#which you should all read after you read Flatland

[rjalker]

more scenes from The Arts of Being I forgot to post

Ominous Meddlers

[ID: A digital drawing against a white background of a blue hexagon and a yellow equal-sided triangle, with two shadows overlaid on the floor around them. The triangle is pointed at the hexagon, who has a grey metal brace around all but two of his sides. One of the shadows is darker and closer to the shapes, the other is lighter and further away. End ID.]

Revelations

[ID: The same triangle and hexagon, with the hexagon now with a large black scar on his side almost to his center. They are both facing a sphere seen from above, with a gradient from yellow on the top and green around the center seen. Above all three of them is another unseen shape casting a shadow. End ID.]

[myemuisemo]

With April showers, Letters from Watson brings us the first installment of The Sign of the Four, a prospect that makes me quake. When I was a tot of eight years, reading the library's copy of The Boy's Sherlock Holmes with a creeping sense of guilt because I was not at that time (and have not been at any time before or since) a boy, I found The Sign of the Four... long. Very long. I was obviously too young for the concepts, even though I could make sense of the words. (That sums up a lot of my reading in that era.)

I'm also reeling from last week's "The Man with the Watches," an utter tragedy of "be gay, do crime."

What's striking me this time -- what with the introduction of Holmes' cocaine use and also the watch deduction that raises a wince and a shudder from anyone who remembers that BBC Sherlock happened -- is how Watson is being positioned (and I don't mean "positioned in the path of which bullet," though apparently he got hit by more than one while in India).

Cocaine

Watson is progressive! His objections to cocaine sound so mild to us in the twenty-first century, but in 1890, scientific opinion was just barely starting to turn away from seeing cocaine as a wonder drug. It was used for local anesthesia as well as for general pep. Queen Victoria drank Vin Mariani, a wine fortified with cocaine, and so did the Pope. Coca Cola contained cocaine until 1906. Sigmund Freud was a vocal proponent of cocaine for improving mood and performance, until he botched an operation in the early 1890s while high.

A couple hair-raising reads on this topic are Cocaine: The Victorian Wonder Drug and A Cure for (Anything) that Ails You: Cocaine in Victorian Medicine.

So Holmes' original audience would have seen him as an up-to-date scientist using a socially approved means of moderating his mood. His shooting up a 7% solution of cocaine is about equivalent to a 21st century person taking nutritional supplements that are meant to boost brain power.

After all the "say no to drugs" education in the American school system, that's so hard for me to get my brain around, but there we are. Holmes is doing something no more troubling than pouring a glass of whiskey and much more scientific.

Watson, therefore, can be read either as being right at the edge of shifting scientific opinion or as being a fussbudget.

Tinge it with romanticism

I'm firmly Team Watson when Holmes starts criticizing A Study in Scarlet:

He shook his head sadly. “I glanced over it,” said he. “Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love-story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.”

The reader is being positioned here to view with contempt the exact features of the work that we probably enjoyed. Poor Watson!

Is it possible that some reviewers commented on the melodrama of the Lucy portions? Yes, and it'd be a valid point. Nonetheless, having experienced a good many math classes, I think the fifth proposition of Euclid might be improved by a rom--

wait.

Doyle, you magnificent bastard.

Flatland: A Romance in Many Dimensions was published in 1884. It wasn't a huge success, but it seems likely Doyle could have known it, and it did, in fact, mention a love story in a discussion of angles. Back when I read it in college (because if you "liked math," someone would inevitably give you a copy of Flatland), I missed the social satire but appreciated the geometry.

Watson is canonically an effective popular writer, and I refuse to denigrate him for that.

The Watch

First, Holmes substantially invents forensic science with his monographs on tobacco and on callouses.

Then we learn that Watson is a second son, which fits with his his training for a profession and choosing the army to help make his way.

Watson was not on great terms with his brother before his brother's death. Holmes doesn't explicitly deduce this, but it's there to be deduced. Holmes knew Watson's father was long dead, which could have come up in any number of casual ways. Holmes had no idea that Watson had a brother, so Watson:

Didn't mention the brother in any context, ever.

Didn't set up any framed daguerreotypes from his childhood nor any modern photos made with the collodion process. Having a posed family photo would have been so completely normal, as would being sent new photos by family members.

Never interrupted his routine to visit his brother while living with Holmes.

Did not attend his brother's funeral (unless it took place while Holmes was away) and did not wear a black armband for mourning in Holmes' presence. Neglecting mourning for a relative would have been a sign of serious estrangement.

Holmes is possessed of some level of tact in not expanding on this topic.

Watson is also nobody's fool: he knows there are ways to fool a mark with apparently miraculous knowledge.

The question in my mind is this: did Watson deliberately distract Holmes from asking what was the subject of the telegram?

[flatland-a-2024-translation]

About this translation

This story is Public Domain. This means you can read it for free, anywhere online, without having to pay for it, unless you’ve chosen to buy it from me as a thank you for making it. This also means that you can take this story, and do anything you want with it! You can make it into a movie, an audiobook, you can edit it to change all the characters’ names and pronouns or turn them into unicorns, you can translate it into different languages, and you can sell anything you make from it, or even just print it yourself and sell it that way.

Why have I chosen to do this after spending so much time and work making this, you ask? Because I’m poor, and I want other poor people to also be able to read books for free, and because I think the world is more fun when people are allowed to be creative without copyright law getting in the way.

You will be able to buy physical copies of this book from me if you want, on Lulu.com, as long as Lulu.com exists, and if you would like to send me money after reading the book for free, as long as Paypal exists and I’m still alive, you can send it to “TinyelFlatland” on Paypal, (and do me the favor of ignoring my deadname. I’m too poor to get a legal name change at the moment.)

If you would like to read the original version of this story, published in 1884, you can look up “Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions” online, and read it for free, because that’s also Public Domain, which is how I was able to make this for you to read! Isn’t it great?

If you are reading this online, congrats! If you’re reading it in a physical book and you didn’t know you could also read it for free online, then congrats! You can! It can be found on archive.org, otherwise known as the Internet Archive, unless you’re reading this in 2300 or something and they don’t exist anymore, along with other places too. Just search for the title, and it should show up!

This translation was started on September 15th, 2023, at 7:55PM.

It was rainy today.

I’m writing this so that in the future, when the original story of Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, published in 1884, has become so antiquated that it’s hard for students and other readers to understand the language, there will be at least one more recent stepping stone to aid in understanding.

I am also writing this so that schools who want to teach Flatland may do so with a bit more ease, since it might be hard to get most kids to read the old one.

I will try to keep my translation as accurate to the original Flatland as I can, while making it easier to understand. Sometimes, I may interject if I think extra information will be helpful, with my comments marked by double parenthesis and a note that I’m the one interrupting ((Note from the second editor / end of note from the second editor.))

Flatland: A Romance of Many Adventures was written as satire to criticize the systems of oppression that the author saw around him in Victorian London. Satire is a form of humor where the flaws of something are emphasized to make them more obvious and clear. Many people today, and back then, struggle to understand the satire that Edwin Abbott Abbot had crafted. So I’m making this note in the hopes that more people will understand it properly and look at this book from the right, well, angle. (hehe)

The narrator of this story calls himself A. Square to protect his identity, similar to the way people whose identity is not know will be called things like “J. Doe” or “M. Smith”.

His name is not actually A. Square, but many people enjoy calling him “Abbot Square”, after the author.

A. Square represents bigots of all kind, who are so wrapped up in their own biased world-view that they implicitly trust everything they are told by the people in power without ever taking the time to actually question anything enough torealize that what they’ve been told, and how the world actually works, do not match up at all.

This idea applies both to his ideas of the Dimensions, and systems of social hierarchy and oppression.

You will see many contradictions in A. Square’s testimony of how the world works that he doesn’t realize are contradictions at all. Because to him, actual logic and facts don’t really matter, he just goes along with whatever those higher up tell him.

You will see him thoughtlessly repeat propaganda that conflicts with everything else he has been told to believe, without a single trance of irony or awareness of these conflicts.

You are meant to be shocked and horrified and flabbergasted by A. Square’s ideas about society. That’s the whole point. The point is that he’s wrong, to get you to examine your thoughts about society to see if you are falling into any of the same pitfalls he is. The whole point is to show how absolutely ridiculous his ideas are. You’re supposed to laugh at him. It’s a comedy, and the joke is how ridiculous and absurd bigots are all the time without them even realizing it.

There’s a lot more I could say about this subject, but I’ll stop here and let you get onto the story.

For this version of this book which includes illustrations, I will also be including image descriptions for all of the illustrations so generously provided by the original Author, along with any additional illustrations I created myself, for all my fellow Irregulars out there reading this.

The original Flatland is around 33,000 words long. This version has come out to around 39,000.

This translation was, for this version of the document, completed on July 25th, 2024. This version is meant to be read digitally.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

If you are reading this a hundred years in the future, I hope the world is a better place than it is today. I hope global warming has been managed, I hope capitalism has ended, I hope that Irregulars of all kinds – Queer people, Black and brown people, disabled people, religious minorities – are treated as equals and that no one has to go without food or shelter. I hope that the word “homeless” seems antiquated and confusing, because everyone has a home. I hope sea turtles aren’t still eating plastic because of nonstop pollution and corruption. I hope the black-footed ferrets and bison recover from endangerment and are thriving in their natural environments again. I hope that white supremacy and colonization have been overthrown, and that the world looks back on the country that called itself “The United States of America” with all due horror, disgust and shame. I hope that slavery has been abolished permenantly, everywhere, with no loopholes saying “except as punishment for a crime”. I hope that slaves are not sent to fight wildfires or build bombs to send overseas to murder Palestinians or any other victims of colonization. I hope that the world has figured out a way to disarm all nuclear bombs, and has agreed to forever forget the knowledge of how to make more. I hope that physical books still exist, and that libraries still exist, and that corporate monopolies have all long since been destroyed. I hope everyone everywhere has access to free, quality healthcare, and that all of the stolen land in this world is given back to its rightful stewards.

If you are reading this in the future, I hope you live in a better world than what we have right now.

And if you are reading this right now, I hope you take every opportunity presented to you to learn more, to question more, and to make this world a better place.

Enjoy.

-signed, Tinyel (tin-yell), a physically disabled and autistic+ADHD nonbinary aroace lesbian who uses it/its/itself and skull/skulls/skullself pronouns. (I mention this because I know bigots in 2050+ will still probably try to pretend that Queer identities are brand new and only invented last year, and so Queer and Questioning people in 2024 can see that others are out there!)

PS. My cat says hi.

This is the end of the preface by the second editor.

[accessible-flatland-art]

Pinned post.

[ID: The icon for this blog, which is a black right triangle on a brown square background, with text following the diagonal of the triangle, reading, "Let irregulars enjoy fandom too.". End ID.]

Please copy and paste the image description I write into the original post for your art, rather than simply reblogging it from me. (You can also reblog it too, if you want, thought!). Plain text (what you're reading right now) is more accessbile than ALT text because tumblr is a glitched mess.

The image description should go directly below the image being described, above comments, and stay in normal sized, black text, without italics, bold, or colors. It may be indented (like above) to make it easier to distinguish from the rest of the text in the post. This is in fact more accessible.

This blog is run by @rjalker so it's easier to keep track of which Flatland art has an ID already, and so people have an easy place to find it all.

Anyone can reblog from this blog, even if I have you blocked on my main. I block people sometimes just to filter posts and then forget to unblock...RIP

Please note: I cannot describe posts with eyeburningly neon colors, flashing lights, or audio that is difficult to hear or very fast paced.

If you list your OCs names, pronouns, and shapes in the post itself, it will make it much easier for me to describe.

___

Posts on the blog so far: 404 Posts still in the drafts: 1,022

Blog created on September 18th, 2023 Numbers last updated: September 7 2024

(The drafts consist of all of the undescribed Flatland art, and art that is described but I still have to tag, that I could find in the whole tag going back to January 2022, at which point tumblr started giving me random unrelated posts instead. Not sure if it ran out of Flatland posts, or just stops actually keeping track of tagged posts after a year...?)

Here is a link to a post with many places to read, watch, and listen to Flatland, all for free, because the book is public domain.

Very important note:

Very important edit: Ladd Ehlinger, the creator of the 2007 film that’s free on youtube, is an extremely racist and misogynistic conservative. He made a political ad so blatantly racist and sexist that youtube has literally resstricted it, so that you can’t share the link outside the site. Simply google his name and you will see dozens upon dozens of articles about how bigoted he is.

Please be aware of what kind of person made that movie when you watch it. His bigotry is baked into the movie, and is why he refused to actually do anything with the original political commentary from the book.

You are not a bad person if you already watched the movie and enjoyed it, but you do need to be aware of what kind of person made it and how that affected the movie, and make sure others are warned. He is also here on tumblr with the username filmladd. I highly recommend blocking him.

___

The tagging system for this blog is under the cut so this post doesn't get too long. More tags will be added as I find more art to reblog.

The tags in use so far, which I have saved to a notepad so I can just copy and paste them as needed.

Some tags are newer, so might not show up on all art! Let me know if there's any that should be added to specific posts, or if there's any tags you want to see to be able to search for!

_

please copy and paste into the original post for accessability no credit needed! It should go directly below the image and stay in regular#text without color italics or bold though you can make it indented like I have it here! Image descriptions are like subtitles for blind ppl

described images, described art, Flatland, Flatland art, Flatart,

transcribed audio, transcribed lyrics, lyrics, music,

Photoedits,

Physical books,

Flatland a Romance of Many Dimensions, Flatland Illustrations,

Book collections, Flatland collections,

The Color Revolt, Configurationism, Circularchy,

Stylized form, Literal form,

Gijinka,

anthropomorphized, humanoid, anthropoid,

objecthead,

Flatland animals, Flatland rabbit, Flatland bees, Flatland horse, Flatland chicken, Flatland dog, Flatland cat, Flatland mouse,

Flatland technology,

Flatland anatomy, Flatland worldbuilding, Flatland cosmology, Flatland structure,

Spaceland worldbuilding,

maps,

A Square, The Sphere,

The Sphere 1965, A Square 1965,

A Square, A Square 2007, A Sphere 2007,

Spherius 2007, the Sphere,

Adam the Square, Spherus the Sphere,

Kormance the Sphere,

The Grandson of a Square, A Square's Wife, The Wife of A Square, The Sons of A Square, The Great Great Great Great Great Grandfather of A Square, The King of Lineland, The Monarch of Pointland, Chromatistes, Chromatistes the Pentagon,

memes, Flatland memes,

Public domain characters in Flatland, Flatland versions of characters,

Public domain characters,

Family Trees, Comic, Animation,

Flatland OCs, Original characters, Flatland original characters,

Character reference,

Disabled characters, Characters with disability aids, Characters with glasses, Characters with visual impairment,

Disabled characters, Neurodivergent characters, Physically disabled characters, Characters with mobility aids, Characters with disability aids, Characters with prosthetics, Characters with canes, Characters with walkers, Characters with swimmers, Characters with glasses, Characters with wheelchairs, Characters with chairs, Characters with sleds, Characters with crutches, Characters with rollators, Characters with scars, Characters with facial differences, Characters with limb differences, Characters with visual impairment, Blind characters,

Queer characters, LGBTQIA+ characters, Gay characters, Bi characters, mspec characters, Lesbian characters, Trans characters, Nonbinary characters, Characters who use neopronouns, Characters who use multiple pronoun sets, Aroace characters, Aspec characters, Omni characters,

Black Characters, Characters of color,

Irregular characters, Deirregular Characters,

Werestars, Stellanthropes, Shapeshifters, dragons, serpents, weredragons,

Characters with wings, Characters with tails,

Sphereland, Flatterland, The Arts of Being, The Breaking Point, Neopronouns in Action, Flat Dreams, Flatterland, Flatland the film 2007, Flatland the movie 2007, Flatland 1965, A Visit to Numberland, Numberland, Flatland Heist 2013,

Neopronouns in Action 062, Neopronouns in Action,

Neopronouns in Action 090, Neopronouns in Action,

A 2024 Flatland Summary,

Tarzan of the Apes, Mickey Mouse,

Dayo,

Esther Flat Dreams, Nora Vigenere, Nora Flat Dreams,

Pollux Codex, Madelyn Schwarz-Carver, Hunter Schwarz, Marianne Smith, Michael the Misogynist Pentagon, Providence, Nature, Providence and Nature, Germs, Mr Square, A Shape,

Oblisi,

Liam,

A Son of A Square,

Cy,

Frau Line,

Lily Cipher,

Ruth Galton, Ruth, Liz, Elizabeth Huntsworth, Stella, Orbis, Irene Huntsworth, Mama Huntsworth, Chief Jr, Atlas Huntsworth, Atlas, Vance,Vance Huntsworth, Elijah, Elijah Huntsworth, Jasper,Jasper Huntsworth, 01 Isosceles,

Vincent, Trey,

Rutabega,

Hauntlight the Irregular Line, Cenotaph the rabbit aether, Sirenade the Irregular Multiangulus, Raptigan the _, Avispa Oro, Beatris Baker, Mo Guy, Unnamed characters, Billie Bob and Joe, Billie the Straight Line, Bob the Circle, Joe the Hexagon,

Jerult the Irregular Kite, Cairis Garret the Equilateral Triangle, Letel the Isosceles Triangle, Aralinda the Straight Line, Leteralinda the Straight Line, Ambrosine the Straight Line, Lucille the Straight Line, Carolayn the Kite, Tristram the Isosceles Triangle,

Arsenn Lupin, Arsene Lupin, AScrossover, Arsene Lupin crossover, Ortence Daniel, Hortense Daniel,

Flyssa of Ib-Wa, Dearg of Ib-Wa, Lieutenant Kellite the Configurationist, Grandna Tuokeli,

Angelica Tessan, A Tesseract, Abel Spherious, A Sphere, Anthony Squaur, A Square,

Vikki Line, Victoria Line, Lee Line, Jubilee Line,

Huffy,

Bill Cipher, Gravity Falls, GFcrossover, The Book of Bill, , Flatfalls, The Mother of Bill Cipher, The Father of Bill Cipher,

Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Ford Pines, The Axolotl, Andrew Kryptos, The Mosaic,

Carlton,

Randie,Gravity Falls, GFcrossover, Flatfalls,

Flatsune Miku, Hatsune Miku,

Astrum, Astrum the five pointed star, Funis, Pi,

Ted the vwindir,

A Squared shipping, Quadsphere shipping, ASquarexTheSphere, Squaresphere, Squeer,

Spacelanders, Flatlanders, Linelanders, Pointlanders, Hyperspacelanders, Exter Dimensional beings, Higher Dimensional Beings, Beings From Unknnown Dimensions, Planiversers, Numberlandians,

Walking Flatlanders, Swimflying Flatlanders,

Alternate Universe Forms,

Video, autoplay, GIF, Autoplay, WIP animation, Unnamed Animation 001, Animation,

games, downloads,

Flatland Merch, Art you can buy, Art you can print,

public domain art, public domain designs, public domain characters,

Square characters, Sphere characters,

Straight Line characters, Irregular Line characters,

Triangle characters, Isosceles characters, Equilateral characters, Scalene characters,

Rectangle characters, Irregular square characters, Kite characters,

Circle characters, Irregular circle characters,

Pentagon characters, Hexagon characters, Septagon characters, Octagon characters,

unspecific characters,

Art templates,

plush, plushies, arts and crafts,

Ty for adding it to the original,:), ID added in reblog, ID in original,:),

Plain text ID added in reblog, Original ID in ALT text, :),

[amplifyme]

@ladytp​ offered this one up to anyone who wanted to play. And since I’m tapped out from writing fic for the day, I thought I’d give this a shot.

1. Are you named after anyone? My middle name was supposed to be Elizabeth, after my great grandmother. But my mom’s OB/GYN, who delivered her four previous children, decided that Beth was a better fit with my first name than Elizabeth, so he filled out my birth certificate with that instead.

2. When was the last time you cried? During my reread of The Passage. Justin Cronin is an amazingly lyrical writer, and the way he strings words together brings me to tears sometimes.

3. Do you use sarcasm? I live for sarcasm. So, yeah, all the time.

4. What's the first thing you notice about people?  The eyes are the windows to the soul, right? That seems to be what I focus in on first. And then I rely on my gut, and picking up on the vibes I get. My gut very rarely steers me wrong.

5. What’s your eye color? Blue-green. It all seems to depend on my mood, the lighting, and what color I’m wearing as to which color is most predominate. 

6. Scary movie or happy ending? I’m a sap, so a happy ending is really satisfyingly.

7. Any special talents? Um, I’ve been told I’m good at stringing words together in a pleasing way. I can also cook like a motherfucker, but I rarely do that these days. It’s no fun cooking only for myself, so simple and easy is the route I usually take.

8. Where were you born? Smack-dab in the middle of corn and soybean country in the great US of A. Out on the flatlands. Where there’s nothing to stop the wind. 

9. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, immersing myself in binge watches of older, beloved TV shows. 

10. Do you have any pets? Levon the Cat, my 16 year-old constant companion. We lost his older sister Sassy back in 2018. Now it’s just me and Levon against the world. That’s him in the foreground, and Sassy in the rear. I honestly don’t know what I’ll do when I have to say good-bye to him. I don’t even want to think about it.

11. What sports do you play/have played? Not much, since I was hit by a car when I was 12. Pretty much permanently fucked up my left knee, despite several surgeries to repair the damage. Now that I’m older, it’s even more difficult to be as bendy as I’d like to be. But I always enjoyed playing volleyball, for some incomprehensible reason. 

12. How tall are you? I reached my max height of 5′2″ in my late teens. I’ve since shrunk to 5′ almost 1″.

13. What was your favorite subject in school? English. English. And English. I do not do math or any other subject that requires linear or logical thinking. Math makes no sense to me. The creative part of my brain is and always has been the dominant part. Which sucks, because in a perfect world I would have ended up delivering and caring for babies and their mommas. But I’m just not wired to absorb the kind of information or knowledge that requires. 

14. Dream job? Other than OB/GYN? It would have to be being paid to do what has always brought me the most joy: telling stories.

Everyone should play. Tell me everything about you!

[butlersbabe]

Good Man’s Land-Cowboy!Austin Butler x Reader

a/n: This is my new 5-part series. An enemies to lovers type thing. I hope you all like it.

w/c: 3k

warnings: none…i think.

Part I.

When you were young, nothing mattered at Mama and Papa’s. An open field with a beautiful, mint green, two-story house plum in the middle of it. With bright purple window sills and a red door with a wreath reading “Y/L/N” in pretty, swirly letters, decorated with marigolds, baby’s breath, and a few other flowers you couldn’t quite name. A big brown dog, Chuck, would chase you around until he caught you, tackling you and giving too many kisses. Life wasn’t so hard there. 

Many years later, your dad said it was time to grow up. To be a woman. Someone who supported herself and didn’t rely on someone else to put food on a table. You didn’t rely on your dad to put food on a table, did you? You had a part time job, you never were completely reliant on her father. He didn’t quite see it that way. He believed you were ready to leave and make something of herself. Thing is, you weren’t ready.

“Dad, I can’t just leave and live on the street!” You shouted from across the island that separates you and your dad. “Y/N!” He shouts, cutting you off, “You’re 24. You graduated college, you’re a woman. You need to make something of your life.” Although your dad was completely right, you couldn’t help but reject the option of leaving home. “Please don’t be this way, dad. I’m not-“ He slammed his fist on the counter top, turning around to you slowly. “I cannot financially support you anymore, Y/N. I just can’t. After getting laid off a-and you don’t have a stable job. We’re only able to keep this apartment because of the life insurance.”

You knew your dad hated to mention that. You mom’s life insurance. She passed not even a year ago. She was in a car accident. And thanks to a highly intoxicated individual, she became just another statistic. Your dad had asked her to get groceries that night. And she never came home with the gallon of milk, a pound of ground beef, ketchup and grapes. He beat himself up about it everyday until not too long ago. You constantly reminded him of that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Except that 40 year old on his ninth Bud Light.

“We’re running out of money, Poppy.” Your dad grimaced, saying your nickname that only your family called you. Your grandma had said you played in the poppies in front of the house when you would come over. They were your favorite.

“We can’t afford anything anymore, I can’t afford anything.” He shakes his head. You nod, and without dinner, you make your way to your bedroom. Flopping on your bed, your face finally cracks. You let your tears fall and the day-old mascara ran down your face. What was she to do? She wasn’t getting kicked out, but not without good reason. You had nowhere to go and had to be out within two days. Sitting up and spare yourself the pity, you text your best friend, then a friend from college, they couldn’t take you in. Finally you land on your last option, calling Mama and Papa’s. You hadn’t been up there since god knows when. It was out of state, in the western part of Texas. Fifteen minutes just outside of Marfa. Being from Denver, you didn’t jive much with the flatland but Mama and Papa needed it for the ranch. And you used to love being out there.

Mama and Papa were old southern folk. The enjoyed their, for lack of a better term, boring landscape. It wasn’t as boring when your were 8. Thing was, you were older and they expect you to help out. Which you were willing to do as long as you got paid.

“Thirty bucks a day?!” You shout.

“It’s a good amount, Poppy. Our ranchhand only-”

“But I’m your granddaughter. You should want to help me.”

“You’re being selfish, Poppy.” Mama pauses, “Papa and I do want to help you. But you don’t get everything in this world for free.” She says in her soft voice as always.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. Just understand that we want you to know the importance of hard work.”

“Okay.”

“Be ready by tomorrow and we’ll fly you out.” She says, a sigh behind the statement. “Okay.”

You let your dad know about the plan and he helped you start packing a bunch of clothes. Against your will, he made you pack what seemed like a million pairs of jeans. A few pairs of shorts, a ton of t-shirts, and a pair boots that once belonged to your mom. That plus the clothes and sneakers you wore.

That next evening, you left on a plane to Austin, Texas, where your Mama and Papa met you. The greeted you with open arms and a bouquet of flowers. They took you home, a six hour and then some drive. Arriving at the ranch, it was dark. You step out of the car and grab two of the suitcases you brought, your Papa taking the other two.

Walking up the driveway, although it was nighttime, you noticed the house had turned nearly white. The red door had faded and peeled, the sign still hanging with the fake flowers surrounding it. Walking up the rickety steps, your mama opens the door for you and papa. The house smelled of pork chops, corn and mashed potatoes with homemade gravy. And she was right, all laid out on a made table was the food and some sweet tea.

“Austin must’ve fixed supper.” Mama told Papa. He nodded his head and agreed. “Looks like he did.” Papa replied sarcastically. “Thank you for the clarification, sweetheart. Papa, why don’t you take her stuff up to her room?” Your grandmother asks her husband. He nods and heads upstairs with the bags he had, he’ll be back for the rest. You didn’t know who “Austin” was but you were almost completely sure it was the ranchhand who was some middle aged man with a bald spot who chronically sweats all the time. But he slept in your dad’s childhood bedroom. You would sleep in the guest room, just down the hall from your dad’s old room, luckily there was a window and a furnace.

“So, Y/N,” Mama said, digging into her meal. Before taking a bite she continues, “Work starts at 8am, tomorrow. I’ll be out around 10. Papa and Austin will be up and out in the field before the sun is even up. You’ll find them and they’ll help you out with what morning chores there are. You should be done just in the afternoon. Maybe 5?” Your eyes widen at the initial schedule. It wasn’t really ideal that you’d be given a strict itinerary for the next…however long you were going to be there.

“Oh okay.” You furrow your eyebrows and scrape more mashed potatoes off your plate into your mouth. “Austin is our helper. He lives in your daddy’s old room. He’s a few years older than you. Such a nice young gentleman. A hard worker too.”

“Okay, so he’s a guy who just works here and lives here too?” Great.

“Yes!” Too chipper, Mama. “You’ll meet him in the morning and get done with morning chores, feeding the chickens, hogs and cattle. You’ll wash and feed the horses, we have only four now, Aretha passed a few years back,”

“No! Not Aretha!” You chimed in with a frown.

“She felt no pain, I promise. But we bought Diana, Elvis, and last year we got Jagger from a breeder. They're gentle. Papa and Austin will help you saddle up on Jag. You’ll be riding him most of the time.” She says finishing her plate, “You’ll get on a combine and a couple tractors before this visit is over but I won’t put you on one tomorrow.”

You felt so in over your head. You’ve never done anything like this. You truly didn’t know what to think when Mama told you about your new routine.

“Saturdays are only half days, get up at 6, be done by 3, I’ll give you Sundays off for church and such.”

You didn’t go to church. You weren’t really even religious after these past some odd years but you were going to take advantage of those days off.

“We have farmer’s market days up in town square on every other Tuesday morning. On those days, you’ll come with me and Papa and Austin will stay here to tend to the farm.” Okay, Tuesday is pretty soon. “But since you’re still learning, I’ll leave you here for the first one.” Shit.

“We also need to get you a new wardrobe. I should have some old button ups in the attic. Papa will get you those before heading off to bed. You’re a farmhand now, you oughta look like one.” She scoffs. She’s never really liked your ripped jeans or your big shirts. Your messy hair or your outrageous use of jewelry. “The only piece of jewelry that’s should be on your body-“

“On your body is a wedding ring, yes, okay, Mama. I get that but I will never get that. I like the multiple rings. Helps me forget that I may never have a husband. Which I’m completely fine with!” You interrupt her, getting up and placing your plate and silverware in the sink, rinsing them off and placing them on a towel next to the sink.

“Whatever, Poppy.” She shrugs off. “I’m going to bed. Be ready for tomorrow.”

You hear the roosters hollering through the open window and the sound of hooves trotting the open land. You wake up to check your phone. 7:41am. Stretching, you let out an ungodly sound and rolled off the bed towards your suitcase. Within 15 minutes you had thrown your hair into a low ponytail, put on holeless jeans, a bra, wifebeater, and a button up. Finishing with your mom’s worn out boots. You felt so out of place. You winced at the thought of leaving your phone alone for a whole day.

Walking outside, Mama’s already shooing the chickens into the coop while a dog you’ve never seen chases them around. Chuck rested on the porch, beating the hot morning glow. You spot Papa and the back of a blond head who has to be Austin talk while the horses graze on what little grass there was next to the pigpens. “Good morning, sunshine!” Papa raised a hand, calling you over. “Let’s get you on a horse!” He happily says, Austin turning his horse around to see you. Austin. You make your way over in a hurry, not wanting to make them wait any longer than they already had. Walking up to your Papa, he introduces you to the live-in.

“Y/N, this is Austin. Austin, this is my granddaughter, Y/N. This pretty girl here is Diana and that handsome boy is Elvis. Her grandma calls her Poppy but don’t worry about any ridiculous nicknames yet. Let’s get you on a horse.” You look at the boy and he tips his hat at you then offers a hand to shake. “Howdy.”

You walk next to them while they walk you to the stables. A black horse stands behind a gate, already having the reins and saddle on. “Just go in there, introduce yourself and walk him out.” So, you walk in cautiously and begin to pet his nose and neck. You walk him out, the other horses moving out of the way. “Don’t you worry your pretty little heart about experience, he’s very well trained for a youngin’. Listens well, doesn’t freak out very often. I think you’re in for a treat with this one here.” He reaches over and pets the steed. “Just grab the horn, place the other on the pommel, take your foot, put it in the stirrup and swing the other over.” He said all these words like you knew what he was saying but somehow, after nearly 20 minutes, you get up and situate yourself.

“Now, give him a little kick with your heels, and I mean a good kick but you don’t want to startle him so bad he takes off.” You swallow at the directions, you could kick him so soft he never gets going or you kick him too hard to the point he takes off and kills you. But you do it, and he starts to walk. “Now let your hips follow his movements. Steering is just like a car,” which you never learned how to drive, “And to make him stop, you just pull back, using your upper body weight. And to make him trot, you kick again, and just bounce with him a bit more.” Your Papa says, him and Austin’s horses taking off into a light jog, you following after a few seconds. “You’re a natural!” Austin hollers back to you. Now you were no equestrian but you definitely caught on a lot faster than you’d thought you would.

Papa stops his horse and turns her to you and Austin’s. “Austin, my boy, will you take Y/N around? Let her get a feel for riding. Bring her back in about 30 minutes?”

“Yes, sir.” He obliged, “C’mon, cowgirl!” He began trotting again, but a bit faster. You sped Jagger up but not to Elvis’s speed. “Austin! Wait up!” You laugh, shouting for a bit of sympathy but he continues to get faster with each step. “Austin!” You kick your horse to make him go just a bit faster. “Please!” This wasn’t fun anymore. You kept getting quicker and quicker until you felt unable to control Jagger. “Austin!” Jagger was running for the hills, he passed Elvis in no time. You cock your head back, giving the blond a terrified look. Before you know it, Austin and Elvis are right next to you, Austin reaching over to grab the reins just in time to slow you down before the river bank. “Woah, babe.” He says to the horse, calming him down.

You give Austin a dirty look, “Why did you do that? I

couldn’t even stop him.” He laughs like the situation is some big joke, “A little fun never killed, nobody.” His slight southern drawl follows the chuckling. “Besides, if you held this right, you could’ve stopped him.” Austin reaches over to your set of reins and you pull away, moving the horse. “Stop, I know how to hold them,” You sternly say even though you most definitely had no clue what the exact way was. “I’m just trying to help.” You two bicker back and forth until the horses bump into each other, making Jagger stand on his hind legs, you hit the ground, with a harsh thud, feeling a bruise on your arm already.

It goes silent.

“Look, Y/N, I’m so sor-”

“Whatever.” You huff, getting up off the ground, fully in pain. You take the horse by the reins and begin walking him back to the house about 1200 yards out. “You go back, I’ll walk Jagger back.” You limped away. Austin turned Elvis back towards you and the way home. “Come on, Y/N. I said I was sorry.” He pleaded with you. “Go home, Austin. Tell Mama and Papa I just wanted to see how I’d do alone.” You said through grit teeth. He scoffs and rides back home, leaving you to stumble through the thick growth of the land.

It takes you much longer to get home than a measly 30 minutes. Mama runs up to you and holds your jaw that was already growing a light yellowish-purple on the right side. “Oh Poppy, what happened?” You shake her hands off of you due to the slight pain it gave you. “I asked Austin if I could ride alone and I guess I can’t. Jagger threw me off-”

“Baby! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. He’s never done that with me. I’ll make sure Austin goes with you every time you’re out until he’s broken to you.” She sighs heavily, petting your hair. Not the plan but you’d get out of it somehow. You don’t want that asshole around you any more than he has to. “Well.” You heard Papa’s voice. “Get back up there, we have work to do.”

Papa helped you back up onto Jagger and off you went back into the field, wrangling up the cattle into the pens so you could feed them. Some time later it was lunchtime. Mama had made sandwiches to your liking. Papa had a bologna sandwich, Austin’s was a BLT, and you had a grilled hot ham and cheese.

“So, Y/N,” Papa started, “How’s the first day?”

“It’s good. Other than being thrown off a horse. It’s good.”

Austin laughed and your head snapped towards him. “What’s so funny?” You ask, the pressure of anger rising in the back of your throat. “Nothing, dear.” He laughs again, you didn’t like that. “Don’t call me that.” You sneered.

The workday ended at five. Papa called it an easy day. Didn’t feel easy. Things felt like they were going to be tough now. Your dad kicked you out, you have to work on a farm for god knows how long, you’re going to deal with a blond, pretty boy know-it-all. You feel so stuck and out of place. This couldn’t be how life was going. Shouldn’t be.

Your heart was heavy while you sat in the bathtub. It felt as if the weight was dragging you deeper and deeper into the water that had turned lukewarm. You breathe out of your nose, the bubbles rising until your body emerges from the water.

“You alright in there?” Austin’s muffled voice asks next to a knock in the door. “Yeah, I’m just fine.” And you sunk back into the water hoping God or something would change your situation. Hoping you’d wake up in a new place.

-part two 🤠

[futurewriter2000]

Rocks and Dust

A/N: I don't know why Remus gave me such Heath Ledger vibes when I was writing this but he did and I am honestly so fucking proud of it. Now, I really want to make myself some rice and chicken... or just rice. I hope you like it <3

REQUESTED BY @cloudywitchh: Hiiii, Im not sure if your requests are open, but if they are i have one. :)) Before I request, I want you to know that I love your oneshots and series! ive been binge reading. Could you possibly do a Gryffindor reader that has both james and remus that like her. oneshot or series. if you choose to write it, thank you, if not i understand

XX

Souls meet when eyes do and it hasn't been much easy to hold yourself back when such mesmerising hazel eyes had done nothing but watch you seductively.

At first you couldn't feel it but after a while, something in the back of your mind told you to look a certain direction. When you did, your eyes met his and a certain colour started to appear on your cheeks.

You watched him, he watched you. "Yes, Potter?" you asked with a smirk forming on the corner of your lips.

He smiled, tilting his head a bit to the side before speaking. "Had you done something new with your hair?" he asked, glancing up at your hair as you let out a laugh.

"Not really."

"Well, no matter of it." he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "You look absolutely stunning."

You felt your heart flutter in your chest but you were not about to let him know that. "Thank you. When don't I look absolutely stunning." you joked and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey, mate." Remus came into the common room and tapped James' shoulder as he passed him by, sitting next to him.

James smile faded a bit. He was a tad disappointed in his friend's presence. Everything had seemed to go so well between you and him. If the two of you continued to be alone, he would have had more confidence to ask you out on a date. Knowing that Remus took fancy in you too, it was a bit challenging to do so.

"What's up, Moony?" James looked at him, clearly not in a friendliest tone Remus was used to.

Remus' lips twirled upwards and he felt amused by his friends' frustration. He looked at you and smiled wonderfully. "Hi." he said and you smiled cheerfully, oblivious to the competition in front of you.

"Hi, Remus."

You seemed to be a tad disappointed as well. You loved to flirt with James because it seemed so easy and fun to do yet sometimes you couldn't understand whether he truly likes you or if he's doing it just out of fun. But you live by your mother's words; If a man truly likes you, he will do absolutely everything to let you know and pursue you.

That was why you were always so laid back. You didn't overthink anything when it came to boy. They seemed to think more simply than girls and whatever they did, they did because they wanted to, not because there was a whole scheme behind their actions.

You could see a bit discomfort in James. You couldn't really figure out why but he started to pout, which had made you a bit more uncomfortable around both of them.

Remus, however, loved to talk to you. He was open and honest but sometimes you felt as if he held too many secrets inside of him. To you, he was a bit harder to get to know, no matter how much he could tell you.

"You're going to love this, (y/n)!" he started to sound more excited. "I had found the oldest yet most interesting place a few nights ago-" he hear- both of you heard James scoff to that. "And I know your curious spirit cannot wait to explore it."

"Where?!" you threw all your books away and jumped forward. Old ruins and historic backgrounds always made you overly excited. You must have gotten it from your dad's side of the family. Everybody seemed to be more of history freaks and you were no different.

"I can show you. What do you think James?" Remus turned to James, who only laughed.

"No, thank you." he stood up and stretched his arms over his body. "Rocks and dust? Not my cup of tea. If I wanted to take a girl I fancy-" he looked at you with a grin and a soft chuckle. "I'd take her somewhere more romantic." he walked to you and winked. "A lovely restaurant or a walk among the trees under the moonlight." he was leaning down to you, close and observing the flush in your cheeks.

Your eyes were meeting and it lit a fiery spark between the two of you but as you didn't want to give him the pleasure of it, you rolled your eyes and moved away. "That's a bit of a cliche, isn't it, Potter?" you stood up and stretched your back as well. "I don't do romance." you turned from James to Remus and smiled excitedly. "Shall we go and explore!?"

"Yes we shall."

---

Remus hasn't felt you this excited over some 'rocks and dust' in all the years he had known you but he had felt his heart fill with joy and love when he could see how a person can live for the small things in life. You didn't care about wealth or power, neither if a person was physically beautiful and attractive. You neither cared if person had its flaws, you still loved anybody for who they were; good or evil. You always tried to look the best in people and your gift was, that you always seemed to bring out just that out of everybody and especially out of him.

As the two of you had walked, he had realised that he wants to tell you something important to him. It wasn't a secret to his friends and family but it was a shameful secret to him and to everybody else.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked as the two of you were climbing up the hill.

"Yeah." you stopped, gasping for air and putting your hands on your hips. "I think we need to rest too." you smiled and he laughed.

"It's not that far. We're almost close."

"My heart is almost close to stopping too."

He laughed again and sat on the rock, finding the moon shining on him as if it was leaving its fullness from a few days ago. "I just have the need to tell you this... and I'm serious."

You looked up at him and found the moon perfectly cut out the colour of his green eyes. "Your eyes look so pretty in the moonlight." you said without any filter but sat down next to him.

"Thank you."

You smiled and looked up at the moon before taking a look of his worried expression. "What is it?" you shoved him a little as he smiled. "You can tell me your deepest darkest secret." you joked but it was no joke to him.

"Well... I'm... I'm a werewOlf." he stuttered out, trying to sound casually as he said so but unsuccessful.

You only stared in silence, clearly processing the information as he was impatient to wait for your reaction. Your eyes only narrowed at him and you nodded. "I knew it."

"You knew it?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, I didn't know it. I just know there was something to you that I couldn't put my finger on but I kind of knew it. It did cross my mind once but I brushed it off quickly. I didn't believe it but apparently my intuition was on to something." you laughed and stood up, offering him your hand. "Shall we continue?"

"You don't seem a tad phased by it." he took your hand gently and stood up.

"Oh, I am but I really don't mind people being people. You know?" you started to talk fast. "I don't judge people by their flaws, more by their actions and I don't seem why your werewolfness would bother me when there are far worse withces, wizards and Muggles in this world, who are far more worse than any werewolf I had encounter. Which, you're the first but still. You don't seem the one to eat children and howl at the moon."

He let out a loud laugh. "I don't eat children but I do the latter."

---

The two of you walked up the hill hand in hand, him trying to pull you up as his steps were much larger than yours. He was more of muscles than you, faster and careful as for you seemed to trip over a branch or two.

He had opened up as the two of you made your way to the top and started to walk on the flatlands. It stretched far away from the castle but you could see the ruins so clearly from the distance. The light of he moon made the subject far more pleasing to the eye and at that moment when Remus was talking to you and your eyes seemed to wander on the view- everything seemed to be perfect and you imprinted that moment into your memory so that you can look back and re-live it all over again.

As he talked, he seemed more lose and excited. He hadn't held back on anything. He had told you about Animagnus forms of his friends and how he isn't the only one who howls at the moon. Sirius apparently loves to do it just as well in his other form. He had constantly made you laugh by his full moon stories and how he accepted the awful fact of his life-long destiny of sharing his body with a beast.

He was glowing, literally glowing when he was telling you all the things he was hiding from you and for the first time, you were the one to listen and he was the one constantly talking.

"We're here!" he pointed at the ruins of an old castle. It wasn't big or notorious as Camelot or Hogwarts or any other historically known castle. It was small and poor in it's built but it was still a castle, just not the traditional kind.

He let go of your hand and it gave you a sort of an electrical shock as he did. You seemed to be so comfortable and in love of holding hands that you completely forgot what it was like without his fingers intertwined with yours.

It wasn't for long though. He had opened the old wooden door for you and offered you his hand to lead you inside. "After you, m'lady." he bowed as a gentleman should and you hurried up inside, taking him by the hand and leading him behind you.

Your wands needn't to be lit as the moonlight made it's own natural light through the large gaps between the rocks. Nature made it's own charm by growing vines around the walls, flowers and grass among the cracks. It truly did feel more magical than the magic itself.

"Oh, Remus look!" you ran to one of the walls and saw names carved in. "Ibzan." you smiled back at him.

"Old biblical name." Remus followed and saw many other names written around it. "Arthur." he laughed. "Wouldn't be an English castle without an Arthur in it."

"Tatiana." you looked at it. "Like a princess." you looked at him but he seemed to be very close to you, staring forward. His chest was against your back and his head leaning over your shoulder. You didn't have to look back. You could only move your eyes to the side and see him there.

He seemed to be so focused on the rocks in front of you that he hasn't even noticed you marvelling at him. All you could see, for the first time noticing his sharp, nicely structured side profile. His cheek bones were finely defined, his lips sharp and plump and his eyebrows nicely arched.

He truly was a beautiful boy and you hadn't noticed it till now. His palm was placed against the rock as he was supporting himself but when he had noticed you looking at him, he slyly looked back. A corner of his mouth quirked up and he said: "A girl doesn't need to be a princess to have a beautiful name." he spoke low and quietly.

The spark that James lit before was over-flamed by the passion Remus arroused in you. Before you knew it, he was leaning down and kissed you softly. One short kiss and it was enough to tempt you for more. You put your hand around his neck and pulled him down for me, smiling into it as you had felt him smile as well. As heavy as they felt, they seemed light as well because no kisses seemed to be as perfect as his; soft, teasing yet deep and passionate.

When he placed his hand on your cheek you could feel the dust set on your skin. You let out a giggle and he pulled away. "What?" he smiled but then just noticed how dark your cheek was. "Oh, my-" he let out a laugh, then looked back on the wall his palm was pressed on before. "I am terribly sorry."

You laughed as well. "Don't worry." you continued to laugh and wipe it away. "It'll probably wash away."

"Probably." he tilted his head a bit and gave you a peck. "And we should probably head back."

Putting your arms around his neck, you made a big stretch and looked up at the sky. "Ugh..." you looked back into his green eyes, burning your soul into sparks and bitses. "But it's so beautiful here." you let out a small whine and he chuckled.

"Well, (y/n)(y/l/n). I didn't think you did romance." he teased.

"I don't. I let the man do all the romance for me." you stepped on your tiptoes and brushed your nose against his.

"That's a bit unfair."

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, Lupin. I have time to make it fair."

"Glad to hear it."

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Firefly’s Glow - Part 5/?

Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 Chapter 2: Part 3 | Part 4   Chapter 3: Part 5 You are Here From the Beginning: FF | AO3 Summary: Imprisoned by the Hood, Gordon dreams of his oldest brother and of fireflies - but of course the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and Virgil’s face. What else could he possibly steal? He discovers the answer is quite a bit, and Gordon has to learn to navigate his new world, its new dangers, and the overbearing presence of his brothers’ desire to help what they can’t fix.

This part ~ 905 words - Enter Virgil, stage right. 

——————

“Gordon’s alive.”

Two words. But the best two goddamn words Virgil had ever heard in his life. Relief surged through his tense muscles and the grip around his heart loosened, though the knots in his shoulders remained with the reminder of the agonizing hell of the past few hours. Timed with precision, he raised his left hand for his co-pilot’s high five.

It was a beat later than usual.

Right, he remembered, because it was Alan and not Gordon beside him.

“What happened?” Virgil demanded. “Is he alright?” There was something in the way that Scott spoke, a timbre that he couldn’t quite place.  It wasn’t fury or fear – but it was something. “Are you alright?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” Scott replied. “Uh - he’s alive and standing. But… Virg, can you hurry? We need you.”

That sounded worrisome. “Scott?”

“Just get here.”  The comms went dead, intentionally that time. So, he did what any other worried brother would do. He listened, pushing Thunderbird Two just that bit beyond her limits to get to his siblings.

Thunderbird Two tore over Montana where the Rocky Mountains dipped into wide-open plains. The ranch, as it came into view, looked innocent enough. But just as their own Gran Roca home had a hidden belly of bunkers for their equipment testing, John and EOS had already run scans on the farm area to reveal the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers below the surface.

He warned his siblings accordingly. The site was more than met the eye.

Keeping a wary eye out for movement around the main house, Virgil landed his steadfast girl near to her agile sister.  Then, he and Alan scrambled out of their seats to meet up with Scott and figure out what the hell was going on.

Scott was waiting for them outside the landing zone of Two, but nearby enough to bound over as they stepped foot onto the grassy flatlands. And he appeared to be alone.

Virgil knew the strain in Scott’s face as well as he knew his own paints tubes and could read which expressions were focus, which were stress, and which had the names Virgil, John, Gordon, and Alan written in tension lines (he was self-aware enough to know he definitely was included in that list). This was… different, as strange as the tone earlier, and the fear in his gut coiled painfully tighter from the not-knowing.

“Where’s Gordon?”

Alan grabbed him by the arm. “Virg-”

But his eyes were undeterred in their query for a clue in Scott’s face, meeting an unfamiliar dullness to those electric blues as they flicked downward – not to avert, but with a request to follow.  

Oh f–

 Virgil inhaled sharply and felt Alan’s grip tighten around his forearm.

“Gordon!”

Well, it was better than the alternative - in that anything would be better than the fact that five minutes ago they all thought Gordon was dead. The pulse in Scott’s carotid visibly throbbed, and now that Virgil was looking, it was obvious there was a stiffened tilt in his neck to give Gordon more room as he tucked himself in closer, clutching onto Scott’s uniform collar like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“Oh man, G!” Alan exclaimed. “Who’s the short stuff now?”

“Alan,” Scott started, about to tell him off.

Gordon interrupted at nearly the same time, his voice inexplicably diminutive for his usually dynamic personality. “Still you, Sprout.”

Scott explained the circumstances around how he found Gordon, filling in details from what Gordon told him earlier of the story around his capture.  Virgil growled low in his throat, getting angrier the more he found out about the ordeal. He hated this; hated what this man had done to his family.

“How do we fix this?”

“We need to know what he was injected with,” John advised. “Gordon? Anything you can tell us?”

He shrugged. “It was blue. It hurt when I was hit with it, but that could’ve been the force of the dart. It knocked me out after.”

“We need Havoc to tell us.” Scott exclaimed. “Kayo, you here? I knocked Havoc out and secured her around the side of the house. Maybe she’s knows-”

“I’m here, Scott,” came Kayo’s voice. “But I’m afraid Havoc is not.” In that moment, the rumble of take-off reached their ears. The Chaos Cruiser darted into the sky away from them.

Hope fled as quickly as it came, and for a beat comms were quiet and the world still.

John sighed but was the first to break the painful silence. “Scott, Kayo, we should still search the facility. See what you can find.”

“FAB. Stay where you are, Kayo, and I’ll meet you. Virgil, can you-”

“I got him, Scott. Go.” Virgil leaned in and reached out for his brother.  “Come on, Gordo, I’d like to take a look at your injuries.”

“What about me?” Alan called out beside him, directing the question to Scott.

It was Gordon who answered. “Come with us, Al. Save me from how boring Virgil is in doctor mode.”

It would’ve been a normal Gordon comment under normal circumstances, the typical brotherly rub that he’d heard many times over and would not have thought twice about. But these were not normal circumstances.

This time, it triggered Virgil’s own version of Squid sense. Something – well everything – was off with Gordon.  

Because when Virgil had reached for his brother, Gordon had hesitated

End Note - if you haven’t seen yet @godsliltippy​ made some amazing artwork of last chapter - here, and it’s so perfect. Go give it, and her, some love.

[vassar177]

"To swear" for 12 days of Mingcheng

So. This got long. It’s actually the longest thing I’ve ever written haha...

Thank you for sending this in and I hope it’s ok. 

AO3 link.

Trigger Warning: depictions of panic attacks and descriptions of suicidal ideation are in this fic. Please be aware and take consideration of yourself when reading.

+++

+++

Twelve Days of Mingcheng - Day Six

Promises

Three weeks. 

It’s been three weeks since Jiang Cheng has received any notice from Qinghe and underneath all of the disappointment and anger he feels, he’s starting to get a bit concerned.

Normally, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t bat an eyelash if correspondence between him and Nie Mingjue fell by the wayside for a bit. They’re both sect leaders with busy schedules and demanding routines; it’s not uncommon to put off personal matters until a later date.

And it’s not like three weeks is even that long.

Since their relationship began, there have been large spans of time in which both of them were simply too busy to keep up a steady flow of letters. It didn’t bother Jiang Cheng that much; when they did manage to meet, they more than made up for lost time.

This is different though.

Nie Mingjue, Nie Huaisang, and Jiang Cheng had all made plans. They had made an agreement.

Nie Mingjue would come to Lotus Pier to visit for a week or so while Nie Huaisang took care of matters in Qinghe. In return, Nie Huaisang would be allowed to visit Lotus Pier during the summer without the supervision of an entire Nie Sect cohort. Simple.

That’s what was supposed to happen. Nie Mingjue should have arrived three weeks ago and Jiang Cheng should have been able to kiss his stupid face in greeting.

That is not what happened.

Instead, Jiang Cheng spent the entire day anxiously awaiting his partner’s arrival, only to be let down. And once again, that would have been fine, shit happens, except for the fact that he didn’t receive any notice that day.

Or the day after that.

Or the week after that.

This has never happened before. Casual letters are one thing, but if either of them has ever had to cancel a planned arrangement, they always made sure to send a heads up.

Nie Huaisang hasn’t even been sending his weekly letters shit-talking his brother (which Jiang Cheng reluctantly encourages because Nie Huaisang is an excellent storyteller, and the topic is his lover after all, even if it’s all complaints).  

So. It’s been three weeks and counting of absolute silence and Jiang Cheng is officially worried. No one can blame him if he makes an unannounced visit to Qinghe. Because he’s worried. Of course.

He informs his right hand of his intentions, and lays out a detailed plan of action should he be gone longer than he initially intends. There shouldn’t be any issues, and he’s thankful that he has such capable people behind him that he can rely on.

Packing his things, he sets out in the early morning, forgoing sleep to save even the smallest amount of time.

Flying to Qinghe isn’t the easiest trip, it’s farther than other sects and the terrain and climate shift as he flies, but he pushes himself regardless. The sooner he gets there, the sooner he can rain down the wrath of god on Nie Mingjue for leaving him hanging (as long as he’s healthy, Jiang Cheng amends silently).

Lush flatlands flowing with water and floating markets shift to sprawling valleys rich with life turn into craggy mountains that tell of harsh winters and arid summits.

The wind flying past Jiang Cheng’s face becomes cold and dry, biting into his skin as the mountain range that surrounds Qinghe finally comes into view.

Landing at the gates, Jiang Cheng spends a moment patting himself on the back for making it there in only a quarter of a day; it’s his fastest trip yet and he can’t help but feel a bit impressed by how much his stamina has increased since he started making trips north more routinely.

Making his way towards the gates, he becomes slightly disconcerted when the greetings he receives are neither warm nor welcome, something that hasn’t happened in years. It was one of the things he’d come to quietly rely on; no matter how perfunctory his stays with the Jins or the Lans were, the Nie sect would always welcome his stay with enthusiasm.

It’s not the first time he’s come unannounced, although he tries not to make a habit of it, but the guards keep looking at one another, speaking silently through their eyes as they lead him inside the sect. This… coldness is setting him on edge

For the most part, things seem to be normal.

There are disciples training and studying, metalworkers welding, and a steady flow of people going in and out from the kitchens. Everything is normal. Just. Normal.

So normal, that Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he’s seen the Nie sect this organized. Ever.

A loud gust of wind passes through the ground, bringing with it debris and the faint sound of chimes.

Ah, he thinks, so that’s it.

Aside from orders shouted by head disciples, ambient sounds of metal clattering against metal, and porcelain against porcelain, the Nie sect is silent. No laughter, no mindless chatter, no muted whispers of gossip, just- nothing.

A deep feeling of unease begins to settle in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s stomach.

And his guides are still looking at one another, unsure, as they approach the reception hall.

The doors open- loud, scratching against the floor, and Jiang Cheng all but rushes in, anxiety clawing at his robes and up his throat. His heart stutters when he sees Nie Huaisang sitting on the throne instead of his lover.

“Jiang-xiong…” Nie Huaisang says gently, uncertain.

His name echoes around the chamber, rings through his ears, and every worst-case scenario he’s ever thought of comes rushing forward to see if they can be the one that breaks him.

Again, he’s been left unaware, the last to know.

Again, he can do nothing, powerless.

Again, he’s too late.

He thinks he hears his name being called. Once, twice, he doesn’t know. His breathing gets faster, louder as it drowns out anything else of importance. He’s going to be left alone.

Again.

Someone he loves is has died and he did- could do- nothing-

“JIANG-XIONG!”

His head snaps up, eyes widening as he realizes Nie Huaisang’s hands are cradling his face and the guards are slowly lowering him to the floor. His knees gave out.

He wants to know- no, he needs to know, but paranoia and fear choke the words before they can form.

“He’s alive,” Nie Huaisang says, forcing him to make eye-contact. “Breathe, Jiang-xiong, he’s alive. He’s alive.”

Jiang Cheng gasps for air, head falling as he clutches onto Nie Huaisang’s robes. He tries to count his breaths like his medic taught him, the sound of his bell rings in the background to help him keep count. One of Nie Huaisang’s hands shift from his face to his back, rubbing up and down soothingly, while the other clutches his neck.

Nie Huaisang calls the guards away to leave them.

As the door shuts, the only sounds to fill the hall are Jiang Cheng’s shuddering breaths, and Nie Huaisang’s whispers of “It’s okay, he’s fine. He’s okay, he’s going to be okay. We should have told you, I’m sorry.”

Ring.

Breathe in.

Ring.

Breathe out.

It takes longer than it should for Jiang Cheng to calm down from what was essentially a false alarm, but with his mind settled, he thinks back.

From what he knows, he can make a decent guess as to what happened, and he can’t say he's pleased.

He lifts his head off the other’s chest and stands up shakily. Nie Huaisang is hovering so close, flitting about left and right, Jiang Cheng questions whether or not he’s actually trying to turn into one of those birds he likes so much. It’s beginning to stress him out (even more), all that frenetic energy.

“Will you calm down?”

The flapping stops instantly and Nie Huaisang glares at him before huffing and snapping his fan open, fanning himself lightly. “Da-ge would kill me if he found out I upset you.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have done something to upset me,” Jiang Cheng snaps automatically. He stops and takes another calming breath. It won’t do to get upset again, and so soon at that. He can feel the lack of sleep beginning to weigh on him, his emotions fluctuating dangerously.

Once under control, he starts making his way towards Nie Mingjue’s personal quarters as Nie Huaisang follows closely behind. “Although, the one I’m most upset with isn’t you,” he adds as an apology.

“Ah~, Jiang-xiong, don’t be too angry okay?” Nie Huaisang says, outburst forgiven, shuffling ahead briefly before making a sharp left, in the direct opposite direction to where he was intending to head. And then it hits Jiang Cheng.

“Da-ge is in a very-” Nie Huaisang stops briefly, hums, closes his fan, and taps it against his chin a few times in contemplation, “-delicate state right now,” he finishes. “This past qi deviation was much more severe than what we thought it would be.”

Jiang Cheng flinches slightly as his theory is confirmed, and Nie Huaisang glances at him while they walk, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“It caught us off guard because he’d been doing well, really well. The salves your medics sent us were great! And then suddenly it was like he took ten steps back, and we couldn’t figure out why. He wouldn’t tell us why.” Nie Huaisangs hand tightens around his fan as he says this, knuckles turning white. “Slowly, we were able to walk him back from the edge.”

The silence hangs around them as Jiang Cheng absorbs all that he’s been told.

If it had really been that bad...he doesn’t know what would have happened. He broke down at the mere thought of Nie Mingjue dying, for that to have come so close to being a reality, without his knowledge no less...

Stopping abruptly, Nie Huaisang turns to Jiang Cheng. “As his partner, we should have sent you an update as was agreed upon, for that I am sorry.” He’s about to nod in understanding when Nie Huaisang continues. “But Jiang-xiong, if you ruin all of his hard work because you’re upset, know that I will never forgive you.”

Nie Huaisang is pointing his fan at him in warning, and if he weren’t aware of how deep Nie Huaisang’s love ran for Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng would almost think the display funny. As it stands, he takes it for the threat that it is.

“But!” Snapping his fan open with a flourish, "Da-ge really pissed me off this time, so feel free to rip him a new one,” Nie Huaisang says cheerfully as he walks away, all hints of animosity gone, leaving Jiang Cheng alone in front of the infirmary with a strong sense of whiplash.

Well.

With that stamp of approval (and vague threat hanging in the air), Jiang Cheng makes his way inside, marching past the medics and heading directly towards the area reserved for Nie Mingjue. No one tries to stop him, already used to him coming and going, but they do make way for him.

If Jiang Cheng were to take a moment to stop and look at them, he might have noticed all of the eyes following him in anticipation, smirking to themselves because maybe this time, Nie Mingjue will actually listen, but he doesn’t. His mind focused on one thing.

Jiang Cheng wastes no time entering the room, eyes immediately landing on Nie Mingjue’s form as he stands off to the side. He must have been looking out the window, but his eyes are focused solely on Jiang Cheng now.

Staring at one another for a moment, tension bleeds through the air, permeating through the already stale afternoon light. Jiang Cheng slides the door behind him. He tracks the way Nie Mingjue’s eyes follow his movements, wary as he crosses the space between them.

He stops a short distance away, close enough to touch, before letting his eyes roam.

He can see that whatever superficial wounds his lover may have had are already healed, leaving behind faint scratches here and there. But this close, it is difficult to ignore the bruises under Nie MIngjue’s eyes; the way his tanned skin has turned thin and pallid, almost grey in color; how his lips have chapped, from biting and picking no doubt.

Jiang Cheng can not even begin to imagine what Nie MIngjue went through, and that pains him deeply. He was supposed to be there for him.

He steps closer to the other man, still imposing despite his ailing health.

Closer.

And closer still, until he wraps his arms around the other, exhaling a shuddering breath as he grasps at Nie Mingjue’s back. “You promised.”

He can feel the way Nie Mingjue tenses, the way he chokes back a whimper, arms still hanging weakly by his side.

“Nie Mingjue you swore to me,” Jiang Cheng pushes, his face turned into the other’s neck to hide the tears that have finally started to fall. “You swore you’d tell me if things started getting bad.”

---

Nie Mingjue holds back the sob he knows wants to break free, arms raising to clutch at Jiang Cheng’s shoulders. He takes a deep breath, ragged and wet with his own unshed tears.

“I thought I was going to die.”

Jiang Cheng freezes in his arms, body tensing like he’s preparing for battle, but this is what he wanted. And things are bad, so Nie Mingjue will tell him. 

He’s grown weary with having to keep thoughts to himself that slowly pollute his mind and soul in fear that he will be thought of as less; ashamed of having lied so easily to Jiang Cheng for so long.

Maybe, maybe, if he lets it all out like he should have from the start, he’ll finally feel some relief. 

Or maybe, maybe, Jiang Cheng will be done with him, sick of the burden he represents and the pain he brings. 

It’s too late now to hide.

“It hurt.” He closes his eyes in memory. The feeling of spiraling too vivid; his muscles spasming uncontrollably as pressure built in his head and his chest. The pain so severe he felt as if there was no way for him to survive- he couldn’t survive- only to wake up bandaged, bruised, and broken.  

“It hurts. Everything- hurts, Cheng’er.”

It must be shocking to hear, Nie MIngjue thinks, him admitting to pain- him admitting to weakness. He’s sure Jiang Cheng is surprised, he’s told him very little about the physical and mental ramifications of his qi instability. Instinctively, he clutches onto the other tighter, nails digging in and he’ll have to apologize for that later. 

“Always.” he says, “I can’t think, I can’t sleep. I feel like I’m losing my mind and I’m just. Tired.” 

He pauses, trying to come up with a way to explain how he feels, that he lives from day to day with a bone-deep exhaustion that seeps out of his skin and colors all of his interactions grey; irritating him even when he feels good because he knows- he knows he will have to pay for whatever happiness he has the audacity to hold onto.

“I’m tired of always being in pain. I’m tired of walking on glass. I’m tired of drinking herbal remedies,” his voice begins to rise, speeding up in cadence, “eating all these exotic cure-alls and listening to soothing music that only grates on my nerves. I’m just fucking tired of feeling like nothing I do matters, that the result will be the same, even though I know that’s not true.”

Because he does, mentally at least.

“I know I have people to support me. I know I have you, and Nie Huaisang, and the medic team, and the disciples and I know the treatments help. I know this.” He emphasizes because refuses to downplay all the help he has received, the effort that his family has gone to. “But how much longer can that last? How much longer can I put everyone through this- how much longer can I put myself through this?”

Nie Mingjue catches his breath before he continues. Taking his time to regulate his emotions and admit what he has ignored for so long.

“And you know, Cheng’er.” Nie Mingjue begins softly, aware of how much this confession will hurt. “You know, in that moment, just for a second, I thought- I thought finally. It’s over.”

A sharp intake of breath sounds through the room and Nie Mingjue can’t feign ignorance of the implications behind what he just said.

In that moment, he had imagined that if it all just ended, then he wouldn’t feel so tired, he wouldn’t be a hazard to his own family; neither he nor the people he cared about would have to deal with his problems anymore and that thought was just so attractive.

“But then my sight went. And all I could hear was ringing,...until I couldn’t and I just.” he shudders unintentionally, body unable to forget the fear, “It was nothing. I was nothing, and it was horrifying. I didn’t want to die- I don’t want to die- but it’s hard.”

“It’s so hard,” Nie Mingjue whispers into silence.

“How long?” 

It’s said so low, he almost thinks he hallucinated it. But Jiang Cheng speaks again, louder. “How long have you felt this way?” 

And isn’t that a loaded question? Nie Mingjue sighs, his whole chest heaving. To put it succinctly, “Too long.”

A strangled noise is pressed into his neck and he feels the way Jiang Cheng tries to suppress a sob. A sense of guilt begins to settle in his gut.

Did he feel catharsis in speaking his truth? Possibly. But there’s still a coil in his chest, telling him this wasn’t enough- this was a mistake. 

Then Jiang Cheng surprises him, like he always does.

“Remember how you said I could always act spoiled with you?”

Nie Mingjue feels his mind blank, confused at the tangent, but he presses a small laugh into Jiang Cheng’s shoulder before nodding, because of course he does. How could he forget?

It happened several months ago. Jiang Cheng had refused to ask him to one of Yunmeng’s annual summer festivals because he was worried that he’d be asking too much and the matter wasn’t important enough- that he wasn’t important enough echoed in the lines between.

And he had been mad. He had been furious, because after two years together, Jiang Cheng still didn’t realize how much he meant to him; didn’t realize that Nie Mingjue would do near anything if his Cheng’er so much as said the word.

And it was his fault. Nie Mingjue had failed to assuage the fears he knew lay so deep within Jiang Cheng’s heart. They ended up going to the festival on his demand, but what does that have to do with this?

“You told me I could be selfish, and that I should never hesitate to tell you what I want,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice coming out stronger than Nie Mingjue has ever felt; certainty lacing his voice in steel. “So, I’m making good on that offer.”

Nie Mingjue feels the other’s arms slide from his upper back down to his waist as the other pushes away slightly to look up at him. He’s taller than the other by a good ten centimeters, and yet he still feels so small.

“You’re not allowed to give up. I won’t let you.”

The words circle through his mind.

Give up? Is that what Jiang Cheng had thought? All that he had said, and that’s the message that was received? That he was ready to give up?

He’s about to turn his head away, disappointment and anger and heartbreak threading its way through his body, but Jiang Cheng grasps his cheeks, forcing him to make eye-contact.

“Listening to you just now,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice coming out tight and near choked, “it told me how much I didn’t know- how much I still don’t know.”

Because I never told you, Nie Mingjue thinks to himself, because I kept it a secret.

Jiang Cheng had made him promise to tell him when things got bad, and Nie Mingjue agreed knowing that he would never share the full extent of it. Before now, no one was supposed to know.

“But I should have.”

...what?

“I will never be able to fully understand the pain you go through.” Tears begin to flood Jiang Cheng’s eyes once more as he speaks and Nie Mingjue can’t even think about looking away.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to hold it all in. I thought we agreed to that, so I didn’t ask. Why did I let myself become complacent? I should have known something was wrong, I should have noticed. I don’t want to be so unreliable. I’m sorry.”

A sad smile breaks across his face and Nie Mingjue can feel his own breath speed up again, his own eyes start to water. The sob from before climbing it’s way back up his throat.

“It’s not-” Nie Mingjue begins to say, but Jiang Cheng cuts him off.

“Nie Mingjue, let it be known,” he says, demanding despite the tears flowing down his face, “I’m not mad at you,” he says through stuttered breaths, “I’m not disappointed, or anything like that.” 

Nie Mingjue blinks down and the other’s hands tighten on his face.

“I am upset and concerned and frustrated because I was supposed to be there for you. I wanted to be there for you,” he reassures. “I want to be here for you. No matter what.”

The dam breaks and the coil unfurls. 

Nie Mingjue’s arms fly back up, pulling Jiang Cheng closer as a sob wracks through his body, “I wasn’t- it wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cheng’er. It’s all my fault-”

“None of that,” Jiang Cheng interrupts. “None of that,” he repeats and buries his nose further into the Nie Mingjue’s neck, holding on even tighter.

“I’m not going to give up, and I’m asking- begging- that you never let yourself get to a place where you would rather die than tell me you're hurting.”

Nie Mingjue hiccups as sobs continue to force their way through his body, and Jiang Cheng does his best to support both of them.

“You’re not getting rid of me,” Jiang Cheng promises. “I’m not going anywhere. So, don’t leave me either, okay? That’s all I want.”

+++

+++

+++

I- am not entirely happy with the way this turned out. However, I wanted to upload it anyway. There's a lot I want to say, but I don't really want to write another 3.5k in the notes lol

To sum it up: Sometimes talking about your pain is what hurts the most. Knowing that someone will always be there, will always listen and not judge, will even be willing to go out of their way to notice the parts of you that try to hide, can be very reassuring. And also crying is Good sometimes. 

I hope this wasn't too similar to one of my other works. I think, with time, I will be able to convey what I wanted to with more coherence, but for now, I am satisfied. 

Thank you so much for reading and remember to take care of your mental and physical health. This was day six of Twelve Days of Mingcheng. 

[cecilspeaks]

173 - The Hundred Year Play

Quoth the raven: [bird noises] Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, some exciting news from the world of theatre! The 100 year play is about to reach its final scene. Yes, this is the play that has been running continuously since 1920. Written by a brilliant playwright Hannah Hershman, designed to take exactly 100 years to perform. And the tireless volunteer of the Night Vale Players Playhouse have been going through those scenes, one after another, for decade upon decade. There’s little time to rehearse, for each hour brings new scenes and each scene will only be performed once the play moves on, in order to keep up with the tight schedule needed to execute the entire script before a century elapses.

It is a monumental work of theatre, but like all work, it must some day cease. Today, specifically. I will be in attendance at that historic moment, when the final scene is performed and the curtain closes on the 100 year play.   More soon, but first the news.

We bring you the latest on the lawsuit “The estate of Franklin Chen vs. the city of Night Vale”. As you know, this case has grown so large and complicated that I’ve not had the time to discuss it in my usual community radio broadcasts. But instead, have started a true crime podcast called “Bloody Laws, Bloody Claws: The Murder of Frank Chen”, in which I strive to get to the truth of just what happened on that fateful night when five-headed dragon Hiram McDaniels met Frank Chen, and then later Frank Chen’s body was found covered in burns and claw marks. It’s a confounding mystery. The Sheriff’s Secret Police announce that it seems really complicated and they’re not even gonna try to solve that sucker. “Oh, what?” a Secret Police spokesman muttered at an earthworm he found in his garden. “You want us to fail? You wanna see us fail? That’s why you want us to investigate this case, to see us fail at it?” The family of Frank Chen say they merely want the appropriate parties, in this case the city of Night Vale, Hiram McDaniels and an omniscient conception of God, to take responsibility for their part in this tragedy. The trial is now in its 10th month, and has included spirited re-enactments of the supposed murder by helpful Players Playhouse performers in between their work on the 100 year play. 3 changes of judge and venue due to “some dragon attacks and constant interruptions from a local audio journalist, who hosts a widely respected true crime podcast”. Still, with all this, we near a verdict. Judge Chaplin has indicated she will issue her ruling soon. “Like in the next year or so?” she said. “Certainly within 5 years. Listen, I don’t owe you a verdict, just because you’re paying me to do a job, you can’t rush me to do it. The verdict will be done when. It’s. Done.” Chaplin then huffed out of the courtroom followed by journalists shouting recommendations for episodes of their podcast to listen to.

I was present, you know, on opening night of the 100 year play. Ah, how the theatre buzzed! Of course this was partly the audience, thrilled to be at the start of such an unprecedented work, but mostly – it was the insects. The Night Vale Players Playhouse had quite a pest problem at the time, and still does. It’s difficult to do pest control when there is a 100 year long play being performed on stage at every hour of every day. The curtain opened those many years ago on a simple set of a studio apartment,  a kitchen, a cot, a window overlooking a brick wall. A man sits in the corner deep in thought. A doorbell rings. “Come in, it’s open,” the man says. A woman enters, flustered. She is holding a newborn. “There’s been a murder!” she says. “The victim was alone in a room, and all the doors and windows were locked. “My god!” the man says and springs up. “Who could have done this, and how?!” the woman tells him: “It turns out to be the gardener, Mr. Spreckle. He served with the victim in the war and never could forgive him for what happened there. He threw a venomous snake through an air vent.” The man sits back down, nodding. “Aah! So the mystery is solved.” As a playwright, Hannah Hershman did not believe in stringing up mysteries a second longer than was necessary. The baby in the woman’s arm stirs. “Shush, shush little one!” the woman says. The man looks out the window where he cannot see the sky. “It might look like rain,” he says. “Who knows?” Thus began a journey of 100 years.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s episode is sponsored by the Night Vale Medical Board, which would like to remind you that it is important to drink enough water throughout the day. Drink more water! Your body cannot function without water. Without water, you are just dust made animate. Water forms the squelching mud of sentience. Try to have at least ten big glasses of water. Not over the entire day, right now. See if you can get all ten of them down. Explore the capacity of your stomach. See if you can make it burst. You will either feel so much better, or an organ will explode and you will day painfully. And either one is more interesting than the mundane now. You should drink even more water than that. Wander out of your door, search the Earth for liquids. Find a lake and drain the entire thing, until the bottom feeders flop helplessly on the flatlands. Laugh slushingly as you look upon the destruction you have wrought. The power that you possess now that you are well hydrated. Move on from the lake and come to the shore of an ocean. All oceans are one ocean that we have arbitrarily categorized by language. The sea knows no separation, and neither will you when you lay belly down on the sand, put your lips against the waves and guzzle the ocean. The ocean is salty. It will not be very hydrating, so you’ll need to drink a lot of it. Keep going until the tower tops of Atlantis see sky again for the first time in centuries, until the strange glowing creatures of the deep-deep are exposed, splayed out from their bodies now that they no longer have the immense pressure of the ocean depths to keep their structure intact. And once you have drunk the oceans, turn your eyes to the stars. For there is water out there too, and you must suck dry the universe. This has been a message from the Night Vale Medical Board.

20 years passed without me thinking about the 100 year play. You know how it is. One day you’re an intern at the local radio station doing all the normal errands like getting coffee and painting pentacles upon Station Management doors as part of the ritual of the slumbering ancients. Then 20 years passes and everything is different for you. Your boss is gone and now you are a host of the community radio station, and there are so many new responsibilities and worries and lucid nightmares in which you explore a broken landscape of colossal ruins. So with all of that, I just kind of forgot the 100 year play was happening. But they were toiling away in there, doing scenes around the clock, building and tearing down sets at a frantic pace, trying to keep up with the script that relentlessly went on, page after page. And sometimes one of the people working on the play would wonder: how does this all end? But before they could flip ahead and look, there would be another scene that had to be performed and they wouldn’t have a chance. So no one knew how it ended. No one except Hannah Hershman, the mysterious author of this centennial play.

Soon after becoming radio host, during the reading of a Community Calendar, I was reminded that the play was still going on, and so decided to check in. I put on my best tux, you know it’s the one with the scales and the confetti canon. And then took myself to a night at the theatre. I can’t say what happened in the plot since that first scene, but certainly much had transpired. We were now in a space colony thousands of years from now, and the set was simple, just some sleek chairs and a black backdrop dotted with white stars of paint. A woman was giving a monologue about the distance she felt between the planet she was born on, which I believe was supposed to be Earth, and the planet she now stood on. I understood from what she was saying that the trip she had taken to this planet was one way, and that she would never return to the place she was born. “We… are… all of us… moved… by time,” she whispered in a cracked, hoarse voice. “Not… one of us dies… in the world… we were born into.” Sitting in my seat in that darkened theatre, I knew two facts with certainty. The first was that this woman had been giving a monologue for several days now. She wavered on her feet, speaking the entire four hours that I was there. And I don’t know how much longer she spoke after I left, but it could have been weeks. She was pale and her voice was barely audible, but there was something transfixing about it, and the audience sat in perfect silence, leaning forward to hear her words. The other fact I understood was that this woman was the newborn from the very first scene. Not just the same character, but the same actor. 20 years later, she was still on that stage, still portraying the life to the child we had been introduced to in the opening lines. She was an extraordinary performer, presumably, having had a literal lifetime of practice. And that was the last time I saw the play, until tonight, when I will go to watch the final scene.

But first, let’s have a look at that Community Calendar. Tonight the school board is meeting to discuss the issues of school lunches. It seems that some in power argue that it isn’t enough that for some reason we charge the kids actual money for these lunches. They argue that the students should also be required to give devotion and worship to a great glowing cloud, whose benevolent power will fill their lives with purpose. Due to new privacy rules, we cannot say which member of the school board made this suggestion. The board will be taking public comment in a small flimsy wooden booth out by the highway. Just enter the damp, dark interior and whisper your comment, and it will be heard. Perhaps not by the school board, but certainly by something.

Tuesday morning, Lee Marvin will be offering free acting classes at the rec center. The class is entitled “Acting is just lying. We’ll teach you how acting is just saying things that aren’t true, with emotions you don’t feel, so that you may fool those watching with these mistruths.” Fortunately, Marvin commented: “Most people don’t want to be told the truth and prefer the quiet comfort of a lie well told.” Classes are pay what you want, starting at 10,000 dollars.

Thursday Josh Crayton will be taking the form of a waterfall in Grove Park, so that neighborhood kids may swim in him. There is not a lot of swimming opportunities in a town as dry as Night Vale, and so this is a generous move on Josh’s part. He has promised that he has been working on the form and has added a water slide and a sunbathing deck. He asks that everyone swim safely and please not leave any trash on him.

Friday, the corn field will appear in the middle of town, right where it does each September, as the air turns cooler and the sky in the west takes on a certain shade of green. The corn field emanates a power electric and awful. Please, do not go into the corn field, as we don’t know what lives in there or what it wants. The City Council would like to remind you that the corn field is perfectly safe. It is perfect and it is safe. 

Finally, Saturday never happened. Not if you know what’s good for you. Got it? This has been the Community Calendar.

Oh! Look at the time. Here I am blathering on and the play is about to end. OK, let me grab my new mini recorder that Carlos got me for my birthday. It’s only 35 pounds and the antenna is a highly reasonable 7 feet. And I’ll see you all there.

Ah. What’s the weather like for my commute?

[Shallow Eyes” by Brad Bensko. https://www.bradbenskomusic.com/]

Carlos and I are at the theatre! The audience is a buzz, with excitement yes, but also many of them are the insects that infest this theatre. The bugs became entranced by the story over the years, passing down through brief generation after brief generation, the history of all that happened before. The story of the play became something of a religion to this creepy crawly civilization. And so now the bugs are jittering on the walls, thrilled to be the generation that gets to see the end of this great tale.

The curtain rises on a scene I recognize well. It is the simple set of a studio apartment. A kitchen, a cot, a window overlooking a brick wall. A man sits in the corner deep in thought. A doorbell rings. “Come on, it’s open,” the man calls. A woman enters. She is very old, tottering unsteadily on legs that have carried for her many many years. “Please take my seat,” the man says with genuine concern. “Thank you,” she says, collapsing with relief onto the cushions and then looking out, as if for the first time, noticing the audience. I know this woman. I first saw her as a baby and later as a 20-year-old. It seems she has lived her whole life on this stage, taking part in this play. “My name,” the woman says, “is Hannah Hershman. I was born in this theatre, clutching a script in my arms that was bigger than I was. My twin, in a way. I started acting in that script of mine before I was even aware of the world. I grew up in that script, lived my entire life in the play I had written from infancy to now.” And she rises, and the man reaches out to help, but she waves him away. She speaks, her- her voice is strong, ringing out through the theatre. “The play ends with my death, because the play is my life. It is bounded by the same hours and minutes that I am.” the audience is rapt, many have tears in their eyes. Even the insects weep. “Thank you for these hundred years,” Hannah Hershman says. “This script is complete.” She walks to the window. “It might look like rain,” she says. “Who knows?” The lights dim.

Thunderous applause, cries of acclaim, and Hannah Hershman dies to the best possible sound a person can hear: concrete evidence of the good they have done in the lives of other humans.

Stay tuned next for the second ever Night Vale Players Playhouse production, now that they finally finished this one. They’re going to do “Godspell”. And from the script of a life I have not yet finished performing, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Many are called, but few are chosen. And fewer still pick up. Because most calls are spam these days.

[rjalker]

Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, by Edwin Abbot Abbot, published in 1884, is public domain. That means it has no copyright, and belongs to everyone.

This post will have links to as many versions and adaptations of it as I can find, and will be updated whenver I find new links to add.

Feel free to copy and paste this whole entire post and make it a new post for your own blog too!

None of these links are piracy, because you literally cannot pirate what has no copyright. Anyone who tells you you must pay to read the original Flatland is scamming you.

The only time you should be spending money on Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions, is if you find a cool physical copy that you want specifically.

Check the original post before reblogging to look for updates if you are seeing this post days, weeks, or months after I originally post it.

____

Visual books:

Public domain:

The Original Novel:

Read online or ownload the original book in multiple formats from Project Gutenberg

Read or download from Standard Ebooks

Read and download from the Internet Archive. This also includes a computer-generated audiobook.

_

The 2024 translation:

Read online or download the 2024 translation in multiple formats from the Internet Archive. This also includes a computer-voiced audiobook.

Read the 2024 translation here on tumblr @flatland-a-2024-translation

___

Audiobooks:

The original novel:

Listen to the original book on the Internet Archive, read by Ruth Golding

Listen to the original book on the Internet Archive read by David "Grizzly" Smith

The 2024 translation:

Listen and read-along with the lazy audiobook of the 2024 translation on Youtube

___

Free visual media with full stories:

Here’s an animation from 1965. Contains some flashing lights.

Here’s a stop motion film from 1982 in Italian with English subtitles

Here’s an animation from 2006

The 2007 Flatland film by Ladd Ehlinger is free on youtube. Unfortunately Ladd Ehlinger is a virulently racist and misogynistic conservative who thinks feeding school kids is the same thing as slavery. His film is filled with almost constant flashing lights and spinning cameras that cause headaches, motion sickness, migraines, and seizures.

Here is a link to timestamps for these if you still choose to watch it.

The film ignores all of the politics from the original novel because the creator of the film agrees with the bigotry the novel condemned. You are much better off watching another visual adaption or reading the original or translated book.

Especially if you suffer from photosensitivity or motion-sickness, this film will make you want to throw up.

___

Shorter visual media:

In-universe

Part 4 of a Korean animation. from 2010. Haven't found parts 1-3 yet.

A short animation from 2020 showing an Equilateral being taken away from his Isosceles parents

Flatland Heist from 2013, A short animation from 2013 where the Narrator and Sphere team up to rob a bank :)

Flatland a Romance of Many Dimensions Alternate Timeline (without audio yet) 2024 Here's the version with audio

No Nonbinary Door 2024

A Visit to Lineland 2024

Up, Up, and Away 2024

Meta:

A short TED-Ed summarizing the math parts of Flatland from 2014

Another short animation explaining the math of Flatland from 2012

A long presentation (38 mins) about the math in Flatland. from 2017

Youtube Shorts:

A very short animation about the narrator meeting the Sphere

___

Related books by other authors, in publishing order:

Public domain:

An Episode of Flatland: or How a Plane Folk Discovered the Third Dimension. With Which is Bound Up an Outline of the History of Unæa by Charles Howard Hinton. (1907) Public domain, unlimited reading and downloading. It's terrible. But you can rewrite it to make it not terrible.

Other copyright:

The Dot and the Line: A Romance in Lower Mathematics by Norton Juster (1963) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. A short....poem? Nothing to actually do with Flatland.

The Incredible Umbrella by Marvin Kaye (1980) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. I have not read it yet.

Sphereland: A Fantasy About Curved Spaces and an Expanding Universe, by Dionys Burger. (1983) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. It's racist. Was intended to be a sequel to Flatland, but the author's racist and failed every lesson Flatland tried to teach.

“Message Found in a Copy of Flatland” by Rudy Rucker (1983) free to read online from the author.

The Fourth Dimension, by Rudy Rucker (1984). Can be read for free online from the author. I have not read it yet.

The Planiverse: Computer Contact With a Two-dimensional World by Alexander Keewatin Dewdney (1984) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. Good 2D worldbuilding, nonexistant plot and boring abrupt ending.

Flatterland: Like Flatland, Only More So by Ian Stewart (2001) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. it's useless crap that unironically defends the bigotry against Irregulars from the original novel by pretending it's just natural selection that's totally natural and not at all artificialy and violently upheld to uphold the supremacy of the Circles.

Spaceland by Rudy Rucker (2002) Can be borrowed by 1 person at a time. I have not read it yet.

VAS: An Opera in Flatland (2002) by Steve Tomasula. no copies donated to the internet archive yet. I have not read it yet.

__

Neopronoun short stories:

The Breaking Point, a short story of a Line and Isosceles in another country of Flatland, attempting to deal with an abusive officer of the military who's invited himself into their home. Almost 4k words.

Gaining a New Perspective, a short story of the Sphere contemplating everything that's happened after throwing the narrator of Flatland back down to his plane. Almost exactly 5k words.

Other short fiction:

[link me your stories and a short summary to go here!!]

__

Please feel free to add more links and I'll add them to this original post.

Here's the first masterpost I made which has fewer links.

[wfdwqfw]

On what evidence would a man rely to prove

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[vinnylovell]

How To Overcome Brain Degeneration As You Age group

The unique thing about the actual brain is that it is one of the tissue in the body that does not experience cell division. Your own liver is always rejuvenating, so are your gut, your kidneys, and all your organs. Though the brain, whatever set amount of neurons (lack of feeling cells that send and receive electric signals throughout the body) you were born using is what you have throughout your life. So if the actual brain is incapable of regenerating itself, is degeneration an unavoidable outcome as we age? Fortunately, the answer is, not really. Here is why. Neurological plasticity Neurons connect with the other and develop plasticity. Neural plasticity is the ability associated with neurons and its systems to change itself both structurally and functionally in response to development, new information, sensory stimulation, damage, or disorder. Neural plasticity is, therefore, crucial to development, cognition, recollection, and mobility. It was once believed that neural plasticity merely existed in young individuals and that once neural pathways were formed, they were arranged and could not be transformed. Modern brain research has today revealed that neurons continually rearrange themselves through the entire course of life. In reality, new connections can take shape at any point in life, enabling people to gain knowledge and pick up new skills even at an advanced age. However, as you age, your brain is still likely to degenerate unless you do something to alter the process. Factors behind Brain Degeneration 1. Poor neurodevelopment in certain regions of the brain Each person offers different regions of your brain which have greater connection or plasticity than additional regions. The more plasticity you've in a certain place, the better you are as well particular function manifested by the area. Your less plasticity, the much less capable. For example, once you were a kid so you tried to play sports. You were not coordinated and other kids made enjoyable of you. So you halted playing sports and you avoided sports when you grew up. Then the region that represents your vestibular generator system never got a possiblity to develop. As you get more mature, neurodegneration tends to show up first in areas that have less plasticity. If you are someone who did not have a very created motor coordinated muscular system because you never played out sports, you are very likely to have instability, vertigo, or dizziness as you age. Or maybe you were bad at math when you were in school, so that you avoided all mathematics while growing up. Therefore, the parietal, prefrontal, and substandard temporal regions from the brain will have less plasticity. As you get older, you may find you are no longer as good in remembering things or your grocery list. That is why in terms of the brain, the saying which "if you don't use it, you may lose it" is indeed very true. 2. Brain inflammation Inflammation in the brain is totally different from infection in the rest of the system. In the systemic defense system, there are suppressor cellular material that can shut down the actual immune response to control down the inflammatory course of action, the brain does not. Inside the brain, there are mainly neurons and glial cells. Glial cellular material support, protect, as well as nurture the neurons; they clear away metabolic debris such as the beta-amyloid plaques perfectly located at the brains of Alzheimer's disease patients. They are also the resident immune cellular material in the brain, but they don't have an off swap. Without intervention, when activated, they remain on, become hyper, along with cause chronic swelling in the brain. (Please read on to see ways to decrease brain inflammation.) Factors like upsetting brain and spinal cord injuries, ischemia stroke, infections, poisons, and autoimmunity activate the particular glial cells. This condition is frequently associated with a compromised blood-brain buffer, which is a finely woven mesh of specialized cellular material and blood vessels which keep foreign ingredients out of the brain. When this barrier is damaged, it becomes permeable or perhaps "leaky". This allows toxins and pathogens to enter the particular brain. It also allows swelling that originates elsewhere in the body to get into the brain and start the inflammation reaction there. Chronic brain inflammation reduces neuron plasticity and leads to degeneration. It shuts down wind turbine in the brain cells, resulting in mental fatigue, brain fog, and memory loss. It is also associated with numerous neurological along with psychiatric disorders, which include depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, substance abuse, Alzheimer's, as well as Parkinson's.

Top 5 Ways To Handle Brain Degeneration 1. Blood sugar stability Without doubt, blood sugar dysfunction may be the number one risk factor that devastates the brain. This includes getting prediabetic, diabetic, or hypoglycemic (minimal blood sugar). When a person eats too much carbohydrates, which turn into sweets in the blood, your body puts out more insulin to bring the blood sugar down. Too much blood insulin activates the glial tissues in the brain and causes substantial inflammation and stimulates the neurodegenerative process. Within hypoglycemics, there is an insulin spike too as the entire body attempts to bring down your blood sugar after a large carbohydrate meal. When the blood sugar drops lacking, the brain cannot acquire enough fuel. They become spacey, lightheaded, shaky, along with irritable. Hypoglycemics cannot proceed too long without eating. If you want to determine whether there is a blood sugar issue, basically ask yourself how you feel when you eat. The normal reply would be, I am not eager anymore. There should be no alternation in energy and function. Nonetheless, hypoglycemics will typically say, I feel so much greater, I feel I can perform again. I can feel. I am not hungry any more. That is a sign that they're dealing with a low blood sugar rollercoaster ride. Those who eat a meal and wish to take a rest, crave sugar, or need to have a coffee instantly are insulin proof people. They are for the prediabetic or diabetic facet. Scientists now think that chronic blood sugar instability play a huge role within the development of dementia and Alzheimer's disease, enough to the point that will some researchers are usually calling Alzheimer's "Type 3 diabetes" as a result of inflammatory blood sugar relationship. Hence, blood sugar balance is irrefutably the most important the answer to address when trying to improve brain function. In addition to managing your blood glucose through diet, many studies have shown that irregular fasting has a substantial impact on brain inflammation. This turns on an important course of action called autophagy, in which you get rid of the metabolic debris in the brain and you turn off your glial cells. The most common intermittent fasting schedule could be the 16/8 method which involves fasting for 16 several hours and restricting your day-to-day eating period to eight hours, say midday to 8 pm. 2. Initial of the brain The areas of the brain that you do not use may have less plasticity. Therefore, you will need to challenge your brain to avoid it from degenerating. In case you always have a hard time with math, get a mathematics app and start performing multiplication tables or perform math games which elementary school children do. If you are often questioned with people's faces or shapes, perform games like Tetris that you look at shapes and try to fit them in to different spots. Should you sway or get rid of your balance when you near your eyes while standing up with your feet collectively or on one feet, you get to do much more balance exercises. The secret is to keep all areas of your respective brain active and triggered. Watching TV is inactive and does absolutely nothing to help the brain. Instead, accomplish cognitive things like become familiar with a new language, enjoy Sudoku, or do word puzzles. Be an athlete, be a scholar, that is the way to preserve your own brain. 3. Physical activity Exercise advantages your brain in two techniques. One is biochemistry and yet another is plasticity. The types of exercise that raise your heartbeat change the neurochemistry in the brain. Larger heart rate equals more blood flow, more blood circulation, more growth components, and more brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF). Workout also causes neuronal branching, results in an opioid response, along with calms down infection. In short, exercise just keeps your neurons healthy. Physical activities that require more coordination enhance neuronal plasticity in those areas of the brain. For example, in case you ask a patient which has brain injury in the vestibular system (balance center) to do bicep waves while standing on a new BOSU (unstable surface), he/she may well feel totally exhausted prior to muscles get fatigued. The patient may think that he/she is so out of shape, but actually, it is that the main brain that has an issue. As a result, if you are someone who just runs, bikes, as well as swims, adding exercises that involve multiple flatlands will help develop the aspects of the brain that are responsible for dexterity and balance, which can be essential as you get older. 4. Sleep Your brain cannot function in a sleep-deprived express. Your brain cannot part. It  cannot develop plasticity and it cannot get rid of particles when it is in a sleep-deprived point out. Studies clearly show that when people do not get adequate sleep, over time, the particular brain volume decreases in dimensions. So for whatever reason you're not getting enough high quality sleep, be it repeated nighttime urination, too much stimulation from the blue light generated by simply electronic devices, hormonal instability, or low blood glucose levels causing you to wake up, you should address the problem. Normally, without good sleep, there is no chance that your brain could work well. 5. Nutrients along with supplements The number one nutritious for turning lower neuroinflammation is short-chain fatty acids (SCFAs). The 3 primary SCFAs critical to wellness are butyrate, propionate, and acetate. SCFAs are built by gut microorganisms from the digestion as well as fermentation of dietary fibers. SCFAs can modulate neuroinflammation because the gut and the brain are usually intimately connected by the vagus nerve, which is the highway through which signals from hormones, neuropeptides, and microorganisms travel back and forth. Throughout studies, SCFAs have been implicated in several neuropsychiatric disorders, from Parkinson's to autism. These people were found to have a lower abundance of SCFA-producing bacteria in their gut as compared to healthy individuals. Forms of fiber that advertise the production of SCFAs in the intestine Inulin found in green bananas, rye, barley, sprouted wheat, Jerusalem artichoke, don't forget your asparagus, and onions. Pectin present in peaches, apples, grapefruits, grapefruit, apricots, peas, tomatoes, potatoes, and peas. Fructooligosaccharides (FOS) found in Jerusalem artichoke, green apples, garlic, asparagus, leeks, yellow onion, and chicory root. Resilient starch found in natural bananas, plantains, cooked along with cooled rice, carrots, and legumes. Arabinoxylan found in wheat bran. Dealing with Brain Degeneration As You Age Apart from eating foods that are rich in these fibers, you can also make use of fiber supplements. They're called prebiotics or prebiotic materials because the good microorganisms (probiotics) in the gut prey on them to produce SCFAs. Foods that contain SCFAs Butter and ghee. There are also butyrate (or butyr acid) dietary supplements available. Individuals with severe brain inflammation should consider employing both prebiotics and butyrate. Health supplements that reduce brain inflammation Omega-3 fish oil Resveratrol a polyphenol found in the skin of red grapes. It can cross the blood-brain barrier to help reduce brain inflammation. Turmeric/curcumin any spice commonly present in curry powder. It can also mix the blood-brain barrier. Liposomal fluid curcumin has 4-8 times more absorption than the powdered ingredients form, which is tougher to absorb. Pomegranate extract Carol Chuang is a Certified Nutrition Specialist. She has a Experts degree in Diet and is a Certified Gluten Specialist. She specializes in Metabolism Typing and Functional Diagnostic Nutrition. For more information about cach dieu tri benh thoai hoa nao resource: read more.

[blukrown]

Not Meant To Be - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Also available on AO3 

Unpleasant Emotions

After a refreshing bath and more than appetizing lunch, Faris and Tebanam found themselves in the castle's library.

Thanks to the large investment from Tebanam's mother and father, the room - or better to call a hall - was filled from roof to floor by cases of books. Leaving not much space for the wooden tables inserted between many of the aisles to allow people to sit and study. One side of the library was covered in large glass windows, allowing the warm afternoon sunlight in. Which coloured the library in cozy shades of soft yellows and oranges. The view was also quite impressive, as it overlooked the Hyrulian flatlands all the way to an ocean in the distance. This view must have inspired someone to layout lounging couches along the length of the library, so at nearly every row there was a go-to spot to lay and enjoy the sight.

The library was used by the royal family mainly, as well as nobleman, scholars and the occasional foreign diplomat. But Faris did not see any such people, it was only him, Tebanam and a very old librarian who shuffled among the shelves returning books where they belong. Tebanam had said that the library was so well known in fact that many legends and rumours had come from what hid in the very bookshelves. From ancient stolen scripts Ganon's armies had stolen or pillaged to the diaries of Zelda and her past reincarnations. It was surely a sight to behold. If only Faris knew how to read.

Faris had, once arriving at Hyrule castle, put it upon himself to start learning how to read and write in Hylian. As even while on his many adventures with Tebanam he had found he was not much help when it came to reading books or maps.

Ralnor had been more than happy to provide old books that the princes and princesses had used when they were young. He had warned Faris it may be difficult as he was a grown man but he assured him with enough hard work he should find himself at a reasonable level.

As an ex-slave, he was never given the option of education. And surely, before his subjugation, he was too young to have had a chance to try. However, it was not like Faris had much use of it in his old life. What with his days being full of cuts, blood, bruises and the cheers of a crowd and his nights occupied with something very similar. But feeling particularly motivated by the arrival of one particular individual, although he would never tell anyone such, Faris felt inspired enough to spend the final hours of daylight in the library. With Tebanam by his side and advising him as he studied. But there was only one problem.

Tebanam, although being very much helpful when he asked it, was distractingly apparent in his very feeble attempts to keep his hands to himself. As a respectful man, the prince understood his partner's wishes, nevertheless, alone time together was thin and few between and he clearly wanted to make use of it. Fingers lingering when they held his hand to direct him on how to write, his lips close to his ears as he quietly whispered advice.

Faris was half tempted to kick him out of the library entirely. After all, one could not focus if they were too busy trying to restrain a blush.

"The 'k' is silent," Tebanam pointed out, taking the pencil and crossing out the first letter in the word 'knife'.

"Then why is it there then?" Faris muttered, frowning in confusion.

Tebanam shrugged, "The language used to not have a true way of spelling words, so when they went about finalising it, some look so unfamiliar to how they're read."

Faris let out a hum, "And it's silent in this one as well?" Pointing at the next word, 'know'.

"Yeah, it's the same for 'knowledge' as well." Tebanam furthered, smiling at him. "You're getting better."

Faris was not quite sure if he likes being complimented like this, as if Tebanam was a teacher rather than a lover. He'd much prefer when the prince had commended him on his fighting or even on his looks.

The prince returned the pencil to his lover's hand. His long tanned fingers lingering. Absentmindedly tracing the lines of the strong tendons in Faris' hand.

The bodyguard knew very well what Tebanam was up to and he had half a mind to tug his hand away and get back to his work. But, and he cursed himself for it, Tebanam's fingers were tender and warm, easily swaying him to halt his objection.

"Why are you doing this?" Tebanam asked, his skin warm as he let his fingers trail over the multiple scars that dotted Faris' hand and wrist.

"Because I want to," Faris said simply. It was the honest truth after all.

Tebanam let out a small huff of a laugh, his lip quirking into a smile. His fingers pausing its activity to drape over the back of his hand.

Faris shamed himself for how his heart quickened. After so long one would expect he was used to it and for the most part he was. But then the suave prince would do something so playful and intimate that it had Faris feeling as if he had never been touched before.

Faris did not move away when Tebanam leaned closer until their noses almost touched. The proximity was so minimal the Faris could easily see the flecks of gold in his orange eyes.

Faris knew if he pulled away now, Tebanam may be wounded but would not take it to heart. And in his mind, he really should do that. He was here to study, after all, not play around with his lover. But his heart kept him there, an ache of love and joy had him almost breathless.

As the sound of shuffling footsteps belonging to the ancient librarian was only a whisper in the distance. Faris found himself being the one to close the distance into a kiss.

For surely the millionth time, the pleasure for such a touch was just as raw. The prince's slightly chapped lips were very much used to the way Faris kissed them. The two easily making a dance of it as hands came to balance each other. Tebanam's fingers holding to his forearms as Faris did most of the leaning. While Faris' calloused and roughed fingers held the Gerudo man's face steady.

It was not a heated kiss, as the two men were not much intending for it to be. But it could have effortlessly gone that route given time. That time was not given to them, as a voice called in the near distance.

"Tebanam?"

Faris' lips paused, pulling away as he recognised the voice. It was Jazoh.

It took a moment to clear from a rather fervent faze before he could understand why the nobleman was here. It was because, to Faris' deep regret, they had invited him.

Faris looked to Tebanam to see an expression very similar to what he was thinking. Disappointment calming his flushed cheeks as he grimaced at his lover. Very clearly regretting they had encouraged the man to join them.

Tebanam got up from his chair but not calling to the newcomer until after he ducked down to kiss Faris' cheek. Who took a second to remember to stand up as well. "Over here."

It only took a moment before the Hylian man was joining them. Dressed in fine nobleman clothing, he very much suited the expensive and regal library as he stood across the table from the two men.

Jazoh's eyes looked between them, clearly seeing some sort of evidence that something had occurred just as he had arrived, "Sorry, was . . . I imposing on something?"

Yes, Faris thought bitterly. But his mouth was smart enough not to voice that reply.

Tebanam let out an awkward laugh, "Uh, sort of, I suppose. Faris is studying Hylian so I was helping him." His hand waving to the pile of books where they had just sat.

"Oh," Jazoh said, looking to Faris and giving a smile. "How noble of you, it must be difficult."

Faris' jaw clenched, he could have been imagining it, but he could sense a snideness to the nobleman's tone. Faris did not show any signs of taking the hit, however. Merely saying, "I only wish to be of help to Tebanam."

Jazoh nodded, almost knowingly. "I see, well, I was hoping to talk to Tebanam. Maybe we could leave you to your work then?"

Faris looked to Tebanam to see an undecided look, clearly, he was split between the two of them. Seeing himself enjoying his lover's company, although under watchful eye or sitting with his old friend, not distracting Faris yet separated from him.

"Not a problem," Faris said, acting unbothered.

Tebanam gave a soft smile to him. He gave Faris’ hand a soft squeeze before he followed the nobleman to the end of the aisle towards one of the lounges near the large windows. At first, the two men were whispering, clearly conscious of being distracting to the bodyguard. But soon enough they were too engrossed in exciting conversations to realise that their voices rose loud enough for Faris to hear quite clearly. Rupturing through any focus Faris may have had.

Sure, the Garai tried to study at first. Tried to put his nose to the grindstone and at least have something to prove that he was not just eavesdropping. But after the affectionate moment he had shared with the prince, Faris could confidently say his mind was not in the right space for books.

The bodyguard could hear the laughter and captivated talk of the two men as they lounged not too far away. Discussing their pasts, current Hylian affairs and just nobleman talk that Faris was fairly sure he would never quite comprehend.

Faris felt disheartened by how little he understood about their conversation. Inside jokes, knowledge and a clear difference in education had him feeling somehow inferior to them.

Even though he had let Tebanam sit away from him, he felt bitterly alone, even if his lover was a meagre few paces away. The only slight bit of reassurance Faris got was the periodic glances that Tebanam gave towards him. The occasional soft smile or playful wink sending a warm signal to Faris from where he sat.

Talk eventually came to the topic of the shared time they had had together in the castle, before Faris had met him, before Tebanam had even ran away from his home.

"Soon after you started training with me, do you remember how you spared Ralnor?" Tebanam inquired, fiddling with a loose hem in his shirt.

"Ah yes," Jazoh said with a smile. "If I remember right, you convinced him to."

"Well," Tebanam shrugged, "I was losing so much I couldn't help but at least show him it was only because you were that good at the sword."

Jazoh chuckled, "Well, I did defeat him. But he was very good. It was a close fight, I think your brother was a bit bothered by it as he promised me to swear to never tell." He then gave Tebanam a rather annoyed look. "Yet someone had to tell his eldest brother as well. Which had him asking for his turn."

Tebanam almost giggled like a child with how bemused he was with the memory that clearly came to mind. With a clear feeling of relish in his voice, Tebanam said, "Covarog wiped the floor with you. I don't think I had ever seen you lose until then."

Jazoh sighed, laying back in his chair and letting his head hang over his shoulders. "Ah, yes. That was very much a wake-up call. I had only been sparring men my age up until then."

"Orana wanted to join in too," Tebanam recalled, smirking. "You instantly refused her." Jazoh let out a huff, "There was no way I would."

"Why? She can keep her own in a fight." Tebanam rebutted.

"Tebanam, it's one thing to spar a prince but one of the princesses? I think your father would have my head." Giving a fake shiver as if the idea itself was very much a realistic prediction. Tebanam was clearly not convinced, snorting at the excuse.

Their conversation naturally flowed from one subject to the next, clearly, they knew how to speak to one another, even after so long apart. Now that Faris thought about it, he and Tebanam did not really 'talk' like that. With one conversation moving to the other, flowing easily as if they could go on forever if they wanted. Of course, they talked but not like that. Maybe it was because they were just so different, an ex-slave and a prince were surely an unlikely coupling. It may also be that Faris was not much of a talker, he spoke his mind but he did not see much use in small talk or long-winded conversation. Faris had to remind himself that that was what Tebanam liked about him. He praised him for his short cut honesty.

Faris tried to ignore the soreness in his chest, how could he be jealous of Tebanam just talking to another man? How unbelievably possessive of him.

Feeling nearly completely sick of it all, Faris found himself wanting to leave. At least then he would stop glaring at them. Although he wanted to be around Tebanam, he was not going to get any work done, nor find any relief from his own anger if he stayed around.

When he took to stand, Tebanam immediately called, "Where are you going?"

"Back to the bedroom," Faris said, picking up his books.

"Why?" Tebanam questioned, getting up from where he lounged with Jazoh.

"Tired," Faris said simply, thinking of an understandable reason off the top of his head.

"Really?" Tebanam was at his side, hand on his shoulder, a look of concern scrunching his brow. "I'll come with you."

Faris frowned slightly, looking from Tebanam to where Jazoh still sat watching. “I’m fine, Tebanam.” The ex-gladiator said, his hand resting on his partner’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to talk to Jazoh?”

Tebanam looked to the nobleman, “Is it a problem if I leave you, old friend?”

Jazoh got to his feet, “Not at all.” Walking to the couple, he gave a smile. “There’s always next time.” He then reached out his hand for a shake.

Tebanam, one hand still on Faris’ shoulder, shook Jazoh’s in a firm gesture of farewell. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow at the next meeting then.”

“Very well,” Jazoh said with a curt nod.

Walking back to their bedroom, the two men travelled side by side. Shoulders brushing as they went, fingers caressing but not taking hold. Cautious of the eyes of staff and guests who may lay eyes on them.

Their room was in the more heavily guarded areas of the castle, two doors down from Kanisa’s unoccupied room and the door after that being Orana’s. The floor below, housed the rooms of the to-be king, Covarog and Ralnor, with their respective other halves.

“What’s wrong?” Tebanam asked, just a few paces from the door. His orange eyes looking over the shorter man with concern. Clearly, he could sense Faris’ bothering thoughts.

“Nothing,” Faris replied, knowing he would only cause unneeded worry on Tebanam’s part if he spoke his mind.

“If it was nothing,” The prince took a hand to hold at his face. The touch was warm and filled with care. “You wouldn’t be making that face, Faris.” His thumb lifting to rub at the space between the man’s two eyebrows, which he had not noticed was creased as he frowned.

Faris rued the fact his lover knew him so well. A disgruntled look washing over his features as he tried to find the right words, without giving away the more visceral feelings that clouded his mind. “You . . . You two, are really close for ex-lovers . . . Even with how it all ended.” Even with his hardly pondered words, he still could read between the lines, his jealousy was showing.

Tebanam gave a small smile, “Well, we were close friends. Even before we were together.”

Faris could understand that. But he felt he needed to explain why he was bothered, even if that meant exposing his feelings.

Before Faris could find that right words, however, Tebanam hit the nail right on the head as he surmised, “Could it be, you’re jealous?” Even though the bodyguard could see the restraint, something of a flattered smile curled the prince's lips.

Faris opened his mouth to object, an unconscious first response to defend his pride. But he knew that Tebanam would read through any try at deception. It was fair, however, to be jealous. For one, he did not know about this man until yesterday. For another, he had a sinister impression that the man was very much not who he seemed.

“Listen, Faris.” Tebanam’s voice was warm as he caught the man’s attention. “He’s a dear friend and ex-lover but he’s not you.” Although those dirty thoughts still lingered at the back of his mind, Faris could not help but feel reassured, his skin warming as the prince ducked down to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "I know this is all I can say to you. But you're my partner, Faris. Not Jazoh." Tebanam furthered, both hands drawing down Faris' sides to hold his hands.

Even with the man's words warming his cold thoughts, Faris now just felt guilty. How could he doubt him? It's not like he had done anything before now to cause it. Well, early on the prince had been a large flirt with any good looking man but when all their feelings had been said, Tebanam had tamed himself to only make advances at him. "I'm sorry . . ." Faris muttered. "For being this way."

Tebanam shook his head, "You have nothing to be sorry about, Faris." The bodyguard must've not been convinced, as Tebanam then lifted the man's hands and kissed the harshly marked knuckles.

Faris hated how weak he felt to his own feelings, letting his emotions twist and churn all his thoughts was something that was truly unlike him. It just showed how much Tebanam meant to him. "I've . . . Never experienced anything like this before . . . So I don't know what to do."

Tebanam's smile grew into a sorrowed one, as he clearly caught onto the meaning behind his words. Faris had never had a true lover, and the life he was forced into wouldn't have allowed it either. For all the experience of being a sex worker or gladiator, he had none when it came to handling a meaningful relationship.

"My dear Faris," Tebanam's soft hands squeezed his fingers, "That is fine."

Faris clenched his bottom lip between his teeth, the numb ache in his chest waning to his lover's encouraging words.

"After all, you're lucky enough to have me," Tebanam said with a cheeky tone, trying, in his own way, to lift the mood.

Faris let out a huff, why was he not surprised the prince would say something so self-aggrandizing. But Faris preferred it when Tebanam was cheery. Sadness and worry did not much suit him.

With a quick glance to either side of the hallway, to ensure that no one was in view of them, Faris pulled Tebanam into a kiss. Feeling to at least show on some level, just how much his kind words meant. He had only intended to leave it at a single kiss in spite of that when he pulled away to see the displeasure of its end reflected in his other's eyes. The bodyguard could not help but leave the next one to linger just that little bit longer.

But, before tongues started to move and breaths became huffs, Tebanam pulled his lips away. His face still very close, lips only a fairy's wing away, he whispered. "Best to go inside, didn't you say you needed to sleep?"

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

This fic is based on the Zelgan au by @figmentforms

The Zelgan babies, as well as Faris and Jozah, are created by @s-kinnaly

And special thanks to @ridersoftheapocalypse  for writing the main fanfic about Tebanam and Faris, which inspired this fic

I highly recommend you look at their content on this to have a better understanding of the story

[adventuresloane]

Love Was a Kind of Emptiness

Read on AO3

Relationships: Dani & the Quell, Dani/Aubrey, Sylvain/the Quell

Rating: T

CW for body dysmorphia, disordered eating, heavy angst

For Danbrey Week 2019

"You're her."

This time, she didn't run. In the days since she had started following them, she had always skittered back into the woods whenever she got spotted. With how bone-pale she was, she shouldn't have been able to disappear into the black shadow that quickly. But she had slipped into the penumbra the way sugar in hot coffee dissolved to become a part of the amorphous dark.

Now she was still, and not. She was the potential for movement, like a frozen deer primed to spring away. Potential energy herself. Felt for miles around.

"And you're Dani," she responded. Her head inclined slowly and smoothly to one side, just a little. As always, a waist-length swath of straight and shiny black hair moved as one curtain. "Am I just 'her' now? What are my names, that you know of?"

Dani couldn't answer that, and not only because of the way her jaw had begun to lock up in fear. She didn't know how. As far back as she remembered, everyone had been loathe to give a name to this, had acknowledged this at all only with reluctance. There were names she vaguely recalled seeing in schoolbooks, with Ancient Sylvan pronunciations she couldn't have wrapped her mouth around even if she did remember them well enough. These days, even after the crisis had been averted, still people spoke obliquely. The Quell. The Storm. Hardly names at all, really. They described something that one did, not something that one was.

Those titles had seemed appropriate enough when they were all simply talking about a natural force, something that acted, and acted violently. But that wasn't what stood before Dani now. This was a woman, just like her, and also not like her at all.

"I see," she said. Dani wasn't sure what she was responding to.

"You shouldn't be here." She surprised herself at the force of her own voice. She supposed that she had some practice in speaking with gods. Just that morning, she had talked the avatar of her planet's life force out of filling an old dried-up lake with maple syrup. But it was easy to forget with Aubrey. Aubrey, whom she knew as her love first and as Sylvain second, whose presence had felt as easy and natural as breath long before they had learned everything. It wasn't easy to forget when the waves of dark power radiating from this woman overtook her. Potential energy. A fault line, a land mine, a fragile slope before a landslide. She was all of these things and much more. Dani could feel it, and she wanted to run with all she had, but already her knees had ceased to bend.

"Yes I should. We have to talk."

"Why?"

"You..." The Quell hadn't made eye-contact all this time, something for which Dani would have been grateful if she were capable of feeling anything but anxiety at the moment. She had been focused on a spot somewhere just below Dani's eyes. Now she glanced away entirely. Her eyes flashed, and not in the way people normally talked about eyes flashing. Light glinted off them as though her gray irises were made of chrome. Or like there was lightning in them. "You are always with Her."

"No."

"You are Her companion."

"No. You're not getting near Aubrey."

"You couldn't stop me if I wanted to see Her, you know." The Quell still had her head cocked, out of...what? Curiosity? Scrutiny? Did she even have feelings? "You're afraid of me. Why?"

Dani couldn't bring herself to move her mouth, even if she had had a way to reply to that. She thought of the leveling of her world. For months now, she'd been traveling around to witness it. She'd seen forests of trees gone horizontal, prostrating toward the setting sun. She'd seen mountains smeared into flatlands as if they were wet clay under a thumb. Marshland where there had been fertile valleys.

And well before any of this, she'd seen, as a young child, the refugees surging through the gates of what was today the city of Chicane and what had then been the whole of Sylvain. People who had fled the other cities overtaken by the Quell's violence. She had watched them slump in, looking as though gravity affected them more than most, with their shoulders sagging and the very skin of their faces pulled down by frowns. Seeing them, she had felt dread for maybe the first time in her life--not for herself or out of fear of them, but at the idea that an entire existence could be so easily lost. Despite her parents' reassurances that their home was safe from the Storm, she still sat alone in her bedroom for ages, eyes closed, trying to imagine what it would be like if the whole house suddenly vanished with everything she'd ever known inside it, along with every other house on every other street she'd ever seen. She couldn't, back then.

"It's because you've seen what I can do."

"Stop it," Dani managed through tight teeth. This was too much. Her brimming brain could barely process the Quell's presence, let alone her words.

"What?" There was short pause before she shrugged. "I can't help that I get impressions of what you think and feel. I can do the same for everyone born on this planet. It's like asking me not to feel the wind."

And had she felt the desperation of those she had displaced? Had she felt the panic in the half-seconds before some had been utterly consumed by the Storm's madness? Had she done it all in spite of that?

"I do wish you wouldn't fear me, though." The Quell stepped closer again. There was a twinge of what might have been a smile on her face. The chuckle that came out of her sounded quiet and ragged as the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. Everything she said sounded like that. It was assault to Dani's ears. "You know, you're just as much my child as you are Hers."

"No." She forced just enough air through her slowly constricting chest to say it. At the Quell's words, anger had started up somewhere just behind her sternum and started to spread through her body like a drop of ink in water. The adrenaline was almost enough to break the hold her nerves had over her. "You just...you wreck."

"What of it?”

"I'm an artist." She pushed past the quiver in her voice, in her legs. "I create, just...just like Her and j-just like Aubrey. N...none of us are like you."

"Do not try to tell me about Her."

"Stay away from Aubrey."

"Don't tell me--"

It was only three words, but the three had been enough to knock her down. The quiet voice had exploded suddenly into a multitude. Some flat. Some screeching with static. Some so deep that they were more felt than heard. Some glitching and skipping like a scratched record. It hurt. Physically, it hurt. Dani felt the noise tear through her as it tore through the air, felt the cacophony.

Dani dropped to the ground, or, rather, her body finally went totally stiff and carried her down with it. She stared at the grass with her hands over her ears and her fingers in her hair, and she tried to regulate her breathing, but she hardly had control over even the expansion of her chest. She was a soul bumping around inside a sack. It felt as though she had pulled herself out of her limbs, that her consciousness had retreated to somewhere deep within the core of her body to protect itself.

"I'm sorry. I'm..." The Quell trailed off. Her voice had returned to normal, and yet had not. Her tone was more hushed. Frailer.

All the same, any sound right now made her shrivel deeper into herself. It was one more input out of far too many, and it made it harder to focus on regaining control of her body again.

And anyway, how dare she be sorry? There was plenty to be sorry for before now. So many lifetimes of things lost. Did she feel the weight of it? Did it bend her spine like a punishment, the way it did Dani's? Or was she even corporeal?

The color began to fade from her vision. By the time the mist had rolled in entirely, everything was blank and gray, blotting out the world. It wasn't too unusual--fog often rolled in among the trees of this forest. Except that this fog muffled not only her sight but her hearing. The whoosh of the wind in the leaves seemed less obtrusive now. Everything did. And while she likely should have been nervous, she couldn't help but be glad for this cloud cocooning her from her surroundings for awhile.

When she finally felt her heart beating rather than vibrating, she slowly glanced to her left to see the dark silhouette of a woman kneeling on the ground beside her. She, too, had not moved the whole time.

"Is that helping?" the Quell quietly asked. "Good," she said before Dani could reply. That should have made her angry, but she was too tired for anything beyond dull irritation now. Even the fear was muted.

"You would rather not speak out loud right now, I take it?"

Dani shook her head a little.

"May I say something, then?"

She waited for a long while before she shrugged. To her credit, the Quell waited for that.

"I..." She came to a halt. "I'm not good at apologizing."

Dani looked her way and felt her eyebrows raise before she could stop herself.

The Quell huffed and said quickly, "Thacker claimed that I shouldn't try to hold power over people or try making them afraid simply because I feel afraid, so I apologize that I did that to you. Is that right?"

She was too distracted to give an answer to that, as she questioned what could make the embodiment of destruction afraid.

"I've just missed Her," she murmured. The mist had nearly dissipated now, and Dani could see her arms crossed over her knees.

And if she felt any sympathy for the Quell in that moment, it left her like a dying breath when she thought of the tree that used to stand in the center of town when she was growing up. Itslong, willowy branches hung heavy with tear-shaped purple seed pods strung along them, she could sometimes see it from the window of her house waving at her in a strong wind. It had waved, too, when she had been kept at sword- and wand- and spear-point, backed up against Sylvain's gate. She'd seen the slow lift of the thread-like branches over the heads of the crowd gathered to see her disappeared for good. She didn't see her parents or her brother in the crowd. She hadn't known why, and she hadn't had much time to think about it before being shoved through the portal. Maybe they had just gotten lost in the throng. She hoped so. She hoped that they had at least shown up, that the moment she had been dragged from the house and arrested wasn't the last they had seen of her.

For the brief time between when she was brought into custody and when she was sentenced to banishment, they didn't really explain what it was, exactly, that had done her in--someone reporting her bad-mouthing the Minister of Preservation and his bad sideburns, is what she had always assumed, but it could have been something else. Maybe one of the new laws. There were new laws made all the time back in those days, so quickly that hardly anyone could keep track of them all. Ignorance of the law, naturally, was not considered an excuse.

"Sorry." The word was nearly soundless this time. Dani wasn't sure to whom she was speaking. The Quell's next sentence, though, was certainly directed at her. "How did you bear it?"

Stop asking leading questions, Dani thought at her in the most deliberate way she could manage. She focused on the words and her own aggravation, trying to keep the memory from creeping up on her. You know I can't help trying to think of the answer. It's not fair.

"I am not used to communicating with someone who can't hear my thoughts too. Even just speaking is still strange to me." She paused. "Your kind...Brightfangs, isn't that what you're called up here? You're some of the closest to Us, you know. To She and I both. I felt you come together in the soil from where I rested in the center of the planet, before you rose fully formed from the ground."

She didn't know what to think of that. Instead, she thought, My family used to tell me that. Though, to be honest, I'm still getting used to the term 'Brightfang' again. Humans called me a vampire for so long. And I think they thought we rose out of graves or something.

"Goodness," she said, with a soft sound that was suspiciously similar to a chuckle. She rubbed her foot through the grass but stopped just before the scrape of it became enough to bother Dani. "Was it difficult to put up with them? Humans, I mean."

No, she thought.

"That's not how you really feel. And don't be upset. I can't help it."

Dani felt herself frown. She wanted to think about anything else other than the early days in the lodge. Those memories came on anyway. She felt the approach of them the way one feels oncoming nausea, and she was back to the first moment that she had taken on a human form. She had looked down at herself, at this new body attached to her like a tick, and had not seen the familiar glow of her skin like the glow of the Crystal, and had felt blunt teeth behind her lips instead of the sharp points she had liked to tap her fingertips against, and it had felt too short and too warm and too much of everything after everything had already been too much.

She had cried, and sometimes she had screamed, and even though Mama never flinched while patiently waiting for her to calm each time, she had felt shame that only made the tears fall hotter onto the foreign flesh of that new body.

In the earliest days, she remembered wearing that form like an ill-fitting rubber suit. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she remembered, or maybe it was even worse. But looking back on it, she recalled hell. Everyone had said that there would be an adjustment period, and they had turned out to be right, but even two years on she had still felt how much it was not her own. This body needed food, and it felt a hunger that couldn't be satisfied by the hot springs or by Sylvain's light. At seventeen, she started skipping meals and would just wait to feel the scrape of pain deep in her belly, just so she could feel some measure of control over this form that she had been forced into. That was until Mama noticed and, after a drawn-out scolding, made her eat dinners with her for awhile. That might have saved her. She knew that, but still felt a twinge of bitterness nonetheless.

And if she were to be truly honest with herself, maybe some of it did have to do with how she thought about humans. She didn't particularly want to be one. There were their strange traditions, the rapid speed at which their lives progressed. Mama, at the start, trying to explain that humans assumed things like gender based on appearance--that while no one at the lodge would ever judge her for how she decided to look, Dani had to be prepared for strangers to do so, wrong as they were. And of course, everyone on Sylvain knew about the missing shard of the Crystal, but she had never really considered that if the piece were still where it belonged instead of on Earth, then she would still be where she belonged instead of on Earth. For the first months, on the rare occasion that she got out of the lodge or otherwise saw an unfamiliar human, she had to suppress the urge to hiss and show her now-blunted teeth. That instinct left her, slowly. Over time, the anger completely dissipated. Truly, it did, albeit more gradually than she would have liked to admit. But years later, she never stopped making excuses to stay and draw or garden whenever Jake asked her to hang out with him in downtown Kepler. Sometimes she looked sideways even at the humans she knew and trusted and loved, and she would feel only lonely looking at them, thinking that they would never quite comprehend what it was like. Not even Mama, and certainly not Jake's friends or the park rangers or Leo or Duck or Ned--

Ned.

Sometimes she had wondered whether she could trust Ned. Everyone had on some level, she guessed. Now, every night after Aubrey had gone to sleep beside her, she lay awake for awhile and shivered with the knowledge that she should never have wondered.

"You can't blame yourself for hating them.” The Quell had been quiet up until now. "You felt like they had taken your home from you. Like you wouldn't have been on Earth if it hadn't been for them destroying the Crystal." It wasn't a question.

I didn't hate them. I loved some of them. I love them now. She hoped the Quell felt a new force to her thoughts. What? Are you going to tell me that's how you felt, too? About Sylphs taking...Her away from you?

"I'm not saying it was right to think so." She stared at the ground. The mist circled her now, and her image wavered slightly. "But you tell me, mortal, what was I supposed to do when for centuries on end I had felt only Her absence? Of course I was going to want to feel anything else, even if it was anger, or hunger. What would I have done without anger, or hunger?"

It was still your decision to act on it.

"Was it?"

Before she could swallow it down, the thought of the sarcophagus bubbled up from her stomach. By the time she had emerged from that bright tomb, whatever small part of her had remained lucid felt only the fear. Felt her body hurtling unstoppably forward. And then there was the blood, and the bang, and the flesh giving way to her now sharp teeth. And through it all, hunger, hunger like an engine as she plowed into the man who had put himself in her way to save her, and not knowing what she had done, and then the terrible knowing after she had woken up again--

And then Aubrey. Aubrey being there even when Dani felt not all there herself, even when she couldn't bring herself to speak for hours on end. Aubrey never smothering her, but never far either. Aubrey warming her even when they were apart. Aubrey holding her when she finally broke and carefully kissing the tears from her cheeks. Aubrey murmuring against her skin, skin that had felt more sacred to her than it ever had before, because it had been touched in this way. Aubrey crying herself and still whispering to her, "You didn't kill him. I know that wasn't you."

Who are you, really?

For all the Quell claimed to know her mind, she apparently hadn't been expecting Dani to say that. It was some time before she answered, slowly, "I am this planet's force of destruction. I clear things away. It is Her role to create them."

That's what you do. Well, no, it's what you have done, I should say. Destroying, I mean. That doesn't have to be all of you. Wouldn't you rather be something else?

"What sort of a question is that?"

It wasn't the familiar feeling of home that had drawn her to Aubrey at the very start, though that sensation would come in full force soon after. Instead, she had seen this woman walk in and immediately thought that she was seeing someone who knew herself. She took up space--not just with her wide stance and the thick poof of candy-red hair standing high on top of her head, but also with the way her voice filled the room without her trying, the heat of the flames she made filling every empty corner. She was utterly herself, and she wanted everyone to know about it, to see her. And Dani saw her, alright.

How comfortable she seemed in her own skin. It was sort of contagious. The more she was around Aubrey, the more she wanted to feel that way, too. At times, she almost did. That was usually when Aubrey would do things like kiss her all over under the covers and count out each one, claiming she was giving her a kiss for every one of her freckles. She would never reach the end of the count--they would both either dissolve into giggles or into sleep, but either way, Dani would be left grateful for her form, for the freckles that covered it.

She had also thought, at first, that Aubrey would be the last person capable of understanding what foreignness felt like. It appeared that she, the traveling entertainer, could make a home anywhere she pleased, could be comfortable anywhere. And anyway, she just felt so familiar. Dani eventually found herself to be wrong about many things, of course. The knowledge of all she had gotten wrong started with the night that Aubrey sat on the bed, hands folded between her knees, speaking quietly about her mother and the empty lot where her house had been.

And it turned out that she didn't know herself as well as Dani had assumed, either. She didn't know how good she was. She spent so much time worrying about how her fire could destroy that sometimes she hardly seemed to see how much light she gave off. Dani wasn't sure how best to make her see it. She tried to show her anyway, where she could.

The Quell cut in, "Well, of course She was full of light. She is the Life-Giver. She is not capable of making anything that is not beautiful."

Sylvain is inside her, but Aubrey is herself. She's all human. She thought a bit more. Humans are all so different. They're kind of...flexible, I would say. They have to spend a lot of time thinking about the kind of people they want to be. I don't think that's a bad thing.

The Quell let out a hum.

By the way, is that really what you think now?

"What? Oh, about the beauty of the surface, you mean."

Yeah. You think so? After all you did to it?

The Quell faced the sky, eyes wide open. "I believe...before, I simply rolled over the surface of this planet. I saw all of it as only obstacles. Now that I'm made to just...just be, I see that it was all Hers. I was so busy searching for Her that I could not see Her in everything she had done, in front of me."

Dani hated to admit how much she understood.

"I...I feel ashamed." Her head snapped in Dani's direction as if she had just recalled something. Then she sighed once more. "You still don't want me to see Her."

"No, I don't." Dani finally managed to speak aloud, albeit shakily. "And I...I don't forgive you either, yet."

"I see."

"But I might, sometime. She might."

The Quell smiled, really, for the first time. "Then I will speak to you again."

I didn't say I wanted that, she thought. Talking to her, Dani found, was still sort of exhausting.

"You didn't have to." She did not move, but the long shadow of a tree stretched to blanket her, and she seemed to have never been there to begin with.

[gotravel2fly]

The secret of the cross country flying

@Yassen Savov Paragliding

Because of all the new Coronavirus lockdown and the shitty weather after that, I managed to gather only about 20 hours flying until July, which is amazingly poor and low level, after all the magic flying last season. But traveling in 2020 is quite a challenge for everybody. So, after many plans going with the wind (only metaphorically speaking, unfortunately!) I decided to give it a go with an XC course/guided distance flying in Bulgaria, Sopot area.

Sopot is a small city on the southern part of the Balkans mountains, around 1h30 drive from Sofia, a 4h30 drive from Bucharest and a place where I’ve been a few times before. It is a cool place to fly and the weather here can be good for flying many days in a row especially in July and August, so I guess that makes it a reliable option close to Bucharest. It can be rough, it can be bumpy, but it can be flyable, so according to the experience of the pilot, it can be very rewarding or unsatisfying, even frustrating. In this magical place, where you can eat a great ice-cream right at the lift, good Bulgarian food at Rodeo, and talk to many nice and friendly pilots, I decided to learn to fly better.

One of the instructors is Niki Yotov from Skynomad,  the one who told me about the course. He has been flying for over 20years and he knows very well the area,  the particularities and the aerology of these mountains. He is a very good pilot and the one who managed the logistics for the course.

The other instructor is Yassen Savov, one of the best competition pilots World level, European champion and a crazy funny guy. I didn’t know Yassen before this, but I’m glad that I’ve met him now, he’s cool and I enjoyed very much flying with him. I hope that, at some point, my skills will be sharper so I can fly like him.

I figured that was a good combo for the guiding team, so I went along, it seemed the right thing to do. I also told Andrei Turnu, so that I can share the experiences with someone I knew. This is the link of the course, on Yassen’s site https://www.yassensavov.com/sopot-bulgaria-26-july-1-august/

The headquarters was at the nest www.nest.bg, Niki’s place, which I highly recommend because it really has good vibes, cool atmosphere flying-related and the place where we also had our theory sessions during the course, briefings and debriefings every day.

As the first day was forecasted with some overdeveloping of the clouds, we adapted somehow to the conditions. I know it is a small flight, but it was hard work there :)).

https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/26.7.2020/11:14

The task was too optimistic for the day, but I had a really nice flight with Yassen and managed to turn back to the main landing place. I guess that we got the best what we could from that day as the plan changed accordingly. Honestly, if I were alone, I would go land much earlier, so the fact that we fly with the instructors is a good motivation for me. In bumpy air, I usually decide to land than to continue to struggle, but I guess that was just my lack of determination until now.

The course is held in this area, but actually not only in Sopot, as we ended in 2 hours drive take off from Sopot only on the second day. Some of the guys managed to fly very well and quite far by themselves or with the instructors, which is a very good thing. I managed to bomb-out twice, so not the best day for me. The conditions were not that bad actually, as it was proved by the others’ flights, but tricky for me, as it was a small hill near Plovdiv, with a quite strong wind at the take-off and some turbulent air, which I love by the way… So I took off, climbed in a thermal and then lost it on the way… It happens, I guess, but I decided I need some ballast in order to load my paraglider better and my wing to stay more stable.

The trouble is, as I guess most of the paragliding girls and light pilots, that I fly an S size glider and I don’t really load it maximum. XS size would be way too small, so a 65-85 is a good range, me having around 78kg with my equipment on.

The next day I took 4litres of water but there were no significant changes, with Yassen waiting for me on every jump and in every thermal… I felt a bit ashamed of that because I really tried and did my best..but my glide ratio nor my speed didn’t want to cooperate.

https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/28.7.2020/09:48

We managed to get back near Sopot and land on a nice golden field. Yassen having his anti-G parachute thrown on every glide (although he flew with a Rush 4) just to wait up for me, priceless…

https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/29.7.2020/08:38 – This one was my PR FAI triangle! Note to self: insist more where you consider it should work, don’t give up just before getting there!

But with an extra 5-6 liters of ballast, I felt like this is something I really had to do for a long time… My Rush 5 flies soooo much better and faster than I would have expected being overloaded, it seems. So with 9 liters of water ballast… It was just perfect! My every-day-collapses were a bit rarer, thou stronger, turbulence didn’t seem that annoying and the speed was amazing compared to the day before! I really felt I could travel by flying my paraglider, and not only feeling like moving around by bus! So days of the pure pleasure of flying with full speed at cloud base in the Sopot area… A dream coming true! Not the numbers are important, but the landscapes I got to see, the feelings I got to feel.. Just amazing!

https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/30.7.2020/09:04

The preset task was 100km out and return to the west of Sopot. Although I bombed out on this flight, it was one of the best flights so far, I managed to stay at cloud base the whole flight over the mountains and then I had a low-save on a golden field, from 160m above the ground right to the cloud base, which allowed me to travel back for a few more km until the shadow came on the valley. The better option was to stay more on the right side when going back to the take-off, as the north wind entered stronger later in the day over the mountain.

@Svetli, at the Sopot take-off, Rush 4 and Rush 5

I don’t know how people get to learn how to do efficiently distance flying, but for me, it did not come naturally. It takes a lot of work, frustration, bomb outs and that uncomfortable feeling that I cannot do this. But actually, I can.  I have learned a lot in the past year flying many hours in Colombia, India and around home, but I’ve learned even more in a few days on this course because the guys have worked hard on explaining how terrain should be approached, how the weather should be read, how the things should be working. And if you take it easy and shallow, it won’t work. You have to be committed to doing this. Every information should be processed and you should imagine very clearly the zoning in the air and the thermals and the clouds forming in order to get to fly far and fast.  Of course, this course was held with people flying B wings and not competition level wings. It was a bit overkill, in my opinion, as Yassen and Niki fly way better than teaching us how to tighten the 360 in a thermal and when to push the speed bar. What I mean is that this course can be held for advanced pilots who want to fly fast in competitions or open distances.

I know how much I annoy Vladut with my slow flying that he only very rarely has the patience to wait for me (actually only twice that happened..). But I guess patience is something everyone has to deal with.

@ Svetli, at the Sopot take-off

We had on this course incredible good weather, kinda tricky, but if you fly with the right people nearby, it can be awesome! The 6th day of the course was really amazing, as I guess no-one expected to be epic weather for the day. The forecasted strong North wind was not really that strong and let us fly to the east and then southeast, with incredible cloud base 3200+. After beautiful site seeing over the Botev Peak, we flew out from the mountains and traveled at the cloud base over the flatlands to the southern part of Kazanlic and then south passing by Stara Zagora.

https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/31.7.2020/09:06

The preset task was to Haskovo, but the wind was too westerly on that part so the new plan was Bulgaria-Greece-Turkey border. So after 7h flight and many thermals away, the goal was completed by all the three students flying that day in the course… What a day! 175 km, a personal best of distance flying and airtime. We had 2 different routes, Jack and I were with Yassen and Andrei was with Niki, but we managed to land in the same spot. At the landing, the bus was waiting for us, many thanks to Ivan for the retrieval. Actually every day was very well organized and the retrieval bus came very fast every time.

This is the team for this flight, Ivan was taking the photo.

Best guiding ever,  I feel that I have made progress, I have learned a lot of things while flying but also in theory sessions. Amazing job, guys!

The 7th day of the course was also flyable though pretty strong NW wind at the Brestovitsa take off. I somehow managed to take off and then fly by myself for 45km  with tricky strong wind and complete the small task. https://www.xcontest.org/world/en/flights/detail:raluca_dd/1.8.2020/11:08

Overall, it was a really great experience this XC course, with 2 of the best instructors I could have for teaching me stuff about cross country flying, having epic and amazing flights every day for a week… That is very consistent weather in the Sopot area, but actually, Bulgaria has very good weather most of the time… I would really like to fly again with the guys and maybe see some new places to fly in the next months if Corona will allow us.

Oh, I forget to tell you about the secret of cross country flying… I actually missed that because Andrei and I were late for the beginning of the course and the secret had already been told :)))