne@gmail.com ;) look me up Jonc de mer”

---

Since Tom had found her on the beach of Sicily, they took family vacations to Italy and it was on one of these family vacations that Marinette made a friend.

Marinette was eight, as was the little girl, when they met. The two were just running around and through the waves. They played for hours, just smiles and laughs passed between the two no words needed. The next day they finally introduced themselves before they continued to play.

They spent everyday together, so much time in fact that Marinette felt comfortable enough telling her about Kaldur, however whenever the duo were around someone who hadn’t been given special Marinette friendship rights, the duo referred to him as the boy with blond hair and green eyes.

---

When Marinette was eleven she finally became friends with Chloé Bourgeois. It was a few days after Kaldur had gone to America when Chloé happened across her while she was sketching something for a client.

“What are you making?” Chloé asked.

Marinette closed her sketchbook with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “It’s a commission and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to steal it.” Marinette would feel bad about being mean to Chloé later but for now all she cared about was making sure that her sketch was finished in time to present it to the client.

---

Marinette was sat next to Chloé in the classroom on the day she received her Miraculous. Chloé was being her usual bratty self when a girl who was classically pretty walked in the room and visibly stuck her nose up at Chloé.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.”

Marinette gave her a once over, noting her lack of sense. Why would anyone pair an orange flannel with light blue jeans and black shoes with giant tongues? Marinette let out a nearly silent “tsk” before placing her hand on her friend’s arm. “Don’t listen to her Blondie. I know you aren’t evil.”

---

Marinette debuted as Sticholodinae, although all of Paris just called her Ladybug while Chat just called her M’Lady, a day before Stoneheart. She was photographed and seen swinging over the Paris streets testing her capabilities and her limitations.

Her suit, which Tikki said was not what she was expecting because every past Ladybug’s suit was mainly red, was mostly black. While her body was encased in black fabric, it was Kevlar enforced and didn’t shimmer in the sunlight. She had what appeared to be a bulletproof vest under a thick leather jacket which was black and faded to a very dark red at the bottom hem and the cuffs at the ends of her sleeves. Her legs were reinforced with a pair of joggers which had a very dark red waistband and were tucked into a pair of black reinforced combat boots. Her suit looked segmented like a bug to the untrained eye, however she knew that her suit wasn’t segmented but actually appeared to be scaled like a fish. Her hair was pulled up and back into a bun that looked like a work of lattice on the back while her face was obscured through several methods. Her eyes were obscured by a pitch black mask with white eye lenses while she had a charcoal gray tactical half face mask covering the bottom half of her face so that all anyone could see of her face was her forehead.

She knew her suit wasn’t what most thought of when they pictured a Ladybug, but she would do whatever it took to stay safe so that she could reunite with her Jonc de mer.

[justletmeplayminecraft]

xisuma doesn’t smooth over a server glitch fast enough. the others have to save him from the consequences.

in this fic, i play loosely with minecraft mechanics to create angst. very loosely. don’t think too much about ‘em. you can also date how long i’ve spent on this by the projects they’re working on. 

featuring: being an admin gives you a connection to the server, xisuma has a less than stellar day, angst/comfort, zed is an ender hybrid, false & tango are minor admins, getting stuck in blocks is not a fun experience, the hermits care a lot about each other.

warnings: sensory deprivation, starvation, suffocation, its a death loop babyyy, a fair amount of panic, fighting code, glitches, helplessness, it’s pretty whumpy before the comfort. let me know if something’s missing here.

also on ao3. link in replies.

Xisuma sighs as the sun beats down on him. It's barely let up, even on the outskirts of the jungle. He enjoys the brief stints in the shadow of the giant quartz walls. Even then, waves of heat come off them. All of the structures in his base are a heat trap. Clearing out several layers of dirt and stone is a necessity he should've left for another day. With a click, he tugs his helmet off his head. The humidity outside is worse than his filtered air. He tucks the helmet under his arm, pushing sweat slicked hair from his face.

He's made good progress levelling this arena space. He leaves his helmet on his bed and heads to the temporary storage chests. They're filling up quickly, he notices, as he starts emptying his inventory into them. Except, something's broken. The stacks of blocks aren't all moving. He tries a few times before sighing, ruffling his hair. When he turns to the area he's been mining, it's still empty. It's been a long time since they've had desync this bad. He's not even sure when it started.

Stepping gently across the stone, he can feel the heat rising from them. He'll rollback the world and then he'll relax by Keralis's river. The farm is delightfully cool. Anything will be better than this oppressive heat.

He's almost reached his bed when something takes hold in his chest and pulls.

He stumbles forward with a gasp. Of course, the server decides to fix itself this time. He forces his feet forward, trying to reach his helmet so he can smooth things over. He only makes it two steps until his eyes are forced shut as the server reloads. For a split second, all he feels is the chill of the void as chunks reload around him.

He opens his eyes to darkness. It feels like he's suspended in space, unable to move. There's a suffocating pressure around him. Though it's with shallow breaths, he can still breathe. Did something go wrong? He blinks hard. All of his limbs are accounted for, he's certainly present. Even when he's working in the void there are still particles around him. His attempt to raise his arm fails, finding it impossible to open his back up admin panel. His helmet is- where even is his helmet?

His breath hitches, a feeling of panic escaping his controlled calm. He feels like he can't breathe. He can't move. He's trapped in his own body.

What's happening?

-

[MumboJumbo] anybody else just experience some major desync?

[Keralis1] Oh, is that what that was?

[Zedaph] I had nearly finished my redstone! All of that work, gone!

[FalseSymmetry] didn't you notice you weren't actually... losing anything from your inventory?

[Tango] he was probably too caught up in his supposed mastery

[FalseSymmetry] everybody okay though?

[Grian] all good here!

[Zedaph] Only my pride's wounded.

-

False looks down at the bedrock layer at her base. Like half an hour spent placing glass, all gone to waste. She groans, closing her chat as it pings away. Sure, she can rib Zedaph, but that doesn't change the fact she just did the exact same thing. She kicks off the sidewalk, gliding to the bedrock layer. She can feel the cold of the void float up with specks of grey.

"Good going, False," she murmurs. Some patches of glass survived. It's almost worse, that's going to be so much less satisfying to fill in. She takes her goggles off, tugging her hair loose to tie it in a low ponytail. Usually Xisuma gives them a warning before the server resets like that. It always messes up her hair, leaves it floaty and static.

She adjusts her goggles on her head, opening the player menu. Xisuma's currently online. She checks chat. He hasn't said anything. She considers it strange, but it's not unusual. Maybe he's been at a farm and isn't AFKing. She types out a private message, sending it across to him.

[FalseSymmetry to Xisuma] hey x, server blipped, might need to check it when you get back.

She'll see if he returns her message. She's got glass to place.

-

Iskall looks through his in-progress sorting system with a frown. It's broken somewhere. The stupid server reload has glitched it out and he can't find how. He's checked the redstone, he's checked the hoppers and he's checked the chests! Which means it's glitched. Either Xisuma reloads the chunk for him, or he's going to have to tear it down.

Actually, he'll probably have to tear it down anyway. Reloading the chunk will only roll it back.

At least he's not the only person who's redstone has been ruined. The thought brings some comfort. If he has to be miserable, somebody else should be too. He opens his communicator, checking who's around at the moment. That might take his mind off it.

He notices that Xisuma's online. Their admin has been quiet in chat since the reload. Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes he's having to sort out. He'll reach out to Mumbo and Grian, but first, he sends a message X's way.

[iskall85 to Xisuma] hey is everything alright? nothing broke?

[iskall85 to Xisuma] don't forget you can reach out to us if you need help.

-

He has no idea how much time has passed. Usually he's connected intrinsically to the server. It helps him keep track of the world, dig out any errors or mishaps - sometimes before his suit alerts him. It's essential for his job in order to keep things running smoothly. The server is always there, at the edges of his consciousness.

In this nothing, he can't even keep track of his internal clock. Perhaps it's his own panic, but the code he tries to reach out to feels fuzzy. It feels like it's glitching, sending shooting pains through his head if he focuses too hard. He couldn't take a guess how long he's been trapped. His breathing still comes too fast and shallow, ignoring his attempts to calm down.

He's completely helpless here. And he doesn't even know where here is.

-

Tango stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He checks his inventory again, counting aloud. He flicks it off with a frown. Yeah, he's definitely missing some. It's not a massive deal, Impulse will be happy to help out. But if he's having problems then some of the other hermits might be. Perhaps they fell and despawned in the reload. Either way.

"Tangoooooo!" The cry is accompanied by several rockets, something hitting the ground and the sound of damage. He chuckles, stepping away as Zed soars over the edge, stumbling forward with a flutter of his elytra. Tango straightens him up with his free hand.

"No, I'm not doing your redstone for you." Zedaph gasps, dusting off his jeans. He bounces up with a grin.

"You really think I'd come all this way for that?" Zed questions.

"So why have you come all the way here?"

"I'm bored," Zed replies. "And it still stings too much to do my redstone again." Tango laughs, opening up his chat. Xisuma's online, though Tango doesn't expect an immediate response.

"How do you feel about some wither grinding?" He types a message to Xisuma, Zedaph attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Mmm, I don't see why not."

[Tango to Xisuma] Hey, seem to have lost some stars when the server reset

[Tango to Xisuma] might wanna check nothing important got eaten.

"Right, let's go."

-

Keralis hums, staring at the plot he was about to start building on. The area has been a bit... Funny. He'll break and replace a block, only to have it switch again. He might have to work on another area until it sorts itself out. His attempts at working here started after the reload, so he doesn't know if that caused it. He's not been able to spot Xisuma nearby either. He's been online, but Keralis hasn't spotted him in chat for a while.

He sighs as he watches the last blocks he placed switch back as if nothing happened. Crossing his arms, he examines the area. He wonders how big this is. Definitely more than one chunk. His new house is going to have to wait. He was excited to show Xisuma around, too.

With a glance at the sky, he realises it's late afternoon. He yawns, stretching his back out. Perhaps it'll be best to settle in his office and work on some future designs. He'll drop a message in chat first, in case this is affecting anyone else. It might give him an excuse to hunt down Shishwamy. He always feels guilty bothering him about things. Their admin takes far too much responsibility on his shoulders. They’re all adults. Keralis wishes he’d ask for help sometimes.

-

[Keralis1] Has anyone else been having glitchy blocks?

[iskall85] some of my redstone is broken but it's no biggie

[Tango] lost some of my nether stars with the reload but it's been fine since.

[FalseSymmetry] been placing glass without any problems since the reset

[MumboJumbo] I haven't had any problems either.

[Keralis1] A bunch of chunks around our bases are glitching

[Keralis1] but it seems like Shishwamy is busy :(

[Grian] well it looks like he just went afk

[iskall85] that answers that lol

-

His mind is becoming blurry. It's hard to focus on... Anything. He can't tell if it's because he's struggling to breathe, or something further, tugging him down and away. He tries to fight against it but there's nothing he can do to stay present. He can't hear anything, barely even his shallow breaths. He can only feel the consistent pressure on every inch of his body, the wet tears on his cheeks. He tries pulling on every one of his senses, but nothing comes up.

He slips under.

-

False empties the last of this glass stack, stepping back at a job well done. She smiles, rubbing her aching hands. It's nice to finally work on this part of her base. Even better now it's not going to pick itself up. At least she hopes so. She'll be right annoyed if it happens again. Something's been tingling at the back of her head, though. She wonders if it's because of the reset.

She looks up at the late afternoon sky. That's enough work for today. As she stretches, she can feel each and every ache in her body. She brushes away her hair, already falling loose. Maybe she'll have something nice for dinner. Some steak, potatoes and pumpkin pie. If she has pumpkin, of course. Xisuma was planning to build a pumpkin farm, wasn't he? His traditional pumpkin and melon combination. She chuckles to herself as she pulls out her rockets.

No matter how things change from season to season, there will always be things that don't. Hermits might come and go, but they'll always be her family.

She launches up, shooting through the water barrier. It's fast enough it doesn't stick. She lands gracefully, making her way to the kitchen. She hopes this nudging in her head doesn't get worse. She just wants to enjoy a nice meal. That's all.

-

"Well, I think we have a plan," Grian declares, grinning from his perch. His legs are crossed, hands resting in his lap.

"I mean, we didn't exactly need a plan to fix our redstone," Mumbo replies, slouched in his chair the way he only ever does in front of them. Iskall chuckles, resting his hands behind his head. They've really helped take his mind off the broken redstone. Mumbo had a similar problem, so tomorrow they'll meet up again and attempt some fixes.

"Always helps," Iskall says, shrugging. "Especially when one of us spends so much time in the Nether depths, now." Grian laughs, his legs kicking.

"Hey, I'm doing good work out there!" Mumbo yawns, looking between them.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted."

"Food then sleep?" Grian suggests. Iskall nods. It's been a long day.

-

It's dark as Zedaph and Tango return from The End. Zedaph yawns, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Tango rubs the side of his own hair. Something's been bothering him, but he can't tell what. Like there's something just not... Right. Zedaph is chatting beside him, a bounce in his step. It's like he doesn't feel it at all.

"Do you want to have dinner together?" Zed asks, twirling his sword by his side. They've repaired their tools, done everything properly. It's been a hard day's work, but they've achieved a lot, even with the setback.

"Yeah, dinner sounds good." He looks at the night sky, squinting his eyes. Zedaph tilts his head at him. The purple eyes are concerned, particles floating up in his worry.

"Tango, are you okay? You seem... Off." Tango sighs, waving Zedaph's worry away.

"Something's nagging me. It's not a big deal." Zedaph's still frowning, but the particles die down.

"Let's just get you something to eat, yeah?" Tango nods, leaning into Zedaph when he squeezes his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

-

Keralis watches the night sky overhead. He's sat in the doorway to his office, a blanket around his shoulders. The stars are always a beautiful sight. It's the perfect way to relax after such a, hm, busy day. Not busy in a conventional sense, no, but still busy. His specially commissioned noteblock song plays in the background, a perfect accompaniment in the peaceful night. He thinks it's strange how the stars always seem the same no matter what world they're in. Maybe he should ask Xisuma about it in the future.

He pops up his screens open. Xisuma is still afk. He misses seeing his neighbour out and about. Xisuma often spends time at his farms, it's nothing new. But Keralis enjoys saying hello to him! Especially after missing well... Years of his life. He tries not to think about that.

With a sigh, he lies against the doorway. Time for bed soon. He laughs at the sound of Bubbles' voice in his head. His communicator beeps and he glances over to it.

Huh. That's interesting.

-

Xisuma is thrown into full consciousness. His stomach is still cramping with phantom hunger. He opens his eyes and finds...

Black.

No, no, he died. He died. Why has he respawned here? He chokes on his sob, realising no air is entering his lungs. His cheeks are still wet with tears, more leaking out as he gasps at nothing. His lungs burn, unable to take the shallow breaths he needs to. Would it even help? He wants to curl up, clutch at the growing pain in his chest. But he can't move an inch. Heaviness sinks into his limbs and head.

He wakes again in the same place. He doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. There's not enough air for him to scream, anyway.

-

[Xisuma starved to death]

[MumboJumbo] X?? mate?

[Tango] X?

[FalseSymmetry] do we need to get your stuff?

[Keralis1] I'm by his base.

[Tango] he's not afk anymore

[Grian] x???????

[iskall85] maybe he's getting his stuff rn

[Keralis1] Shishwammmmyyyyyyy

[MumboJumbo] starving isn't a nice way to go

[Zedaph] It really isn't.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[iskall85] oh no

[FalseSymmetry] x???? im going over

[Keralis1] so am i

[Tango] this isn't right, this really isn't right

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Grian] what's going on???

-

False shimmies back into her elytra, reaching for the one jacket potato that finished cooking. So much for having a sit-down meal. She rubs her head, pushing away the fear that has something to do with this. Her communicator continues beeping as she grabs her rockets. She runs to the entrance, kicking off and launching into the air.

-

"We should go and help," Iskall decides, already picking up his armour.

"Thought you'd never say." Mumbo straps his elytra on, grabbing a spare shulker box and an ender chest. Grian nods with a seriousness that doesn't fit on his face.

"Let's go."

-

"We're going?" Zed asks. He's already stuffing food into his mouth. Tango rubs his temples, nodding. He takes the elytra that's thrusted into his hand.

"Yeah. We're definitely going." He watches the particles floating off Zed in waves, glowing the same purple as his pupils. Tango presses his eyes shut against another spike of pain as their communicators beep. "C'mon."

-

Keralis scrabbles until he balances on the tower roof. He's searched each one and not found X anywhere. Tapping his foot, he meddles with his communicator to turn some settings on. He has no minor admin powers - that he has to leave to False and Tango - but he can at least try this.

"Ah-hah!" He grins as hitboxes light up beneath him, hopefully a better clue where his currently red coloured friend may be. He scans the towers closely, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. There are a few mobs, especially as night sets in. Then he sees Xisuma's new build.

He has to take a step back at the sight. The chunks look- a mess. The outline of the blocks are overlapped or flickering. It hurts to look at. Blocks aren't meant to highlight like that. He glides across the treetops. It not only covers the area he was trying to work earlier but spreads into Xisuma's current build. Yeah that's- that's bad. That's not good. His communicator has continued to beep with messages as he searched. He goes to read it, and spots different colours in the mess. The red of an eyeline. He stands on his toes, leaning off the leaves. The outline flickers in and out, accompanied by a beep.

He thinks he's found X.

-

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Keralis1] he's in his new build!

[Keralis1] I think I can see him in the ground

[Keralis1] it is very very broken

[FalseSymmetry] tango? you on your way?

[Tango] as we speak

[Tango] been a long time since we've had to use these powers

[FalseSymmetry] not long enough

-

Tango and Zedaph are the first to land by Keralis's side. They kick up loose powder from the road, taking in the massive structure in front of them. Tango's shoulders raise, cringing at the sight.

"That's definitely broken," he agrees, his eyes twisting as they focus.

"And Xisuma's in the middle of it?" Zedaph looks at Keralis. He nods, usually big eyes sharply focused. He points beyond the walls.

"You can just see his name tag. I think the glitched blocks have got him stuck. I tried to build there earlier but nothing would stay." Tango presses his lips together in thought as False lands. They nod to each other in acknowledgement.

"How long does it take until the blocks pop back?"

Keralis hums, tapping his chin before answering, "About ten seconds, I think."

"That's not going to be enough time to reach him," Zed says. "Can't you just teleport him?" He looks at Tango and False. Tango opens his console menu, typing something in. Zed can tell the answer before Tango says it.

"What ideas do we have?" Keralis asks. "We can't just leave him there!"

"Of course not!" Tango replies, sounding shocked at the suggestion. "We just- need a plan." False nods.

"We're not as powerful as X," she explains, "Together we should be able to roll back these chunks but- I have no idea what that would mean for Xisuma. We don't really work with player code." She brushes her hair back. The conversation is paused as the trio of Grian, Iskall and Mumbo land beside them. The three slot in, listening as they're caught up.

"There has to be something that's making him spawn there." Iskall points out, his hand held towards the structure. False searches through the control panel, whilst Keralis and Tango simply examine the messed up blocks.

"He has a bed in there," Tango answers. False taps where Xisuma's spawn is tied to on her screen.

"Since the blocks are glitched, it must mean the bed isn't like... Registering them. Since they don't fully exist." She thinks about it carefully, putting the pieces together as she explains.

"So if we break the bed, he'll respawn at the world spawn?" Grian suggests.

"But how do we get down there?" Mumbo turns to look. It's pretty far down in the ground. They'd have to move quick to get near where Xisuma is.

"There's a few of us." Iskall waves at the gathered group. "I say with enough TNT and manpower, we could do it."

"Wait-" Zedaph holds his hand up, "-Get me close enough and I can teleport in there, get the bed. Less blocks to destroy."

"Zed." Tango turns to him, glaring at the blond. "That's a stupid idea, don't you get how dangerous that is-"

"Xisuma is stuck in a death loop, Tango!" Zed cuts in, raising his voice. The others fall silent, not sure how to handle this exchange. "Sure, I might die a bit! That's nothing compared to what Xisuma's currently experiencing."

"TNT will destroy a fair amount, but it already puts us on a time limit," Grian adds, a sideways agreement.

"I'm willing to do it. Either we reach the bed, or I teleport in." Zed says it with finality. The others don't argue. False checks his spawn point. Zedaph will respawn back in his cave, safe and sound. Even if it goes wrong, it'll be recoverable.

"We need to be ready to roll back the chunks," False says, focusing on Tango. "If I have this headache for much longer I'm going to go insane." Tango smiles tiredly.

"Fine. Let's try this." He shrugs. "I don't think we have a better idea."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Keralis claps, placing an ender chest. Tango sighs, typing in a command.

"I think I'm allowed this time," he says, a stack of TNT appearing in his hand.

"And other times?" Grian asks. Even through the teasing, they can hear the fear in his voice.

"Don't push it."

-

There's noises. He blinks his eyes open into the unending darkness. He tries to focus past his burning chest and the weight of his body. There's... Definitely noises up above him. It sounds like explosions. The space he's stuck in shakes slightly. After another lapse, he gasps back to life in the same position. He wants to scream, tell somebody he's down here. This opportunity might not come again.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain. Something is there, near him. Everything hurts and he still can't breathe. For a moment, he thinks he hears the trill of an Enderman. His tired mind can't figure out how as he runs out of air.

He wakes up to a chill. He slightly opens his eyes, spotting yellow sand as he falls, blacking out.

-

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Zedaph suffocated]

[Grian] have we done it?

[Keralis1] he's at worldspawn! got him!

[iskall85] YES!!!

[Zedaph] Oh thank goodness I don't want to do that again

[World reloaded]

[Tango] Z, you okay?

[Zedaph] I'm good. Bring my stuff? I'm going to worldspawn

[FalseSymmetry] will do

-

"Keralis!" Zedaph's elytra beats as he lands, feet digging into the sand. "Is he okay?" Keralis nods. Xisuma's head is resting in his lap. The admin's eyes are closed as he breathes slowly. His expression is relaxed. It's a good sight to see. The spawn island is lit up well, but Keralis keeps his eye on the surrounding oceans.

"He's sleeping," Keralis says, messing with strands of brown hair. "I don't think I'm strong enough to move him on my own." Zedaph drops onto the sand next to them, crossing his legs. There are still bright particles floating off him, his eyes fully purple. "What about you, Zee?" Zedaph seems to notice Keralis's focus, ducking away to hide his eyes.

"Um, not the best. That kind of sucked. But, it worked, and that's what matters!"

"Make sure you look after yourself, too," Keralis tells him. "Fighting the server's code isn't easy." Zedaph laughs, resting on his hands.

"Can say that again. Forgot we have anti-enderman griefing." Keralis cringes, realising why Zed looks so much like he might collapse. It'll pass, but it's never fun to go against programming like that. The architech trio arrives next. All of them look relieved to see the three on the island.

"Oh, Zedaph, I have your stuff." Mumbo starts emptying it out, the few things Zedaph couldn't fit in an ender chest. Zedaph smiles, tugging his helmet on and feeling a lot more comfortable. He tries not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Tango and False will be on their way. They're just checking everything's good," Grian tells them, hands moving quickly as he talks.

"Should we try moving X somewhere safer?" Iskall suggests. "The shopping district isn't that far."

"If you're willing to boat him." Keralis is firm. "I don't want him dropped in the ocean."

"I swear nothing will happen to him under our watch." Grian puts his hand on his heart. Iskall and Mumbo nod in agreement.

"It'll be the safest boat journey on the server." Iskall's hands are on his hips. Keralis tilts his head up.

"Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes, if anything happens to my Shishwamy, I will not hold back." The architechs look suitably threatened.

"Can I boat with someone?" Zedaph asks. "I nearly crashed so many times flying over here."

"Hop in the back of mine!" Iskall calls, placing one in the water. Grian plucks Xisuma into his arms, carrying him to the edge of the water. He sets the admin in the boat before climbing in himself. Keralis checks him over before nodding and allowing Grian to keep him.

"I've told the others to meet us there," Mumbo says. "I'm going to fly across and see where's best to bunker down. I think we could all use some sleep."

Zedaph looks at the moon hanging overhead, "Yeah, I think we could."

-

[MumboJumbo] we're heading to the shopping district.

[FalseSymmetry] thats a good plan

[MumboJumbo] any idea who's shop we could stay in?

[FalseSymmetry] my dimension shop is pretty empty

[FalseSymmetry] plenty of room for some beds. pretty warm.

[Tango] we'll get it set up for you

[MumboJumbo] ok. ill protect the others

[Keralis1] so will I.

-

The first thing Xisuma picks up on is the talking. He stays still, trying to tell if his brain is playing tricks on him after so long in the nothing. His body is like a rock. He's barely able to move. His lungs still ache and it takes some conscious effort to continue breathing. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at bright lights. Light. There's light. He rolls forward, a sob leaving his lips before he can catch it.

"Xisuma, hey, hey." The voice is soft, casting a shadow over him. Xisuma forces his eyes open now the worst of the brightness is blocked out. Keralis is crouching in front of the bed. His fingers gently brush across Xisuma's cheek. For once, Xisuma doesn't feel the dried tears that had become his constant. "You're okay, you're safe. We got you." Xisuma takes a shaking breath in, squeezing his arms to feel the pressure of his own touch.

"Do you want your helmet?" He flits to look at False. The mere sight of his helmet is overwhelming. He reaches out and wraps it close to his chest. Keralis laughs gently, scratching through Xisuma's hair. The admin sighs, his eyes slipping closed once more.

"There you go." He can hear the smile in Keralis's voice. "We've got you, right here." The sound of movement. Cracking his eyes open reveals False sitting in front of the bed, weaving her hand into Xisuma's. He squeezes it gently.

"You're in my shop, in the shopping district," she tells him. "It's past midnight. You're completely safe here. We've got things sorted, there's nothing you need to worry about." A tear slips from his eye. Keralis wipes it away.

"What happened?" He can't make his voice louder than a whisper, and even that hurts.

"Something went wrong with the world reload," False tells him. He can trust her not to sugarcoat things. "We all had a few bugs, but the chunks around you glitched out badly. Created a bunch of like... Invisible blocks, but they were visible, if you get what I mean? They weren't fully there. Ugh, Tango's better at all this technical stuff." Xisuma tries to peer around for him, but the light still hurts if he looks for too long.

"You were stuck in a bunch of them," Keralis finishes. "We didn't realise until you starved and got stuck in a death loop. I'm really sorry, Xisuma."

"We broke your bed to get you out. Well, Zedaph did. The others got him close enough then Tango and I fixed the area. It's all sorted." Xisuma forces his sluggish brain to put the pieces together. He didn't dream up that enderman sound. That was-

"He's over there, sleeping. Tango's with him." Keralis points at a bed nearby. Tango's back blocks any sight of their part Ender friend, but Xisuma can see purple particles floating into the air. A concerning amount of them.

"What did Zed do?" He asks, the vice around his lungs tightening in concern.

"Um," Keralis answers, False looking at him. "He mentioned fighting the anti-enderman griefing code? So I think he picked the bed up." Xisuma's stomach drops. He tries to push himself up but collapses onto his back again.

"Hey, X, careful," False warns. Her voice is stern but Xisuma shakes his head.

"No- I-" He shuts his eyes, fighting off disorientation. "The server's going to keep fighting him. I've got to reset it." False helps him sit up, but she still watches him with concern. He picks up his helmet, pulling it on and relaxing slightly as all the displays flicker to life. Now when he looks at Zedaph he can see the extent of the damage. His very code seems to be fighting itself. "Help me up?"

False gets an arm around his chest. He ends up leaning his weight against her to stand, his legs shaking. She's firm, grip only tightening to accommodate his need. Keralis hovers nearby, ready to jump in if he has to. They take slow steps across the room. Xisuma strains to see under the light, but the tint of his helmet helps. He can see the architechs sat nearby, watching without any attempt at discretion.

Tango looks up as they approach. Xisuma can see the resignation on his face.

"This isn't going to fix itself, is it?" He asks. His hand in clasped tightly in Zedaph's, whose usually bright expression is twisted in pain. His skin is all too pale, black freckles spreading into larger patches across his face. He doesn't open his eyes, not even as Tango moves so Xisuma can sit down. The grip on each other's hand remains tight.

"I need to reset the code that's attacking him," Xisuma explains. His words have a tired slur he can't quite hide. "I'm gonna write an exception, I can't believe I haven't already just- not right now. Don't wanna do it wrong."

"Xisuma, it's okay." Tango smiles, pinched but genuine. "I'm sorry you need to do this." Xisuma shakes his head.

"It's nobody's fault," False says, "Do what you need to do, X. Then you're going back to bed." Keralis hums in agreement. Xisuma laughs softly as the command screens in his helmet boot up.

He zones out the others around him, leaning on Keralis's shoulder when his friend perches beside him. He scrolls through information as he brings up Zedaph's data on one screen. With one eye on it, he unlocks the data packs, searching through them. He gives voice instructions with his microphone muted to the outside world. Finding the pack he needs, he disables it and checks Zedaph's data. It looks like his code is straightening out again. Thank goodness. He makes sure all activity is deactivated before he turns the pack back on.

"That should do it," he mumbles, before realising his microphone is still off. He reactivates it before repeating himself.

"Maybe you should teach us a bit more sometime," False squeezes his shoulder, helping him up. Xisuma slings his arm over False with a nod. That would be good.

"Thank you, X." Tango smiles. He rubs his thumb across Zedaph's hand. The ender hybrid has relaxed, face slack. It looks like he's properly sleeping now. Xisuma can finally rest.

"Come on. Don't you fall asleep here, I don't want to carry you across." Xisuma hums, too tired to commit to any words. Before he knows it, he's sitting down on the comfortable bed again.

"Shishwam, lemme get your helmet." Xisuma nods, tilting his head up so Keralis can unlatch it and bring it off. His head rolls onto his shoulder the moment it's gone. Keralis giggles, ruffling his hair. "Come on, sleepy time." False lies him down, his helmet tucked safely in his arms. Keralis's hand slips into his. Xisuma shuts his eyes, before blinking them open again.

"Stay?" He asks, too tired to worry about being needy. He doesn't want to be alone in that darkness again.

"Of course," False replies.

"We're not going anywhere," Keralis adds. Xisuma smiles at them both, eyes slipping closed. The darkness is manageable with his friends by his side.

-

"Don't you dare wake them up," False hisses, watching as Grian and Iskall play with redstone. The morning sun is beginning to shine through the cracks in the windows. She's exhausted, having only caught a quick nap. Keralis is asleep next to Xisuma, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Tango's slid into bed beside Zedaph, holding him close to his chest. Mumbo's dead to the world across the room.

"We won't!" Grian calls, trying to figure out the game he could make out of this mechanic. Iskall has a Statues book open, an armour stand sat in front of a piston.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if the two people who have done this with armour stands were helping," Iskall points out, flicking through the pages.

"We're fine, it's part of the adventure!" Grian watches as the piston shoots the armour stand across the room. False smiles, leaning back against the bed. Some of the other hermits have been coming online with the early morning. Thankfully, they don't seem to know about everything that went down yesterday. It's best things are quiet for Xisuma whilst he rests. She's sure he’ll tell them about it. She'll make sure he does.

As the sun grows higher with the dawn, she dozes off again. Grian is yawning, him and Iskall only catching a few hours of sleep. He's still buzzing with activity. He'll crash later, easy enough.

It's to this quiet atmosphere that Xisuma wakes up. Iskall and Grian are still experimenting. Grian’s laughter rings out as the armour stand bounces in the air. The beat of the piston is monotonous, but they're nearly falling over each other at the sight. Xisuma watches with a soft smile, eyes barely opened.

"It we got one on top, do you think it would-" Grian holds his hand up, demonstrating an armour stand shaking up and down aggressively. Iskall chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's only the morning, we don't need to break physics yet."

"It's for science," Grian protests. He sounds breathless, half-delirious with his need for sleep.

"Please don't make me do work," Xisuma whispers, all too aware of the sleeping hermits around him. Grian perks up, Iskall turning to him with a grin.

"'Suma!" Iskall calls. Xisuma smiles at both of them, making no attempt to move. He's comfortable here and he doesn't want to wake his friends.

"Exy-Suma!" Grian slides across, leaving a gap from the sleeping hermits. Iskall stands by his side, resting his hand on Grian's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Xisuma wraps his arm tighter around his helmet.

"Not the best, my friend," he answers honestly. "But I'm certainly better than before."

"Well, we'll just have to make that even better then." Grian is committed to the cause now. He's going to make Xisuma's day.

"You don't have to rush back into things," Iskall says, offering a smile. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves today."

"I don't think I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon." Xisuma looks down at Keralis, dark hair brushing Xisuma's chest plate. False is asleep slouched in the chair beside him. Even without being able to see the other occupants of the room, he can still tell they're sleeping. "Feels a bit weird not going for a jog at this time, though."

"I'm sure your legs won't wither away after one morning, X," Iskall jokes. "Be lazy like the rest of us." Grian grins.

"We could always play some mini-games later, too!" Xisuma laughs, stretching as much as he can without shifting Keralis. He's beginning to regret sleeping in his armour, but it's too late now.

The three chat with each other, Xisuma offering advice now he's awake. They're gradually building up a system to launch the armour stand across the room. Sure, they'll have to clean it all up later, but it passes the time and it makes them laugh. Hearing Xisuma laughing is good for all three of them, despite the roughness reminding them of last night's ordeal. It's safe to say that nobody envies Xisuma's experience.

The three jump at a strange, shrill noise, until the realisation kicks in. Zed is sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Hair is falling into his face, ruffled from sleep. Tango remains slumped against him. He even rolls into the warmth Zedaph leaves behind. It takes a few seconds until the hybrid notices his audience. Zedaph jumps, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, sorry! Forgot I wasn't alone." His eyes are glowing brightly in the morning light. He looks down at the arm lazily clinging to his waist. "This oaf is used to it."

"No, no, you're okay," Xisuma tells him. False is stirring beside him, blinking to life, but Keralis remains out. "How are you feeling?" Zedaph taps his chin, resting his finger on his lip.

"Pretty well-rested, actually." Then his attention turns to Xisuma. "What about you? I should be asking you that question!" Xisuma laughs, flexing his fingers against his helmet.

"I'm okay. Taking it easy." He tilts his head towards Grian and Iskall. "Whether I like it or not, it seems."

"Too right," False agrees, yawning. "T'others can handle admin duties for today. You're ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"We can make it one!" Iskall tells him, his voice a lot more cheerful than the implication of his words. "We just need a good leash-"

"Oh absolutely not! Don't you dare!" Keralis pokes his head up next to him, trying to tune into the conversation. Zedaph laughs from across the room. He's tugging a bleary Tango to rest on his shoulder so he can wrap the blanket around them both.

"Oh come on, X, it'll be fun!" Grian wraps his arms around Iskall's shoulders. Xisuma shakes his head.

"You two are terrible. Absolutely terrible. Goodness me."

"I'm sure X will agree to take a day off willingly," False says, sounding far too threatening as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"I already agreed. No leash required!"

"Why are we talking about leashes?" Keralis finally asks, looking more confused than anything. They break down into laughter.

-

[Grian] hello everyone

[iskall85] HALLO!

[iskall85] we are stealing your admin for the day!

[Grian] yeah he's ours.

[falsesymmetry] x had a rough night so he's having a day off

[falsesymmetry] so if any admins besides tango, x and i could step up please?

[cubfan135] yeah I'm on it.

[joehillssays] of course, and send our well wishes to our dear admin!

[Xisuma] your dear admin thanks you :-)

[Xisuma] please try not to break anything

[Etho] have a fun day lol

[joehillssays] don't make us lock you out of your screens, x!

[Keralis1] Nothing will get past us.

[iskall85] he's been suitably threatened.

[Renthedog] Should uh... We be concerned?

[Grian] about x-i-sooma finally getting a break?

[falsesymmetry] he's in safe hands. promise.

-

"Should we get this day started?" Tango asks. Grian is about to answer, only to yawn. He covers his mouth, face turning red.

"Another hour of sleep first?" False suggests. They look around the room, everyone in varying states of awareness.

"It never hurt anyone." Iskall shoves Mumbo over, fitting into bed beside him. "See y'all in an hour." Keralis smiles at Xisuma. He bumps their heads together.

"You deserve a break without being traumatised first, you know that Shishwamy?" He checks. Xisuma laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I know." He leans back. "And I think I've got some good friends to remind me." False pats his back, getting comfortable enough to doze off again.

"And don't you forget it." Xisuma looks around the room. The architechs are fighting over the bed, Tango and Zedaph curled back up on theirs. He smiles, the fear from last night already on its way to being a distant memory.

"Don't think I can."

[remusownsmyuwus]

Perfectly Real Chapter 7

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 6, Chapter 8 - or on AO3

Word count: 1171

Genre: Fluff and angst

Pairings: Loceit 

Warnings: Morally gray sides, anger, yelling, caps, self-deprecation, depression, food misuse, shattered glass/glass breaking, weaponry, alcoholism mention, suicide mention, death mention, discussion of morality, fire mention, weaponry, pining, crying, swearing

 ____

Thomas was getting weaker. It wasn't a subjective thing, Remus knew how it worked. There was… brainspace. And when something cleared up all the emotion taking up that space (Roman's passion, Patton's caring, Virgil's stress); it left room. Left room for Remus to play and to do what he wanted. Gave him… freedom. And with every thought that Remus shot through Thomas' stagnating mind filled more of it with disgust, which Hammy then dealt with, leaving oh-so-much-room for Remus. It was a vicious cycle in the best kind of way, and Remus loved it.

And well, when Roman wasn't creating, Remus was more than happy to pick up the slack-- the next video or project was sure to cover something a little more sour than Thomas' usual flavor. Sour? Bitter? Remus despised the typical, Western idea of morality as a black-to-white scale. Roman and his "dark" and "light" sides. Haven't we as a society and Thomas as a creator come far enough to know that having "bad"-- Remus chuckles at the idea of him, Deceit, and Hamlet being bad. --as dark and "good" as light is flawed and boring? Where was the subversion? The varied texture of writing?

Remus blinked a few times, sighing. He snapped his fingers, summoning a jar of steak sauce, which he unscrewed and began to pour carefully over the shelves of food in the light sides' food cabinets. Remus scrunched his nose, the smell of the steak sauce pungently sweet. It had a unpleasant viscosity, and with Roman down for the count-- thanks again, Hammy!! --it would be difficult for Virgil and Patton to clean.

Remus couldn't truly say that there was no fraction of vengeance in his actions. The way that the "light sides" perhaps there was subversion? It seemed the "lights" were far more… morally unclean than the "darks"... had treated Hamlet put a little more fire in Remus' blood. They had mistreated him to the point of alcoholism and suicidality! Ludicrous. We should use the ancient Egyptian color meanings. Dark was clearly the side in the right.

Remus threw the empty jar down to the floor, enjoying how it shattered. He summoned more jars, hurling them down one after another until the room was covered in a turmoil of shattered glass. Remus leapt over the wreckage, landing outside of the kitchen. He summoned glass barriers which stuck to the wall outside of the kitchen, which were about two feet high. 

Rushing back to his room, he picked up a massive sack- throwing in over his shoulder and running back. He crawled on top of the counters to avoid the glass and tore the sack open, watching as the pounds and pounds of Jell-O powder spilled onto the floor. Walking along the counter, spreading it out as best he could, Remus stifled a giggle. 

He summoned a small fire, in the center of the room, which was water resistant. He reached down, turning the sink onto full blast and pulling the head so it sprayed out across the floor, quickly filling up the now sealed-off kitchen. Remus summoned his morning star, extending the handle so he could gently stir the ~4488 gallons of liquid Jell-O mixture. 

Eventually, he snapped his fingers, stopping the fire. He lowered the temperature in the room, skipping away while the giant glass & pizza flavored batch of Jell-O cooled.

~•°^•^°•~

Hamlet hated the anger. Almost as much as he hated himself. And oh did Hamlet hate himself. There was so much heat. It was burning Hamlet alive, his cheeks flushed and his veins filled with fire. Roman's anger was so different from Patton's sadness, it made Hamlet so…. Incoherent. And hot. Hamlet tore off his tie and blazer, throwing them angrily against the wall of his room. He fumbled for a few moments with the buttons of his dress shirt before just ripping them off, leaving a horizontal stripe of his chest exposed.

"FUCK!" he yelled, just because it felt good to be loud. "FUCK IT! I HATE EVERYTHING!" It felt good to scream, and Hamlet pushed up his sleeves. His room was burning with heat. It felt so bad and so good and Hamlet felt so alive, with all that fire in him.

"Hamlet?" There was a gentle knock on the door, slightly muffled as if the knocker was wearing silken gloves (which he was). "May I come in?"

"Yes, Dee, come in! COME IN!" Hamlet wasn't mad at Deceit, he was mad at the door, and his room, and Roman, and Thomas, but most of all himself. 

Deceit opened the door, stopping once he caught sight of Hamlet's chest. He swallowed. "Hamlet, you're… you've been sscreaming for a while, I came to check on you. Make ssure you're okay."

"I'm so fucking mad! I hate myself so much!" Hot tears started falling down Hamlet's face. He really couldn't bear feeling so much all at once. How the others managed it, he didn't know. 

"Hamlet," Deceit's voice cracked slightly, and Hamlet felt slightly sick hearing it. "Hamlet, can you lie down for me, pleasse?"

"Yes! Fuck!" Hamlet flopped down on the bed, the springs groaning with the force of the impact. Tears still ran down Hamlet's face in tiny rivers, dripping down onto the bed sheets beneath him.

Deceit walked closer, the heels of his boots subtly clicking against Hamlet's floor. He wasn't wearing his full outfit that day, that morning he had opted for a soft yellow sweater over a loose fitting tank top and yoga pants. He pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it to the side, then pulled off the beanie he'd been wearing, feeling how hot the air around Hamlet was. 

"You're…" Hamlet trailed off, incoherent. He was… he wasn't able to form sentences at the moment. Everything hurt so much. Feeling hurt so much.

"I'm only here to help, I know how you are after you… transsfer emotions. I wissh you would sstop doing thiss to yoursself." Deceit sat down on the bed next to Hamlet, pulling off his shoes and setting them carefully by the bed. 

"It's my duty, Dee. It is!" Hamlet felt awful for yelling like that. Stupid stupid stupid, his brain supplied.

"You sshould help them manage their emotionss, not take them away. You're ussing them ass toolss to aid in your sself disstructive behaviorss. I know you don't believe me, but it'ss true." Deceit rested his head on Hamlet's shoulder, looping an arm around Hamlet's waist. He breathed deeply and evenly, leading Hamlet to do the same. Some forbidden part of him wished that this was… more. That Deceit could hug Hamlet like this when Hamlet wasn't having a breakdown. He shoved that part of himself away, it was too complicated to process now, in Hamlet's arms.

Hamlet drifted to sleep, the knot in his brows smoothing. Deceit watched him, the heavy blush on Hamlet's face, and smiled. He was glad that he could help Hamlet, that he could be there when he needed him.

____

Taglist: @gay--insomniac @power-in-plain-sight @thiaholimon @djpurple3 

special thanks to @aleiimm​ for beta-ing this fic! 

[whetstonefires]

Okay, it’s been about a year but here is the second-to-last of the fics I signed up to write for the go-fund-cee drive! For @jes-cher, who has been lovely and understanding about my choice paralysis bullshit.

I’ll be posting a shorter, darker Jason-focused one later, as apology for slow. Ten months of beating my head against my first idea for this prompt before it occurred to me I could just. Write something else. It doesn’t matter if it’s a great idea if it’s clearly not getting written! 😌 Rip.

(Anon who’s the only one left, please feel free to contact me with a new prompt if you’re no longer interested in your original request after this amount of time, or have justifiably lost faith in my ability to execute it, as I chronicled my battle with Lobdell’s writing style, and would prefer I give you 10,000 words of something else. I’ll still post what I have written for that prompt already!)

-&-

Gotham wasn’t actually that bad a city. Steph had actually lived in a few different ones now, and visited lots, and for all the crap her hometown got, it stood up pretty well. The architecture was nice; good balance of eras, a unified aesthetic with a lot of variety to keep it interesting.

The street system wasn’t ideal, especially in the old parts of town, but they didn’t have any of the traffic nightmares of New York or, really, most of the rest of the metro belt. Only Metropolis did a better job at avoiding gridlock.

Public transit was robust and reached most of the city, and while the buses weren’t wonderful they weren’t bad. Sometimes they were even on time. The libraries and schools were all pretty well funded, because the Wayne Foundation made up the tax shortfall in districts with below average income. The street lights usually worked, and the cops were a lot more chill than most places unless they thought you were a supervillain, in which case they still probably wouldn’t shoot you, even if maybe they probably should.

The supervillain problem was worse than average, she could admit that, but crime as a whole actually wasn’t. Air pollution had been really bad forty years ago, and the river still wasn’t anywhere you’d like to swim, but that was true of a lot of places, and their reputations didn’t linger like this. She’d been to Paris! Gotham sanitation workers were about 400% more successful, and they kept working through frankly ludicrous conditions! Possibly they were paid really well, she didn’t know.

The weather, though. She’d give the world that one. Gotham’s weather was consistently terrible, awful, no-good, and deserved everything anyone had ever said about it.

Which made it actually really weird that their supervillain problem featured someone with a plant theme.

“Move somewhere tropical, Eisley!” she groused, as she swung to the next roof, careful of her footing. “Cultivate jungles! Save the planet! Stop making us come out in the freezing rain to deal with your unseasonable bullshit.”

She paused for a second on her last rooftop perch, both to gather herself and in case Ivy took the cue. She often did. Supervillains in general seemed to have a hard time resisting a straight line—which Steph could relate to, honestly. And she’d caught Batman holding back his entrance for the most ironic dramatic moment before, so it wasn’t just a villain thing.

No villain attack, which was good, because Steph was on her own out here. This was hopefully just a scouting mission. Probably Poison Ivy wasn’t even here.

This afternoon, just after lunch, as Steph was getting off work, every park in the city had suddenly erupted with enormous…growths. They were tree-shaped, thirty feet high with little crinkled green leaf things at the top, but from what inspection had been done so far seemed more like fungus than anything. The spreading limbs had a weird rubbery texture.

Steph was calling them Doom Broccolis.

Whatever they were, they were suspicious as heck, and in response to their appearance Batman had immediately rallied the troops. Which had quickly led to the discovery that Red Robin was missing, and had been for at least eleven hours. He’d never checked in last night.

The troops had promptly been rallied even more urgently, and dispersed across the city to its various infested green spaces.

So Steph’s mission, like everyone’s, was twofold—see if she could learn anything about Ivy’s scheme in time to foil it, and search for any sign of Tim. If they were lucky, he’d just dropped out of contact voluntarily for unrelated reasons and could be yelled at later. If not… Well. If not, he needed them.

She’d been telling herself all the way here that she appreciated that Duke and Damian were the ones who’d been sent out with each other as backup, that she was respected and trusted to operate solo and that was a good thing. The practical side of her would really prefer backup please, and the insecure one kept murmuring that maybe what it really proved was Batman cared less if she died.

Batgirl gave herself a little shake. Shut up, little voice, she told it, and mentally squashed the slug of it under her heel. She adjusted her gas mask to make sure the seal was tight. Time to get her reconnoiter on.

And hopefully not have to fight the most powerful metahuman in Gotham by herself on unfavorable terrain, in the freezing rain. That would be really great.

There was almost no sound as she crept through the nasty rubbery grove that had erupted in the long narrow triangle that was Hyde Park.

The broccolis themselves were silent, not even creaking or rustling in the occasional gusts that drove the freezing rain at an angle, and city traffic and all the sounds of people were hushed on a day like today, between the weather and the large-scale supervillain incident. Everyone who could be was either out of town or at home, stuffing newspaper into any cracks in case of spores.

After an unenlightening loop around about half the perimeter, Steph was forced to drop to ground level and forge her way into enemy territory. The doom broccolis had avoided uprooting any existing trees or large shrubs, which meant the spacing was slightly uneven and in some places there was no easy way through on foot, but for the most part they were far enough apart to leave plenty of corridors of sky for Steph to stay out under—cover from line of sight wasn’t worth putting herself directly below the things, if she could help it.

Fairly quickly, she noticed something that had not been in the photos from the main infestation in Robinson Park, forty minutes ago.

She clicked her comm on. “Hey,” she murmured just above the subvocal range, for the throat mic. She’d mostly gotten the knack of subvocalizing rather than whispering, which didn’t engage the vocal cords and which the microphone pasted to her neck therefore didn’t pick up well. “Is anybody else seeing…fruit? On the broccolis?”

There was a second of dead air, and then Red Hood said, with a grimace you could hear, “yeah. Like…huge brown cherries, on a couple of ‘em.”

“The ones here are more or less mushroom colored,” reported Signal from Finger Park. “But kind of like cherries, yeah.”

“Don’t touch them,” warned Batman, with the condescending Dad-instinct need to tell everyone things they already knew. Steph was in the middle of rolling her eyes when she rounded another broccoli and froze dead.

“Holy crap.” The broccoli mushroom tree at the middle of Hyde Park was bearing fruit that wasn’t shaped like cherries at all. Batgirl’s first thought had been holy shit it’s people, but then she’d taken her second look, and now it was worse. “Team,” she said, trying to keep her voice professional, “I… think I found Red Robin.”

Because dangling from the central broccoli, by dark hair that turned into green stems just before joining the bough, were seven still vaguely formless figures, torsos partially sheathed in giant green leaves like Ivy wore sometimes for modesty, and with arms and legs looking just barely stuck together. Like a partly melted wax figure, or dragon fruit that wasn’t quite ripe. The fingers and toes were mostly fused, and greenish at the tips. The faces were kind of melty too, hopefully enough so that they wouldn’t be a sure match against a photo to a stranger, but not so much that Steph couldn’t instantly recognize the lines of one of the faces she knew best in the world.

There were seven under-ripe Tim Drakes growing from a broccoli tree.

A clamor of demands for clarification was starting in her comm, and she crept forward as she waited for Batman and Oracle to quiet them all down. There was a bulge halfway up the meaty-looking trunk. “I said ‘think,’” she murmured, studying the nearest Tim-fruit for signs it was actually the real one, “because this broccoli—”

Something slammed into her from the side before she could say any more, heavy and cold and leaving her head ringing and her stupid gas mask flying away, and the combination of experience and instinct only barely let her leap and handspring with the blow, just fast enough to avoid the grasp of the thing that had struck her.

Her boots and glove almost skidded in the freezing-rain-on-grass and left her wiping out, but the jagged rubber treads she’d selected specifically for moments like this saved the day.

Steph made a three-point landing and stared up at Poison Ivy, standing looking thunderous on the top of a huge coil of some sort of vine, several more of them lashing around her like octopus arms. Steph couldn’t even tell which one had hit her.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit, Steph thought, and grinned.

“Gotta try harder than that, Pam!”

No one was talking in her ear. The ear she’d been smacked in. She reached up to check. Yeah, the comm had had it.

She couldn’t be sure about the throat mic—the stick-on patch it was under was still in place but she was pretty sure it got most if not all of its broadcast strength from the earbud unit, so it probably wasn’t transmitting to the others anymore but it might be. She’d keep that in mind to a) pass info just in case and b) try not to embarrass herself, in case there was a silent audience.

Ivy didn’t go straight for the kill, so Steph took the time to readjust her stance into a slightly more upright, flexible posture that kept both her hands free, though she didn’t bother to straighten her cape, which had gotten flipped forward over her right shoulder while she was flipping around.

“You’re planting dude-trees now, Pam?” She and Ivy absolutely weren’t on close enough terms to use first names, even if the meta lady had currently been on the upswing and working with the Birds of Prey again, instead of on a sharp down and terrorizing the city. “What, real guys not listening to you anymore?”

“Human beings are disgusting resource sinks,” Ivy said, in a tone of abstracted disgust that didn’t omen well for her losing her head and making a mistake. “Especially men. I’ve always been working on alternatives. Sadly,” she gave a shallow sigh, inspecting her nails, “the ones I’ve developed have always been…limited.”

Steph nodded sagely. “The veggieburger problem,” she agreed. “Hard to get a plant to do the job of meat.”

Ivy glared. Hah. That one got her. “My new varietal,” she snapped, “will overcome that problem. Each specimen engulfs and consumes one large mammal, and produces fruits that mimic the full intelligence and abilities of the prey sample, in a vegetable form completely loyal to me.”

Steph gaped, because one, that was the most terrifying thing Ivy had done in years, and two, consumes was a very very alarming word in this context. “The Doom Broccolis are carnivorous?” she did not actually squeak. She really hoped her throat mic was still working. Even if it wasn’t, though, backup should be incoming.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “They are not even distantly related to broccoli. And yes, although the digestion process doesn’t really set in until the fruits ripen; the early experiments failed to reproduce cognitive function accurately, due to the breakdown of key tissues.”

Whew. So Tim had…at least a little time left, probably. Steph looked uneasily around the grove of horrible flesh fungus. “I don’t see any loyal broccoli people,” she said. Maybe they were off guarding the other parks?

Ivy scowled. “Of course not. The early cultivars weren’t large enough for human trials, obviously.”

…so there were loyal vegetable guinea pigs or something. Sometimes it was easy to forget Ivy had once been an actual lab scientist.

“So wait, you haven’t actually done a person before and you start with—him?” Steph caught herself at the last second; she didn’t know which identity Tim had been caught in.

“Why not? Red Robin is an excellent specimen. Good balance of strength, strategy, and unlike Batman actually takes direction.” Ivy made a sour face, like her inability to control any version of Batman for long was a thorn in her side.

“Is that what you think,” said Steph, who had had the experience of trying to control Tim Drake. He did try to be accommodating, about most things, usually, and he did take direction better than Batman, for what that was worth, but in the end he’d always go off and do whatever he thought best, no matter what, and possibly let you yell at him about it later.

If anyone could take stock of his preconceived values and identity issues and think his way into a twisty workaround for inbuilt loyalty programming in order to fuck over his creator, she’d bet it would be a perfect copy of Tim.

“Also I caught him skulking around my newest greenhouses,” Ivy shrugged. “Waste not, want not. Recycling is good for the Earth.”

Haha, Ivy had just called Tim garbage. Harsh. But as interesting as it would be to see if the veggie-Tims actually did go rogue, them waking up would mean Tim was now actively dying if not already dead. So no. Not that funny.

Steph caught the enemy’s eyes shuttling subtly toward the central broccoli with its heavy burden of fruit. Aha. Just as she had suspected. (As of like…six seconds ago.)

Poison Ivy had been keeping Batgirl talking, buying time for her Tims to ripen.

Steph appreciated the compliment of putting off the fight rather than counting on being able to end it quickly, but she’d been buying time, too. And unlike Ivy, she was done shopping.

Her Batgirl cape wasn’t nearly as wide cut as her Spoiler cloak had been, not as good for hiding things in, but she’d contrived to use its cover to take out and arm nine individual exploding batarangs while they talked. That was more than she carried normally, or even would be allowed to carry normally, but when you were fighting evil trees more ordinance tended to be called-for, and Batman had issued a supply.

Without wasting time, she started throwing. Her aim had never been especially exact, something Damian liked to give her a hard time about, but here all she had to hit was ‘an entire tree.’ No fiddly precision targets today. She had to aim for the ones not showing fruit or trunk bulges, which she was going to have to trust didn’t have people inside, rather than having just recently acquired very tiny people—this seemed like a safe bet since Ivy tended to be soft on kids.

Not enough to stop periodically trying to destroy humanity for their sake, but enough that it was hard to imagine her hurting one face to face.

“No!” Ivy shouted. She got points for not leaping toward the blinking explosives to try to stop them, sending vines striking like snakes instead, but she was too busy doing that to get away from the bomb that had landed only about five feet away from her.

The blast blew her off her feet, and clear off her pedestal of green. She’d managed to remotely yank two of the batarangs out before they went off, saving those doom fungi, but Steph wasn’t worried about that; she’d successfully set the supervillain up for the kind of fatal misjudgment in defense of plants Batman always said was the surest way to beat her, and now she charged in to make the most of it.

She got there in plenty of time to really put her weight behind a punch hammering down into Ivy’s face, then kicked her in the chest, heel driving in just below the collarbone. Ivy gave a very human uph and pained expression, though she didn’t fall, and Steph went for another kick, this one more carefully aimed.

This was a mistake. One green-tinted hand came up and closed around her ankle like a Venus flytrap made of carbon steel, and in one sharp uncoiling move Eisley rose to her feet and with a twist of her whole torso flung Steph head over heels across the grove.

She realized somewhere between getting thrown and suppressing the urge to vomit as she gyroed upside-down that she’d been thrown straight for one of the remaining undamaged, unfruiting tree-things. Could see the surface getting sort of…gelatinous in preparation for her impact, which was so many flavors of no.

Her hands didn’t fumble at her belt, courtesy of many hours of drills and live practice, even as instinct screamed for rush and now now now.

Her grapple caught in one of the spreading ‘boughs’ at the top of another broccoli, and she tugged the line to send herself swinging out on a long arc just short of making contact with the fungus that wanted to eat her.

She peppered the air in front of her with ordinary, nonexplosive Batarangs as she came back around on the end of the wire—Ivy smacked these casually aside, but it made enough of a distraction that Pam didn’t notice in time the moment when Steph got her backup grapple into a different tree, and accelerated.

Going for a kick would have been the smart, safe option, but Steph was rarely smart and almost never safe, so instead of slamming her full body weight heel-first into the supervillain and hoping it stuck this time, she grabbed with the full strength of endless thigh workouts and dragged Ivy clear off her feet.

Ivy’s plants were protective, but they tended to rely heavily on her for targeting anything that wasn’t right in front of them, so keeping her disoriented was a good idea if you could manage it. It said so in her file. So this part, the grabbing, had been an actual plan, even if one it had taken about two seconds to make, and even if ‘hit the supervillain essentially with your crotch’ was probably a combat recommendation no one would make ever.

The next part was sheer impulse, based on how much easier Ivy was to move than expected—maybe her punch resistance wasn’t so much physical density as some sort of supernatural rootedness, and if you could get her off the ground it stopped working?

Steph released the retraction mechanism on her secondary grapple and let it start paying out again, an instant before she hit the max-strength retract button on her original grapple, the one that was still in her other hand, and gripping a bough halfway across the grove.

Her right shoulder screamed, but Ivy let out a startled choking sound as their trajectory wrenched around out of the arc Steph had been carrying her into headfirst, and shot the other way. Which meant she was still discombobulated, which meant Steph still had the upper hand, shoulder or no.

Steph picked the right moment as they went rocketing back, and let go. Momentum kept Ivy flying, and none of her plants reacted to catch her in midair before she landed. Right on target.

Ivy sank headfirst into her own carnivorous fungus tree, in the gelatinous patch where she’d tried to throw Steph. Her legs kicked once, and then fell still. “See how you like it!” Steph shouted, which was perhaps not the wittiest repartee ever, but she didn’t care.

She landed, staggering a little because her shoulder might be dislocated a little bit and was definitely killing her. And normally she wouldn’t turn her back on a villain just because she’d gotten one good hit and they hadn’t immediately gotten up again, but what she’d been fighting for this whole time was time, because the window of opportunity to stop Tim Drake-Wayne from being reduced to protein goo and the pattern for a bunch of veggie-copies was closing fast. This wasn’t a defeat-top-rank-supervillain-solo mission, this was a rescue mission.

She pelted back toward the relevant tree, holding up the elbow of her bad arm with the opposite hand against the jolt. How to get him out? With two good arms she could have climbed or grappled up to the level of the bulge that represented the broccoli’s prey and started cutting, but it would be hard to get good leverage. Was there a better option?

One of the Tim-fruits twitched on its stem. Fuck it.

Steph recalled the grapple-end of her holdout gun from where it had been since she use it to get the drop on Ivy, fired it into the gummy-looking limbs of the Tim tree, and hauled herself up. She needed to start carrying a better cutting implement than a Batarang, how did Midnight Boy Scout not mandate that already, but for now she gripped one swoopy sharp black wing awkwardly in her gauntleted left hand, braced toes and knees against the nasty cool-flesh stem, and put all the strength her bad arm had into cutting through the tough husk.

It wouldn’t cut.

More of the Tims were starting to move. Their copy nervous systems booting up or whatever.

The whole tree seemed like it was twitching, and then she realized it was, or rather just the lump under her feet was, and she pulled back her Batarang just in time for something thin and yellow to burst out through the surface of the Doom Broccoli, and disappear, leaving an almost invisibly thin slash that dribbled a transparent greenish fluid that reminded Steph of aloe vera gel but smelled more like old mango and artichoke.

The rubbery husk was being sliced up from the soft, inner side with the hawks-head emblem that belonged in the middle of Red Robin’s chest, which wouldn’t you know was a holdout throwing star thing after all, just like his R used to be. She should’ve known.

Talk about impractical shapes for a knife.

“Keep going, you’ve almost got this.”

Whether he heard her or not, he went on thrashing and slashing, and Steph with her Batarang tore as best she could with her bad arm at the shreds between cuts, trying to get them to snap and let all the thin slashes add up to one hole large enough to escape through.

The Tim-fruits were still twitching. Would they fall to the ground and then peel their limbs free like they were breaking out of husks, and get up and start walking around? Or would they need to get all the way to looking like functioning humans before detaching from the stems?

A whole arm burst out in a rush of goo. They were going to make it.

The fingers of the nearest fruit came unstuck, one by one, curling around air the way Tim curled his around a staff.

And then he was out, headfirst and gooey.

“Man, Ex-Boyfriend Wonder,” Steph sighed, as she let him grab onto her and lowered them on a slowly paying-out jumpline, helping him reach the ground with slightly more dignity than clawing his way down the slime-encrusted ruptured stem of his prison would have allowed, assuming he hadn’t just landed face-first and died. “Why’d you have to go breaking yourself loose at the last second like that? I was supposed to be the hero!”

“Believe me, you—pbbbft—were,” Tim answered, pausing partway to spit out a mouthful of sap-gel that he must somehow have been breathing in there. “I’d never have even managed to wake up if you hadn’t turned up to distract Ivy and make such a racket. I could feel her speeding it up, toughening up the…things, pushing.” The shiver was understated enough Steph might not have noticed it if he hadn’t been clinging to her waist. She eyed the Tim fruits. They’d stopped moving. Good?

Feet on the ground, Tim brushed fruitlessly at the slime all over his costume, then obviously gave it up as a bad job. “Where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“Over there.” Steph landed too, and pointed to where Ivy was still embedded head-first in a broccoli.

She’d disappeared up to the waist, and didn’t seem to be making any effort to get out. In fact, as they watched she seemed to sink in another centimeter.

“Okay, that’s a bit better than a distraction,” Tim acknowledged. “But also I don’t think we should let her finish. I don’t want to fight a dozen vegetable Poison Ivys.”

“Don’t like to eat your vegetables?” Steph teased, even as she sized up the situation—should they pull Ivy out, probably the faster option but then they’d probably have to fight her some more right away, or try cutting down the Doom Broccoli with her still in it, more thorough?

“Yeah actually I’m not going to be able to look any cabbage varietals in the face for the next six months,” said Tim, apparently agreeing they were broccoli regardless of their creator’s opinion and the mango smell, “but come on. It’s never good when villains start to spawn. Chiraxes was bad enough.”

“Blegh,” Steph admitted. The duplicate Drury Walkers had at least had a super short lifespan and been self-disposing. “Okay, I’m all out of bombs. You?” Probably a dumb question, given all his storage space had been confiscated.

“Ivy took my belt and everything in my bandoliers,” Red Robin admitted, touching the cape closure thing at the top of them, where he’d shoved his little sigil-thing back into place in spite of all the goo. His stupid little gimmicks would be easier to make fun of if they worked out less often, lucky stiff.

“But she left that.” Because Tim had all the luck when it came to details like that. “And your mask?” Not that Ivy had ever cared much about things like the Bats’ secret identities.

He shrugged. “I guess she didn’t expect it to be relevant long.” Anything she wanted to know from or about him, the copies could have told her, soon enough. And he wouldn’t have mattered, once he was dead.

This had been another close one; Steph got those feelings out with a little shiver of her own. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s do something about Ivy. Everybody else should be here soon.”

“Backup,” Tim sighed, pushing his hair back from his face and having it stick that way, messily moussed with doom fungus glop. “I love having backup.”

“Sure didn’t act like it back in the day.”

“I am an older and wiser man now. Who values being alive and made of the original meat products.”

Steph stole a glance over her shoulder at the Tim tree. “…I’m really glad those things aren’t waking up.”

“Me too. Think of the ethical implications.”

Steph side-eyed him, not sure whether that was intentional humor or not, then decided it didn’t matter and elbowed him in the ribs anyway. She immediately broke into a run to avoid any counter-attacks, bad arm carefully supported once again. “Race you to the supervillain!”

[classpect-musings]

Could you analyze a bard of time? (I love your blog so much!!)

Sure thing! (And thank you, I’m glad you enjoy it! c:)

Classpect Analysis: Bard of Time

Active or Passive: Passive

What they do: Bards allow the destruction of their aspect or allow destruction through their aspect. Time is the aspect of endings/inevitability, repetitiveness/rhythm, mechanisms, timelines (and literal time), and death/mortality.

Active equivalent: Prince of Time

Inverse: Maid of Space (Porrim Maryam)

A Bard of Time would start off acting like a Space player. Space often represents watching as opposed to acting, and Bards are pretty passive players (at least at the start), so the Bard of Time would be very chill and calm. They might be the type to space out frequently, lost in their creative thoughts. Maybe they act like a hippie artist, always relaxed and at ease as they make their creations. I could definitely see this Bard being the type to make and wear DIY baggy rainbow tie-dye T-Shirts. And speaking of DIYs, upcycling is definitely up this Bard’s alley too! They reduce, reuse, and recycle like no one else’s business, taking supposed trash and turning it into their latest creative endeavor.

Space is the aspect of femininity, so the Bard of Time might be interested in fashion– adding in to their DIY, tree-hugging type style, there might be some kind of influence in their wardrobe from the 70s. They also might be the type to dote on their friends in a motherly sort of way. They keep a bunch of low-maintenance plants around their house, too, because they want to be able to support as many as they can. Maybe they grow tea leaves, drink the tea, and then try to read their future. This Bard might also have a lot of frogs in their vicinity.

The Bard of Time currently lacks or avoids their aspect, Time. They might upcycle things again and again, still believing that they can use it for another purpose or creation. They’re reluctant to let go of things or suddenly act out, and as a result they tend to procrastinate on important things. Combining this with their passive nature, this makes the Bard of Time seem very careless. (And because they tend to put off or forget to do things, this could lead to these things gradually being destroyed through Time.) Time can also represent repetitivity/monotony, so they strive to always create something new and interesting in order to avoid falling into a pattern. And, with Time representing endings/death, they surround themself with Space in order to block out the death and destruction happening in the real world. They like to believe that there is still some light even amongst all the darkness. This Bard hates to think about death and likely wastes a lot of their time on silly recycling projects or whatever else is on their mind that day.

So, your typical Bard of Time would be a recycling, tea-leaf-reading hippie living in a giant atrium with paintings and plants, basically thriving in a setting akin to a fever dream. Super nonthreatening…that is, until they go through a sudden change.

Bards do start out acting like players of the opposite aspect, but once they have a sort of aspect-related collapse in their life, they actively pursue their aspect, trying to take in as much as possible. The Bard of Time’s collapse definitely won’t end well, considering how the aspect of Time is. Because they enter SBURB (or any other version they’re in), they have to realize that the world will end, and the universe they are so used to will be completely obliterated. That would definitely shatter their tree-hugging hippie nature. On a smaller scale, though, the Bard of Time might witness the death of a family member or a close friend, or even the destruction of their precious artwork. This destruction could perhaps be caused by their own negligence, as in, their passive attitude. Time would suddenly rush into their life, forcing the Bard to realize that the end is inevitable. They can’t avoid it forever.

You might be thinking that this Bard’s sudden character development change could be detrimental to the whole session, and that’s certainly true, since Bards are usually a wildcard in their session capable of saving or destroying it. However, if the Bard of Time does not go through this collapse, they might be just as bad (or worse!) off. Due to their procrastinating and laid-back nature, it’s likely that they wouldn’t bother with the upkeep of timelines. This could easily lead to everything spiraling into disaster. Their so-called ‘screwing around’ with the timelines could end up creating paradoxes and lots of doomed timelines too. And there’s no telling how successful they’d be at initiating the Scratch, either (though maybe that would be a little easier for this Bard, considering how it is a way to allow the destruction of that timeline by creating a reset of the session). Also, this Bard’s natural tendency to avoid death will also prevent them from facing Time. It is only through a major catastrophe in their life that they can learn to face their aspect.

But anyway, once the Bard of Time has their collapse moment, they’ll start to experience Time in great measures. They will become a much more active and outspoken person, plunging headfirst into all the destruction they witness. Nihilism? Absolutely! They’d stare death right in the face and say, “You know what, I don’t even care anymore.” This would probably result in a lot of timeline hopping too, which, like I said before, could end up being very fatal, but it’s important that the Bard experiences Time. They might even start to destroy all their art and purge their home of any of the recycled creations they have, finally learning to let go. They might keep some clocks around in order to make sure they are always on time. They might also pick up playing an instrument, since they don’t seem to have as much faith in their artwork at this point.

The Bard eventually creates a sort of balance by destroying their aspect, intuitively learning “how much is too much?” They have learned when to lay back and when to act. They’d be able to allow destruction through Time. This could involve them destroying through the literal timing of events. They’d be able to use their time travel to go forward and do something, like, “Here, let me put this banana peel right by the cliff!” And then, at just the right time, an enemy would slip over it and fall to their death. That’s more of a specific example, but in truth, this idea of destruction through timing can have a variety of applications. If the Bard were more evil, they could use this against their own team by making all the wrong things happen at the wrong times. Even the most clever and well-thought out plans would stand little to no chance against the Bard, who uses their time travel to cause the destruction when you least expect it. Destruction through Time could also involve the gradual decay of any object or, horrifyingly enough, a person. So they could do some subtle damage over the course of the battle with the Black King, gradually chipping away at his strength in a way that goes unnoticed but does a significant amount of harm. Another way this Bard could destroy through their aspect is through themself, or their own Time. So they might be able to summon a bunch of their selves from alternate timelines in order to gang up on someone. Considering their ability to decay timelines, though, it would probably be pretty chaotic. Time also has some relation to music and sound so maybe the Bard of Time can destroy through those in some way? So, to combine all these, the Bard of Time appears at just the right times on the battlefield, using it strategically thanks to the direction of a Seer, and starts strumming an electric guitar. The Black King just thinks it’s annoying, but eventually he raises a hand to his ears and finds that they’re bleeding. He is significantly weakened and can no longer hear, allowing players to have better success with attacking him. Cool, right?

Bards also allow the destruction of their aspect, so the Bard of Time allows timelines to gradually decay. Unlike a Prince, whose powers are powerful and difficult to control, a Bard might be able to direct this gradual enervation towards certain timelines. So it’s a great power if they have someone to advise them on what to do, especially a Seer, but it could go downhill real fast. Destroying Time can also prevent the future from happening, essentially, so this Bard might be able to decay Time until everything is stuck in some kind of loop or even a timeless bubble. The Bard might also be able to destroy their own Time, so they’d be much faster, more agile, and have a decreased reaction time. A Prince of Time would be able to use this in an extremely powerful way for offense, but I see the Bard of Time using this ability in a more passive way. (Maybe picture that scene from X-Men: Apocalypse in which Quicksilver runs around, moving stuff this way and that before it has a chance to affect anyone.) Destroying Time in an enemy could shorten their Time, as in shortening their lifespan. In a more literal sense, the Bard of Time could destroy clocks and music or musical instruments.

As for a land for the Bard of Time, I suggest the Land of Pottery and Tremors. LOPAT is a swamp land with lots of clay embedded naturally in the rivers. The consorts here are all very shy and often stay hidden in the beautiful vases that they have created and painted. They tend to not act on their impulses, resulting in a world with little change. However, a strange noise is starting to beat throughout the ground, shattering some of the pottery with the tremors. It comes from a series of clocks that the denizen has created in order to force the consorts from their homes. They tick constantly, and every hour, a bell sounds, causing the ground to shake. Depending on the hour of the day, they do more or less damage (one toll of the bell vs twelve). The Bard of Time must learn how to stop or destroy the clocks in order to prevent all the pottery from being destroyed, but they also must make sure that some mechanism stays in place that gradually destroys some of the pottery at times so that the consorts aren’t always hidden away.

We don’t know much about the weapons for Bards apart from Gamzee’s clubs. As for Time players, we have seen a variety of weapons (sword, whip, needles?). Since a Bard of Time would start out acting like a Space player, they might have a Space-based weapon, something big and flashy, like maybe art supplies or a giant shovel for their gardening. Once they suffer their collapse, they might start to use a Time-based weapon. As for a cool powerful weapon, Crowbar from the Felt has a crowbar (wow, who would’ve guessed?) capable of destroying any kind of temporal artifact, so maybe the Bard has something similar.

Overall, the Bard of Time is an interesting classpect capable of some pretty cool abilities, as long as they don’t completely screw over their session. Thanks for reading!

[pcurrytravels]

Las Vegas - A Love Hate Thang (Chapter II: The Ultimate Paradox)

Something I’ve noticed about my hometown: This place really thrives off of paradoxes and oxymorons. 

Our outlook? Perpetually stuck in the future (*points at the innumerable mothballed construction sites dotting our local landscape*). Our attitude? Perpetually stuck in the past (You know, it would have been a good idea to start diversifying our local economy after how hard we were hit by the recession, but instead we went right back to putting all of our eggs in the tourism, gaming, nightlife and real estate industries)

Our demographics (in just about every area imaginable) look like gumbo these days. But don’t hold your breath on that explosion of flavors you were expecting, because culture-wise? We still taste like chicken noodle soup. 

“Minors are not to be anywhere near the slots, alcohol, nightclubs or any of the other sinful stuff!” Is that right? Then explain why all of the movie theaters, bowling alleys, video arcades and even high school graduations are located within casinos please.

“We have so much love for our local community!” Yeah, you speak so highly of us when the “needs” of tourists, conventioneers, celebrities and, well, literally everyone except the city’s residents are fulfilled first, effectively rendering us as second-class citizens within our own city. 

None of these things sound like they make any sense, do they? Welcome to Las Vegas baby!

I could come up with numerous examples to be honest. I mean, I have lived here for nearly my whole life, so I think I can talk, but the paradox I personally find the most disturbing is this: We love to act like we’re this world class, progressive and forward-thinking metropolitan area on par with places like NYC and L.A. when the truth of that matter is, we’re essentially an overgrown Western hick town that just so happens to have a giant theme park for adults in the middle, a lot of traffic, some fancy houses and more diversity than usual. 

When I first went to San Francisco back in 2011, I was in awe. There were so many things that shocked and caught me off guard.....in a good way. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say they were all things that I KNOW would never fly here in Vegas, and yet we’re supposed to be “Sin City.” (And, although I didn’t see much of it myself during my excursions to these places, some of the people in this thread from Quora are saying that even NYC and LA are more lenient about a lot of these “sinful” things than we are these days. Can’t say I’d doubt it)

Yes, we are Sin City in terms of gambling and sports betting, alcohol, tobacco and now marijuana consumption, sex-related entertainment and services (and even then it’s all so sanitized and PG-13 these days it barely even qualifies), quickie marriage/divorce and a history with organized crime. Beyond that, however? Let’s just say we have a lot more in common with Arizona and Mississippi than we do with Amsterdam. 

Remember how in the first chapter of this series I told you all that I felt it was best to keep my thoughts and feelings about Las Vegans in general to myself? Okay, let me give you a tiny little sample: When talking to the typical Las Vegan, you’re more likely to be treated to the stereotypical thought process of either a flyover country redneck, a resident of a southern small town or a suburban high school student than you are that of someone who resides in a city with a global presence. Odd as it may seem, especially when this place’s international influence is taken into account, believe me, tis’ true. 

Having to constantly deal with such a smug, judgmental, provincial, insular and occasionally, dare I say it, behind the times populace is already exasperating enough on its own, but this is only further complicated by the relentless insistence that we aren’t. Not at all to say such a mindset is ever okay (nor am I saying that EVERYONE in these types of locales thinks and/or behaves in this manner), but at least towns and cities in flyover country, the old west and the deep south are HONEST about being stuck in their narrow-minded and prejudicial ways. 

Vegas on the other hand takes part in a charade wherein an image of being a forward-thinking and cosmopolitan metropolis is played up only to turn around and gag at the thought of actually embracing those same progressive ideals and values when no one’s looking. (Meta-Tangent: Mind you, we actually do have most of the ingredients to be that type of city already. The things we’re missing come as a result of having a populace that’s insistent on talking the talk but not walking the walk) Although I certainly don’t agree with it, I can at least respect the former to a point, compared to the latter which is just annoying, frustrating, and doesn’t make any damn sense. In layman’s terms, we’re total latte liberals. 

.......okay, maybe it’s not THAT bad. (Hey, this is called a “Love Hate Thang,” remember?)

There are certain pockets that are slowly evolving into the sort of environment that reminds me of SF and LA where things are more laid back and “free” if you will. See: DTLV/East Fremont, 18b Arts District, The Naked City, Huntridge, Winchester, the “Central” East Side if that makes sense, Charleston Heights, West Sahara (for the Las Vegans reading this: sounds general AF, I know), the Fruit Loop/Harmon Corridor, the University District, Paradise Palms/Maryland Parkway Corridor and (to a lesser extent) Chinatown/Asiatown. 

The rest of the city and the suburbs on the other hand leave quite a bit to be desired in the department of open-mindedness in my not so humble opinion. So it should be no surprise that I spend nearly all of my time in the aforementioned neighborhoods these days. I feel much closer to my element in these places than I do even in my home neighborhood/suburb of Spring Valley, most of which I don’t even touch with a ten foot pole ever since moving away. 

Meta-Tangent: Having grown up in Spring Valley and the Western suburbs, I know from experience that most people out there are DEATHLY afraid of venturing into any of these areas. A lot of it has to do with the perceived danger of them, despite all the evidence to the contrary (I know, I know, pretty general article, but given that I live here, I can tell ya: these murders, robberies, violent and sexual assaults have been occurring EVERYWHERE. However, a large amount of residents as well as our local media would be insistent in having you believe it’s all taking place Downtown or in the long-maligned northern, eastern and central portions of the city/metro area).

On the other hand, there’s also a lot of people who condescendingly put these parts of the city down just because they’re old, even though those horrible old houses they’re talking about are actually of far better aesthetic quality and much more structurally sound. Meanwhile, these same snobs are living in cheaply-built, cookie-cutter homes that were probably slapped together in a week and will likely start falling apart in five years. 

As for my honest opinion? These are only half-truths. I know for a fact that a lot of them are just being low-key racist and high-key classist/elitist. I also have a pretty strong theory that the strong hatred, fear and/or disdain people in the western suburbs have for these areas is because they know it’s a different world from the provincial, suburban bubbles they choose to live in. Oh well, that’s fine by me. Let those of us who actually are forward-thinking and progressive have all the fun. /tangent over.

Truth be told, none of this should really come as a surprise if you take a deeper look into this city’s history. Although, eschewing the thousand year legacy of the Paiutes, the modern-day origins of Las Vegas can be traced to Spaniards; being along the Old Spanish Trail and even being named “The Meadows” in Spanish due to the abundance of grassy meadows, hot springs and rivers in the area back then (all of which have long disappeared thanks to urbanization), the first permanent settlement here was a fort built by Mormon missionaries. 

That’s right, “Sin City” owes it’s existence to the same people with a stance on women that’s perpetually stuck in the 19th century, have beliefs that not-so-subtly imply black people are afflicted by the curse of Cain and wear very prudish undergarments (although the whole polygamy thing is probably what we have to thank for our quickie marriage/divorce culture). On top of that, while hidden from the naked eye, Mormons still have an active influence on the politics and overall society of this city with some very vocal moral guardians, always letting themselves be heard when things get “too” sinful. 

Oh, another thing: In the early/mid-20th century there was a place that was known as the Mississippi of The West. Where do you think it was? Utah? Arizona? Nope! It was right here in Nevada. They really did go hard with the Jim Crow thing here back in the day. Why, Sammy Davis Jr. couldn’t even walk through or have a drink in the same casinos where he performed to rave audiences for goodness sake. Now, that level of injustice and segregation is unheard of nowadays, but there’s many lingering signs of this era that can still be felt. They’re subtle, but they’re there. (Psst! The mascot of our local university was originally a confederate soldier. Seriously. In more recent years he’s been made to look like a cowboy instead but still)

Lastly, we grew from a small town in the desert where people from California and the Midwest came to gamble and watch showgirls to a rapidly growing metro area which plays host to a world-renowned resort, nightlife and fine dining destination that attracts people from all over the world. Almost literally overnight. Just about any Vegas native born before the late nineties can tell you stories of playing in the desert as a kid, including yours truly. All of us can remember when that housing development, Walmart, school, park, or whatever was a vacant lot. In turn, despite the growth, this leads to a fairly large portion of natives who are very much stubbornly stuck in their small town ways, many of whom are insistent on teaching their ways to their offspring unfortunately. 

The ingredients and the potential. We already have it. In terms of demographics, we’re a total melting pot. We’re located in one of the nine states where recreational cannabis use is legal and the only one where prostitution is legal (even though it’s not allowed in our county for whatever strange, puritanical reason). We have all the makings of a sexually-liberated, alternative/counterculture/subculture/generally non-conformist paradise. There is a growing and active community of creatives. And yet, a lot of this growth in the realm of free-thinking is borderline stunted thanks to the Mormon influence, the Mississippi-esque history and the small town attitude.

Alas, even though Vegas may be living proof that a  physical city can grow and change overnight, culture and community are two things that can’t change overnight, no matter how you slice or dice it. I regularly find myself pining for the Vegas of my childhood during the nineties; when it was far larger than a town but barely a city. I’d also love to experience Vegas during the 60s, 70s and 80s (minus the racism part, obviously), but at the end of the day, these are just frivolous ideologies. A more substantial wish would be that the local attitude and mindset finally catches up with the rapid population growth, urban development and all of the related side effects. My fondness for the neighborhoods listed above is a direct result of this desire I have. They represent what I wish all of Vegas could be.

As a new age and generation comes into play, perhaps this wish will be reality one day soon. Until next time. 

[junker-town]

A cereal draft, because we are a sports website

Photo by: Jeffrey Greenberg/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

You have three picks; what’s the best breakfast/toddler-dinner lineup you can make?

Guess what, jerks? It’s Saturday morning and we’re talking about cereal.

A spirited Slack channel debate about, huh, black jelly beans turned into a long and arduous discussion about which cereals reign supreme in this world. After 15 minutes of “several people are typing” notifications at the bottom of the screen, several ALL CAPS dissertations on the status of breakfast marshmallow, and a lengthy explanation of what bran is, we were instructed to bring this dysfunction to the world at large by our interim editor-in-chief Graham MacAree (please direct all complaints to graham.macaree at sbnation.com).

Yes, as the MLB playoffs rage on, the NBA nears its opening tipoff (check out our incredible preview here), and the NFL and NHL roar through their regular seasons, we devoted entirely too much time to a breakfast cereal fantasy draft. The rules were simple; five writers took part in three rounds of a randomly-ordered snake draft. Best three-cereal lineup takes all.

How are we going to judge that? That’ll be up to you to vote for in our poll below. The winner will receive nothing, but the loser will be relentlessly mocked and have to put their embarrassing failure on all future resumes going forward:

SB Nation, start date - present - wrote stuff - talked about punting - showed the world my ass RE: horrible cereal selections

Here we go:

1. Harry Lyles Jr. - Honey Bunches of Oats

I’m fully prepared to get roasted for this pick, and I encourage you all to tell me why I’m wrong, whether it be in the comments or on Twitter. However, I feel my reasoning is fair, and here’s why.

A good cereal tastes good, and this one is absolutely delicious. It’s got a good mix of tasting healthy, while also being sweet, but not overbearing. In making my No. 1 overall selection, I asked myself what cereal could I live with if I had to eat it every day for the rest of my life, and this was an easy answer. I’m a big fan of incredibly sweet and delicious cereals, but Honey Bunches of Oats felt like a good balance between I Feel Like This Is Healthy and This Is Delicious.

That’s enough to be the top pick, for me.

2. Hector Diaz - Cocoa Pebbles

Not only is it one of the best cereals, but it eventually becomes chocolate milk. That’s a bonus, which makes it a high-upside cereal on top of the already-high expectations for a chocolatey rice breakfast food with Flintstones characters on the box. And if you prefer Cocoa Puffs, you don’t respect the roof of your mouth.

3. Christian D’Andrea - Fruity Pebbles

Did I panic when the inferior chocolate version of the only cereal endorsed by a caveman was picked? MAYBE. Fruity Pebbles was getting snapped up early no matter what though; every bite is a sugary firework in your mouth. And they’re one of the rare cereals that get better as it absorbs more milk. Dredging up rainbow-colored mud from the bottom of your milk swamp is the most rewarding part of a Fruity Pebbles morning.

4. James Brady - Honey Nut Cheerios

My goal was to go for mass appeal — cereals that are unassailable in their universal greatness. So I went with an old standby, one that is perhaps overshadowed in sales by regular Cheerios, but far superior in every way. Maybe everybody doesn’t get hype for them, but who turns down a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios? Bad people, that’s who. Harry came close when he went with the Honey Bunches of Oats out of the gate, but letting the Honey Nut Cheerios slip to four overall was a mistake tbh.

5. Eric Stephen - Cap’n Crunch

The best crunch in the breakfast game, this cereal both lives up to its name and honors its leader’s climb through the naval ranks. I love everything about this cereal, whether it includes Crunchberries or not. The lone drawback of this delectable treat is that it wreaks havoc with the palate. This does not deter my enjoyment of Cap’n Crunch, as I hate the roof of my mouth. I’m eating a Hot Pocket as I type this.

6. Stephen - Golden Grahams

Outside of s’mores, I never cared much for graham crackers. Unless they came in a miniature, much crispier form and drenched in milk. Golden Grahams was among the best cereals at holding its firmness in milk. There are no soggy messes on my team.

7. Brady - Cinnamon Toast Crunch

In sticking with my mass appeal scheme, I was hoping that Eric wouldn’t grab these with his two picks. While he grabbed one of my favorites, the criminally under-appreciated Golden Grahams, I was always looking for Cinnamon Toast Crunch as my second pick. They’re delicious, and anybody should be able to see why kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I get that cinnamon is a relatively strong spice and can put some people off, but those people are bad people.

8. D’Andrea - Lucky Charms

Sugar surrounded by tiny scraps of cardboard — much different than James’ selection of scraps of cardboard coated with sugar. Eat the Charms within five minutes or you’re stuck shoveling hyperglycemic hamster bedding into your mouth.

Unlike Cap’n Crunch, it actually tastes like something, at least. The fact that nothing-ass Rice Krispies got their own dessert bar and this sugar menagerie didn’t is quite possibly the greatest upset in the breakfast world.

9. Diaz - Froot Loops

I have to admit that my preferred picks were chosen earlier than expected, but you can’t knock this pick. It’s sugary. It’s iconic. It may not have the upside that Cocoa Pebbles has, but it has a solid floor. This is a safe pick, in my opinion.

10. Lyles - Cheerios

Yes, basic Cheerios. This is a very bulletproof cereal that can be enjoyed by babies with a mush brain to people on their last breaths (not to get all morbid, but it’s the truth). Regular Cheerios are delicious, heart-healthy, and can be sweetened with a teaspoon or less of sugar, if you want to give them a kick. The idea that Cheerios could fall to No. 10 is incredible, and I couldn’t pass them up.

11. Lyles - Honey Smacks

This was a tough pick, because I am a huge fan of Cap’n Crunch Crunchberries. But those tear the roof of your mouth by the time you get to the bottom of the box, and for that, they lose points. And no, I’m not willing to let them “soak” to soften them up before eating them. As soon as milk touches cereal, it’s time to boogie. Soggy cereal, like french fries, suck.

Honey Smacks, however, are delicious, sweet, and the favorite of Hall of Fame wide receiver Randy Moss. So they have to be a great value at No. 11, right?

12. Diaz - Frosted Mini Wheats

Surprise! This cereal is bound to be the most uninspiring yet most solid pick out of the whole bunch. You get all the sugar from the other cereals with the semblance of it being healthy with the help of the shredded wheat. Think of this cereal as a tight end that mostly plays like a receiver. Surely, no one else will pick a more questionable cereal in this draft, but this is a fine choice to me.

13. D’Andrea - Cracklin’ Oat Bran

Cheerios, a cereal for toddlers and the elderly, and Mini-Wheats, which I’ve only seen in the wild at my grandmother’s house, both went before me. AND YET I was the one getting roasted for picking an old man cereal at No. 13. Anyone roasting me for drafting COB clearly hasn’t tasted it before. It’s dense and surprisingly sweet. Just like Hector.

And it doesn’t matter when the last time you bought this cereal was. If you’ve ever had it before, that 80s-ass, exceedingly polite box is the only one you envision when you hear the word “Cracklin.”

14. Brady - Reese’s Puffs

This one is part mass appeal, part “James would eat this every day until his death, which would probably come quicker because eating Reese’s Puffs every day is probably not good for your health.” And I don’t care. They’re DELICIOUS and they make for some amazing peanut butter chocolate milk (holy Christ is that a thing you can buy? I gotta go do some Googling.)

Plus, come on — following Harry picking the boring-ass regular Cheerios followed by Hector picking the Philip Rivers of cereal in Frosted Mini Wheats which itself was followed by the old-ass man pick of Cracklin’ Oat Bran ... I had to make a splash. And that splash was into a giant swimming pool filled with Reese’s Puffs.

15. Stephen - Honeycomb

I went with another strong structural cereal here, with the larger Honeycomb bites holding their shape longer than most. While other cereals crumble and wilt in the fourth quarter, my team is much better conditioned to close out this win. I absolutely loved the taste of Honeycomb, but I’d be lying if I didn’t include the commercial jingle as a huge reason for my allegiance to this cereal.

“Honeycomb’s big, YEAH YEAH YEAH!” The 1980s owned.

Final rosters:

Team Lyles

Honey Bunches of Oats

Cheerios

Honey Smacks

Team Diaz

Cocoa Pebbles

Froot Loops

Frosted Mini Wheats

Team D’Andrea

Fruity Pebbles

Lucky Charms

Cracklin’ Oat Bran

Team Brady

Honey Nut Cheerios

Cinnamon Toast Crunch

Reese’s Puffs

Team Stephen

Cap’n Crunch

Golden Grahams

Honeycomb

So who won? Vote now, so the loser may be heckled into breakfast retirement.

[blahblahblippyblah]

Magnus Chase and a Plotless Hogwarts Fanfiction

Chapter 14: Nightmares of the past

Summary:

Blitz worries about Hearth patrolling the castle without him.

Hearth has a nightmare and tells Blitzen about the day his brother died.

Warning this way get very sad for most readers.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11429727/chapters/26485791

Blitz POV

Blitz awoke in the middle the of the night. It took him a few seconds of reaching over the other side of the empty bed to remember Hearth was on duty tonight. Blitz rolled over to Hearth’s vacant side, his face down into Hearth’s pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sent of pine needles and wood smoke from the down. He tried to fall back to sleep but his brain was clouded with anxiety inducing thoughts. Ever since the night when those men who worked for Hearth’s father had shown up Blitz found himself waking up at least 4 times a night in a slight panic. He would turn over to make sure Hearth was still sleeping beside him. Once he realised it had just been a dream he would fall back asleep only to wake up a couple hours later. Tonight was the first night since then he had slept alone.

Since that night Sam wanted at least 2 or 3 staff on duty just in case. Blitz got to do most of his patrolling nights with Hearth so he could keep an eye on him but Saturday night Hearth had with T.J. He fought the urge to get out of bed and join Hearth on his rounds anyway to keep a look out on him. What kept him in bed was the fact that Hearth didn’t appreciate being treated as such. Hearth was powerful. Expensive private education, curtosey of his stuck up father, had ensured that. Hearth was also tough and didnt like to be treated like a child. If anyone could take care of himself it was Hearth and he didn’t appreciate Blitz being so protective.

Blitz couldn’t help it tho. His father had sent his men after Hearth twice. They could get into the grounds and no one had figured out how yet. This made him particularly nervous. Even with more than one person on patrol he still rolled in the bed of edge. If something happened to Hearth and he wasn’t there he would never forgive himself. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning he gave up. He threw the blankets back and slid out of bed. He pulled on a wool jumper over his t-shirt and slipped on some socks. He quickly fixed his hair in the low candle light of the sitting room and put his shoes one. He walked down the fourth floor wondering where Hearth would be on patrol at 2 in the morning.

He made it all the down the 12 floor north corridor and sent two 7th year Gryffindor students who had been hiding in a portrait hole to go back to their dorm. Eventually he happened to pass a window and looked out to the grounds. The night was still and dark. The moon was dark in the clear sky. The stars were shinny very brightly in the dark sky. Then an idea went through Blitz’s head. He had an idea where Hearth and T.J. might be hanging out between rounds. Blitz turned around and headed to the astronomy tower.

Just as he suspected he found Hearth and T.J. atop the astronomy tower. Their backs were to the staircase he had come up. They were leaning on the railing. Hearth was pointing to something up above while his other hand appeared to be spelling out something to T.J. Blitz cleared his throat.

“Good night for star gazing.” He said out loud to announce his presence. Hearth obviously didn’t hear him but T.J. nudged Hearth as he turned around.

“Hey Blitz. What you doing up. Its not your night on duty?” T.J. said and Blitz walked over to the two of them.

“Uhh I couldn’t sleep… had too much coffee.” Blitz lied. Beside T.J. Blitz saw Hearth roll his eyes obviously not fooled by his lie.

“Anyway what are you two looking at?” Blitz said changing the conversation and leaning against the rail with them.

“Uranus is just barley visible up over there. It’s kinda poking out by the head of the bear” T.J. said pointing slightly north high in the sky.

Blitz looked up and saw nothing but bright stars blanketing the sky.

“I don’t see it. But I was always rubbish at astronomy.” Blitz said, signing so Hearth knew he was talking.

“I was terrible at tranfiguration. Mcgonagall was teaching when I took it. She said she would pass me as long as I promised not to turn another classmate into a weasel. Unfortunately I accidently turned my examiner into a weasel out of nerves during my OWLs.” T.J. said smiling with a big yawn.

Blitz smiled wide at the story.

“Hey T.J. if your’re tired I can take the rest of the shift” Blitz said.

“Sure, actually that would be great. If your’re ok with it. I mean if Hearth’ s ok with it too?” T.J. said signing the last bit to Hearth. Hearth shrugged unconcerned with his usual blank expression on.

“I got it T.J. I cant sleep anyway.” Blitz said. T.J. Thanked him and turned to head down the stairs.

Blitz turned back to look out to the grounds from the railing with Hearth. Once the sounds of T.J.’s footsteps had long gone Hearth turned to him.

“For me it was potions” Hearth signed to Blitz in reference to the conversation they had been having about the classes they weren’t good at.

“Really?” Blitz signed with a raised eyebrow. He had always thought of Hearth as well skilled in all aspects of magic not just reading ancient runes. He had seen him do some pretty spectacular things. Potions was not something he could imagine Hearth being bad at.

Hearth nodded in reply. “I could never figure out how to do things right. I always messed up somehow. Forget ingredients, added the wrong things, I could never cut things properly. Once I set the room on fire by accident. My tutor didn’t have the patience for my screw ups. But father would force me to practice more than my brother hoping I would figure it out and stop embarrassing the family. I haven’t touched a potions set in years.” Hearth signed out.

Blitz smiled at Hearth. They stood looking at each other for a bit before Hearth raised his hands to sign.

“You don’t need to watch me. I can take care of myself.” Hearth’s face was still blank but his eyes looked serious. Blitz just grabbed his hand and turned back towards the window.

Usually Hearth would tell him off for ignoring him but Hearth didn’t seem up for it tonight. He just squeezed his hand tighter and gazed down toward the forest edge of the grounds.

The night was silent. Only the occasional sound of a bat flowing up to the rafters broke through the calm.

At 3 hearth motioned that he needed to do rounds of the castle. They lite their wands and headed down the stairs. The castle was quiet. They didn’t run into any more wayward students. A cat jumped out of a suit of armour and gave Blitz a fright which Hearth thought was hysterical, but nothing more exciting happened.

They got to the dungeon and did the usual loop around past the Slytherin common room, and to all the places around it that students liked to sneak off too. Finding nothing they headed back to the entrance hall.

“1 hour until the last round. What do you want to do until then?” Hearth signed.

“We could go up to the staff room.” Blitz suggested. Hearth nodded and led the way up the stairs.

The staff room was empty but the fire was still going thanks to the house elves of the castle. Hearth collapsed in the couch right in front of the fire and Blitz went to join him. As soon as Blitz sat down Hearth moved and laid down. He put his head in Blitzen’s lap, and his legs dangled over the side of the couch. Hearth’s hands clasp to each other over his chest as he stared blankly into the fire. Blitz’s hands absent mindedly through his blonde hair. Sitting by the fire warm and cozy he smiled to himself. This was what true happiness was.

Hearths POV

Hearth didn’t know when he fell asleep. But given the warm of the fire and the gentle feeling of Blitz’s hand running through his hair he was pretty sure he fell asleep quickly.

Unfortunately he fell into a nightmare. Growing up he always had nightmares. Before he ran away he couldn’t remember a time he had a regular dream. The first happy dream he remembers having was the night he ran away from home. He slept in the alley between a coffeshop and a public library. It was a warm night so he curled up on some foldeded cardboard. It was a wonderful night, which may seem unbelievable. But Hearth didn’t know that sleeping could be so uplifting when you weren’t having nightmares. Unfortunately the nightmares came back slowly into his life. They were a part of his life like his deafness was.

But he hadn’t had a nightmare in quite some time. The last one he had had was the night he first kissed Blitzen. Before he had headed to Blitzens he had dreamt about his brother and the day he died.

This time he had the same dream. He was himself as a child. He was sitting crossed legged in the moss and roots of a tree in the forest by his house. He had a pile of stones laid out on the bed of moss and was carving some ancient Nordic runes into them. He had read a book about the ancient language and wanted to practice the alphabet. He had always been interested in rune language. Wizards long ago thought the runes could do magic on their own. Hearth dreamed of one day figuring out how that worked without a wand.

His brother was playing on the shore of the nearby river. Hearth was only a year older but he was suppose to keep a close eye on his younger brother. But Hearth wasn’t paying close attention to his brother. His brother walked along the shore practicing sword swings with a giant stick and occasionally stopping to try and skip rocks across the river. Andrion was brave and bold. He was pretty good at taking care of himself. Plus they always played in the forest. Hearth wasn’t worried about his brother getting into trouble.

He turned back to his stones and continued to carve runes into them. Once he was finished the last one he piled them all up in a pyramid shape. He was about to knock it down and lay them out when he felt something hard smack him on the back of the head. He looked behind him to see the smooth river rock that had hit him. He quickly looked up and instantly froze with terror. A large blue furry beast was slowly rising out of the water. It remesemled a lion and a wolf but had large horns coming out of its bear like head. Andrion was backing up slowly. Another rock in his hand and a giant pointy stick in another. Andrion turned his head and shouted something, but there was nothing but silence in his ears. He tried to make out what Andrion was shouting but he was too far away.

He got up shakily and began to run towards his brother. But Andrion turned and shouted at him again. His face fixed in a determined expression. This time he could make out some of the words on his lips.

“RUN HEARTH!”

Andrion started forward towards the creature. Hearth began to run forward towards his brother as the beasts reared its head back in an unmistakable roar. It’s eyes glowed yellow and fixed on Hearth running down the other side of the beach toward his brother. It turned it’s attention to him it’s feet sinking into the sand now. It’s claws as long as curved butter knives. Hearth slowed down but didn’t stop. He needed to get to his brother. The beasts started towards him and he veered to the side onto the thin forest line hoping to lure it after him instead, away from Andrion. Then a rock flew out of nowhere and hit the beasts on the back of the head. The beast stopped and roared once more. It turned. Hearth could see Andrion standing legs spread an poised holding his pointy stick aloft like a javelin thrower. Hearth could see Andrion shouting at the beasts. He couldn’t make out the exact words but the look in his brothers eye sent the message, ‘Leave him alone.’

The beast slowly turned and crept toward Andrion. Hearth ran forward but he was still too far away. He saw his brother’s eyes fixed on the large blue bear/wolf/lion creature. Andrion lurched forward. The creature lowered itself ready to pounce. In one last desperate attempt to save his brother he tried to let out a scream. He didn’t know if it worked but he saw Andrion turn in his direction just as the creature pounced. He watched in horror as it landed on his brother. He saw dark red luiquid fly through the air as the giant clawed paws came down on his brothers chest. He didn’t know if he was screaming in his head or for real now. He turned and ran into the forest as quick as he could. He needed to get help.

Hearth awoke with a start. He was soaking wet with sweat and was burning hot. The room was dark except for a low glow from the fire. He had half fallen off the couch. His feet were still on it but he had thrashed so hard his torso hung off the side. The only thing keeping him off the ground was Blitz’s strong hands holding his arms as if he had been restraining him. Blitz’s looked down at him fear and concern on his face. His eyebrows knit the way they do when he fusses over the way Hearth usually dresses or when he is hurt. Hearth sees Blitz speak.

“Are you ok? You were screaming and thrashing around like you were having a nighmare” Blitz says helping lift him back up on the couch.

Hearth sits himself on the couch and hugs his knees to his chest. The way he use to do when he curled up on his bed at home. He can see Blitz looking at him concerned out of the corner of his eye. Hearth waves his hands quickly to tell Blitz that he’s fine. He stares into the fire for a few seconds absent mindedly clasping at his candy cane striped scarf. He breaths in trying to slow his heart rate and control the terribly terrifying images of his brother being ripped to pieces out of his head. He feels Blitz’s hand on his shoulder. After a few minutes he’s collected himself and his emotions enough.

He turned to Blitz and signs. “Sorry. I haven’t had a nightmare since that night I came to get my scarf back. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Dont be sorry. That was pretty scary, I’ve never heard you scream before, but I’m more worried about you.” Blitz says.

“Dont worry about me. I’m use to it. I’m more angry that they seem to be coming back. They completely dissapeared these last few months.” He signs.

“ So you’ve had these nightmares before?” Blitz asks.

Hearth nodded. Then signed “Ever since I was small. Always the same ones.” He then hesitates holding his hands aloft unsure if he should continue. He trust Blitz more than anything in the world. Blitz has been the only solid loving thing in his life since Andrion. But all his instincts from growing up with his father fight him still, telling him to push down his vulnerabilities. He was always taught to never show your weaknesses or they will be used against you. But he had to share with Blitz. Blitz deserves to know after all he’s done for him.

“I told you that my brother died when I was younger right? And that my parents blamed me?” Hearth signed. Blitz just nodded his head.

Hearth had given Blitz the gist of his story but not the exact details. He didn’t want to tell Blitz. Why? He didn’t know. Maybe it was because talking about it was too painful. Maybe because he didn’t want Blitz to treat him different or think of him differently. Maybe it was because he was taught never to trust anyone. Or maybe it was because he was a coward. But this time he wasn’t going to hold back. He trusted Blitz and needed to share this with him.

He spent a long time signing everything about his nightmare. He told Blitz everything about the night his brother died. He shared his guilt and how much he missed Andrion. He talked about how his father made him skin the beast all night in the cold dark forest alone. He told Blitz about the wergild his father gave to him to complete. By the end his eyes were red and itchy but he managed to keep in the tears. He was exhausted. But blitz sat there clamly listening, his face unreadable. By the time he was finished the sun had turned the morning sky out the window deep red.

When he was done Hearth felt himself collapse with grief and exhaustion. Blitz grabbed both his hands and squeezed them tight. Hearth looked down at them. Their skin contrasted beautifully. Hearth’s pale white skin made Blitz’s more warm and dark. He felt Blitz give him a kiss on the top of the head.

He looked up but Blitz didn’t say anything. There was no need to say anything. Blitz’s warm hands and comforting kiss said everything he needed to hear. Blitz pulled his hands back and signed.

“Come on you’ve been up all night. Let’s sleep in today so we can be rested for Monday.”

And with that Hearth followed Blitz out of the staff room.

[tyranttortoise]

The uf cast react to going to six flags (It's an amusement park if u don't know. ) plus, what's their favorite ride?

(* I actually go to Six Flags every year for my birthday, so this prompt made me happy.  And.. kinda sad at the same time because I’m out of friends to go with that ride roller coasters.  I mean, I’d ride with Paps and Undyne any day. All of the rides are based on Six Flags over Georgia’s. )

UF!Sans:

He’s not a fan of the crowds at all, and that puts him in a bad mood at the start.  However, he slowly starts to warm up to the place, despite the stares he’s receiving from children.

Sans likes the Dare Devil Dive.  It starts off with a slow vertical rise that lets him just relax back in his seat.. and once he starts to dose, he gets a sudden rush of adrenaline as it dives down and glides smoothly through the loops and curves.  

He's also a big fan of the Sky Buckets because it's a nice way to get from one end of the park to the other, and he gets a nice view.  He's staying away from his brother because he doesn't want to get roped into his extreme pace.  Nah, Sans likes to enjoy the park at his leisure.  

UF!Papyrus:

Edgy wants to ride EVERYTHING.  It becomes a competition with Undyne to prove who can withstand the most rides on a roller coaster back-to-back without puking--and THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS does not puke!  Some of the rides, however, do make him nervous, but he's too determined to prove he's a badass to let it outwardly show.

His favorite ride is the Batman.  His leg legs get to dangle, and although it's a long walk to the actual ride each time, he enjoys the dark atmosphere they have set up.  

UF!Grillby:

He stays away from anything and everything to do with water, even when Sans made a few jokes about how he could cool down if he rode them.  The sweltering heat doesn't even phase him, but he's drawing quite a few stares from the crowd.  

He ends up going on the Blue Hawk, but the loops and cork screws make his stomach roll a bit, so he sticks to either walking around with Sans or checking out the restaurants.  This seems like a good place to open one up, and while he wants to chat with the managers about the prospect, he gets distracted flirting with the customers.  

Grillby becomes an attraction all of his own.

UF!Undyne:

While Undyne inherently enjoys any and all of the water rides in the park, she's got real itch for some adrenaline-pumping rides.  She's trying to one-up Papyrus the entire time, and she's setting a brutal pace through the park for him to follow.  Sans and Alphys are left to their own devices on this one. 

She loves the Superman: Ultimate Flight.  It's a real rush to be hurtling through the air face-first with her arms out in front of her.  While she's whooping in excitement, Papyrus is trying to be as quiet as possible because he really wants to just scream.

UF!Alphys:

Alphys likes Thunder River.  The ride in the giant inner tube along the water is pleasant and doesn't make her sick--and the water feels nice on her scales.  The waterfalls remind her of all the time she spent in the Dump, providing nostalgia.  She's prone to motion sickness, but apparently, that sea sickness isn't a thing.  Considering she's dating Undyne, that's a good thing to discover.

Other than that, she spends her time buying over-priced commemorative cups and trying to win plushies.  Like Sans, she doesn’t like crowds; she gets anxiety-attacks, so she spends a good deal of her time following Mettaton around.

UF!Mettaton:

He doesn't really ride anything.  He ended up on Acrophobia by mistake (he thought it would be a good way to get the layout of the park), and when the ride plummeted down, he ended up screaming "OHHH NOOO!"  His body nearly blew a circuit.

Instead, he spends his time looking through the shops and trying to figure out who he needs to talk to about getting his merchandise sold here.  Does he need a ride of his own?  Well, he's about to map out the whole thing for them.  In fact, a roller coaster that goes through the different portions of a re-envisioned Underground sounds like a great tourist attraction to him!  And by re-envisioned, he of course means that each part will have homages to his career.

By the end of the day, he can be found by the gates, posing for pictures with people.  Most of the humans don't know who he is, but from the way he carries himself, they assume he's a celebrity.  

UF!Toriel:

Tori enjoys the Monster Mansion ride.  The monsters aren't depicted as monstrous there, and the children that ride the boat through the mansion don't appear afraid of them.  It's a nice look at what could be between the humans and the monsters, and Toriel enjoys watching the animatronics move to the music.  She's not even offended.

Asgore tries to win her something, and she’s not impressed.

UF!Asgore:

The Overlord is all about the Goliath.  Not only is it a fitting name for someone of his massive stature, but the roller coaster goes fast and gives him a rush.  

Other than that, he likes the Log Jamboree because it provides a nice rush when it drops, but also splashes water all over him.  Walking around the park with so much fur is HOT, so he likes to cool down with any rides involving water.  

He goes on the Monster Mansion ride with Toriel, but he ends up getting stuck in the boat and capsizing it into the water.  She’s mortified.

[7deadlycinderellas]

Deals with dragons, ch8

Ao3 Link

When the fairies promised to equip them, it turns out they were not kidding.

Emma leaves the necklace with them, and Flora disillusions them. As long as they were on land touched by sleep spell, they would not be noticed by man or beast. Their canteens will never empty, their blankets never tear.

“Here,” Merryweather says, tucking back Snow White’s dagger into a soft leather holster, “The metal of the blade will not break or dull”.

Aurora presents Lily with a wooden shield that she can barely carry until they help strap it to her back.

“This is the shield of virtue. It was given to Philip by these three when he ventured into Maleficent’s spell years ago. The sword of truth unfortunately, has been lost to the years, though it doesn’t seem to have done it’s job permanently anyway.”

The three wash and mend their clothes and enchant them with layers to keep them warm, as Fauna points out, autumn is upon them, and by the time they reach the isles of the keilt, winter may be as well.

This, had been their one caveat. Flora had said she had never managed to properly disillusion a horse, so Emma and Lily must proceed in their journey on foot.

The maps they can provide will be invaluable, but the journey will still be long and difficult, and Flora warns that once they reach the land of the fae her disguises will be useless. She warns them to take their time in the towns and villages on the isles, to learn the customs and rules.

And then they boot them out of the cottage and send them on their way.

The walk out of Aurora’s kingdom is peaceful. Emma relishes the sunshine, and the bird song and the small animals scurring around. When they reach the border, it all disappears.

The enchanted dagger makes cuts in the vines just big enough to pass through. And Emma’s surprised to find that they were not truly as thick as they seemed when they were fleeing.

“The vines are more of a mark than an obstacle. Mom never would expect anyone to walk onto land she had cursed, she just wanted everyone to know she had done it. What part of the country are we in?”

“Aunt Abigail and Uncle Frederick’s. I’ve been here a few times, but there’s not a lot to the land. No giant mountains, or impossibly fast rivers. There are a lot of dairy farms though.”

The flooding rains over the land have thinned, to occasional showers. The wind is still constant and bone chilling, and the clouds never cease.

When the day carries on, the subject of dinner comes up.

“The spell puts most of the land into a kind of stasis. Food should still be edible. And thanks to Flora, no one should notice what we take”.

They find a small cottage, and slip quietly through the door.

Emma finds bread on the counter and freshly made cheese still in its press. Lily finds the cellar and brings up some turnips and sausages. Emma slices them together and they have sandwiches.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to feel right just walking into these people’s houses and eating their food.” Emma says, licking the last bit of cheese off her fingers.

“This is one meal’s worth. There’s plenty of royals out there who think far less of taking from their subjects every day”.

Emma laughs.

“Joanna- she was my nanny when I was little- said my mother had a bit of a stuck up brat phase as a child that she’s super ashamed of. That’s why I went to school to learn to read and write in the village with the other children, the tutors only came when I was older and had to learn more than common children did. It’s why her and father always took me when they traveled, so I could meet the people we ruled. Dad was born a shepherd, so we never forgot it.”

The cottage has two small bedrooms. Children must live here, and Emma wonders why they aren’t here, felled by the curse. Were they playing in the woods? Doing chores? In the village? Where were they when they fell into a cursed sleep?

They’ve cleaned up and are preparing to leave the next morning when something occurs to Emma.

“Did your mother even mention any side effects of the sleep spells? I remember when I was younger, mom used to mention dreams she would have. Dreams of rooms full of fire that would come every night after dad woke her up, and that sometimes she would see other people there.”

Lily shakes her head.

“I’m not even sure if it’s the same spell. Big spells are really personal, really heavily linked to the user who casts it. We can’t say for sure if mom’s spell has anything in common with your queen’s.”

“What has she told you about it?”

“She always talked about the one’s on Aurora’s kingdom as revenge. Big showy revenge, kind of her thing I guess. But like I told the other fairies, I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

“What do you think is then?”

Lily chews her lip in thought, and doesn’t answer for some time.

“My guess? There’s something she’s looking for, and she doesn’t know where it is. The spell would let her turn every kingdom over and shake it without any resistance.”

More days pass, more sleeping in random cottages, barns, inns. Most of them aren’t empty. Though the vines wrap around buildings making them look as though they have been abandoned for years, the people inside look almost peaceful. It doesn’t make trying to sleep near them any more comfortable. They get used to floors and hay lofts.

They find people in all sorts of positions. Doing chores. Playing. Eating a meal. On one memorable occasion, they find a couple in bed (they both fled the room red faced). It really as though a regular day just stopped.

Honestly, getting to stroll through the country with Lily, showing her the towns and forests and little hidden places would be fun. It would be nice, to get to do something like this just because they could, so she could show her the world that she had never gotten to see, were it not done under the weight of the curse.

When they reach the edge where Aunt Abigail’s kingdom ends and theirs begins, Emma begs Lily to take a rest with her at the lake. The lake is less than a day from where her Godmother Red lived in the forest, and they used to come here in late summer, as a kind of retreat, during the height of the corn moon. They would have been come and gone this year, if this hadn’t have happened.

It’s true that she wants to rest, but there is a real motive.

“When we get to Camelot” she says, “We’re going to have to get ourselves across, you won’t be able to fly us, and there’s not going to be anyone awake to ferry us.”

She pulls down the wooden kayak from one of the racks at the shorehouse.

“And so, we see if I remember how to row”.

The answer is only sort of, but the day gives her a little more practice. The months before this have increased the strength of her arms, and the strength it takes to pull the oars is not near as much as she remembers.

She tries to teach Lily, but it turns out to be harder than she thought.

“I’m not used to having to be strong in my human form” she says, rubbing her arms after another loop around the lake.

“Is it strange?” Emma asks, taking back the oars, “Not being able to be a dragon at all?”

“It’s like...imagine you’re going to do something that you would usually use both hands for...only to find that one of them is tied behind your back. It’s like a reflex sometimes.”

But she manages to give her a rudimentary lesson on rowing, all the same.

When the gray sky starts to turn darker, they leave the lake and camp a little ways into the wood.

The next day, they pass Red’s cabin.

Emma realizes she must be staring when Lily asks, “Do you want to stop here too?”

She shakes her head. “I know she’s not home, sleeping or awake. Her grandmother died a few years back, and then she met a girl over the rainbow. She’s only in this world occasionally now”.

Emma glances in the garden beds behind the little house. What used to be lovingly tended tomato plants and sprawling strawberry patches are now alternatively overgrown and starved from the lack of sunlight.

“Everything planted in spring is going to die” Emma realizes, “Even if they're in statis, the growing and harvest seasons will be lost”.

“When the spell is lifted, it should all go back to normal. Aurora’s kingdom wasn’t damaged at all by either spell. Those year’s harvests were lost, but the land abides.”

“How long has it even been? I remember we left the night of the strawberry moon, but I’ve completely lost track”.

“The harvest moon was last night” Lily says, confidently.

Emma stares at her.

“Are you sure?”

Lily nods. “I can still see the moon and stars through the sky at night. I don’t know if my eyes are just more suited to it or what, but I can still use the sky to navigate and keep time”.

“The harvest moon...that means it’s autumn. I’ll be sixteen in two weeks. It’s been months since I’ve been home….”

It takes three more weeks on foot until they reach the end of the kingdom, and into the next before Camelot.

They should have reached Camelot before winter no problem. But as soon as they cross the northeast border, Emma develops a cough.

She hides it for days, as it gets worse. She can feel Lily’s eyes on her, but she ignores it.

Then the day comes when they have to cross a difficult river. The rope bridge is rickety, and Emma’s chest and throat burn with every step against the wind. The cough has gotten worse, and Emma has started to feel woozy that day. She steps hard on one of the last rungs and goes into the water. The world goes dark.

The next thing Emma knows, she’s woken up on the floor of a cave. She’s been stripped to the skin, and wrapped in every blanket they had. There’s a fire lit by her, and she looks and seems Lily sitting at the mouth of the cave. She starts to sit up, and can’t stifle a cough.

“Save your breath. We’re not leaving until you’re better. I can’t believe you let it get this bad”.

“I didn’t want to slow us down”. She notices that Lily’s staring out into the gray.

“What are you looking at?”

“I had to transform to pull you out of the water”.

That makes her shoot straight up.

“What?”

“Only for a few minutes. But I’ve been seeing mom’s minions in the sky since then. One of them saw me”.

“But as long as you stay human…”

“But now she knows I’m here. And I guess she cares”.

Lily shuts her eyes.

She’d transformed to rescue her, Emma realizes, knowing that she was the one being put in danger by it. She remembers Fauna’s words. Honor indeed.

When Lily opens her eyes again, they look wild. She turns, and runs to embrace Emma where she sits, pressing her face into her shoulder.

“Jesus you scared me Emma. If you’d...I’d have been alone again. More than I’ve been before”.

Her arms squeeze tight, and Emma lets her face rest, Lily’s hair tickling her nose. She breathes her in. There’s a warmth in her gut, different than the fire in her chest. Tonight, she can indulge it.

[outdoorsvagabond]

Three More: Utah, Arizona, Nevada

We drove off from Denver, having taken our final showers for a while, excited for the next stop but saddened to leave our stable, warm home for the cold desert. The drive through the Rockies was absolutely stunning, and we stopped briefly at an exit in Glenwood Springs to soak in the beauty. At an info center at a rest stop, an older man named Steve suggested we take a more scenic route down to Moab, and we thoroughly enjoyed this tidbit of advice! We took 128 down from route 70, and it was honestly just as gorgeous as some National Parks! We camped along this road at the Goose Island campground. The next morning we drove into Moab for a little while and then headed to Arches National Park to begin our first adventure. We drove through the park, along with a surprisingly large number of other visitors, to the back near the Devil’s Garden area, and hiked a few miles out to the Double O Arch. Having microspikes for our boots was, once again, incredibly handy. A bunch of other hikers were slipping and sliding all over the trail, and some just gave up and started sledding down the sloped sections. It was a fantastic hike- a light dusting of snow covered the colorful sandstone, making the reds and oranges even more vivid in the sunlight. That evening we went to the Moab Brewery to try out a few beers and grab a nice, warm dinner inside. The beer was decent, and the food was delicious! 

The next morning we woke early and drove to Dead Horse Point State Park to check out the view on top of the canyon. We walked around a little and tried to absorb as much of our surroundings as we could, before heading to Canyonlands- Island in the Sky district. I’ve been to the Needles district before, during undergrad, but Island in the Sky is completely different- you’re up on the mesa instead of down inside it. Even at this point it was getting difficult to really appreciate these amazing vistas because of the sheer quantity we’d already seen. I think going on a longer hike helps me feel like I get to know a place, rather than driving by and snapping a couple photos. I’ve also realized that being cold makes it substantially harder to just stand and observe- if it were just a couple degrees warmer in some of these parks I think I would be more capable of taking in the natural beauty around me. Another night camping in the frigid Moab temperatures, and the next morning we were off to Capitol Reef National Park. My friend Amanda from Lafayette had worked here, so she gave us an excellent suggestion of driving the Burr Trail loop around the park- and we stayed at the Cedar Mesa campground, which was free! The loop past the campground took us through the Waterpocket District at sunrise- the first light of the day cresting over mesas to the east and hitting stunningly colorful formations. This was easily one of my favorite moments of the trip so far-just soaking in the morning sun as we watched more and more of our surroundings light up around us. 

We finished driving the loop and made our way to Bryce Canyon National Park for the afternoon, enjoying a couple vistas and hiking part of the Navajo Loop trail, before leaving to find a campsite. Fortunately for us, Bryce is nestled inside Dixie National Forest, and Forest Service policy allows dispersed camping! So we found a little forest road and drove down until we found a little spot to settle ourselves into. It was by far the creepiest camping spot we’d had so far, right next to a dilapidated little wooden shack and very remote. The next morning we did the Peek-a-boo loop trail in Bryce, a gorgeous hike that took us from the mesa down into the canyon, down and up switchbacks, each turn allowing for a completely new view of the park. The limestone in Bryce forms the most gorgeously vibrant and interesting formations throughout the entire park- arches, towers, spires, and the deep canyon that contains it all. Bryce was definitely my top national park thus far on the trip- everything was so different than in the other parks. Although each park repeatedly surprised me with how unique their characteristics and geology are. After the hike we drove to Panguitch to get some medicine (Steve was getting a cold), and continued on to Zion, arriving just in time to hit the visitor’s center for information on nearby campsites. 

The campsite within Zion was full, and most of the surrounding campsites were closed for the winter- but we found an RV park that was open! For 30 bucks, we got a campsite, showers, laundry, wifi, and warm bathrooms- it felt so luxurious. It was the first campsite we had to pay for and it had been about a week since we showered, so it felt totally worth it! It was also our warmest night yet, so we were actually able to enjoy cooking and eating dinner outside. The next day we decided to do a shorter hike (Steve’s cold was pretty bad at this point) called Hidden Canyon. It took us up and up a bunch of slushy switchbacks (where, once again, the microspikes were invaluable), along the edge of some very steep cliffs, and then into a little slot canyon. The trail ended at the head of the canyon, but a sign suggested scrambling through it, which was beautiful! Unlike the other hikes we had done so far, the sheer mass of the rocks in Zion was incredible. It’s still fascinating to me how unique each Utah park is, and I really enjoyed finally being able to visit them. After the hike we drove around and stopped at several outlooks, and then drove onward to Page, AZ. 

We stopped for the night near Jacob Lake in Kaibab National Forest (free dispersed camping again! Yay!) but we got stuck in some unexpectedly deep snow on one of the forest roads, fortunately not for long. We did realize at that point that there was a substantial oil leak in the car, so we decided to get to Page (a bigger town) to take care of the issue. Mercifully for us, it was neither too expensive nor time consuming, so we were able to see Lake Powell, the Glen Canyon dam, and the Horseshoe Bend in the Colorado River as well as do a couple small hikes. We decided to save money and skip the Antelope Canyon tours, as we needed to spend more on the car (I’ll go back and do them some day, I’m sure). The lovely mechanic shop that was fixing our car even let us sleep in their parking lot! We drove off to the Grand Canyon once the car was fixed and were shocked by the huge number of visitors- apparently the traffic in the national parks this year is a record high. Not exactly ideal for us… but not unbearable. We walked along the trail of time and along the rim for what remained in the afternoon and then drove south to the Kaibab National Forest to camp again. We woke early to get as much hiking in on the Bright Angel trail as possible, but unfortunately Steve was still getting over his cold and I was just coming down with it, so we were not at our prime. Our experience at the Grand Canyon was quite cloudy, but it was gorgeous nonetheless. Our time there was also cut a little short because of the car issue, as we had already made a hotel reservation in Vegas! And here we are. 

We drove the few hours from the Grand Canyon to yes, the Hoover Dam. I have had a weird fascination with dams for years (back when I wanted to be an engineer- I wanted to work on dams with the Army Corps-and my interest has lingered), so visiting the Hoover Dam has been a dream of mine. It was beautifully sunny, warm, and a wonderful experience overall. The utter volume of concrete involved in the dam is amazing by itself! I wish we had had more time to soak it in, but we wanted to get our money’s worth out of the hotel- which we have. We arrived, grabbed things at random out of the giant pile of stuff in the car, took glorious showers, and went for dinner. The hotel (we’re staying at South Point) has a full casino, a bunch of restaurants, bars, a bowling alley, etc. So you never even have to think about leaving :p. We also got a bunch of coupons, so we used some to get lots of free drinks with dinner etc. The size of this building is unbelievable- I’ve never stayed anywhere like this! After dinner we tried out a couple slot machines, not fully understanding how to play/how scoring works/anything. So we switched to roulette, starting with $5 and ended up with $35, not bad! We had another free drink and went back to the game, and I started asking how much more you get for betting on a specific number. One thing led to another and I bet a few bucks on a completely random number, getting us $75! We couldn’t believe it- we cashed out and came back upstairs to rejoice. 

Now we are off to California! 

Wish us luck- much love to all.

Caroline