#the thing that salts the earth has nothing to do with the original post

[mylittleredgirl]

i don’t know about you but every time i see a post with a bunch of notes and the reblog option turned off i immediately open the notes. can’t help it. i don’t care if it’s a fandom or topic i’ve never even heard of, i’ll be there with my coffee like i’m reading the morning paper. i regret it every time but that won’t stop me.

[transformers-mosaic]

Transformers: Mosaic #340 - "Heroes"

Originally posted on February 9th, 2009

Story, Letters - Carlos Oliveros Art - Iván Mas Colours - Rafael Yáñez

deviantART | Seibertron | TFW2005 | BotTalk

wada sez: (chuckles) I’m in danger. For over a week, I’m going to be serialising the “Human Component” strips by Iván Mas, which each focus on a different character from the Japanese Transformers cartoon Super-God Masterforce. A curious fandom titbit is that, while the Japan-originated continuations of the G1 cartoon were never broadcast in English, they were translated and dubbed into Spanish, giving them surprising prominence in Spanish-speaking pockets of the fandom. Thing is, I haven’t seen a single episode of Masterforce, so take my annotations with a big fat pinch of salt. Luckily, this first strip by Carlos Oliveros basically serves to provide a dramatis personae and acquaint readers with the conceit of Masterforce as laid out in its first episode. The Autobot and Decepticon Pretenders arrive on Earth in its distant past, and over the course of history the Autobots successfully seal away the Decepticons, inspiring humanity’s myths. In the present day, however, the Decepticons have escaped to wreak havoc anew! Gasp! This strip was dedicated to the memory of the lead writer of both Masterforce and Victory, Hiroyuki Hoshiyama. Weirdly, in the commentary, artist Mas seems to talk as if this was intended as an IDW strip, despite there being absolutely nothing in the strip itself to present it as anything other than a direct adaptation of the anime? Anyway, it seems to me that the Mosaic editors didn’t really know what to do with the “Human Component” strips, which made limited use of sequential storytelling, focused on an extremely obscure series, and were being produced at a startling rate. Mas had intended for them to be interspersed with other strips of his, but collaborators would result in delays; in the end, the Mosaic editors more or less paced them out between other strips by other creative teams, but I’ve decided to lump them together for ease of reading. And because I’m a freak, I’m tagging all the characters under their original Western names; Bomb-Burst is here called Blood (because he’s a vampire), Skullgrin becomes Dauros (a corruption of “tauros”, i.e. bull), and Submarauder becomes Gilmer (because he’s a fish with gills). A huge quantity of teasers and behind-the-scenes material is included below the break, along with my massaged machine translation of Mas’ own commentary for the strip.

Bullhorn, Minerva & Mega

Buster, Hydra & Giga

Shūta & Lightfoot

Clouder & Cancer

I'm not sure how the idea of making a mosaic of these characters came up, but the truth is that I consider Masterforce by nature of the characters, chapters, drawings, plot, variety, etc, it’s the best Transformers series that has been made and certainly I think it has enormous potential.

In contrast to this maybe that's why I'm surprised by the fact that outside Japan there is almost nothing of this theme, and almost everything we find is from the 80's, a shame, but I thought it was a good way to introduce the subject in the IDW-verse, even if it is in an UNOFFICIAL way, but at least it will see enough people who may be curious about the series, they can see it and maybe they will like it.

Hopefully in the not too distant future we will be able to see something of these characters.

The concept of transformer presented here is very different from what we are used to, it is a very japanese concept, but not worse, it is simply different, in this aspect the mosaic is more as you can see, a kind of introduction to the characters and setting the scene than anything else, but as a first point of contact I think it's fine, there is another Masterfroce on the way, I hope you can see it soon.

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Well that's a lovely connection to make, so allow me to take this inch and run a mile with it.

As the original post points out, a covenant of salt is an “enduring covenant with the divine”, one that lasts through generations. Covenants in general are to my understanding, a big deal in Judaism.(op has linked a rly informative article, I am also dropping the link here).

The concept of a covenant of salt is used literally and metaphorically, multiple times in various different contexts in Text and I will not attempt to analyze them here.

In all these cases, the prevailing theme of why enduring covenants are connected with salt, seems tie to the salt’s own preserving qualities, thus making it an ideal symbol of a persevering covenant.

What I’d like to bring forth here is that the salt in itself, has both preserving and corroding properties, and that the covenant can be seen as a committed relationship where adjustments have to be made by both parties in order to achieve stability, in the very least.

Now, to bring the tlt parallel in the game, the parties involved in both cases, are mortal and divine, with the Locked Tomb counterparts of this being Alecto for the divine aspect, and Anastasia for the mortal one. And we have our lasting and persevering covenant, we have that oath of devotion that has endured for 10.000 years and is renewed with a taste of Harrow’s blood in Alecto’s saltwater prison.

This brings forth, ample speculation about the depth of this connection. The sea, Thalassa, in the tlt universe is very much seen as a source of life, even naming the energy of all things living after it (Thalergy to counteract thanergy from Thanatos aka Death), and is a vital part of who Alecto is, and her vastness of sense of self. Whether as Alecto from flashbacks, or as Nona in NtN, nothing can quite soothe Jod’s monstrous bodyguard, his source of power, like saltwater.

So, it makes me wander at times, just how much Alecto knew from before? Did she feel those pacts, those covenants mortals made to their own God through salt and their sacrifices? Or was it inherently related to her, and the vastness of her oceans? Is it something that Anastasia brought to the table, trying to explain traditions of religions long gone?

And then we have the pool scene in GtN. A pact in saltwater made between Gideon and Harrow. One flesh, one end. And whatever the course they follow, this seems to be their ending, their everlasting oath of devotion to each other. Which makes me think, once more, that before them, before God’s daughter, and the last daughter of the Ninth, two others took an oath. Alecto, God’s monster, lover, cavalier, and the First mother of the Ninth. Did they take their oath in a pool not unlike this one? Did they do it in the vastness of the First’s Oceans, buried beneath the waves?

There would be something inherently poetic in the mirroring of those oaths. Oaths that have surpassed death, and time’s cruel hand. A Covenant that has lasted unbroken for 10000 years, preserved through Anastasia’s bloodline and the rituals of the Ninth.

                Which also brings forth the question of why these rituals of secrets only whispered in saltwater persevered for millennia. Was it just tradition? Was it a ritual to honor the first secret whispered (perhaps the first sewn tongue broken) in the presence of Earth’s vast soul? Was it to make Alecto commune with the participants of the ritual, to allow her to partake, in all the terrible things shared in the safety of the pools? Was it part of her oath with Anastasia? Was it something that Anastasia created to honor Alecto and the promise they themselves had made to each other?

As for the salt that not only preserves but also corrodes, the only thing that comes to mind is that Alecto is not the same Alecto she was when she first woke up, and Harrow is not Anastasia, and even if Anastasia comes back, she likely won’t be the same. So yes, the salt covenant preserved their oath and their bond, but their images that made the bond in the first place are corroded, marred by the passing of time and experience. For Alecto now knows to love and be loved, and Anastasia is no more, existing only in pieces through her last descendant, Harrow.

It is possible that, it’s that unknown to us oath, that persevering covenant made in salt between Anastasia and Alecto that allowed Alecto to live through Harrow’s body, to see through her eyes, with her own golden tinted ones, and to learn what it’s like to love and be loved, and that you cannot take loved away.   

LOCKED TOMB FOLKS I JUST PUT SOMETHING TOGETHER (can't believe it took me this long):

the saltwater pool thing is a reference to a covenant of salt - an enduring covenant with the divine (in this case, Alecto) and a mortal human lineage (in this case, Anastasia)!!!

this changes nothing, but I love that I can still find new references after all these years!

[himbeaux-on-ice]

the insane thing(s) that happened to me yesterday

god uh where to begin uhhhh right. okay. so.

I have lived in Nova Scotia, within an hour of Halifax, my entire life. and of the four(?) Stanley Cup parades that have occurred in the city within that time, due to a variety of circumstances I've never gotten to attend a damn one. I've never so much as laid eyes on the damn thing in person. this has vexed me mildly for years

originally, I lamented that Nate had scheduled his parade on a deeply inconvenient day for me personally, but then schedules changed and it turns out there was actually a good chance I would, potentially, be free at the time of the parade, albeit stuck on the wrong side of the harbour. sure enough, my boss was an absolute g and let us all leave when we ran out of things to do in the morning, so I immediately beelined it across the harbour via transit (including a VERY crowded ferry) just in time to meet my roommate at the library and watch Nate’s parade go by from the air-conditioned third floor window, because my roommate is a genius.

there he is all tiny and holding the thing! wow! and also saw Cogs and Landy in their horse-drawn cart lol. alright well that took two seconds, bucket list item complete, time to go I guess!

I then split off from roommate, who wants to save money by making lunch at home, and head further downtown to get a burger and a vodka soda from Five Guys. then I wander over to Grand Parade to catch the end of Nate’s little speech, and yet another distant glimpse of the man and his Cup!

again, emphasis on distant.

alright well that’s done, now time to go find a spot to eat my burger and finish this drink. on impulse, I decide to wander slowly down to the waterfront to my favourite snack shack to get a slushie and try to find a seat by the water. it’s eight million degrees out so everyone on earth has the same idea and the line is super duper long and the area is incredibly crowded. but whatever, I have no place better to be today. I'll wait.

while I’m standing in line is when I start to notice the people moving through the crowd carrying columns of burgundy, blue and white balloons.

at first I think that they must have swiped them from the festivities on Grand Parade, which is an amusing thought. but then I realize they’re taking them into the staff entrance at the back of a large boardwalk patio restaurant, the Salt Box Beer Garden. watching them, I also start to notice that an entire half of the restaurant has been tarped off, is visibly empty of patrons (during a very busy boardwalk lunch hour on a beautiful Saturday afternoon), and has a small portable washroom trailer like the kind you can rent for nice weddings set up inside the cordon. as I watch, I can see employees moving the balloon towers around and hanging up some Avalanche jerseys around the patio, and doing wild things like polishing the handrails and going after cobwebs in corners nobody will ever look in with a broom. the kind of stuff you do when you have important guests coming over.

slushie in hand, I am now intrigued, and beginning to suspect what this is - the Beer Garden must be rented out for whatever post-parade party is gonna be held once Nate and the Cup are done touring the city later today. it's mid-afternoon, absolutely lovely down here by the water, and I have no obligations, so I set up at a picnic table with a decent view, pour the rest of the vodka soda into my slushie, dig into the burger, and amuse myself with observing the goings-on and relaying what I'm seeing to a few friends. this is an area of town that I often hang around in on warm days anyway, so even if I sit here all day and see nothing, that's by no means a waste of an afternoon. maybe if I stick around long enough, I can get a little closer glimpse of some of the NHLers over the tarp, or of the Cup! perhaps even the so-far-elusive Sid the Kid...

several very chill boardwalk hours later, it's a bit after five, the band has started up inside, and the security guys who showed up a while ago have begun letting people who show up and say the right things in through a gate to the left of those trash cans. I've gone through a second slushie, had my picnic table stolen by a family of tourists while I was sitting at it (leading me to move down onto the steps in front of it, which are closer to the gate and comfier anyway), and had a very relaxing afternoon. I'm clearly not the only person who has caught on and started hanging around, either, as by now there are a lot of other people standing about on the steps. my portable battery pack has finally died and I'm starting to do the math on how much longer I can stick around before I have to leave.

then, while fiddling with my phone, I hear a kid on the steps to my left shriek "OH MY GOD IT'S HIM!!" as the crowd breaks into excited murmurs.

I look up, then look down the boardwalk to my right.

reader, if I'd stood up and taken four steps forward, I could've touched the damn thing.

(and then presumably been tackled by that large bearded man, who seemed to be some kind of security)

Nate raised the Cup for the little gathered crowd as we whooped, and then took it into the already-started party to the sound of delighted welcoming cheers. those of us on the boardwalk mostly stood around murmuring to each other, like, "wow, did that really just happen?" and then we all sorta dispersed our separate ways. I went to buy a Beavertail pastry and find a power outlet, and then departed into the warm summer night.

and to think, a week ago, I hadn't even expected to make it to the damn parade!! I'll never resist the urge to go buy a slushie again

(the second insane thing that happened to me actually deserves its own post, but let's just say I also had a little cryptid sighting...)

[yukidragon]

How do you like this? Sunshine is also an actor and they just got offered a role as a brand new co-host (and possible love interest) character of the recently rebooted/revived Sunny Time Crew Show alongside Ian as Sunny Day Jack! Jack is happy for his Sunshine but INSANELY jealous that Ian took his old role and has MC as their in-show lover, so he comes up with a plan. On the day of shooting, Jack “reprises” himself and takes Ian’s place with everyone none the wiser!

Hahaha, I think I discussed this in an earlier post. I can expand a little more on the idea though.

I think Jack is going to have a very, very bad reaction to a reboot/revival of the show. Even without adding MC or Ian into the mix, things are going to be complicated and emotional for him. It was the part he died and was buried in. He and the show were forgotten by the world. The studio erased him and his legacy, only to act like this modernized imitation is wholly new and original? It’s like salting the earth where he was buried so nothing would ever grow there again.

Jack has lost himself in the role to this day, desperately clinging to it for dear life. He is Sunny Day Jack, not anyone else. Even without going into who Ian is, I can see Jack hating Ian for being his “replacement.” Someone thinks they can be him? No way.

Who is he if he’s not Sunny Day Jack?

Then you go into Ian being the ex-boyfriend of MC. He hurt and betrayed MC, making them hesitant to accept comfort and to be cared for. They struggled to accept someone who truly loves them. Worst of all, he’s trying to get MC back.

It’s like Ian is going out of his way to steal everything from Jack. First it’s MC and their love, then it’s Jack’s very identity.

Ian wants to steal all the love that is meant for Sunny Day Jack.

Getting MC a role on the show, especially as a love interest for Ian while he parades around as Jack? Hoooooo boy will that not go over well. MC is likely not even in a position to turn down the job offer either, as it’ll no doubt pay more than slinging yogurt. They’re in desperate financial straits after all.

Jack would no doubt try to keep it together in front of MC. He’s happy for them getting an acting job that they want, really! He could never be anything less than supportive. Though he no doubt would voice his concerns, both about Ian and about getting a role on the show to begin with.

Jack might not want to remember his life as Joseph, but the scar from when and how he was murdered is not something he’s likely to forget, no matter how much he might want to. His precious sunshine is going to be put in a similar position he was, opposite this mockery of him. What if history repeats himself, only with a “Jack” who has already proven himself to be selfish, whose words of love are only lies?

What if someone tries to murder the “new Jack” and Ian chooses to shove sunshine in the way to save his own selfish skin?

At the same time... I can imagine part of Jack would really want to be taking part in the show. Everything was stolen from him, the role that he’s embraced with all his soul. Now that he’s wiser, and he has more options to him... maybe he can make sure it’ll be safe for him and his sunshine to, well, pick up where he left off as it were?

Sure, the world forgot Sunny Day Jack, but that’s not their fault! Bad people were at fault. As long as the bad people are taken care of, then everyone will be happy and safe.

Everything can go back to the way it was meant to be.

Reprising the role of Sunny Day Jack is the obvious solution - it’s him after all! And who better than to be his sunshine’s love interest than their actual love interest? It’s far, far better than a liar who not only pretends to love them but wants to pretend to be him now too.

Jack could replace Ian via possession if that’s within his abilities. Honestly though, I wonder if there might be another option, as the video of his monologue has me thinking about what he’s capable of. He’s getting bigger and stronger, to the point that he’s able to directly communicate with someone. In the teaser art of him coaxing someone to self-harm and when he haunted Nick, it didn’t seem like such a straightforward conversation. I just wonder if at the current point his ability to communicate with others is more subliminal, thus he needs to do it in dreams, and it comes across in a very... unsettling way. If he gets stronger, then maybe he’ll be able to have more direct conversations with other people besides MC... and maybe even more.

Hell, in the demo, Jack cooking was treated as a new thing by MC. I find it curious that he never tried that before in all the months he was staying with them. What if their relationship was only now strong enough for him to physically affect the world around him? If it gets stronger, could he become more real? I mean, it’s in question whether or not he’s simply a ghost. We don’t really know what Jack is capable of...

So imagine if in a “no” route, Jack possesses Ian to take the role of Sunny Day Jack in the modern era... while in the “yes” route, he is strong enough to take the role as himself, in a body made with love that everyone can actually see and hear.

After all... Jack got the role after appearing out of nowhere before. Why can’t he do it again? Especially when he has MC supporting him.

In a bad end to Ian’s route in the game, it could be Jack replaces Ian the way Ian tried to replace him... including in his very identity and his relationship with his sunshine.

I imagine regardless of the route, MC is going to be aware of Jack pulling something. The question is what exactly, who gets hurt, and how deeply addicted they are to him when it happens. For now, we can only wildly speculate on how the game is going to go given the few clues we have at the moment.

Speaking of speculation, I’m going to indulge myself with a bit of speculating about how my version of the MC, Alice, would react to the idea of Ian informing her about his new starring role and offering her a part in the show as well.

The first reaction from Alice would be that Ian is mistaken, or maybe he’s resorting to lying now to get back together with her. Why would any studio hire her? She never applied for any part, has no acting portfolio, and, well, she dropped out of the degree in acting because there was no future in it. It’d feel more like a cruel joke.

However, I imagine Ian would prove it’s a legitimate offer through his contacts at LambsWork Studios. He spoke highly of Alice, showed them recordings of her acting they took years ago, and even clips from a recent indie film Shaun made that she volunteered to take part in. Much to her shock, this offer is real, and it’s not a role meant to make her into a punchline as “the fat character who only loves eating.”

It’s... something Alice has to think about. She doesn’t want to spend time with Ian after the pain he’s caused her... but at the same time, she could actually make it as an actor despite giving up on that dream.

Not to mention the money it offers isn’t something to be ignored.

At this point, there’s not a lot of details on the show itself, just that she would be a host on a television show meant to entertain and educate kids. She’ll learn more details if she gets the part.

Jack isn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of Alice spending time with Ian, though he does appreciate that she goes to him for advice. It especially helps that they’re cuddling while having the conversation. He asks her what she wants to do, and to not think about Ian at all. After all, Ian isn’t important in her life.

Ian will never be important in Alice’s life ever again... not if Jack has anything to say about it.

Really, the only reason why Jack hasn’t given Ian the nightmare treatment by now is that by this point in the story, Alice told Ian that she’s with someone else and they’re not getting back together. Ian technically isn’t a threat anymore, but is only now starting to step out of line and push back harder.

In a way, Ian privately finds it ironic that Alice’s new boyfriend (who he can’t find on social media) has the same first name as the character he’ll be playing as. Given no one has ever met this “Jack” person she talks about, he convinces himself that she’s making up an imaginary boyfriend to keep him at bay, maybe pay him back for cheating on her. Hell, the only images of “Jack” are drawings she posted on her social media!

It would be ironic in that case if Ian takes on the role this “Jack” person, both in the show and in this game of pretend Alice is playing.

After a long conversation with Jack, Alice ultimately thinks that if she doesn’t go after this opportunity, she’ll be haunted forever wondering “what if.” She has to at least try or it’ll eat away at her. Jack, ever reassuring, promises he’ll be there with her the entire time. He’ll even make sure Ian can’t bother her if she’d like.

Lightheartedly Alice says that if Ian ever manages to corner her alone at the studio and won’t leave her alone, Jack has her full permission to knock stuff over and make a commotion with the props to scare the pants off him. Jack chuckles and just as jovially promises that he’ll do his best to give Ian a good scare.

Of course, the two of them have different ideas what constitutes as a good scare, but no one will get hurt by it, really! Sunny Day Jack would never hurt anyone after all.

A nightmare or two (dozen) would never hurt anyone~

It’s only after Alice gets the part that she finds out about more details about the show, particularly the name of it and its characters. It’s a shock to her, and even more so to Jack...

Alice immediately picks up on Jack being unsettled despite how he tries to hide it. She wants to talk about it, but only if he wants to. She won’t force him if it’s too hard for him.

By this point Jack has accidentally let his vulnerable side slip to Alice more than once, and she’s supported him each time. As much as he hates being anything less than “perfect” around her, her sincere concern for him and desire to help him makes him waver until he finally admits that he’s... surprised. They’re making a new version of his TV show? Wow, that’s... something. It’ll be kind of hard for him to play himself in the show given his... situation.

It’s an understatement of his feelings, and they both know it. They already know the cast, particularly who Ian is going to play. Jack tries to switch to the brighter side, saying Alice will make a great Cloudy-Belle Sue. He always thought her hair was naturally as light and fluffy as a cloud, and she’s just as nice, and, oh, the puppets! She really knows her puppets so she’ll be great and-

Alice gently cuts off Jack by cupping his cheeks, stroking softly to coax him into winding down his rambling. She looks into his eyes, and he can’t quite hide how haunted and vulnerable he is with his gaze. She says she’s going to quit. She won’t force Jack to be exposed to something that hurts him.

Jack immediately protests. Despite appreciating the touch, he takes a hold of her hands and gets a bit firm on this point, straightening his back. No, he insists, Alice should stay. They’re going to do this regardless of whether she takes the role or not, and he would feel better if she was taking part if this is going to happen no matter what he thinks about it. There’s no one who deserves to shine brighter than her, and he would love to see her in the role. Besides, even if Ian got her the opportunity, she only got the part through her own skill and sunny personality. She’s earned this, and he doesn’t want her to give it up just because what the studio is doing isn’t right.

Alice squeezes Jack’s hands. She can guess what Jack means by “isn’t right,” but doesn’t outright comment on it. She offers that maybe they could use this opportunity then to get more information about what happened to the old show, and maybe what happened to him-

Jack cuts off that thought. His past isn’t important. What’s important is here, now, and each other. He pulls Alice closer, needing her warmth desperately in that moment as he recalls whispers of awful memories - pain, betrayal, cold... so much cold. When she leans in to kiss him, he guides her to him devours her lips like a man starved.

A few moments of just savoring the warmth and love they share pass. After catching her breath, Alice tries to continue the conversation, but Jack needs more. He tells her how much he loves her, how the happiest he’s ever been is with her now. He asks that she let him show her just how much he loves and appreciates her.

Though still concerned, Alice accepts that this is what Jack needs most right now. She tells him that being with him is the happiest she’s ever been too, and that she loves him so, so much. The man simply melts at those words, and he can’t help but shower even more sweet words back to her as he lovingly shows his sunshine just how much he means each one.

Lovemaking serves as a lovely distraction for quite a while. However, it’s in the quiet of the night while Alice is sleeping that Jack finds himself thinking about it again. She was so sweet to sacrifice something she wants for him, but she shouldn’t have to. Ian shouldn’t be in the role of Sunny Day Jack - that’s him. Then there’s LambsWork Studio...

Dark thoughts swirl in Jack’s head. Alice shivers a bit from a chill and clings to him a little closer in her sleep, and he cuddles closer to her in turn as he tries to calm down and keep his very un-Jack-like thoughts and feelings to himself. His sunshine needs her rest after all.

Jack will take care of all the things wrong with the situation on his own. He’s going to make things better for his sunshine - it’s why he’s there after all. Alice shouldn’t have to worry about anything. All she needs to think about is how to be happy with him forever.

Fortunately, Jack has some ideas in mind. Thanks to the strength he’s gained from Alice’s love and their bond, he just might be able to pull it off.

Violence seems to be something of a last resort with Jack, which makes sense with the persona of Sunny Day Jack. Violence is very much not fitting for a kids TV show host.

Jack isn’t in a desperately precarious position anymore, not with how deeply he and Alice love each other. He doesn’t have to resort to desperate measures that would be wildly out of character for Sunny Day Jack. He has options, and he has his sunshine’s support.

Maybe this will be a good opportunity for Jack, for both of them. Having a more solid hold on reality, being seen/heard/felt by others... that’s something he’s been wanting. Alice wanted it for him too, not wanting him to feel isolated with only her for company. She wants his happiness just as much as he wants hers.

Maybe, just maybe, this reboot isn’t a bad thing. Maybe instead this is an opportunity that can allow Jack to make his triumphant return to the world and the silver screen thanks to his sunshine and the power of their love.

If Jack manages to become strong enough to manifest so that others can see him and reprises his role? Well, Alice will support him of course! She’ll be so surprised but very happy for him. Plus, she won’t have to be forced to kiss a worthless imitation, especially not that liar who wants to steal everything away from Jack including his precious sunshine...

Another shiver prompts Jack to cut off the dark spiral his thoughts go down to cuddle Alice, stroking her back and hair until she relaxes once more with a contented sigh.

Yes... this is where Jack deserves to be. This was the role he was always meant to have. He’s been waiting 40 years, and finally... finally he’ll have everything he could ever ask for.

Jack can be anything he wants to be, and what he wants to be is Sunny Day Jack and Alice’s lover. The two of them know it already, and soon... soon the world will know it too.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars

[hoboal87]

The Fear

Title: The Fear

Pairing: Dean x pregnant!Reader, minor Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Summary: Dean comes home to find Y/N missing.

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, violence, fluff, pregnancy, non-graphic descriptions of childbirth, 15 x 20 adjacent.

A/N: my entry for @princessmisery666's #daily mix challenge combined with a Nonnie request.

Edit: I forgot to thank the lovely @lovealways-j​ for beta-reading this for me. Thanks, Sabrina!

My song is "The Fear" by The Score

My Full Masterlist

Something’s wrong.

Dean can sense it the moment he steps into his shared room with Y/N. He looks carefully around the room, trying to find a clue as to what’s got his hunter instincts in high gear. It looks no different then when he and Sam left three days ago, and yet, every bone in his body is telling him something is off.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly as he makes his way towards her old room down the hall. She’d been in the process of turning it into a nursery for the last month and had a tendency to get lost in paint samples and baby supplies. As he closes in on the room, he can feel himself becoming more on edge and instinctively reaches for his gun. “Sweetheart? You in there?”

Dean’s heart sinks further into his stomach as he reaches the newly-converted nursery. The usually meticulously organized room was in a state of disarray as if there had been some sort of struggle. Dean calls out for Y/N again, willing her to give him some kind of sign that he was overreacting to what he was seeing.

He quickly pulls out his phone dialing Y/N’s number, he and Sam should have never gone on that hunt, Y/N was due in less than a month, but she insisted that they go.

This is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone, if it’s an emergency please contact Sam or Dean…

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, waiting for her message to end. “Hey sweetheart,” he does his best to keep his voice steady. “Me and Sammy just got back and I just got a feeling…” he takes a deep breath. “Call me back. Love you.”

Dean pockets his phone, before taking in the room again, trying to convince himself that it’s his new-father instincts and not his hunter instincts that have him so on edge. That’s when he sees it: under a discarded bag, a small pool of blood. Dean’s breathing grows heavier, and he scans the room again, looking for any kind of sign of what may have happened in the room.

“Sam!” Dean yells out, his breath quickening. “Sammy!”

Sam’s behind him, skidding to a stop before taking in the sight of the room before him. Even with only a cursory glance Dean knows that Sam’s thinking the same thing as him, something’s happened to Y/N.

Dean hurries down to the infirmary, Y/N had insisted that they have everything to monitor her in the final months and in the worst-case scenario anything needed to help her deliver. The simple fetal monitor is right where they’d left it three days prior, Dean insists on listening to the heartbeat of his unborn child on an almost daily basis, letting the rapid thump thump thump put him at ease.

Dean’s phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when Y/N’s picture fills the screen. He takes a minute, calming himself, she doesn’t need to know that up until this moment he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” he smiles, “y’know you had us worried for a minute.”

There’s silence on the other end of the call, save for heavy, scratchy breathing.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Y/N whispers, choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t’ve trusted her. Now–”

“Baby, listen to me,” Dean finds Sam in the hall and mouths trace the call, Sam nods and bolts towards the library. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“That depends on you, Dean,” an unfamiliar voice replaces Y/N’s. “Now, be a good little soldier and do as I say. Only then will your precious wife and child have a chance to make it through this unharmed.” Dean can feel his blood boiling, this is why he could never not be a hunter. He and Sam have made too many enemies over the years, and now Y/N and their baby may be paying the price.

All the fear that he felt when Y/N first told him she was pregnant comes rushing back to the surface. Dean never thought he’d get married, let alone be a father, but with Rowena keeping the demons in check, and Jack limiting the angels' interaction on Earth, with the exception of Cas, life became some version of safe for the brothers.

That’s why Y/N insisted that they take the simple salt n’ burn just one state over. She knew that they were going a little stir crazy, Bobby, Jody and Donna, had started training the next generation of hunters so that boys could retire. Dean was hesitant to leave, Y/N was only a month away from her due date, but she shooed them out the door, claiming to need her own space from her overprotective husband and brother-in-law.

“Are you listening, Dean?” The voice tuts and Dean tries to clear his head of ‘if’s’ and ‘could’ve’s’ all it’s doing is driving him crazy.

“I’m listening,” Dean repeats through gritted teeth. The voice gives coordinates to a location a few hours away and before he realizes it he’s in the Impala, ready to do whatever it takes to save his wife and baby. Sam tells Dean what he’s already sure of: this is a trap and Y/N is being used as bait. He doesn’t care, he can’t lose her, lose their baby, not when she’s done nothing more than love him.

The sun is setting when they pull up to the abandoned farmhouse, original, Dean thinks. Dean wants to go bursting in, guns ablaze, but Sam stops him, reminding him that they don’t know who or what has got Y/N, and they have to be smart. He wants nothing more than to punch his brother for suggesting that they wait even a second longer to rescue Y/N, but he lets the words sink in and reluctantly agrees.

Silver bullets, holy water, dead man’s blood, witch-killing bullets and machete’s are divided between each brother, knowing that whatever has Y/N, one of these things will most likely kill it. When they enter the farmhouse Dean’s eyes lock on Y/N, who’s against a wall, two chains around her wrists.

Dean rushes towards her, the only thing on his mind is getting her and the baby out of this place and back home. Her breathing is shallow when he reaches her, and he gently inspects her body. Gingerly, he touches her face, allowing her Y/E/C eyes to meet his and she smiles lazily at him. Knew you’d come, she whispers, and Dean leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His free hand lands on the swell of her belly, where he can feel a slight kick against his palm.

“I love you,” Dean says softly so that only Y/N can hear him. “I’m gonna get you outta here, sweetheart, okay?” Y/N nods slightly as Dean focuses his attention on freeing her from her bonds.

There’s a grunt behind Dean, and when he turns around, Sam’s on the ground, and there’s a somewhat familiar woman standing behind him.

“Dean Winchester,” she exclaims as two large men appear and pull him to his feet. “Been too long.”

“Jenny,” he utters, remembering one of the first cases he worked with Sam. “You look good, a little dead, but, good.”

“Always the charmer, weren’t you Dean?” She takes a step towards Y/N. “I could smell you on her the second she walked past me. Women always trust other women, made her think I was a hunter; a tragic backstory here, a name drop there, and bingo, the dumb bitch is leading me into your home.”

Dean feels his anger rising as he tugs against the two men, his eyes flicker to Sam, who slowly starts reaching for the blade next to him.

“Up,” Jenny orders and when Y/N doesn’t comply she produces a blade, and presses it against her stomach. Dean’s heart stops at the threat to Y/N and their baby. “If you want to give your baby a chance to ever see the light of day, I suggest you cooperate.”

Y/N’s legs are wobbly as she stands, tears glistening in her eyes as Jenny slowly runs the blade against her. Dean’s gaze doesn’t leave her, watching as Jenny uncuffs her, and leads her slowly over to him.

Adrenaline pumps through Dean’s veins and he frees himself from his two captors; headbutting one and throwing a punch at the other as Y/N is pushed out of the way. Sam is up on his feet and in a swift move, swings the blade through Jenny’s neck, her body falling limp to the ground. For the briefest of moments, Dean relaxes, only for a vamp to be coming at him again.

Dean can barely keep track of anything, his eyes tunneling in on the large vamp in front of him. He can hear the grunts of Sam, and the familiar sound of another vamp going down. Y/N isn’t in his line of sight, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he hears Sam call his name.

It was just the distraction that the vamp needed and he barrels towards Dean, slamming him against a wooden post. He feels something pierce his side but he keeps fighting against the vamp. As the vamp is about to take his final shot, his head is gone, and Sam is quickly resheething his blade.

Y/N cries out, cradling her stomach and even from a distance he can see the pool blood between her legs. Go, Dean orders Sam who quickly obeys.

“I think she’s in labor,” Sam mutters. “I don’t think we can get her to a hospital in time.”

Dean rushes to Y/N’s side as best he can, telling her everything will be alright. Dean returns to Baby, grabbing the first aid kit, hastily patching up the wound, and retrieving a blanket from the trunk. The pain hits him all at once, but he pushes through it, his pain doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Y/N and the baby are safe.

Y/N’s screaming out in pain, begging for someone to make it stop as Sam does his best to calm her. Dean closes the distance in only a few steps, positioning himself behind her. He takes her hands in his, whispering praises in her ear as Sam orders her to push.

Within only a few minutes, Evelyn Marie Winchester is brought into the world, wailing loudly as Sam wraps her in his flannel and hands her over to Y/N. Dean offers Sam a silent thank you as he takes in the appearance of his daughter. Evie’s the perfect combination of him and Y/N.

The moment of bliss doesn’t last long, as Sam reminds them that they still need to get Y/N and Evie to a hospital. Dean moves from his place behind Y/N and winces at the pain now radiating through his body. Sam gives him a curious look, and Dean shrugs, trying to convince his brother that he’s fine.

Dean takes Evie out of Y/N’s arms, and cradles her against him as Sam helps Y/N to her feet. Dean takes a few steps before legs start to give and his vision starts to blur. The last thing Dean hears before everything going black is Y/N and Sam calling out his name.

Five Years Later

Dean watches as Evie runs around the backyard of their new home, chasing Miracle and laughing hysterically. Y/N was right, the Bunker was no place to raise a little girl, she deserves everything that he and Sam never had, and he is determined to give it all to her. Evie will never know what it’s like to go to bed hungry or cold, or wonder when she’ll see her parents again.

The opening of the front door tears Dean’s attention away from his daughter, Sam’s voice filling the otherwise silent house. He turns to see his brother carrying a ridiculous amount of gifts followed by a very pregnant Eileen with a shaggy haired toddler attached to her hip.

“Unca De!” Little Bobby tries to squirm out of Eileen’s hold and she carefully lets him down. The toddler bolts for Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s leg. “S’Evie’s birfday!”

“I know, buddy!” Dean laughs at his nephew, “how ‘bout you go tell her ‘happy birthday’?” Dean opens the side door and lets Bobby out.

“You are going to spoil my daughter rotten, Sam Winchester,” Y/N appears from the back of the house. Dean’s still amazed that even after years together, Y/N can take his breath away.

“Well, if I had another niece or nephew, I could spread the love.”

“I think you’ve spread enough love, Sammy,” Dean jokes as he heads into the kitchen, Sam following behind him. “I mean, you’re basically having your kids back-to-back.”

“Three years is hardly back-to-back,” Sam reaches out to grab a beer. “You’re just mad ‘cause I one-upped you.”

“Actually,” Dean peeks into the living room. “We’ll be even. Y/N’s pregnant.”

The words have hardly left Dean’s mouth before Sam’s engulfed him in a hug. Dean’s positive that Eileen and Y/N are having a similar conversation at this very same moment, but what neither Sam or Eileen know is that they have a bet on who will crack first.

“Just found out a couple of weeks ago,” Dean continues with the ruse. “She wanted to wait until after yours was born, didn’t want to take Eileen’s thunder or something.” Sam nods, seemingly understanding.

Hours later, after the last present has been opened, and the final piece of cake has been eaten, Sam and Eileen take a very sleepy Bobby home. Evie sits at the kitchen table, listening carefully and a smile growing on her face as Dean and Y/N tell her that in six months she’ll have a little brother or sister.

“Or both,” Y/N corrects with a knowing smirk.

“Both?”

Please reblog or send me an ask with your feedback!

This one-shot was requested by a nonnie, my requests are currently open, you can send me an ask or DM me if you’d like to request something. 

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[wordsandrobots]

Not too widely read (so to speak) on mecha anime in general but having binged through most of the Gundam back catalogue at a rush, I'd class Lauda vs Guel as a subversion of a general trend in the series. There are loads of instances throughout that can be broadly classed as 'unavoidable duel ending in tragic death', usually accompanied by electrical arcs in the cockpit (THE established sign a mecha is about to explode) and someone getting skewered with a laser sword. Felsi swooping in with a fire-extinguisher is a rather witty repost to that, especially in context of the Jeturk's conflict being itself *incredibly* stupid and only escalating so far because nobody spotted Lauda having a breakdown in the corner of the last few episodes. It feels like it was written to spork a dramatic beat Gundam shows have a long history of leaning on; the nearest direct parallel I can think of is from Gundam Wing, but that's one instance among many.

Overall, there's a definitely a fair number of things in G-Witch reproducing general Gundam tropes (massive space lasers in the final act, space vs Earth conflicts etc) and a few more overt call-backs. The fencing scene is especially egregious, in that it's replicating possibly THE most famous scene in the original show, which annoys me specifically because 1) there's not really any dramatic reason to do that and it feels very cheap as a result, and 2) nobody was ever shown fencing at the school prior, which at least the original got around by setting the fight in a war museum. /end rant.

I tend to look more kindly on the former because every Gundam series post 1979 can be considered a remix of the same set of elements and riffing on them has produced some interestingly varied takes. Whereas I think replicating exact moments is a great recipe to end up doing nothing at all and generally inviting unfavourable comparisons (looking at you, Gundam SEED). For me, however, G-Witch pulls in more 'Gundam elements' than is strictly good for it.

I'm very lukewarm on the show in general, so pinch of salt this as you will, but Felsi-with-the-fire-extinguisher felt like an outlier among a lot of things that seemed to be there because that's what you put in a Gundam show. It's at least a decent inside joke. The rest . . . I can see the argument it would have gotten expanded on with a larger episode count but things like the Earthian/Spacian divide (as it's presented) don't seem to gel cohesively with the thrust of the Suletta/Miorine/Prospera/Delling mess. There's the bones of a story about systems of power fucking people up, yet it feels like a lot of faff for nothing because that central conflict is always building to the Quiet Zero battle. The plot is ultimately way too personal and too uninterested in the weighty issues it gestures at for it to have been worth raising them in the first place.

Having seen Code Geass, I truly I don't think this was the writer to tackle the issues Gundam usually trades in. I really wish he'd downplayed/been allowed to leave them out and focused on the core of his story. Code Geass gets away with being utterly abysmal at anti-imperialism because it's nuttier than a fruitcake. G-Witch inherits the trappings of greater seriousness* and so leaves itself fewer places to hide its lack of payoff.

*I should caveat this by noting that when I say this, I mean Gundam has usually tried to be about institutional oppression, morally cloudy conflicts, neocolonialism and so on. That's not the same as saying it's been generally good at those things. But the ones that are -- e.g., IMO, Iron-Blooded Orphans, Turn A, Gundam X -- have way more thematic coherence than G-Witch.

I see someone in the replies of that last post arguing that a lot of the things mentioned in the OP are just Gundam series tropes and homages and... hmmmm. Even knowing absolutely nothing about Gundam, I could tell that the Lauda versus Guel fight was setting up and subverting something with Felsi showing up at the last second to be like, "No, this is stupid. We aren't doing this. Denied!" But I don't think that necessarily contradicts the idea that something was truncated there, because it could just mean that they decided to make the best of things by doing something clever and telling a story where the truncation is part of the point.

Would love to read more about this from people who actually know mecha anime, before I become that asshole trying to talk about mahou shoujo having only seen Madoka.

[thevindicativevordan]

you had a great post about what clark would get from his Kryptonian parents? what would he get from his earth parents?

Time to talk about good ol' Pa and Ma Kent.

Similar to the Els the most important attribute the Kents have is their goodness. They're decent salt of the earth folk, who manage to instill a sense of duty, compassion, and humility into their adopted alien son who is one of the most powerful people on the planet. They're not perfect, Jonathan in particular has been portrayed as having a temper (something he and Clark have in common), but they're the kind of people who would give you the shirt off their backs were you in need of it. Taking in a baby from a rocket which crashed in their cornfields sets the tone for their lives after Clark's arrival. Weird events occur and they basically just roll with it, nothing will ever top the insanity of the day Clark first arrived.

While the DCEU took it too far I don't think it's out of character for them to have some degree of "cynicism" per say. They are after all the ones who teach Clark the importance of hiding his powers, because people will be afraid of what he can do. Multiple origin stories for Superman have established Jonathan Kent as having some degree of military service, I know Post Crisis made him a Korean War veteran, and I like the idea that both Jonathan and Martha have traveled beyond Smallville and seen the worst of humanity. Similar to Clark I think the Kents work better if they're people who have seen some of the world's ugliness and yet refused to let it compromise their sense of right and wrong.

Jonathan Kent is the Heart

Just like Jor-El, what Jonathan gives Clark is already pretty well-established: his moral compass. Clark's ability to discern right from wrong is something Jonathan teaches him over many conversations across Clark's youth. Whenever Clark is unsure of what's the right thing to do, he often will fall back on lessons he learned from Pa over the years. Rarely does he find an exact answer to his problems, but he does find a starting point to work towards a solution. Loads of writers have given us great Jonathan/Clark moments across the ages, Morrison unsurprisingly has written my favorite scenes in All-Star Superman with the issue where Pa dies, but Johns having Jonathan tell Clark that Clark is his son when Clark is freaking out over learning he's adopted and from another planet is another great scene from Secret Origin.

Clark and Jonathan should have been thick as thieves before Clark reached adolescence, which is when the two started butting heads. Just can't accept the idea that Clark meekly acquiesces to his Pa telling him that he can't use his gifts for his own benefit as a teenager, I don't care how morally pure Clark is meant to be. No way he wouldn't be at least a little pissed that Pa doesn't let him play football where he knows he could excel and finally be popular. Only later as an adult does Clark truly come to appreciate the wisdom of what Pa was trying to teach him: that he shouldn't use his powers to exploit those weaker than him for his own advancement, but instead use them for a greater purpose.

Martha Kent is the Soul

Much like Lara, Martha is historically severely overshadowed by her husband when it comes to importance. Usually she's just kind of there, the doting mother who wants her boy to succeed in life. Nothing wrong with that per say, but more of an effort should be made to differentiate her role in Clark's life from Jonathan's. Mulling over what Martha could be, I've seized on one attribute of Superman's that could be tied to her influence: his interest in journalism.

Martha's influence on Clark should manifest itself in the form of his creativity. I want her as the one who nurtured Clark's reading and writing abilities, she should be the one who encouraged him to pursue writing as a career. Maybe Martha was a writer for the local Smallville newspaper, or maybe she just liked to entertain herself by writing small stories that sometimes she sent out to be published, and sometimes she wrote just for the pleasure of writing. Whatever her background in writing, make her the writer of the family, the one who sees Clark's potential to succeed in that area and nurtures it. Whenever Clark is reaching for the right word to put in an article, or for the right thing to say to someone who is in need of help, Martha is the one whose influence inspires him.

While both of the Kents guide Clark on the road to becoming Superman, I'm not really a fan of them being the ones to make his costume, come up with his "superhero" name, or tell him he should use his powers openly to help people. Takes too much of the decision on what he wants to do with his powers away from Clark, just like Jor-El sending him to Earth with the express intent that he serve as a guiding light for humanity does. Crafting Superman needs to be something Clark does on his own, becoming Superman is his first big choice as an independent adult in my ideal take on the character. Totally fine with Pa and Ma emphasizing that he has a responsibility to use his power to help people in need, but the how of it should be Clark's choice.

Also they should be dead by the time Clark becomes Superman. Many Superman fans would disagree with me, arguing that Jonathan and Martha offer more alive than dead. Some of the most common arguments are that Clark can go back to them for wholesome conversations and advice as an adult, that giving him dead parents makes him too much like Batman, and that he already has Krypton's destruction plus his birth parents' deaths to provide a tragedy if one is necessary. Those arguments don't sway me for a couple of reasons.

First off the Kents can still provide plenty of wholesome moments and advice while dead via flashbacks. Both Bendis and Snyder were able to do great scenes recently where Clark is struggling with his temper or an obstacle, and the memory of his adopted parents is what gives him the strength to carry on. Really Clark running back to Smallville for pies and pep talks every time life gets hard just makes him seem infantile and over reliant on other people to tell him what to do. Furthermore what could the Kents possibly say at this point that Clark himself doesn't already know? Most of their advice is "follow your heart", "do the right thing", basic shit that Clark should be able to figure out himself. Not like Pa and Ma are going to be able to help strategize to beat Brainiac. If somehow they are able to solve a problem for him, well then where's the tension? Since they're so wise and all-knowing, why doesn't Superman just fly back for some home-grown wisdom every time he can't figure out what to do? People say that the most interesting Superman stories are the ones where he's presented with problems he can't solve by punching, kind of undercutting that premise by giving him access to two people who always know what the right choice is and can tell him what to do. Plus if he needs someone to unload his problems on, that's what Lois, Jimmy, Lana, John Henry Irons, or even Kelex are for! Those are his friends, peers, confidants, his wife, they're the ones he should be talking to about his problems!

Second off he came before Batman, and the Kents were dead for most of Pre-Crisis, so I don't accept the argument that dead Kents means he's going to become too much like Batman. Hell that's part of the reason they should be dead, to show how he is able to process the death of his parents differently from Bruce. Unlike Bruce or Barry who obsessed over their parents' deaths, Clark mourning his parents but not letting their deaths define his life is downright inspiring. It demonstrates that Superman isn't a product of the Kents' deaths, but instead of their lives and their lessons.

Finally when it comes to Krypton and the Els, while I do think he mourns and honors them he doesn't know them. Not like Kara did, traditionally for Kal post-Crisis his memories of Krypton are a few scant memories at best. Doesn't really work for him as a tragedy given he doesn't know what he lost, and Superman does need a tragedy. Why? Because otherwise his whole "hope" and "it gets better spiel" comes across as pretty hollow. Sure is easy to say that Superman when you're the most powerful guy on the planet, with everyone damn near worshipping you as the Second Coming of Christ, your civilian identity is also well-regarded as a good journalist, your wife is a super hot star reporter, your son is a chip off the ol' block who idolizes you, there's an entire superhero team from the future you adventured around with that views you as their role model, and your Earth parents are also still around, love you, give you advice when you need it, and are proud of you.

When has it ever been tough for you? When have you ever suffered, ever really had your ideals challenged to the core, and you had to suffer through it alone? Given the rise of so many goddamn stories lately where Clark loses his fucking mind the minute one of his loved ones die (especially Lois) yeah I think we need to establish that is not true for the main guy. He needs to have loved ones die, go through the long dark night of the soul, and come out the other side with his mind and morals intact. Show he's not weak, he's had his "one bad day" and didn't break. Frankly I don't see how he works anymore without that being part of his character. Leaving it out now means people go "well he wouldn't be such a good guy if one of his loved ones died, as we've seen in Elseworlds".

Besides all that, their deaths teach Clark one of the most important lessons: he can't save everyone. For all his powers he's still mortal, still human, and sometimes he's going to fail. Failing doesn't mean giving up however, because even after he failed to save his parents, he still kept trying to be the hero they knew he could be. Ultimately I think the Kents are better off laying the foundations for Clark's character and then exiting the story when he's ready to stand on his own. Nothing they can give him as an adult can't be given by one of Clark's other peers or friends, and no wholesome conversation over apple pie is going to make me feel the way I did reading Clark cry on his father's deathbed while promising to use his powers for good. Know I won't convince everyone about this, but I'm pretty firm in my convictions that the Kents work better dead than alive.

[salt-warrior]

Alright folks... it’s time for me to forever shame myself, because I’m publishing a crack fic. I’ve NEVER done that before because I usually just write crack fics for my own enjoyment, but this crack fic was inspired by a post that @impossiblesuitcase wrote. So thank you for that, lovely. Also thank you @cosmicnovaflare for pushing me to write this, I love you always. 

This crack fic is a crossover of three of my own fanfictions. So if you have not red Unsinkable, The Echo of Silence, and The Time it Takes to Fall, then literally none of this will make any sense. All three play vital roles in this story. Seriously, you’ll be in the dark so don’t read it unless you’ve read all of them.

Again, this is a crack fic so it’s even more wildly unrealistic than my other writing. And I am also going to pretend I never wrote it because I am ashamed. The original endings are the real endings in my mind. You have been warned. 

So without further ado, I present you with 6,249 words of crack fic that I wrote in one sitting yesterday instead of doing my homework. Enjoy.

Tags: @shellyseashell @cindersassasin @gingerale2017  @healing-winston-pratt @winterrhayle @just2bubbly @f-r-o-p @idkchatie (I’m only tagging the people who were really angry with Unsinkable because I think a lot of you have read all three of those stories? If not, then sorry for the tag, I love you guys<333)

Until Forever Ends

Before Kai’s father had passed away, he’d told Kai to pursue what he needed to find peace. He’d probably meant something along the lines of falling in love with another girl or switching up his career. Surely he hadn’t intended for his son to look into the mythical sisters of life and death.

It had been a long day, with him first going to his father's funeral, then to see Cinder's gravesite one last time. He hated leaving her there, but he had hope that when they would meet again, he would speak to her and not a marble headstone.

He'd mailed notes to all his friends that morning. To Scarlet and Wolf, Jacin and Winter, and Cress. He'd detailed an adventure across the world that he would be having. After all, his father had left everything he owned to Kai, and he wanted to make the most of living. Of course it was all a fantastic lie; he was traveling the world, and perhaps it would be an adventure, but it was more of a journey than anything else. And he didn't plan on ever coming home.

Because even if he found what he was looking for, he couldn't return to his friends. They wouldn't understand—they couldn't understand.

So he would travel to the ends of the Earth, and he would find her.

***

Kai sat on a sandy beach, the waves lapping up over his legs, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt. The sky was gray and the air cold, but he could not feel its bitter sting. His clothes were torn ragged and his hair grown long and shaggy. If one were to gaze upon him, they would believe him to be insane. But he did not care. He was on the hunt for the sisters of life and death— and he was close.

It had been months since his father’s funeral; months since he’d left Cinder’s grave back in Arizona. He’d flown across the sea and traveled to lands he hadn’t even known existed. He’d slept under the stars and beneath the blanket of darkness. He’d listened to stories of people who lived their lives over and over in search of love and those who had been played for fools. He’d seen much and learned even more.

He’d heard tales of the two sisters: one life and the other death. They began as whispered fairy tales, told to him by drunkards and fools. But as he investigated further, he discovered that the sisters were real.

They existed throughout all the lands of the world, always under different names. In some lands they were simply Life and Death, while in others they were Angel and Demon or creatures of the Earth. He simply knew them as Light and Darkness. He only hoped to call out to the sister of light and life, not the one of darkness and death.

Throughout all his travels, no one had ever been able to tell him how to call each sister, only that they came to the cries of the brokenhearted who claimed, and fervently meant, that they would do anything to bring their love back to them. It had to be a plea for love that consumed one’s entire soul— but his soul was filled with Cinder, and Cinder alone.

He watched the black sea as it foamed about him. There had been conflicting views as to where one had to be when summoning either of the sisters. Some claimed that the person had to be in the place of their lover’s birth, while others explained that you had to be in the exact place of their final breath. One woman had even claimed that without the body of his dead lover still warm in his arms, he could not bring her back. Kai had shivered at that proclamation, with Cinder dead and in the ground for well over a year.

But there had been one account that had remained etched in his mind. A scholar somewhere in Europe, who had quoted the lines of Edgar Allen Poe’s last poem to Kai.

“And neither the angels of Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“The sea would be the best place to call one of the sisters to you,” the scholar had said. “For that is their home. With the Angel above and the Demon below, they will hear your cries.”

So Kai went to the sea.

Slowly the gray sky melded into black, allowing for the stars to dot the emptiness and the moon to shine across the waves with hints of white light. He knew he should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but there was nothing left in him but the aching wish to be with Cinder once more.

“Cinder,” he whispered her name through chapped lips. “My love. I would do anything–” his voice broke off with a sob, tears falling like the spray of the ocean. “Anything,” he reiterated. “To be with you again.���

The waves of the sea began to swirl about him, pulling him off the beach and out into the waves. He screamed as his head dipped below the water, but a bubble of air had formed around him, preventing any wetness from glancing across his skin.

Everything seemed to grow lighter, despite the darkness he had remembered seeing. The waves danced about him in hues of deep purple and foam green. Fish swam around him in a flurry, and even the stars in the sky appeared to stand in closer proximity to himself.

Then everything slowed, and Kai found himself thrown back upon the sandy beach shore. He laid upon the ground, staring at the moon in the sky, which seemed within arms reach. He lifted a hand as if to touch it.

A hand reached out to brush against his fingers, and Kai pulled back. Silhouetted against the moon was the most glorious woman that Kai had ever beheld. There was no beauty comparable to her own. Her skin was dark and lined with gold tracings that resembled the very waves of the sea. She wore a dress of crimson that covered her figure elegantly, and jewelry of gold lined her ears and neck.

“Oh my stars,” she gasped, jumping back from him as she gazed upon his face. “It’s you.”

Kai was too shocked to speak. He dropped his hand back upon his chest as he looked up at her. His eyes mapped the kindness in her face and the confusion in her eyes as she gawked at him. All that he could register was that he was in the presence of an otherworldly being.

At long last her words caught up to his thoughts and puzzlement of his own registered in his mind. “Do we know one another?”

The woman’s face softened, and she shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we do not. Or at the very least, not in this lifetime; not in this world. I am Light, the sister of life and all things which make life beautiful. For what reason do you weep so?”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He pushed himself up so he rested upon his knees before her, looking up at her glorious face. She glowed, as if she were the moon itself, rather than just having it shine behind her.

“My wife,” Kai explained, “Cinder, died. She is gone from this life, and I wish to be with her again. I… I just wish to be with her again.”

“You are a fool to call down a deity on purpose. You could have just as easily received my sister,” Light exclaimed, though there was a certain sorrow hidden behind her gaze. “But you have been shadowed with luck upon this day. I can sense your pain, and the both of us know that you could call upon me only if your very soul screamed for your love and your love alone.

“I do not often grant requests of such a sort, unlike my sister, who joys in tricking lovers to be her slaves for all eternity. I find that traveling into the next world is the best option— that waiting for Darkness to collect you and transfer your soul fresh and new into another world is the best way to go.” She stopped speaking, then fell to her knees so she and Kai were at eye-level with one another. “But I have met your soul in another world— one where it knew only pain. I have met many creatures of the Earth through my eons of serving them. I aid those in all the universes known alongside my sister. But in all that time I have never stumbled upon the same man twice.

“And it is for that reason that I shall grant you your request,” Light said, touching her fingers against Kai’s cheek. She winced as she wiped the tears from his face.

Kai couldn’t breath, unable to process the words she was speaking to him. He would be with Cinder once more— she would be returned to him. All would be right in the world once more.

“However, I cannot reunite you with the girl you knew in this world,” Light explained with a sigh. “With your love gone for over a year, that piece of her soul has already passed into a new universe— it has been wiped of all her joy and all her sorrows. That piece of Cinder now abides somewhere else.”

Within an instant, Kai felt his world crumble into a thousand pieces. He hated himself for believing that it had been possible— that he could be with Cinder once more. But he was too late; he had waited too long. Now he would have to live the rest of this wretched life without her and hope to meet her in another universe.

“Do not fret, dear child,” Light chided, smoothing the hair back from his face in a motherly fashion. “For there is hope yet.”

“There is?” Kai asked.

“Yes; for while that fraction of Cinder that you know has vanished into another world, her soul still resides in other universes. You see, the soul lives thousands of lives, all in different realities. For it is not one solid being, it is an entity that never ceases to exist, and can exist in more than one place at once. The only problem being that the more time it spends in one universe, the more corrupt and destroyed it becomes. If your soul could recall other realities, you would understand of what I speak, for this was the exact circumstance under which we last met.”

Kai nodded along, pretending that he had even the faintest idea of what she was speaking of. She let out a great exasperated sigh, shaking her head. Light dropped her hand from his face and got to her feet.

“Your mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of eternity. For while you shall live forever, you will not know it. There is a block upon your soul to cause you to forget; that is why it pains man so much to try and imagine living for forever.

“But that does not matter now. For when you are dead, your soul shall endure cleansing once more and be whisked off into another life in which you shall live and love and die again. Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Kai stared blankly, completely at a loss for words.

Light looked down upon him, stars shining in her eyes. “Dear child, there is another world in which your dearest love lived with you, but you were taken from her. Her soul aches for you in the way that yours aches for hers. I have never before transferred a soul to a different reality without death occurring first, but I have also never stumbled upon the same soul twice. Yours is a soul filled with more love and loss than any other I have come to know. So upon this night I shall reunite you with your love.”

The ocean began to swirl about them once more, pulling Kai into its great depths, but this time he did not scream. Light began to rise into the air, her arms spread wide as if to cup the moon above her hair. The wind howled, twisting the coils of her black hair about her face and the crimson swathes of fabric about her body. She was a glorious arrayment of red and gold and shining light.

Above the wind, Light shouted in a tongue lost to mortals, for it was the language of the first of mankind, and it had been forgotten. The sea continued to spin around Kai, fish of every color swimming about him. He was in the eye of an oceanic tornado.

Still Light rose higher into the air, pulling her crashing waves about her as she ascended toward the moon. All that Kai could see were the many sea creatures and the luminous goddess above him, growing brighter every moment.

A high-pitched scream filled his ears, though it was not a human one. It blocked out the sound of the waves and the echoing chants of Light above him. It filled his very being as the blinding light penetrated his soul.

And just as he wondered if this would be the destruction of his very soul, everything went black.

***

Kai awoke to the roar of the ocean, and felt an instant rush of cold tear through his body. His mind flashed with the memories of calling Light to him and begging her to send him to a life in which Cinder lived. He could recall the overwhelming light that had surrounded him, and the screaming that blocked out all other thoughts as the goddess rose above him in a tornado of the sea.

He pushed himself up and stared out at the waves. It was bright— the middle of the day by his reckoning— and warm. People stood in the ocean waves wearing an odd assortment of clothes rather than bathing suits. Or at least, they weren’t the kind of bathing suits that Kai knew.

A few people stared at him with quizzical looks, though Kai couldn’t deny that he probably deserved them. He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying upon the beach, though he was almost certain it had been some time.

“Are you alright, mister?” A kid asked, looking down at Kai. His cheeks were pink from sunburn, though it wasn’t particularly hot out.

“Yeah,” Kai said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. The boy watched him warily. “Hey kid, what day is it?”

“December second,” the boy replied.

“And,” Kai scratched behind his ear. "What’s the year?”

The boy gawked at him for a moment, as if he thought Kai were either very dumb or very strange. “1912,” he said the year slowly, his slightly syrupy accent not helping. “What year did you reckon it to be?”

“I don’t know.” Kai glanced around, trying to gauge the situation. He didn’t know much about 1912. Actually, he knew nothing about it other than it was a couple years before World War I broke out. “Hey kid, where are we?”

The child, who couldn’t have been older than ten gave him an incredulous stare, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for his mother. “Savannah, sir,” he said.

“Savannah…”

“Georgia, sir,” the kid said, taking a couple steps back from Kai.

“Okay.” Kai sucked in a breath between his teeth, trying to think of what to do next. He was beginning to panic, for he did not know where to find Cinder in this different time and place. He didn’t even know if her name was Cinder, or even Selene.

“Hey kid?” Kai asked, glancing back down to talk to the boy, but he was running toward a woman glaring daggers at Kai.

Releasing a sigh, Kai walked away from the beach and toward the bustling town. People shot glares at him as he walked down the streets. He wasn’t exactly dressed in the way a normal twenty-first century guy would be, but his jeans and shredded red t-shirt didn’t fit in with the people surrounding him either. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; he had no money and no connections. He was alone in a world that did not belong to him. He couldn’t even be certain that Georgia meant the same thing to these people as it did him.

He was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was all some ridiculous dream, and whether or not he would wake up soon. But he’d thought that a lot over the past year, praying to whatever being that saw over mankind that Cinder wasn’t dead— that he wasn’t alone. That he could be with his wife once more.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it in his reality, nearly reaching her waist, and she wore a pale pink dress that fell well past her knees. But if those details were strange, it was nothing in comparison to the buggy she was pushing in front of her. Kai felt his stomach drop. Was she married to another man? Had she chosen Thorne in this reality instead of him?

Panic gripped him, but before he could run and hide in an alleyway, she glanced up and right at his face. Her eyes widened with shock, then joy, then fear. It was that last look that made his heart ache. He had known Cinder for seven years, but never had she looked at him in such a way.

She sunk to her knees, hands gripping the front of the stroller. “Kai,” she breathed, staring at him now with absolute horror. A tear traced down her cheek and fell to the concrete like a single drop of rain. The pain on her face ripped through his body— he could not stand to watch her suffer so.

He rushed to her side, kneeling down upon the ground beside her, much like Light had done with him the night before, or whenever it was that he had spoken with the goddess. She shook as he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Cinder,” he whispered, voice low. “I know that this is confusing and frightening, but I need to talk with you. I have things to explain.”

“But you’re dead,” she sobbed, turning her face away from his and shutting her eyes tight. “You didn’t make it off the ship alive. They told me you drowned. They told me you were dead. You’re dead. You’re just a figment of my imagination. You can’t be real.”

“Cinder,” Kai hushed, glancing around them. There were people walking past them, staring with curious eyes, but none of them looked nervous for Cinder’s sake. “Cinder, I know that I’m dead here. And I know that my explanation for my being here might not make any sense, but I need to speak with you in private. I can explain everything. I will explain everything. I just need for us to go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

She opened her eyes and the look of absolute shame in her eyes caused his heart to stop. Tears traced down her cheeks in abundance; Kai had never known Cinder to cry in such a way. He worried that she would say no— that she had moved on. That his coming here was a burden upon her. But slowly, she nodded her head.

***

They went to a park just down the street from the beach. It was run-down, with a sad swing set of splintering seats and an abandoned jungle gym. There were no children around, or even any people for that matter, a fact that Kai found almost strange. Though at his inquisitive look, Cinder simply looked away from him.

She led him to a park table that sat somewhat lopsided but was sturdy all the same. She parked the buggy beside her, drawing the cover up so it shielded whatever was inside.

Kai took a seat across from her, bouncing his legs with nerves as he watched her and she looked away. He didn’t understand why she was acting in such a way. He hadn’t had much time to think of how he expected her to react to him appearing to her out of nowhere, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Confusion, yes. But this show of shame was frightening.

“Cinder,” Kai said, tilting his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Cinder, what’s the matter?”

She inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath. Then finally, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy. But despite the remorse coloring her features, she was still his Cinder. She was the girl that he had met at ASU his Junior year in college. She was the girl he had fallen in love with.

“They told me that you died,” she whispered. “I-I–”

“Alright,” Kai cut in, not wanting her to believe that she had insulted his memory in any way. After all, he was dead in this reality. He did not wish for her to believe that anything she had done after his death was wrong. “Sorry, love, I really don’t mean to cause you any harm. I just– I don’t know how to explain what I’m about to tell you.” Somehow his words came out slow and calm, though he felt rather as if he were about to explode. “But I need to tell you something, and I only ask that you listen to the entirety of my story because it might sound somewhat preposterous.”

She nodded her head slowly, tears wiping at her eyes.

Kai told their story, starting from the day he had met her back when she still lived with her step-sister. He explained that he had loved her for five years in silence before finally proclaiming his love for her when she’d explained that she’d never been in love before. He told her how they had gotten married only three months later and lived two years together happily before she’d died in a dreadful car accident.

She listened silently, her tears drying and her eyes hardening and he explained how Thorne had been in love with her and how Kai had gotten into a fight with both him and her father. She never once interrupted him, even as he explained his months of mourning, then his months of searching for a way to conjure one of the sisters of life and death.

It was only when he told her of how Light had appeared to him on the beach and brought him to her world through an oceanic tornado filled with moonlight that she chose to interrupt.

“What?” She hissed, tilting her head at him in that I-don’t-believe-a-single-word-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of a way. If she had been the Cinder of his universe, he knew that she would have asked him how high he was.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Kai said, “but you have to believe me. I know that I don’t belong here— that I’m not meant to live in this world. But before you died you told me that you believe in soulmates. That you thought that every person had another half. You told me when we got together that you could feel that it was right— that it was a whisper in your ear that it was me. And I didn’t believe in soulmates then, but I do now. My soul loves your soul. It has loved it in universes that I don’t even know of, but it adored you all the same. My love for you will never die, no matter how many times I die myself. You are the only one that I will ever love. I cannot help it. My soul cannot think to love another so long as it knows you.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Cinder whispered, her guards coming down. “Even if you were from another universe and you loved me there, I assure you that you would not care for me in this one. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

“Did you kill me?” Kai asked, half curious and half terrified.

Cinder let out a slight, hiccupping laugh. Kai did not feel at ease.

“Cinder,” Kai said, growing serious once more. “I don’t know what happened here— what happened to me— but I know that no matter where we are in the space-time continuum, my soul will always love yours. But if you wish me to leave you, I will.” His mouth went dry with the words, but he meant them. No matter how much it hurt to be parted from her, he would do what she asked of him.

“I’m married,” Cinder blurted out. “After you died, I married Carswell. We were engaged to be married before I eloped with you in London, but when I came back and you were dead, Kingsley thought that it would be the best option. That it would be better for everyone, especially the–”

She buried her face in her hands, but all Kai could think of was that she had married Carswell Thorne— her best friend in his world. The one who had told her that he was in love with her the day that she died. The Carswell that had fought with him at Scarlet and Wolf’s house. His blood boiled with rage, though not with Cinder. She had done what she had to to survive. But Thorne— he would have gladly hit him again.

Kai sucked in a breath and returned his thoughts to the more pressing matters. He had no clue what had happened to him in this life. For all he knew, Carswell Thorne had killed him and forced Cinder to be his bride. Maybe that’s how things had worked back then. Kai was no history major, but he knew that honor was often important to people. Perhaps there had even been a duel.

“What happened to me?” Kai asked, his voice soft. “How did I die in this life?”

Cinder drew her hands down from her face, but kept her eyes averted from him as she said, “You drowned. We were on the Titanic–”

“The Titanic?” Kai interjected, with a gasp. “Like Jack and Rose?”

“I– I don’t know,” Cinder said, furrowing her brow. “But we were sailing home and the ship– the ship sank. You forced me onto a lifeboat even though I said I wanted to stay with you.” She glared at him. “And you went down with the ship. You drowned. Or froze. I do not know, I wasn’t there with you when you passed from this life and onto the next. But you left me.”

“Oh,” Kai whispered. His body deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry,” Cinder sneered, then she shook her head. “No. No, you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. You saved me. And you saved–” She shut her eyes again, then finally reached out toward the buggy and pulled back the top to uncover what lay inside.

Oh course Kai knew what strollers were for, but before that moment he hadn’t really considered that there would be a child inside— at the very least, not her child. His child.

But it was his child. He could tell just by looking at the small infant that he was both Cinder and Kai mixed together. He was still young, but no longer a newborn. Great black tufts of hair rested on his head, and when he opened his eyes— Kai let out a gasp. They were exactly his own.

Cinder rocked the child back and forth, running his finger over its face in a soft, motherly way that made Kai’s very soul ache. They’d had a child together, and Kai hadn’t gotten to be there. It didn’t even particularly matter to him that it wasn’t exactly his child. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for Cinder or their baby. He had abandoned them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kai blurted, devastation seeming to carve his heart out of his body. “Cinder,” Kai sobbed, his eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I– I did abandon you. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Shhh,” Cinder hushed, reaching a hand across the table and laying it over Kai’s. She looked startled. “Kai–” she started, then shook her head. “Kai, I’m mad at you, or him, or– I don’t even know. I’m mad that you saved me when you didn’t save yourself. But I will never be mad that you saved him.”

Kai stared down at her hand on his and saw the tracery of an old burn. It wasn’t as severe as the one she had had in his universe, but it was still there.

Cinder seemed to realize herself and pulled back. She bit her lip and stared down at the baby, brow furrowed.

“I named him after you,” she whispered after a time.

Kai opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“Kaito Rikan Prince,” Cinder continued, not looking at him. “I just– I saw him, and I knew who he was. It didn’t matter that my mother thought that he should have my grandfather’s name or that Kingsley thought he should be named after himself.” She made a face at that. “I knew that he should have the name of his father and his grandfather because they had helped to save his life.

“But now that you’re here, I– I don’t really know if that fits. It would be confusing to have two Kai’s around. But Rikan— I don’t know. I think that perhaps he could be a Rikan.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai breathed, still reeling.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I still don’t understand everything that happened, and in all honesty, I don’t believe you understand it all either.”

“But,” Cinder continued, closing one eye as if she were cringing at herself. “I know that every night for the past eight months I have cried for the pain of missing you so. I know that you have never left my thoughts for even an instant, both in waking and in sleep. I know that my soul loves yours, and while I do not know how long it has cared for you, I know that it always will.

“I know you’re not the you that I knew, but you also are. You’re my Kai, and not just because you look and sound like him. You watch me with that same careful way, and your laugh is the same. And strangest of all, you calm my very soul. It’s as if it knows that it’s you.

“I don’t know if you still want me,” Cinder swallowed, “after all that I’ve done. But please believe me when I say that I do not love Carswell— he is my dear friend and nothing more— and he does not love me in return. Not in this life.” She looked down at her child— their child— and smiled wistfully. “But if you do still wish to be with me, if your heart can still love me in spite of my most grievous offenses, then I will run away with you once more.” She grinned at this, the way one did when a happy memory was stirred in their conscience.

“You… You want me?” Kai asked, breathless.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I will always want you, Kai. No matter the time or place, I will always desire you to be by my side. Always.”

Kai watched her, his eyes searching hers for any falsities; he found none. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

They were staring at one another, eyes that had not gazed upon the other in far too long. They were poisoned souls standing before their long sought-after cure. But now that they had found one another, neither knew what to do.

Hesitantly, Kai stood and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat close enough to touch her, though he did not. He simply stared at her, wordlessly, and she stared back.

“Kai,” Cinder whispered, breathless. She still held the infant in her arms, but he had fallen fast asleep. “Kai, I–”

“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in close to her. They were both inclining toward the other, as if through a magnetic pull. He could feel her breath as their faces rested inches apart. Neither moved in, both too scared of what would happen next.

Then Cinder muttered his name, and Kai closed the gap between them.

She let out a little gasp, as if surprised. But she kissed him back, and it was as if she had never left him— as if the past year had not happened, and they had been together all the while. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing back stray strands of hair.

They broke apart, both flushed but smiling all the same. Kai couldn’t stop staring at her, and reveling in the fact that he had found her. They were together once more. She wanted him.

After a time of shared smiles and conversations about the other’s universe, Cinder asked Kai if he wanted to hold the child, and he accepted happily. And when the baby rested in his arms, tears slipped from his eyes as love overtook his soul. He’d thought about him and Cinder having kids many times during their marriage, though they’d never quite been ready for it. It didn’t even matter that this child belonged to the Kai of this world and not to him— he loved him all the same.

They made plans for what they would do— how they would leave this place and start a new life together. Cinder would pack her belongings and they would take a train to the west. She had all her money from her dowry, and the Prince estates had been left in her name after the deaths of both Prince men.

When they parted, it was a sweet farewell, filled with promises to see the other soon, for they would never abandon the other again.

***

Kai leaned back into the couch, careful not to disturb baby Rikan as he slept. He adored the feeling of holding the small child in his arms and his small stirrings in his sleep. Even the little sounds he made caused for his heart to melt.

“Hey Kai,” Cinder called, walking into the room. He shushed her, nodding his head down toward the sleeping baby, though there wasn’t much worry. Rikan was a heavy sleeper. “Oh, sorry, Ri,” she whispered, tip-toeing over to the pair of them and settling herself down beside Kai.

She grabbed a quilt from beside the couch and laid it over hers and Kai’s laps. Then she settled her head on Kai’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to rest under Kai’s, smiling as she looked down at their baby.

They had left Georgia the same day that they had met one another there, randomly deciding to take the train to Colorado. It had been a somewhat frightening journey, with both of them worrying whether or not someone would come after them, but so far, no one had. They’d been settled into their apartment for over three weeks, happy and together at last.

There were still many things that they both didn’t understand, about one another and the situation. But at the end of the day, they were Cinder and Kai— even if Cinder was still confused about the fact that Kai’s last name was Crown and not Prince, though she did claim it was growing on her.

“I love this,” Cinder said, brushing the black tufts of Rikan’s hair. “It feels right, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“For so long I felt a dreadful emptiness within me, and while there’s still a sadness for what I’ve lost, it's not as great. It’s manageable.”

“I know what you mean.” Kai kissed the top of her head. “We’re different, but the same at the same time. It’s different, but it’s also… just us. We’re still us.”

“We’re still us,” Cinder echoed, letting out a sigh.

There were so many things in Kai’s life that didn’t make sense, but it had been that way even before he’d entered into an alternate universe. He hadn’t understood why Thorne had proclaimed his love for Cinder, or why Chandler Blackburn hadn’t been able to love his daughter. Even his own crushing grief had been confusing at times. And while this world was different in customs and manners and the ways in which society functioned, none of that mattered. For so long as he was with Cinder, all of it was okay.

“I love you,” Kai whispered.

“And I love you,” Cinder said. “And I’ll love you so long as my soul survives, for you’re the only one, Kai. You’re the only one I shall ever truly love.”

“And you are the only one for me as well.” Kai grinned. “And I will love you for forever and ever. No,"  Kai said, his eyes searching hers and seeing only Cinder. "I will love you until forever ends.”

[star-sky-earth]

I absolutely love your headcanons, so I wonder what’s your take on a bellarke kiss on the show? Who would initiate it? Would it be soft and loving or hard and all consuming?

okay so i have a LOT of thoughts about this, some of which are controversial, so this might will get long. but i figure you’ve signed up for this, so...

i have so many ideas about a bellarke first kiss on the show, and how it would happen/what it would be like.

although in general i’m not a big fan of the season 5 time jump, i do love the fact that gives us so many versions of bellamy and clarke to play with, and so many delicious dynamics for a writer to explore. one of the reasons that i love bellarke so much (and will continue to love bellarke, you will have to pry this otp from my cold dead hands) is how their dynamic deepens and softens over the course of the show. a bellarke first kiss in s1 would be entirely different from a first kiss in s4, and completely different again from a first kiss in the later seasons. it’s amazing really, that we got such rich character and relationship development in a cw show, and i think that’s because it came about almost entirely accidentally, with very little conscious input from JRoth.

anyway, now i have that rant over with...i like to imagine two or three different bellarke first kiss scenarios.

i said this was gonna get long.

Bellarke S1 kiss

the classic. the original. the good stuff on AO3. stupid murder babies who LOVE each other so much and HATE each other even more. they’re both an explosive mix of vulnerability and bravado which means that neither of them are willing to give even a single inch in an argument, to let their guard down the tiniest bit in case the whole damn facade crumbles away.

this first kiss would be a hot mess. they’re arguing about supplies, or guns, or something entirely inconsequential like bellamy playing truth or dare with the deilnquents (’you could have died eating that mushroom bellamy, this isn’t funny’). clarke initiates it, because we all know that bellamy ‘i’m so smooth that I had a threesome on my first night on earth’ blake is basically a fumbling idiot around her. they’re arguing, and getting way too close to each other, and clarke is doing that thing where she’s jabbing her finger into his chest and bellamy totally isn’t turned on okay. bellamy is smirking at her, watching her rant and rave, and eventually she just throws her hands up in the air and groans in frustration, and then grabs him by that stupid jacket and drags him in for a kiss. it’s rough and hard and a lot of furniture gets broken, although if you’re paying attention you’ll notice that bellamy talks a big game but actually handles clarke like she’s made of glass. those big hands can be surprisingly gentle when they need to be.

time for my first unpopular opinion: if bellamy and clarke had gotten together in season one, their relationship would have flamed out almost immediately. they’re not ready for each other yet. they’re raw and unpredictable and burning way too hot, and they don’t know who they are as individuals, let alone as a couple. a first kiss in season one would have led to two broken hearts and a hell of a lot of regret. as a writer, i kind of love this idea though. a classic example of ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’, where bellarke get together in season one, break up, and then pine for each other over the next few years until they get back together again, older and wiser.

Bellarke S4 kiss

the romance. the sweeping music, the building crescendo, the tragedy. the facade has fallen, they’re both broken and bleeding and on their knees by the end of season 4, and they love each other but it hurts too much even to admit it. to think about it, this fragile thing that they’ve built together against all odds, something so precious that they don’t dare even acknowledge it, in case it gets taken away from them too. they’re in mourning, both of them, and every inhale is ragged like they’re breathing through broken glass.

this is the real doomed lovers shit. its five minutes to praimfaya, the end is here, and it’s the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong damn everything. they’re standing there, holding each other so tight that neither of them can breathe, bellamy’s hand so tight in clarke’s hair that her scalp is stinging, and her face is wet with tears when she looks up at him. bellamy is the one that closes the distance between them, finally.

they’re at the end, and he has nothing left to give her - no hope, no courage, no empty words of reassurance - but himself.

so that’s what he gives. 

this kiss tastes like salt, and ash, and blood. the fires will come, and the world will end, but before it does - they will sear themselves into each other’s bones, a mark that cannot be washed away, names written into each other’s souls in gold ink that cannot fade. this is what they will remember, later, him in the bleak coldness of space and her on the devastated and scorched earth. this is the empty space that echoes, the trembling note that holds, the love that remains.

Bellarke S6/post-season 6 kiss

the real real. the aching vulnerability, the tenderness, the softness. my personal favourite.

season 7 doesn’t exist, okay.

they’ve loved, and lost. and loved, and lost again, over and over. they’ve fought wars, and commanded armies, raised children and discovered new worlds, and somewhere in the middle of it all, almost by accident, they’ve become the people that they were always meant to be. they’ve healed, they’ve learned, they’ve taken all the jagged shattered glass pieces of themselves and put themselves back together with bleeding hands.

there’s time now. time they never thought - never dared to hope - they’d have. time to live. time to build homes, to plant crops, to dance and sing and laugh and cry, to shout both their joy and their grief to the uncaring heavens.

time to savour this thing between them, the sharp sweetness of it, like ripe peaches, the red berries the children gather in spring. they’re older, and far older than they look, but their hands shake like clumsy teenagers when they reach for each other, that first time. there is nothing unexpected about this, the slow and graceful gravity of two twin souls drawing together, but that doesn’t stop their hearts from fluttering in their chests, their breath from stuttering in their lungs. this love is strong and battle-worn, yet they hold it like something fragile, fingers lightly clasped together so as not to crush its feathered wings.

and this is my unpopular opinion two: part of me is glad that bellamy and clarke never got together on the show. don’t get me wrong. of course, i would still trade my pinky toe to see a bellarke kiss for purely scientific reasons. but once we got past season five, and i saw how sweet and complex a bellamy and clarke relationship had the potential to be, i simply didn’t trust JRoth to do it justice anymore. i hate season seven, and i hate the way that the show ended, but i’m happy with bellarke remaining purely in the realm of fanfiction, where i know the writers love it just as much as i do.

[meteor-sword]

im in a lit class and the first discussion post was defining what literature means and in my response i specify that spoken histories and spoken myths are also literature and some dude was like naw spoken stuff isn't literature like?????? honey how many civilizations were built on the spoken word???? and your take away is that if its not written it doesn't count????? im boutta go apeshit

there’s this funny little sidestep that english has built in for things like "literature” and “history,” where it will prescribe writing as the Way Things Should Be Done/Preserved. idk much about literature tbqh but i do know a bit more about history (archaeology major coming in clutch on my animated kid’s show blog) 

what’s historical? well, whatever’s written down from the past. And what’s not written? that’s prehistorical. so you have this hilarious thing that happens where people who didn’t have writing 300 years ago are put in the same part of the “history” textbook as like.... neanderthals and summarized in a short intro chapter. and then the greeks get the next chapter all to themselves. wild how that just HAPPENS to favor a certain idea, right? and obviously it’s not biased bc “nothing happened” if nothing could be written down, since uh um uh you can’t verify what’s not written down (crazy that archaeology largely supports oral histories right?) 

when we over-rely on written history we get ideas like Rome salting the earth of Carthage, which did not happen. but obviously Aboriginal Australian oral tradition (and dances, which preserve history, traditions and myths! ty @ordinaryfruitpunch <3) going back 60,000 years, or Makah and other coastal traditions from the PNW accurately retelling thousands of years of geological history are lesser than uhhhhh. the Aeneid or whatever. 

but also defining literature only as written fiction is boring as fuck. is this a college class? here should be your response: “damn bro go back to 10th grade [obvs adjust this to your age if you’re in hs...] with that written only shit. that’s just arbitrary bc then is homer literature? it was originally spoken. at what point in a story or tradition’s life must it be written down before it’s not considered potential literature? is snorri sturluson’s poetic edda literature or nah, since he probably wrote down stories he heard? if homer and snorri ARE literature, are you ready to admit that their common denominator are just being..... european???” youre welcome your teach is gonna think ur bomb as shit. the response must start with damn bro. can you tell i was really fun to be classmates with 

[thefloatingstone]

If you’re doing Self Quarintine (and you should be if you can help it) here’s some Youtube recommendations! Some of these I have posted about or recommended before but with almost all of us stuck indoors now’s a good time to remind you of some cool things you can watch for free!

I’m not gonna imbed the videos, I’ll just post the link because otherwise I would only able to post 5 and I want to collect a few so you can make a playlist or something. (I could make a playlist too but then I couldn’t tell you what each video is and you can’t pick and choose which one sounds interesting to you)

In no particular order:

Polybius: The video Game that doesn’t exist

An hour long documentary in which the youtuber did extensive research to find the origin of the “Polybius” Urban Legend, which speaks of an early arcade game reportedly seen around the early 1980s which reportedly gave people migraines, insomnia, nausea, subliminal messages, and in some cases heart attacks.

The Universal S

A shorter video in which LEMMiNO does his very best to try and track down where exactly this S that we all drew in middle school comes from? Why does literally every country on earth seem to HAVE their children draw this S?

I also recommend LEMMiNO’s video on the Dayltov Pass Incident and the perplexing UFO cases

Down the Rabbit Hole: Henry Darger

Fredrick Knudsen has an incredible fascinating series called “Down the Rabbit Hole” which simply focuses on... anything you can discover and go digging into. From weird internet personalities, to bizarre happenings in history. This video is about the artist Henry Darger, a man who lived in the early 1900s and for all intents and purposes had a perfectly average, lonely life, until it was discovered just before his death he had spent literally decades writing and drawing a fantasy world in what is possibly the longest piece of literature ever written.

I also recommend his video on the Hurdy Gurdy

Bedtime Stories Channel

I’m actually just gonna link the whole channel for “Bedtime Stories”. If you like weird and creepy stories, all of which at least claim to be “true” then Bedtime Stories is great. Coupled by illustrations and subtle sound effects, Bedtime Stories is literally listening to someone tell you a story about such things like hikers who mysteriously went missing, Sightings of Bog Men in Florida and giant Birds over Chernobyl, as well as weird and unsettling murders that remain unsolved. Sometimes the facts are a little dubious or have been disproved, but that’s not the point of the channel. It’s here to tell a creepy story, not give you a documentary.

A Journey Through Rule of Rose

Rule of Rose is a Survival Horror gave for the PS2 which has rather bad gameplay... but a FASCINATING story with just as many layers and symbolism as Silent Hill 2 could boast. It tells the story of one young woman traveling back into her own childhood in an orphanage in the 1930s, and all the horrors that contains. From repressed grief, abusive relationships, child neglect, abuse, and bullying... but it ALSO contains symbolism of societal class structure, politics, eating the rich, and how power structures work. Not for the faint of heart, but HIGHLY recommended.

I also super highly recommend his video on the similarities between Silent Hill 2 and Solaris

Clemps Reviews Crisis Core

Mr. Clemps is a great internet gamer who reviews JRPGs and other games he simply enjoys. Sprinkling in a heavy dose of comedy and very fast jokes and observations, Clemps’ videos are always upbeat, fun, and incredibly enjoyable to watch. I’m linking part 1 of his Crisis Core video in which he explains why the PSP game remains a personal favourite of his despite its flaws.

I also recommend his video on Eternal Sonata

Defunct TV: The History of Dragon Tales

Defunctland is a channel that deals with theme parks and theme park rides that are no longer standing, or which are no longer around in their current form. Defunctland also has a sub series though, called “Defunct TV” where they look at the origin of children’s TV which are no longer airing. I recommend the video on Dragon Tales which is incredibly wholesome, and a genuinely uplifting and soft story of good people trying to make good things for children. (I also recommend the videos on Bear in the Big Blue House, Zoboomafoo, and Legends of the Hidden Temple)

Hagan’s Histories of Polar Exploration

A Playlist for Diamanda Hagan’s videos about the doomed Franklin Expedition from the late 1800s, where England tried to find a passage through the Northern Arctic to the Pacific Ocean. This went horribly horribly wrong, with every member of the Expedition dead. Over a 100 years later we are still fuzzy on what EXACTLY happened, but apart from the arctic chill, there is also evidence of faulty canned food, a series of bad decisions, and cannibalism. Caution advised for this series.

I also recommend the rest of Diamanda Hagan’s channel. She is NOT for everyone, but if you enjoy somebody reviewing Z grade indie movies as well as just BIZARRE films, really bad Christian media bordering on Science Fiction (without making fun of religion itself) hot takes of classic (and modern) Dr. Who, an introduction to Red Dwarf, She’s an EXCELLENT channel to check out.

Good Bad or Bad Bad: Pass Thru

A half podcast half review show where two guys watch a terrible film, decide if it’s “Good” Bad or just Bad Bad and tell you if you should watch it too.

That’s it. That’s the whole show.

I recommend diving into the untold madness that is one of the best(?) bad film makers currently still producing batshit insane movies, the immortal Niel Breen.

There is literally nothing I can say that’ll prepare you for Niel Breen.

(I also recommend their more recent video for “Dancin’ It’s on!”)

History Buffs: Apollo 13

Do you like History? Do you like movies ABOUT History? Do you want to know if the movies about history you watch actually resemble what really happened in any way at all? History Buffs is an EXCELLENT channel, which does talk about the merit of a film itself, but is mainly focused on letting you know just how true to life that historical film you watch is. I highly recommend his longest video which covers the space race between the USA and the USSR, leading to what is known as “The most Successful Failure in NASA’s History”. The Infamous Apollo 13 and where the words “Houston, we have a problem” came from.

If you’re not interested in Apollo 13 however, I also recommend his video on the movie Casino, as well as his video on the female philosopher, Agora.

The Internet Historian: The Goodening of No Man’s Sky

With videos with literally MILLIONS of views, you probably already know the Internet Historian. But I still want to recommend him very highly because his videos are just THAT good and entertaining. I recommend his newest video, documenting that time we were all pissed off about No Man’s Sky, the difficulties the game studio was in when the game released, and how they have been working hard to finally create what is now a truly brilliant game which is winning major awards. A really good underdog story of how a video game company actually saw what was wrong with their game, and FIXED it.

I also recommend his video on Fallour 76 as well as the Failure of Dashcon

8 Creepy Video game mysteries

Hey. Did you know that sometimes there’s some REALLY weird shit in video games, hidden easter eggs which took literal decades to find as well as just a lot of “what the actual fuck?”. Oddheader is a channel with a dedicated discord and Reddit form solely focusing on trying to find or replicate bizarre video game finds, mysteries, and hidden glitches. Even if it means getting in his car and driving to a specific arcade just to check a rumour about Street Fighter II’s arcade version. So if you like getting spooked by weird game shit that’s not just some dumb creepypasta, this is a great place to start.

I also recommend his video on weird discoveries in DVDs and movies.

Red Letter Media: Best of the Worst

Look you already know who Red Letter Media is.

You know... these guys:

Here’s a video of them and Macaulay Culkin watching 3 terrible movies together.

I recommend literally any and all of their videos. Their discussion on Carpenter’s The Thing is amazing.

The Impact of Akira: The film that changed Everything

Ok trying to pick just ONE Super Eyepatch Wolf video is literal torture. Originally I was going to suggest his recent video on Final Fantasy 7 for the PSone but I realised I recommended something FF7 related with Clemps, so instead I will recommend The Impact of Akira, a video talking in depth about Akira both as a film as well as a manga, how it completely and utterly changed the anime industry both in Japan as well as the west, and why it is still a meaningful and one of the most important anime/manga even to this day, still being unsurpassed despite so much competition.

However, ALL of Wolf’s videos are incredible, so I also recommend his videos on wrestling (despite me not caring about wrestling at all), His video on how media scares us, The bizarre reality of modern Simpsons, Why the Dragon Ball Z manga is great, and literally any other video he’s made. He hasn’t made one bad video yet.

Was Oblivion as Good as I remember?

Exactly what it says on the tin. The Salt Factory goes back to playing The Elder Scrolls Oblivion and now with hindsight and modern sensibilities, gives feedback on his experience and whether Oblivion still holds up. This isn’t a super in depth review of the game’s mechanics or how its put together or how it was made. This is simply one guy talking about his experience replaying it with somejokes thrown in and how he felt revisiting it. It’s pretty good.

I also recommend the video he did on Morrowind (because I’m biased).

Weird Japan Only PS1 games

Thor High Heels is SO GOOD and deserves SO MUCH MORE subs than he currently has. THH focuses a lot of obscure and lesser known games as well as big popular titles like the Yakuza series, talking about what he likes about them, what he thinks is cool, and just what kind of atmosphere and mood a certain game has, even if the game itself is kind of ass. He’s done several videos on games that were only released in Japan, as well as videos talking about the fashion in Squaresoft games and how it inspired as well as was inspired by real world street fashion, the aesthetic of PC-98 games and other topics. He also styles his videos and thumbnails after promotional art for video games from the 90s and generally just has an excellent style to his channel over all. Very chill.

Blue Reflection Review

ValkyrieAurora is a channel run by Sophie where she talks about games she personally likes and enjoys. Her videos are really laid back and her voice is really calm and pleasant to listen to. She’s made a bit of a reputation for herself as “The channel that talks about the Atelier Games” and general is just a really enjoyable channel worth checking out if you just want something soothing to listen to.

Ancient Chinese Historians Describe Japan

Voices from the Past is a channel were historical text is read out loud in english. These can be anything like the above video where Chinese historians describe the people of Japan around 297 AD, Accounts of “Dog-Men”, or the worlds oldest letter of complaint from 1750 BC. If you’d like something interesting historically to listen to but don’t want a full blown history lesson, this is a really good way to hear contemporary people talk about their experiences and what they thought about each other in their own words, without opinions or input given by the narrator.

The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet

Whang! is a channel that covers weird internet stories, some horrifying, some curious and interesting, and some just plain weird. His video on The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet and its update, are about a song which was recorded off the radio in Germany around the 1980s, and after one person online asked if anyone knew who the artist was as they couldn’t find any information, led to the realization that NOBODY online knows where this song came from or who sang it. It’s a fun mystery to look into that, unlike some others on this list, is not creepy or unsettling, although perhaps a little frustrating.

I also recommend his video on The Most Mysterious Anime theme song, and the haunted Ebay Painting.

5 Lost, Destroyed, and Locked away Broadcasts

Yesterworld is similar to the Defunctland channel in that it talks about obsolete rides, theme parks and other forgotten pieces of entertainment. Although the majority of the channel focuses on movie rides, rollercoasters and Disneyland, I recommend the video on lost and locked away broadcasts which you can no longer see. I also recommend the video about Lost and Rediscovered movie props.

The Nightmare Artist

I talked about this one recently as I just discovered this channel. This video is about the renowned Polish artist Zdzislaw Beksinski who painted surreal and horrifying paintings during his lifetime. There is no mystery here or anything like that, it merely talks about the impact WWII left on Beksinski and how the trauma his country and people suffered influenced his painting, and how certain images and motifs can be seen to directly reference this terrible part of Poland’s history.

Disabilities in Prehistory

Modern media likes to portray how “savage” the ancient past is, and tell us stories of how any person born with a deformity or disability would be thrown over a cliff or dumped in a well because they would be too big a drain on a community to look after. But here’s the thing... according to archaeological evidence, it turns out our ancient ancestors actually did their best to look after its disabled members to the best of their abilities. This video talks about archaeological finds of people who had genetic disabilities and what we can learn from their remains. TREY the Explainer is a great channel for archaeology and also talking about what answers we could have for sightings of cryptids. (not ALL of which we have answers for)

I also recommend his video on Pre-Contact dogs as well as Homosexuality in Nature and the Genetic History of the Ainu.

Decoding “The Secret: A treasure Hunt”

“The Secret” was an art book released in the 80s full of beautiful paintings, but it is also more than that. The book has a fantasy story talking about 12 fantastical races who left wonderful treasures for humans to find,and the book’s paintings and riddles will tell you where you can find each of these treasures which are yours to keep if you can solve the puzzle... and the treasures are 100% true and can actualy be found and claimed, if you can solve the riddles in the book. The video tells the story of the artbook, who was behind it, what the treasures are, how many have been found and various other facts and details.

I also recommend the videos on this channel “The Game: A scavenger Hunt” and “The investigation of Erratas”.

5 Ancient Inventions That Were WAY Ahead Of Their Time

I would recommend you be careful with this channel as its main focus is existentialism and rather alarming topics such as “how close are we to the apocalypse” and other things whose titles alone are enough to upset me. However this video is nothing like that. This video is exactly what the title suggests it is. 5 ancient inventions that were so incredibly ahead of their time you’d think they were made up. From the computer used by ancient Greeks to steel swords we don’t know how to replicate, this video is a great mix of mystery and history.

Although I caution you with this channel, I recommend Joe’s other videos about mysterious books, as well as his video on the most inbred people in history.

However, I know I keep repeating this, I highly recommend caution with this channel. Perhaps its just me and the topics of life and existent are just triggering for me, but I’d recommend maybe just doing a search for the titles I mentioned and not to go searching through the video library unless you’re not bothered by this kind of thing.

-

Anyway I could keep going, but I think that’s a LARGE amount of videos to keep you occupied for the time being as well as some suggestions for further viewing.

Please enjoy, let me know if you found something interesting, and look after yourself!

If you enjoyed this list at all, please consider tipping me for a coffee

☕️ Ko-fi ☕️

[unusually-omegaverse]

200 Follower Event!

Hello! I recently hit 200 followers which I'm super excited about! I wanted to do a small event to mark the occasion.

I'm not an artist or anything so I was wondering what to do for a bit. I've always believed and encouraged that writing just little snippets of stories or ideas is a wonderful exercise in creativity, we can often get stuck on the idea that everything we write has to be some big great Thing. Stuck on a story? Try writing a little au for your original content where something is just a little different.

So to practice, encourage others, and help people see a little tidbit of whatever a/b/o thing they want I'll be doing 200-500 word drabbles on request for the next 7 days!

They may not all come out within the week but I will do my best to work on them. There are just a couple rules

No fandom- I may not like the fandom or know it.

Nothing sexual- maybe an allusion to a past hookup or something flirty but theres only 500 words

No p*dophilia- two kids out on a date? Fine. Adult with child? No.

Besides that it's pretty open! Just tell me a little bit about u want? Some angst, some comfort? A/O, B/O, poly? Medieval, futuristic sci fi? Dystopian? World weary salt of the earth detective and the new single mom? Super nice but oblivious omega and possessive beta?

Maybe I wont get requests but I also just wanted to say thank you for 200 followers and enjoying some of the things I post and reblog!

[gryphonablaze]

hello and welcome to gryphon’s crackshit crossover corner

I’ve already talked about my theory that httyd is set in the very distant, post-apocalyptic future. that theory was originally inspired by ‘what if httyd and horizon zero dawn crossover?’ My brain said things and for some fuckforsaken reason I listened. 

TL:DR I can smash together a crossover of so many different fandoms and media. It’s stupid. I’m crazy. I love it. This is what ADHD makes me think about when I zone out 

Anyway, first thing; the portal games could cross over with virtually anything. Portal-lands (borderlands). Portal age of wonderbeasts. How to Portal Your Dragon. Portal and the Princesses of Power. Portal: Zero Dawn. Portalverwatch. Portales of Arcadia. Fuck, if I really wanted, I could make the portal series crossover with Star Wars. This is because the time gap between portal one and two is spectacularly, deliciously difficult to pinpoint. If I shuffle it around, I could align the times during which action and dramatic events occur to line up with Chell finally escaping the facility. She walks through the wheat field and immediately encounters a megabunny, or a herd of grazers and striders. Or she trips on a rusted null sector carcass. Or her first night on the surface she’s staring at the moon and the star-filled sky, until she hears a slowly mounting screech and a flash of lightning. Or after a couple days she encounters a migration of creatures with stone skin, because they’re going to New Jersey and wanted to stop in Michigan to visit the great lakes, I guess. Or a couple weeks in to her new life, there’s a bright flash in the sky, and now she’s glowing? And has weird glowing tattoos on her arm? And can set things on fire? Or a year or two after she escapes, a spaceship? touches down? and out comes a catgirl, a lady with prehensile hair, a weird tall white guy, but not, like, a typical white guy, his skin is literally snow white, and someone who appears to be (???) normally human????? With portal, anything is possible. Bonus points that technically any and all fanfiction, AUs, the like etc. of portal are canon, thanks to cave literally reaching through the multiverse, thereby making all of those alternative realities possible. 

So if I wanted, I could stick portal in anything. Like how salt can be used in virtually every cuisine. 

But oh, my dear brain did not stop there. This is a crackshit crossover corner, after all.  If I fuck around enough, I could frankenstein together almost all of these. The events in HZD take place approximately one thousand years after the apocalypse, which occurred mid-2000s. As in 2050s-60s, not 2005. Kipo Age of Wonderbeasts takes place about 200 years after their mutepocalypse (also it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that ‘mute’ was shortened from ‘mutants’ and has nothing to do with their ability to speak), and we’re not sure when that happened. We could hazard a guess that Gaia was able to rebuild the world and some of humanity after Faro’s fuckup, but maybe went a liiiiiiiittle too far with the Artemis sub-probgram, and the mutepocalypse happens almost immediately. Oopsies. World goes on for 200 years post mutepocalypse, events of the series of Kipo Age of Wonderbeasts occur. Anknown amount of years later Hades decide’s that’s enough and wipes Gaia’s slate clean for her to start over again. She gives it another shot, but this time limits the amount of historical information that she gave to the humans that she released. Might’ve been a bit inaccurate, because do you know just how much human media insisted that vikings had horned helmets? (Could also explain why somehow Tuffnut knows some spanish). Whatever. This time she tries dragons. Things are actually going pretty well for a couple hundred years, Gaia always thought the ancient mythological tales of winged fire-breathers were cool, why not try it out? Until--are you kidding? The dragons disappear to hide underground? From the humans? Seriously? Wow. Wooooow. All that effort, wasted. Hades decides it’s time to try again. This time? Screw it. Robot megafauna. Hades can’t eat that. Around half a millenia later, Hades gains sentience, goes about trying to commit genocide, events of the HZD game occur. For fanfic funsies, Chell could wake up literally any time in there, because why not add another layer? These all coexist in the same space-time. Same universe, same timeline, but unfortunately not at the same time. Oof. -----> This crackshit combines Horizon Zero Dawn, Kipo Age of Wonderbeasts, and How to Train Your Dragon. (*portal optional)

Or how about somehow, some way, the whole prehistoric ‘peopling of the earth’ (deadass the name of a textbook chapter) was more like accidental colonization of the earth? The rest of the six galaxies moved on and kind of forgot about them, so Borderlands doesn’t necessarily have to be in the distant future of earth’s timeline. Some millenia ago, the Destroyer was going around, doing its thing. The Eridians didn’t like that, so they found a planet with natural capabilities they could take advantage of, asked some sirens for help, and turned it into a superweapon. After all, as typhon says, most Eridian things run on crystals. And sirens’ powers are often elemental--who’s to say the runestones on Etheria aren’t their collaborative work? Along the way they probably make an enemy because of course they do, so why not give the Heart a test run @ Horde Prime? Until Mara rebels, and yeets Etheria and its moons (and presumably star) into Despondos. Well, fuck. Horde Prime mentions ‘one thousand years’ of waiting, but when traveling through space, time can get fucky. Anyway, Now they have to come up with an alternative way to eliminate the Destroyer. It might take a few millenia of hopping around, leaving their mark on various planets, but eventually they come up with the idea of creating a cage, creating pandora... After all, the architecture of the First One’s ruins in SPOP and the various Eridian Ruins in the borderlands series aren’t super different. It’s reasonably possible that their stylistic design choices changed over time--whose hasn’t? Gothic architecture wasn’t hanging around from the dawn of human time. Anyway, we know that since they began building Pandora, the Eridians knew what it would entail. So when Nyriad killed them to power the Machine in the Pyre of the Stars, it’s not like they hadn’t prepared to die. The guardians, their own creations, have heath bars made entirely of shields, implying that they are beings not of flesh but of energy. And who wouldn’t want to at least attempt to preserve their culture, at least a shred of it? Many statues that are presumably in the Eridian’s likeness have only two arms, but some have more. And what energy-based lifeforms (from tales of arcadia) have a majority population with two arms, but a select special few with four? What is their planet called? AkiRIDIAN 5. It is implied that not even Nekrotafeyo, the Eridian’s home planet, is technically the place of their origination, so it’s not all that out of the question for them to make (and possibly fail at) a couple of planets they could put their extra-sentient lifeforms on. ‘Alright, We are called Eridians. This is the fifth planet we made for you. Have fun, we have to go die.’ How often is history not warped by time? Particularly the pronunciation of things? And of course if they’re starting over with a completely new place and no template to work off of, the architecture they come up with is not at al likely to resemble that of their progenitors. Also note that Luug and other Akiridian creatures seen, like those weird ass energy bugs, look fucking weird. You know what else looks fucking weird? The fauna of Nekrotafeyo. In this version, Mara’s story in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is the very distant early history of the Eridians, before even Nyriad, who is presumed to be very long-lived. The ancient history that the Eridians themselves left behind is in turn the prehistory of the people of Akiridian 5. And again, if u want, portal. That said, the end of SPOP S5, the end of BL3 (currently the latest borderlands game), and the end of the Tales of Arcadia series could not only exist in the same spacetime, but also at the same time. ---->This crackshit combines She ra, Borderlands, and Tales of Arcadia. (*portal optional)

[dalekofchaos]

The Fireflies’ vaccine wouldn’t have worked or why Joel did the right thing

In the last part of The Last of Us, Joel kills all the fireflies and saves Ellie but by doing so he may have doomed humanity by ending the possibility of a cure being made, making the ending bittersweet and morally ambiguous. The thing is, Joel didn't really do anything wrong, and saving Ellie was the right choice, here are my reasons:

The doctors would remove Ellie's brain to try to create a vaccine, but that's not how vaccines works, a vaccine is a tamed version of a pathogen that "teaches" your body to defend against it, to do a vaccine you need to use the pathogen in small quantities or a modified version of it, Ellie is immune to it, you don't create vaccines from the immune system, that's called a serum, and it works differently, a serum is used when someone comes in contact with a disease and it contains a series of antibodies that fight the infection, but it doesn't make anyone immune. So what they were trying to do was pointless;

Even if the doctors know what they were doing, it was a wild shot a with no guarantee that it would work;

Even if a vaccine was successfully made they wouldn't save the world, the world was destroyed 20 years ago, society collapsed and was rebuilt again on a new way, and everyone already new how to deal with it, also the greatest threat were not even the cordyceps fungus anymore, it was the infected (that the vaccine couldn't do nothing about) and the crooked humans that walked the earth. Besides that, the fireflies had no way to distribute the vaccine worldwide, not even in a national level.

If you listen to the tapes in the Colorado segment, it pretty much confirms that Ellie is not unique and they wouldn’t be able to make a vaccine anyway. The doctor has practically lost his mind and Ellie is just his white whale. Ellie was not the first subject and she most likely wouldn’t have been the last. 

The doctor pretty much went against the common ethical code of all medical practitioners just for a CHANCE at a vaccine/cure.  

And wouldn't it take a lot of time to study her? A day to do all the tests is outright impossible. Just look at the corona vaccine. With all the tech the world has the biotechnologists are going to take more than a year to make a vac.

Vaccines for Fungal infections are nearly impossible and are a logistical nightmare.Even in today’s world,they can only be treated with antibiotics and anti-fungal medicine. They didn’t even bother with thoroughly researching Ellie’s blood and trying to extract the fungal specimen without killing her. The tests were blood samples and samples from the area where she was bit and then only cutting her brain open as THE LAST POSSIBLE USE for her, then when their step 1 was "lol just kill this incredibly rare specimen" I was shocked.

BTW, PS4 version actually removed a piece of paper that's available in all the other forms of the game. What is this piece of paper? Just the one that describes how they've tried this process dozens of times before and how they've NEVER gotten any useful info.

The Fireflies are terrorists. The Fireflies are terrorists, and not even competent ones. Here we go. We first hear of the Fireflies in credits, where they are taking credit for attacking the Federal Disaster Response Agency. Not a good start.The next time we start to see hints of them is through graffiti in the quarantine zone. What does this graffiti say? Fireflies will take it all back. That sounds great! Burn it all down. ...oh. That’s, uh, a little less great. Fucking die, pig. Um… Uh, that’s uh, not a great look here guys.And that goes on and on. The graffiti does not exactly inspire. All it does is get angry.Next time we see them, it’s when they literally bomb a checkpoint and supply truck, then begin firing wildly all over the place. This is straight terrorism. They don’t care if there is collateral damage, in fact, Joel gets injured in this scene.Then we meet Marlene, the so-called Queen Firefly. Injured and on the run, the military is slowly wiping them out. This leads to a line of dialogue that is absolutely hilarious. Marlene starts to preach about “We’ve been quiet. Been planning on leaving the city, but they need a scapegoat. They’ve been trying to rile us up. We’re trying to defend ourselves”Those are big words from someone who just bombed a checkpoint.This clearly shows us that Marlene cannot be trusted as a narrator. She has an agenda and is lying to Joel and possibly herself. And that despite how effective guerrilla tactics usually are, her group is still managing to get absolutely devastated. They are failing so badly that they have to recruit smugglers just to try to get Ellie out of the city.So begins the trek showing dead Fireflies at every turn. Downtown subway station? Dead Fireflies. The Capitol building? Dead Fireflies. Pittsburgh? Oh, let’s talk about Pittsburgh.Pittsburgh is a monument to Firefly failure. Pittsburgh was originally another Quarantine zone held together by FEDRA. So what happened here? Well, times got hard, and the Fireflies instigated a civil war or insurrection. This fighting lasted for months, with Fireflies lynching soldiers that they caught alone, burning soldiers alive after dousing them in gasoline, and FEDRA retaliating by executing Fireflies. FEDRA finally gave up and retreated from Pittsburgh, putting the Fireflies in control- and then it all fell apart. The people of Pittsburgh discover that the Fireflies had planned to move right into the space FEDRA had previously occupied. And so, after this was discovered, the Fireflies were driven out just like FEDRA had been. Only much faster, and with less fight. And now Pittsburgh is nothing but anarchy. People gunned down in the streets for nothing. Rooms full of bodies, clothes and shoes. Almost looks like after images of Dachau. Bravo, Fireflies. Excellent revolution.Next up, we meet Tommy, Joel’s brother, and disenfranchised Firefly. He worked for them for years, going all the way to Colorado for them. Somewhere along the way, he lost faith in them and left their cause. He doesn’t specify exactly why, but it seems he might have lost faith in their methods.Then we come to the University. This is where we really discover how incompetent the Fireflies actually are. One of the first notes you see at University is about a guy who is angry he got yelled at for falling asleep on guard duty. Real professionals. This same note indicates that while they’re still getting some supplies, it’s not enough for what’s needed, with gasoline being particularly short. The next note comes from a recording, telling us that they’re losing more guards, with the doctor clearly concerned about how much equipment and data will be lost if they have to move. The doctor even calls the Fireflies incompetent in this note. And then we have this genius.. That’s right. Bitten by his own lab monkey. Because he just had to set it free, rather than putting it down humanely. Brilliant work sir. Brilliant. He kills himself before turning though, but not before informing us that they hadn’t accomplished anything for over five years. And even that small breakthrough was ultimately a failure. And now the entire lab is compromised, and abandoned.And then there’s a long break from Fireflies until Salt Lake. Ellie, having just gone underwater, isn’t breathing. Joel attempts to perform CPR on her when our hero Firefly shows up, and knocks Joel unconscious. Ah, violence. The first solution. Willing to forgive it, since it strongly mirrors the scene with Sarah, only the Firefly is in the soldier’s shoes this time. But still. Military was gentler.And now for the hospital. The final failure of the Fireflies. This is where so many people are convinced that Joel screws the world by preventing a vaccine. But somehow, I just don’t think so. This is one last desperate bid by the Fireflies for control. How do they intend to do this? Comprehensive bloodwork? No. Vigorous testing with laboratory animals, like, oh, maybe monkeys? No, someone let all their monkeys go. Crack open her head and hope for the best? Hell yeah! Does the fact that they’ve lost their biologist concern them? Nah, it’ll be fine! Does the fact that this is the only time they’ve seen immunity to this degree even give them pause? Pfft, crack her open! Does the fact that there has never been a successful vaccine against fungus give them pause? PASS THAT SCALPEL! No need to think this over, let’s blow our whole load on this once in a lifetime lucky strike as fast as possible. No, I’ve never heard the story about the goose who laid the golden eggs, tell it to me after I finish butchering surgery. Even if we make this vaccine, how will we deploy it? You're thinking too hard, hand me the saw!This is just bad science. Done by bad scientists. Cheered on by fools. Fools who wanted to murder Joel after he made that long trip.And for people who insist on government and democracy, it’s funny how they didn’t risk telling Ellie their “plan” and just sedated her and rushed her to the table.

Even by SOME MIRACLE they managed to make a vaccine, the world ain't gonna automatically return to what it was. It's a dog eat dog world and that is the new normal. Infected, cannibals, more psychos like David and raiders are still there and it ain't going away soon or maybe ever. On top of that, mass production and distribution of a vaccine is an absolute logistical nightmare in a post apocalyptic world- they simply don't have enough resources for that. And who's to say The Fireflies wouldn't use it to as a bargaining tool to put everyone, willing or not, under their new rule? And even given all that, they debated killing Joel after he delivered Ellie. He did the job and the payment he received was getting knocked out and being marched outside of the safe zone AT GUNPOINT WITHOUT HIS WEAPONS AND SUPPLIES! The Fireflies broke their deal and fucked Joel over. Joel had ever right to kill them and save Ellie.

So I believe what Joel did in the end was the right thing, the fireflies was an extremist group that was willing to do anything not to save the world, but to prove their point, even kill an innocent girl under a delusional precept. 

[glorious-blackout]

Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Seven

@rock-n-roll-fantasy I wish I could take credit for a single original idea in this part, but I’ve literally stolen it all from my favourite dramatic space nerd: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SI4g0Sxs1jA 😉 

This is technically the last part before the epilogue which should hopefully be posted soon! There may or may not be another hug in this one...

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

*****************************************

Consciousness returns to him slowly, expanding in tiny increments over what feels like hours.  

It starts with a bone-deep chill settling over his flesh like crystallised ice, followed by a soft breeze ruffling hair which feels longer than he remembers. He finds that he still has fingers, which surprises him somewhat, and he flexes them experimentally against the shifting surface beneath his prone form. Fine grains of sand cling to his palms in the process, though he lacks the strength to wipe them clean. Acute awareness of his shirt clinging to his chest sends a flurry of discomfort through his spine, and a choked-off groan escapes his lips when he becomes all-too-aware of the many layers of sweat coating his skin. The only thing that doesn’t return is vision. All other senses creep back to him with a pace that would rival a snail’s, but his surroundings remain as black as an endless void, and he lets the darkness carry him off into a doze once or twice.  

It occurs to him that he appears to be alive, despite having prepared for an entirely different outcome. He can’t say he knows how to feel about that. There had been something so peaceful about the notion of simply fading away, comforted by reclaimed memories of home, and this current uncertainty is far more terrifying than finality could ever be.  

And yet, there is no denying his survival. The first sound to return to his ears is his own heartbeat; slow at first, only to quicken as anxiety infects his brain. Shallow breaths fill his lungs with precious oxygen, and before long his discomfort at being curled up like an overgrown child force him to stretch limbs which feel arthritic in their creaking stiffness. Eventually the sound of his thudding heart is muted by the rush of crashing waves and the hiss of a cool breeze kissing the earth. It takes longer than it should for his mind to paint a picture – to comprehend the impossibility of hearing ocean waves on the place he now calls home – and his breathing only grows more rapid when he opens his eyes.

The pervading darkness doesn’t abate.  

He can’t see.  

Alex blinks several times in quick succession, consumed by panic, but no light invades his retinas no matter how desperately he tries to focus. A harsh gasp rips through him, only to erupt into painful, hacking coughs as his mouth fills with sand, choking him with the taste of earth and salt. With trembling limbs, he lifts his torso from the ground and retches in an attempt to clear his throat, feeling hot tears stream down his face as his airway clears at an agonising pace. When he can finally breathe again, the cool sea-air soothes his lungs and has him closing his eyes in newfound bliss. A shaky hand comes up to feel his forehead and he frowns as he becomes all-too-aware of an unseen vice squeezing his skull, as though trying to force his brain out through his ears. The frown only deepens when his fingers trace smooth metal instead of warm skin.

Before any ridiculous notions can fill his head - no doubt concerning cyborgs - he traces the curve of metal downwards until he reaches a groove resting just below his eyes. The vice is a helmet. A tight one, certainly, but no more a part of him than his battered shirt. Further exploration reveals a conspicuous lack of visor or straps, or even wires plugged into god knows what. The sheer unfamiliarity of the device grows with every second it remains fused to his skull, compounded by the absolute certainty that he wants it off.

Before he can second-guess the logic of his decision, he tugs on the helmet with all the force he can muster. Meeting more resistance than expected, he lets out a cry of frustration before easing both palms underneath the groove and shoving upwards with all his might. The force of the device pressing against his skull has stars bursting behind his eyes and nausea rising in his gut. A shock of pain followed by the sensation of wetness implies that blood has been spilt, but he eventually manages to free himself from the helmet’s clutches with his skull somewhat intact, and a choked sob escapes his throat as colours flood through his vision, revealing his surroundings at long last.

Still heaving from a mixture of nausea and elation, he watches as a stiff breeze scatters sand over the sleek surface of a device which resembles his old virtual reality mask too closely for comfort. Matt’s birthday gift had been considerably less confining, but the resemblance is still close enough to have Alex shuddering. Warm wetness trickles from his temples into his thoroughly mussed hair, and he reaches up only for his fingers to come back coated in red. The flow of blood is sluggish, however, and the pain little more than a negligible throb. The wound is no more than a scratch.  

A small price to pay for the view that greets him when he turns his head seaward.  

The sunset is a brilliant collage of pinks and oranges spread across an endless sky like broad paint strokes, occasionally interrupted by thick clouds shifting like ghostly shadows over calm waters. The sun rests just above the water’s surface, its outline vibrating as the ocean spreads its golden glow like a halo. Closer to home, calm waves wash up against a golden shore, leaving masses of seaweed and froth in their wake. The resounding crash as they batter the hardened sand before politely receding tugs his lips upwards into a dazed smile. He never thought he’d see the ocean again. Never thought he’d feel sand beneath his feet or watch the sun from afar or idly gaze upon overhanging gulls scouting the waters for prey. The hotel pool had been a poor substitute. As tempting as its waters always looked, he cannot recall seeing them so much as ripple in all the time he’d observed them. Had he ever taken the plunge himself and dived beneath the surface? He honestly can’t remember now. Nor can he recall any guests disturbing the water’s calm surface either. In comparison to the sight which greets him now, the only significant body of water on the moon had been a positively dull affair.

It occurs to him far too late that he knows this beach. As he casts his eye along the seemingly endless shoreline, disturbed by scattered driftwood and craggy cliffs, he recalls several early-morning runs along the adjacent paths and quickly-terminated attempts at surfing. In theory, the gaudy comforts of Los Angeles should lie just behind him, barely miles away from the shore. When he turns to look, however, he finds that such hopes are quickly dashed. The coast may be familiar, but the colossal sand dunes stretching beyond it are an entirely new finding. What little greenery remains is brittle and broken, swaying stiffly in the breeze with little resistance.  

Not that that’s the most striking thing to befall his eyes. The lifeless remains of a landscape he once called home appear almost unremarkable in the face of the half-buried monstrosity peering directly at him from beneath a rounded helmet.

The creature appears to be dead. At the very least it remains unmoving, jaw locked in an eternal snarl as it leers towards the clouded sky. One towering, skeletal hand pokes out from the sand to point at an unseen insult with a single extended phalynx. Beneath metal plates which appear rusted by the humid sea-air, the creature is little more than faded bone held together by silver ligaments; its gaping mouth and nose consisting only of empty sockets. Alex can’t even bring himself to fear it. Perhaps he did once. A pang of recognition gnaws at him, and it occurs to him that the reason his heart hasn’t stopped is because this particular image no longer has the power to frighten him. The only emotion he can muster for it now is misguided pity.  

The helmet encircling the creature’s skull is the spitting image of the device lying dejected by his side. Is that what Alex would have looked like eventually? Had he remained within the confines of the hotel for all eternity, would some future remnant of humanity have stumbled upon him half-buried beneath the sand, with nothing left of him but discoloured bone?

He suspects he already knows the answer to that, and he rejects the mental image with a shudder.  

The evening is growing cold and he isn’t exactly dressed for it. Glancing down at his attire, he notes a torn pair of jeans and a faded white shirt resting beneath a blue cotton jacket. He remembers this get-up all-too-well. It’s the last thing he ever wore on Earth; the mismatched outfit he’d pulled on when the call to evacuate tore him from his rest. The outfit he’d been wearing when he and Miles navigated their way through a desperate crowd, before being torn apart and left drifting in spite of their efforts to crawl back to each other.

Miles... He needs to find him. The others too; Jamie, Nick, Matt and anyone else who has ever remotely mattered to him. He’s well aware that doing so is likely impossible. God only knows how long he spent trapped in that carefully crafted lie; millions of years may have passed for all he knows.

Only, he has to try. Has to believe there was a reason for coming home, otherwise what was the point of waking up at all?

Forcing himself to his feet with all the elegance of a newborn foal, he casts a glance in all directions only to find himself incapable of picking one. Whichever way he looks, the road ahead appears to be endless. A couple of experimental steps is enough to bring back recollections of stumbling through hotel corridors - real and imagined - drunk out of his mind and craving unconsciousness. His mind feels out of sync with his limbs; his synapses reduced to a tangled mess, with all the instructions winding up at the wrong destinations. Even standing still doesn’t spare him from swaying in the breeze like a weightless leaf.  

His weakness should bother him, maybe even frighten him a little, but he’s too tired for that. Perhaps if he lets sleep claim him he will wake up in his own home, cradled in the arms of someone he loves, to find that this whole mess has been an elaborate dream. He may even get a few songs out of it. Paul McCartney had used that technique once or twice, he recalls, though he imagines his dreams didn’t revolve around space hotels and simulated realities.  

That line of thinking sends a huff of laughter shooting through him, and he shakes his head before directing his attention back to the ocean. He feels like he’s going mad. Who knows, maybe he is? It certainly wouldn’t surprise him at this rate. As he watches the surface of the waves shimmer beneath the light of a tangerine sky, he cannot help but think there must be no better place to lose one’s mind. Perhaps waking was a mistake. There would certainly be worse fates than being unknowingly buried beneath the shifting sands while his consciousness remained lost on the moon.

He shakes his head to rid himself of such morbid thoughts and closes his eyes, just for a moment. Just long enough to embrace the coolness of the breeze sending goosebumps across his flesh; the familiar sensation of sand between his toes; the taste of salt in the air and the strong tang of seaweed hitting his nostrils. Sensations which are simultaneously alien and familiar to him. Sensations which help him believe that, despite any lingering doubts, he must surely have made his way home.

Whether hours or minutes pass in his sightless haven, he cannot say. Time no longer appears to have meaning; the only indication of it passing at all is the growing fatigue in legs which are still unused to supporting his weight. Even that mild discomfort is dismissed easily enough, and when his reverie is ultimately shattered, the culprit lies much further afield. A small frown creases his features before he can begin to process the new interruption, but eventually he hones in on the sound of a distant thudding, gaining volume with each passing second. It doesn’t take long for his heartbeat to join the fray, but he buries any panic and opens his eyes as the rhythmic hammering starts to resemble hoofbeats, of all things.

Sure enough, he’s left gaping as a sleek black shadow approaches from the distance, hooves battering the sand relentlessly. The lone horse doesn’t claim Alex’s attention for long, however, for that is quickly snatched by the lit beacon carried upon its back. Vibrant against the darkening sky, the rider appears to be sheathed in the broken remnants of a disco ball. Shifting reds and purples emanate from what Alex presumes to be a torso, while a pair of glowing blue eyes scan the horizon like a lighthouse beam encircling the coast. The sight is ridiculous and unexpected all at once, but Alex hardly needs to be told who the new arrival is before the details become clearer. As the horse draws closer, it becomes evident that the shifting lights originate from illuminated LEDs adorning a ludicrous nylon jacket; that blazing blue eyes are in fact a pair of neon sunglasses, and that the lone rider who looks like he just leapt off the set of a sci-fi western is the very same man who dragged Alex into this mess in the first place.

Matthew draws his equine companion to an abrupt halt with a tug on a set of makeshift reins, responding to the horse’s harsh admonishment with a gentle “Woah!” before patting its mane with an ungloved hand. The hand still holding the reins in a death-grip is concealed by a clunky silver contraption which appears to be a strange mix of metal glove and animatronic limb. Alex doesn’t let himself focus on it for too long, lest the sheer unrelenting oddness of everything he’s seeing finally break him. The only emotion he can summon as he watches Matt dismount with unexpected grace is a vague acceptance – too tired to be shocked by anything anymore – followed by a twinge of fear as the jet-black mare regards him with a distrusting gaze.

“Alex?” Matt asks with thinly veiled disbelief, and Alex pulls his gaze away from the idle horse to face the new arrival.  

The sunglasses have been removed and the LEDs shut off without him noticing, possibly to spare his retinas. Without all the showy effects, Matt looks as small and lost in the world as Alex feels. His blue eyes are wide, as though distrusting the image before him, and a tiny broken smile tugs at his lips before being discouraged by that very same distrust. It almost looks like he wants to say something but cannot bring himself to for fear a spell will break.  

Alex can relate to that much at least. Any attempt to respond is cut short as his throat closes off, and he’s forced to settle for a sharp nod instead.

The gesture is confirmation enough, it seems. Matt’s face brightens as a wide grin stretches across his cheeks, his eyes sparkling in the light of a fading sun, and the sheer force of his relief is so palpable that Alex feels his own heart being lifted by it.  

“I was starting to think I was alone,” Matt utters, almost as a whisper. While his smile doesn’t fade, Alex can sense the other man’s residual terror all too clearly. The same thought had crossed his own mind, though he’d refused to contemplate it for fear his sanity would snap like a dry twig.

It occurs to him that he’s still gaping, despite the fact that he’s hardly surprised to find Matt of all people standing right in front of him. Who else would it be? Matthew uncovered the falsehood of their reality long before Alex could even remember his own name. No doubt there’s a direct correlation between Matt’s actions following his brief stint at the hotel and Alex winding up on this very beach. The exact details may remain a complete mystery to him, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that everything that’s occurred since that night at the bar is Matt’s fault, directly or otherwise.

Alex doesn’t know whether he wants to punch him or kiss him.

He settles for neither, which is less a conscious decision and more a choice thrust upon him by instinct. Turns out the only thing he can do as Matt starts to approach is laugh. Wild, hysterical laughter tears from his chest with so much force that it hurts. Tears gather in exhausted eyes and he’s forced to curl in on himself as his muscles cramp from the sheer force of his hysteria. He cannot help but wonder if this is the point of no return; the point where his mind finally shatters into fragments under the weight of all it’s been forced to endure. Barely five feet away, Matt freezes and his face falls with what might be terror, sending a pang of guilt shooting through Alex in the process. He can only imagine what he must look like now - a lone barefoot lunatic with unkempt hair, cackling at the sunset.

“I’m fine,” he manages to choke out with some difficulty, though he doubts he sounds convincing. His laughter abates eventually, though aftershocks continually threaten to send him into a fit of giggles at any moment. Matt hardly looks relieved by his self-assessment, not that Alex can blame him for that. “I’m fine, it’s just... Do you have any other clothes?”

Matt freezes, momentarily stunned, and Alex can’t help but feel proud that he’s been able to stump Matt rather than it being the other way round. Matt recovers quickly though. A choked laugh erupts without warning and he runs his bare hand through his reliably wayward hair, mouth gaping with the force of his relief. 

“Oh, thank fuck for that!” he exclaims, the words carried on another shaky laugh as he finally deems Alex safe to approach. His outfit does look rather ridiculous up-close, Alex notes with a sense of validation. When they’re not lit up like a Christmas tree, the LEDs pasted onto his jacket are little more than a mass of wires and unlit panels. “I thought you were off your rocker for a second there.”

“Give it time,” Alex responds with a weak smile, casting his eyes to the soft sand beneath his feet before he can erupt into another bout of shaky laughter. No doubt the madness will come eventually, but the longer he can put it off, the better. It’s a bad sign that Matt seems to be the reasonably sane one out of the pair of them. That said, a frustrated whicker from the nearby horse is enough to remind Alex of the other man’s rather dramatic entrance, so the outcome of that particular contest may yet be undecided.  

Without thinking, Alex staggers the rest of the way towards Matt and proceeds to pull him into a forceful hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck and closing his eyes in contentment. He’s not usually in the habit of hugging random people at will. Friends yes – often enthusiastically – but strangers less so, unless they specifically ask. That said, Matt hardly feels like a stranger anymore. Alex can probably count their total encounters on one hand, but that hardly matters in this moment. His relief at being reunited with another human being is too suffocating to ignore.  

Matt freezes in his arms like a frightened statue, releasing a gasp as Alex clings to him with childlike desperation. Before Alex has the chance to free him, however, he feels a pair of arms wrap hesitantly around his torso before squeezing him gently.

“It’s good to see you,” Alex whispers, surprised by how strongly he means it. He feels Matt’s arms grip him tighter in response, all prior hesitation gone, and he sighs at the comfort of being able to hold a solid human being again. It nags at him that the act of embracing Matthew feels little different than hugging Jamie or Nick or his Matt had felt back at the hotel, but he casts such thoughts aside. This has to be real. He won’t accept anything else.

“It’s good to see you too,” Matt says, his voice dripping with such earnest sincerity that it feels like they truly have been friends for decades.  

They remain like that for several minutes, clutching each other tightly like lost children huddling for warmth. Matt is the first to break the hug, pulling away with a hint of reluctance, but he keeps his hands glued to Alex’s shoulders as he casts his eyes over him with burning scrutiny. “Can’t say I rate your fashion sense either. I much preferred you as a swanky hotel manager.”

“Oh, come off it!” Alex scoffs, not bothering to mask a shy smile. Compared to Matt, he imagines he must look like he just stumbled out of a rundown vintage charity shop, though his outfit probably looked far more appealing before he decided to take a nap on the beach.

With considerable reluctance, he breaks away from Matt’s hold – the sudden absence of human warmth settling upon him like a stone – before turning to observe the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Matt doing the same, as though only now acknowledging his surroundings. Together they watch as the sun makes its final descent beneath the waves, leaving a fiery streak upon the water’s edge as an echoing golden glow lingers in the distance. Alex can’t recall the last time he watched a sunset, never mind the last time he allowed himself to fully appreciate one. How he ever thought he could live without this view is beyond him, and the vital question hanging over his head tugs at his heart with newfound insistence.

“Is this real?” he asks, with a tremble in his voice which cannot be masked no matter how hard he tries. Not that he needs to. Matt of all people must surely grasp the gravity of his question. He’s also the only one likely to know the answer with any degree of certainty. “Are we home?”

His desperation isn’t lost on Matt it seems, for he turns to Alex with an expression which appears almost apologetic in the light of a dying sun.

“I wish I knew,” he admits, running a hand through his hair in a gesture which betrays his anxiety. The lack of a solid answer makes Alex’s heart sink, but he supposes that was inevitable. By this point he trusts Matt not to lie to him. “Honestly, I thought I’d be dead by now.”

The words are carried on a disbelieving sigh, followed by a nervous chuckle as Matt drops his gaze and frees his hand from his unruly hair, letting the strands dance willfully in the breeze. If Alex had to guess, he would wager that Matt is currently trapped between the two lines of emotion that he himself is still battling; torn between utter relief at being alive and bone-chilling terror with regard to the uncertainty of their situation. He can’t help but wonder if Matt’s story mirrors his own. If he too had awoken one day to find his world trembling in the wake of an unseen force, before watching it all crumble before his eyes. Or had he taken a more active role in his reality’s destruction? Had the quake which ultimately claimed Mark’s identity, along with the hotel itself, been a by-product of Matt trying to fight his way home?

He should be upfront and ask him, Alex thinks, but something in the man’s demeanor stops him and all he can utter is, “Yeah, you and me both.”

The admission draws Matt’s gaze back to his own and Alex feels himself shrink at the sudden scrutiny. A momentary flash of sheer misery passes over Matt’s face; so infinitesimal that Alex can’t help but wonder if he’s merely projecting his own grief onto the other man. It appears to have been genuine however, for even when Matt’s lips tug upwards to form a weak smile, his eyes refuse to reflect any sense of lightness.  

It strikes Alex that, in many ways, Matt is still a stranger to him. While he could read every miniscule detail of Miles’ face or the expressions of his bandmates as clearly as he could read a book, Matt’s true emotions remain buried behind a lock for which he does not possess a key. As grateful as he is for the other man’s presence – and he is – his traitorous mind cannot help but wish that the person standing before him now was more familiar; more beloved.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says eventually, as though having read his mind, and deep blue eyes bore into Alex’s own with an intensity that must pain him.

“What for?” he asks, though he doubts there’s a clear answer to that. Alex is sorry too, for a great many things. No doubt trying to list his failures at this point would only result in a very muddled list: ‘I’m sorry for allowing myself to lose my mind. I’m sorry for not realising that my friends weren’t real until it was too late. I’m sorry for letting myself get tricked for so long. I’m sorry I forgot you. I’m sorry I lost my grip on your hand...’

Matt appears to be caught in the same predicament. His mouth opens as though he means to say something, but he clenches it shut before any noise can escape, settling for shaking his head instead. His eyes glance towards the ocean for a moment, watching the distant waves crash against jutting rock, leaving mist and spray in their wake, but disinterest claims him quickly. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to point in the opposite direction, and he stills, only momentarily, at the sight of the hulking beast lying buried beneath the dunes.  

If the creature surprises him, he does an excellent job of masking it. Given how easily he recovers - settling himself upon the cool sand and casually drawing his knees up to his chest - Alex doubts this is Matt’s first rodeo with the dead creature.

“Ugly fucker, isn’t he?” Matt utters with a twinge of sharp malice which doesn’t suit him.  

Alex doesn’t respond. The question strikes him as rhetorical anyway, yet he can’t help but agree as he slumps inelegantly next to Matt. With the light beginning to fade, the intricate details of machinery latched onto the oversized exoskeleton are beginning to conceal themselves from view, leaving only the impression of a sad, lonely creature reaching out for solace it will never be granted.

“I remember seeing him on the news, not long after the wildfires got bad,” Matt says, not seeming to care if Alex listens to him or not. The mention of wildfires is enough to have Alex flinching however; even if he’d wanted to tune Matt out, his mind would refuse to allow it. Through Matt’s casual utterance, he’s just been handed proof that his broken memories from before the hotel – memories of heat and panic and being ripped away from his one beacon of hope – are genuine. Or rather, he now knows that those memories are shared with at least one other human being. “Figured it was just another hoax. It’s not like we had a shortage of those at the time.”

Alex tries to cast his mind back to those final days. To the build-up preceding the calls to evacuate; to the anxiety-inducing news broadcasts which stopped wielding the power to surprise him by the fifth apocalyptic declaration. Much as he tries, he cannot summon a clear recollection of anything beyond a mounting sense of dread. Casting his mind back unveils only a thick fog in the stead of clear memories, and he cannot help but begrudge Matt for sounding so certain when discussing the past.  

And yet, something does appear to be clicking. He’d noticed it earlier, hadn’t he? When faced with the creature back in his suite, his shock had ultimately been compounded by a vague sense of recognition. If he clears his mind and closes his eyes, holding the image of the creature’s broken body in his head, he manages to capture a flicker of recollection; a still image of a towering robotic skeleton on a television screen - the photograph blurred and taken from a distance - while a bedraggled newscaster mutters something about mass disappearances. His resigned delivery had been interrupted by a Scouse accent, breaking in with a disbelieving, “Oh great, even more bollocks!” which had made Alex laugh before changing the channel.  

If only Miles had been right on that count.

“That’s the thing that’s been controlling us all this time?”  

Alex knows as soon as he utters the words that he already knows the answer. The momentary glimpse he’d stolen of the creature hadn’t been a trick of the light, or an exhaustion-induced hallucination, or even a computer glitch. It had been Murphy all along, intentionally letting the mask slip as punishment for Mark’s attempts at resistance. It had been the actions of a watchful tormenter letting him know, in no uncertain terms, who was truly in control. No doubt he had done so with the intention of making Alex believe he was going mad; the jury still appears to be out on whether he succeeded or not.

No wonder Murphy always appeared as a broken amalgamation, never fully adding up to a cohesive human being. What could a creature like him possibly understand about being human?

“Us and a million other poor sods, I reckon,” Matt confirms with a grim nod, hands clenching tightly as he wraps his arms around his knees. His jacket creaks awkwardly with every movement and his ridiculous glove gives a soft whine as it’s moulded into the shape of a fist. “That’s what he does, you see. He takes control of people’s minds and traps them in a never-ending game for his own amusement. Or at least that’s what I gathered. He tried to make his intentions sound nobler than that but trust me, that’s the gist.”

A lone brow rises in response to Matt’s admission, but Alex thinks better of questioning him about it. The fact that the creature supposedly confronted Matt head-on is hardly an earth-shattering revelation.  It had spoken to Alex too after all, on a fairly regular basis at that. They’d had appointments and everything; allotted moments in time to allow Murphy to keep him compliant. True, Murphy had never exactly been upfront with Mark about his true nature, but given that Matt cracked the code long before Alex realised there was even a code to crack, he supposes it makes sense that the beast had been more direct with him.  

Perhaps that encounter is what ultimately killed it? It seems so unlikely given Matt’s unassuming stature, but at this point Alex is willing to believe that nothing is truly impossible anymore.

“I just wish I could remember how he did it,” Matt continues, a trace of palpable frustration seeping into his otherwise conversational tone. “Last thing I remember is Elle waking me up when the sirens started and running to get the kids out of bed. Everything after that is just...gone.”  

Though he forces his expression to remain neutral, Alex can’t mistake the feeling of ice slipping into his veins. Matt’s experience mirrors his own far too closely for comfort. He can barely remember the call to evacuate emanating through the city, but he remembers the frantic aftermath clearly enough. He can still taste the ash and poison in the air; can hear echoes of Miles’s desperate reassurances as they forced their way through a panicked horde. While the memories preceding that moment are partially concealed behind a shifting fog, the events that followed may as well lie beyond a brick wall. There’s nothing to latch onto. No half-forgotten sights or smells, not even vivid emotions. His final hours on Earth before waking up in Mark’s skin are as unreachable as they are unknowable.  

All Alex can determine with any certainty is that whatever happened to him and Matt and those million other poor sods, it must have been terrible.

His stunned silence stretches to the point of becoming uncomfortable, and he can feel Matt’s worried gaze turning in his direction, but he cannot bring himself to break the spell. He tries to re-orientate himself; focuses on the cool sand beneath his feet, the scattered grains sticking between his toes. Focuses on the ever-present rush of water behind him; the occasional huffs from the patient black horse strolling nearby; the sounds of Matt’s jacket crinkling with every movement. Focuses on the unmoving creature before him and tries not to let hatred consume the tattered remains of his heart.  

There’s a chill in the air now which sends a shiver through his thin frame. Night is beginning to fall. Already the last traces of orange are starting to fade, making way for deep blues dotted with shimmering pinpricks. There are certainly worse places to be, he thinks, though he can’t help but long for a warm embrace instead of the bone-chilling breeze.

Matt’s voice, when it eventually returns, is a fair substitute however. The reminder that he’s not alone does more to lift his spirits than he could ever have deemed possible.

“I got sent back to the Battle of the Bands,” Matt explains, eyes downcast as long fingers play distractedly with scattered grains of sand. “We were back in Teignmouth, performing in clubs to audiences consisting of one man and his dog. We were even calling ourselves ‘Rocket Baby Dolls’ like a bunch of twats,” he adds with a warm smile, and Alex struggles to hold back a grin of his own. He supposes he’s in no position to judge. He’d actually committed to his silly band name in the long run instead of discarding it in his teens. “Wasn’t quite as fancy as your hotel, but it had its moments. Almost felt like the good old days, only for some reason it was the eighties and we still looked like old geezers.”

“Guess that explains the clothes then?” Alex interjects, and a warm sense of pride flows through him when Matt releases a surprised chuckle before conceding Alex’s point with a bashful shrug.

Alex’s smile doesn’t fade despite the heavy exhaustion which stubbornly clings to his bones. He can certainly relate to Matt’s experience in a sense. Among the madness that characterised his own customised reality, he’d found solace in playing regular shows with the lads by his side. It had been a much-needed strand of consistency to keep him grounded when everything else in his life was so fundamentally different. A taste of normality in an environment where normality was an increasingly rare commodity.

“It was nice for a while,” Matt continues, a wistful smile resting on his lips. “Maybe I could have stayed there forever. There was something so pure about being able to play with my mates like we were teenagers again, y’know? But I always sensed that something was wrong. Took me fucking ages to figure out what, but I always knew that something important was missing.”

The smile fades and Alex feels a familiar discomfort nagging at his chest. He’d become accustomed to that very feeling. Despite the constant buzz of activity in the hotel and the fact that his friends were always a mere phone-call away, the most pervasive emotion he’d experienced was a deep, all-consuming loneliness. His days were spent surrounded by other human beings – many of them perfectly warm, friendly people – but his heart had grasped onto his crushing isolation long before his mind had a chance to catch up. No doubt the absence of several key figures like Miles and his parents had played a part in that, but he’d spent his days surrounded by convincing replicas of his lifelong friends and even they hadn’t been capable of filling the void.  

“I missed Chris and Dom,” Matt goes on, and not for the first time Alex wonders if the man is capable of reading his mind. “Which was fucking ridiculous. I mean, they were always with me. We’d spend hours playing shows together, or getting pissed and having a laugh, but none of that changed how I felt. I still missed them so much it physically hurt. It was like my instincts were trying to tell me that they weren’t real before I had the chance to figure that out for myself.”

He stops tracing circles along the sand, wiping his grainy hand on crimson jeans before staring up at the unmoving creature with weary eyes. For the first time since their unexpected reunion, Alex realises that Matt is as thoroughly drained as he is. Despite the fact that his eyes are fixed upon the creature which sentenced them both to a broken falsehood, there’s no longer any rage simmering in their depths. It looks like Matt is staring straight through the creature, its presence barely registering as a blip on his radar. Only the tension gripping his shivering frame gives any indication that he’s still orientated to the present and not lost a million miles away.

“How’d you get out?” Alex asks with newfound curiosity. It isn’t lost on him that there are still major gaps in Matt’s story. He didn’t simply come to the conclusion that his world wasn’t real and then sit back quietly; he’d fought the notion tooth and nail. He’d wound up in Alex’s reality - and no doubt countless others - and used the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Mark’s head, ultimately orchestrating his mental unravelling. On at least one occasion, he had been forced to escape while armed caricatures of his best friends set out to hunt him down and kill him. Had they followed him wherever he went? Had the creature been so frightened of this one man that he’d sent assassins in the shape of his friends to mentally torment him?

Did Matt kill the creature as revenge for all the pain it had caused him?

“It’s a long story,” Matt confesses evasively, and Alex feels his heart sink a little.

“That’s alright,” he says, trying to hide his eagerness before it can become obnoxious. No doubt many aspects of Matt’s story will be as painful as his own, and he has little desire to pry into details which are none of his business, but he settles for honesty regardless. “I’d like to hear it.”

Matt’s eyes meet Alex’s own, studying him intently before a soft, sincere smile takes hold. There’s a bittersweet quality to it, marred by lingering exhaustion, and Alex suspects he will not get his wish. Not tonight anyway. The lack of outright refusal or hostility carries a certain promise, however, and he’s able to bury his disappointment easily enough once Matt confirms those suspicions.

“Maybe one day,” Matt says, and against his better judgement, Alex believes him. “A lot of it doesn’t even make sense to me yet. I still need time to sort my head out. But I’ll tell you all about it one day, if you still want me to.”

Alex doubts there will ever come a time where he doesn’t want to hear a firsthand account of Matt’s adventures, if only to help him join the dots between the hotel and this beach. Maybe then everything will start to make sense for him too. He doesn’t say as much, but his small smile and earnest nod must be convincing enough to assure Matt that he won’t be interrogated further tonight.

“Besides,” Matt continues, voice loaded with sudden conviction as he stretches his legs out in front of him. “We should head off before it gets dark.”

“And go where?” Alex interjects, with more force than he intends. “Where the hell do we even go from here?”

“I suppose that depends,” Matt says, seemingly unfazed by Alex’s outburst if the amused smirk tugging at his lips is any indication. “Assuming we really have made it home and this isn’t some cruel trick, where do you wanna go? What’s next on the agenda, Turner?”

The question is asked so flippantly, rendered even more so by Matt’s rapid-fire delivery, that Alex finds himself throwing his head back in a startled laugh. Planning ahead when the future is so unknowable and the world so fundamentally alien is a tall order, but he supposes Matt’s right. They can’t stay here forever.

“You’re giving me way too much credit if you think I actually have an answer to that,” he admits once his fitful laughter has died down. Matt seems to agree if his high-pitched giggle and muffled utterance of “fair enough” is any indication.

It’s still a valid question though, and one he’ll need to ponder sooner or later. If he truly has made it home and is no longer confined to a reality consisting of algorithms and complex coding, what is there left for him to do? He’s fairly certain he’s in Los Angeles, but based on appearances alone there’s little remaining of the city to go back to. Any bolt-holes of his have likely been razed to the ground and subjected to the ravages of time. Safety is no longer guaranteed to him, and if the world is as ruined as he remembers, he may never feel safe again.

Of course, none of that truly matters. He knows exactly what he wants to do. Whether it’s actually achievable remains to be seen, but he knows he would rather die than give up without at least trying.

“I wanna go home,” he admits, more so to himself than to Matt. His voice is small and fragile to his ears, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I want to find my friends. I have to know that they’re safe.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, not immediately anyway, but Alex doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible change that overcomes him. The signs are subtle enough. A minute clench of the jaw, a brief downwards twitch of the lips, the fact that despite being rather personable all evening, Matt suddenly can’t bring himself to look Alex in the eye. Alex could pry and ask what’s wrong but he suspects he already knows. He can’t help but silently wonder just how closely Matt’s agenda aligns with his own.

The spell breaks quickly. Matt forces a smile back onto his face and drags himself to his feet with little fanfare, brushing sand from his clothes with visible distaste. Alex doesn’t follow, not trusting himself to stand on his own two feet without stumbling. Instead he simply watches Matt approach his four-legged companion, attempting to appease her in spite of her displeasure at having been ignored for so long, and the sight sends a certain thrill through him. He cannot ascertain if it’s a thrill of excitement or fear. Most likely it’s both. It occurs to Alex that if he wants to leave here with Matt, he’ll most likely end up joining him on horseback, and he wonders if the night is going to end with him falling and breaking his neck mid-canter. It would certainly be an anti-climactic end after all he’s endured, and the mental image has him releasing a huff of laughter, but when Matt returns with a slightly calmer horse in tow, the overwhelming emotion flowing through him is one of terror.

“Shall we?” Matt proposes, offering a hand to Alex which he takes gratefully.  

He still feels unsteady when he’s guided to his feet, like a recently awoken coma patient who no longer remembers how legs work. Matt stays close by however, offering help where needed, and the reassurance has an immediate calming effect. Some trepidation must still linger on his features, for when Matt spots him staring at the hulking black shadow, he releases an amused giggle before clapping Alex on the shoulder. “I promise Midnight won’t bite. Not unless you piss her off.”

“I weren’t planning on it,” Alex mutters warily, but he swallows down his fear easily enough.

Maneuvering onto the horse is a rather clumsy affair given the makeshift equipment and the fact that the saddle is clearly designed for one person only, but he succeeds with significant help from Matt. Any protests the mare may have to his presence are hushed by Matt’s surprisingly soothing influence, and the smaller man soon joins Alex with relative ease in spite of the monstrosity adorning his left hand. Alex will need to ask him what it’s for one day, but right now they have an uneasy journey ahead of them. Random curiosities can wait.

With the flick of a concealed switch, Matt lights up once again like a Christmas tree, and Alex has to avert his gaze to avoid being blinded. The light is somewhat comforting given how dark the night has become however, and he doesn’t need to be prompted into wrapping his arms securely around Matt’s waist. They take off at a steady trot at first, easing their way carefully along the sandy beach, but as the mare grows more comfortable, she carries them away with a brisk canter along an untrodden path.  

An overwhelming sense of freedom pulses through Alex’s veins, as the world passes by in a blur and the wind flows through his unruly hair. Though he can hardly say he feels particularly secure, the thrill is intoxicating nonetheless. He glances back towards the spot where he awoke, casting one final look upon the broken creature who manipulated his mind, until Midnight turns a sharp corner and the shadow is lost from view.  

Good riddance, Alex thinks. He hopes the sand covers Murphy entirely, erasing any trace that he was ever here.

As the horizon becomes more difficult to interpret beneath the darkening sky, Alex allows his gaze to aim upwards. The view that greets him is fundamentally different to the one he’s grown accustomed to, but the warm sense of comfort which fills his chest is exactly the same. In the absence of clouds or pollution, the sky is ablaze with stars, scattered across a vast canvas like sparkling polka dots. Some shine brighter than others, and Alex spends some time trying to determine if they’re actually planets before deciding it doesn’t matter. The sight is beautiful either way, and he honestly didn’t expect to ever lay eyes on it again.  

The crowning glory steals his attention before long, as she guides them onwards with her luminous glow. It’s a full moon tonight, and the sight sends a bittersweet ache through his heart. It’s been a long time since he saw her from this angle, yet her beauty remains untarnished. He allows himself to imagine being back on her surface when times were simpler. Imagines the smooth walls of the hotel and the delicate blues of the pool and the inviting neon interior of the casino. Imagines the elevated highway splitting the youthful town in half as it stretched towards the towering station. Imagines the rockets flying to and fro above his head, while he watched from his perch on the hotel balcony.

No doubt the moon’s surface will be barren now, but it’s easy to pretend that his tiny civilisation still rests upon her surface. Alex knows he shouldn’t miss it, but the sight of her gazing down at him instils an overwhelming sense of nostalgia nonetheless. It was home once. If he casts his mind back far enough, he can even remember being happy there. His existence within the hotel had certainly carried moments of isolation and exhaustion, but ultimately it had felt safe. No doubt that safety was as much a falsehood as everything else around him, but now that he’s returned to this earthly plane, it strikes him that he may never acquire that level of contentment again. Even in exhilarating moments like this, he is doomed to always be looking over his shoulder for signs of danger, waiting for the end to sneak up on him unannounced. It’s one of the major drawbacks to consisting of flesh and bone after all; his newfound freedom has rendered him breakable.

None of that matters though. Not in this precise moment. The heart-stopping fear will come with time, no doubt accompanied by a generous dollop of grief, but in this precise moment it feels as though nothing can truly hurt him. Casting aside any lingering doubts, Alex rests his head against Matt’s curved back and lets his mind go blank; carried away by the rhythmic beat of hooves against the sand and the soft light of the moon’s pale glow.