#who were so close together where they were buried that when archaeologists found them

[danmeichael]

i need to work on my chengxian fics....

[wildwood-faun]

Thanks for enabling me @a-chilleus!

So today it was because I was listening to the Swedish folklore podcast När man talar om trollen ("speak of the trolls" - our version of "speak of the devil") and in an episode about cats they had an interview with archaeologist Torun Zachrisson. She talked about a Swedish iron age practice of burying people on top of animal skins. The most common type of skin was a bearskin, but there are a number of women's graves where the women have been put on top of lynx skins and Zachrisson theorises that these people may have had a strong connection to the goddess Freya. (Difficult to say for sure, but there is another researcher who made a connection between the bearskin burials and Odin and she plays off of that.)

This is already making me emotional, but then she also went into more detail about a grave from Gotland where a woman and a baby are buried. They were able to do a DNA analysis on them and could tell that they were very closely related, so probably a mother and child - it's not unfeasible to think that the mother died in childbirth. In many graves from this area, the bodies have been cremated before burial but here the woman has been put on a bearskin. She's lying on her side, and against her left shoulder she holds an infant that seems to be wrapped in a lynx skin.

Tried to find more information about this but she doesn't name the site in the podcast and I haven't been able to get a hold of her article yet. It's called The "Lynx Ladies": Burials Furnished with Lynx Skins from the Migration and Merovingian Periods found in Present-day Sweden and seems very interesting.

While I was looking I came across this picture of someone who was buried, also on a bearskin, together with two dogs (source) and I'm in my feelings again. It's about the incredibly tender act of putting someone in their last resting place and making sure they aren't alone (the placement of the baby in the Gotland grave, the dogs that look like they could be sleeping next to the person in the picture below). The way we give our dead flowers, put them in their best clothes, give them things they might need (look at the comb in the picture!). There is so much from this time that we can't say anything about. I will never know what these people were called, what they sounded like when they laughed or what their favourite music was, but the fact that we can see how these long dead people cared for their dead is like a line drawn through time that connects us.

I'll link the episode for the very small minority of my followers who understand Swedish. The part I'm referring to starts at about 1:14.

ancient burial customs making me cry again

[bungajurang]

A Stratum of Nightmare

This episode of Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre left me feeling nauseous and uncomfortable. I hope it won’t turn into a traumatic memory. I will never see sedimentary layers the same way again.

These pictures below are screenshot from the episode. Beware of spoilers, I literally retell the whole story here. Warning: body horror.

Title of the episode: Layers of Fear

The episode started with a group of researcher, which I believe are a group of archaeologists, found a unique sediment layer. One of them pointed out how the strata looked much like a human face.  

Different human tradition treat those who deceased differently. Some of the funeral rites that’s ever recorded in human history are ground burial, cremation, and aquamation. The body of the deceased may be put inside a coffin, a casket, or wrapped in a plain cloth. However, there were (maybe there’s still) tradition where the deceased are covered with layers of clay or being mummified to preserve their body.   

Naturally, a sediment layer formed by a weathering process which loosened minerals such as pieces of rock and biological matter like trunks, leaves and corpses. In this case, the group of archaeologist found a sedimentary layer which has a trace of the burial process using clay. The body that was buried there affected the formation of sediment layer.

For a second I forgot that I was watching a horror animation series. I got carried away by the opening which remind me of my field practicum in my sophomore year in college. My group of class went to a natural laboratory in Magelang where we learnt about soil and sedimentary process. For that matter, we were taught about how to dig a site of observation. We dug a rectangular shape which pretty much looks like a tomb, but larger and deeper, and we got inside to analyse each stratum we found. 

It was revealed later in the episode that one of the archaeologists took home the skull they found. He didn’t know the skull was cursed. A fecking classic; a scientist found something interesting in the field, take it home and get cursed. The curse was passed on to his family. But only his daughters got the bane, it made their bodies become layered. The first daughter has a layered teeth. But he and his wife never realised that their second daughter is also cursed. 

Long story short, the daughters and the mum got into a car accident. It was this scene that scared me: the accident tear the second daughter’s face, but she’s fine because there were layers inside her body. To put it clearly, her body is made of layers of skin. It is as if she has no organs inside her, yet she still bleeds. The layers indicate her age, just like how it works on a tree. She’s 20 years old, so there were 20 layers. 

The horror doesn’t stop here. 

The mum started hearing her daughter’s voice when she was 2 years old. The 2 years old version sounded in pain and wants her mum to free her as she was located in the deepest layer. The mum peeled her daughter’s body layer, one by one. After she reached the last layer, the 2 years old that keep calling her was just the head, the remaining parts are the present body version of her daughter. The mum got frustrated and started to tear her own face, thinking that she might get cursed too. Well, unfortunately, she was normal. Poor the first daughter, as she has to take care of her sister (or what is left of her sister) and the mum with her face wrapped in wound dressing. 

Regardless of the body horror and painful scene, I have to admit that this episode left me in awe. Junji Ito is a crazy genius. This episode is his most gory animation in this series, closely followed by the Tomie episode (honestly I can’t decide which one is the goriest. Both are fecking terrific). The scene where the mum peeling away her daughter's face, and the painful screams of her daughter together with the excited yells of her 2 year old version, is a terrific macabre scene and definitely will not leave my mind for a while.

[tonesplash]

In The Drawer (18+)

Could I request something? If you want to write my request, that is! I would love some more Jacob content because smeyer did him so dirty. My request: Jacob reacting to his shy lady love telling him that she wants him to restrain her during sex, with her being kind of embarrassed about it. Aaa, if this makes you uncomfy or you don’t want to write it, pls yeet this ask into the sun. I love you either way!

pairing: Jacob Black x Reader

warnings: swearing, and mild smut

(a/n): have fun yall

You'd met while out on a summer La Push trip with some of your school friends, Jacob spotting you from a few hundred yards down the beach and managing to score your phone number between your nervous rants and stutters.

Somehow, that first approach, with you sweaty from the sun and fully exposed in your swimsuit, seemed way less daunting than now. Even now, fully aware of the whole werewolf situation and his endless devotion and unwavering compulsion to do anything you needed him to, didn't make asking this any easier.

He absolutely knows something is up; you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your cheek while you fail to avoid it subtly, your entire face glowing since the thought first entered your mind the night before when he'd briefly held both of your wrists in one beefy hand in between fits of passion.

Lucky for you, today was a busy one on the res'. There was some big powwow coming up, so all hands were on deck, filling every room of Emily's house and spilling out into the front yard.

Jacob still manages to catch your eye in the hustle and bustle for a brief moment with a clear unspoken promise that whatever was on your mind was going to be out in the open by the end of the night.

You stay after to help clean up for as long as possible before even Emily nearly chases you out the door for some alone time with Sam. You guess you can't blame her.

When you get in the house, Jacob is waiting for you in the living room, having almost paced the rug to threads. You trade a bit of your trepidation for remorse. You hadn't meant to make him anxious too.

"Hey, Jake." You awkwardly try to break the tension as you leave your shoes by the door.

"(Y/n) where the hell have you been? Do you know how worried I was, especially with how squirrely you've been all day?" Jacob's temper strains his voice a bit, but you can see the concern smoldering in his dark eyes. He steps closer to bring you in for a hug, and you move to reciprocate, but he only holds you for a moment before pulling back, his hands coming up to cradle your arms.

"I didn't... hurt you or anything, did I?" His eyes soften as he holds you steadily. You are quick to shake your head to quell his worries.

"No, no, of course not."

"Well then, what is it?" Jacob draws his hands to cup your cheeks and forces you to look at him. "You haven't acted this weird since the time Seth caught us-"

"I know what Seth caught us doing! Don't remind me!" Your hands come up to frame his, and you close your eyes as if bracing for impact.

"Can we just... talk about this in the bedroom?" You open your eyes to test his reaction, only to find him grinning down at you.

"Oooh, okay, so you wanna get saucy? You could've just said so hon-" You clap one of your hands over his mouth before he can mortify you any more.

"Please start walking before I have to kill you."

You follow Jacob into your shared bedroom. He plops his full weight on the edge of the bed while you remain standing, shifting your weight anxiously.

"What could you possibly be thinking about that's got you this riled up?"

"Just... before I say anything. You have to promise me you won't laugh."

"This has got to be good." Jacob leans back on his palms and observes you.

"I'm serious, Jake!" You pout for a moment before steeling yourself and crossing your arms. "Werewolf swear me."

This time he can't hold in his laugh. "You can't say werewolf swear and expect me not to at least chuckle."

"Did Paul lie to me again?" This night could not be any more embarrassing for you.

"Yup. That's not even a real thing. And if it were, which it isn't, it wouldn't even apply to you."

"Please, Jakey." Saying it out loud physically hurts, but the nickname immediately schools his face, and he sits up to take this seriously.

"What's going on with you? You know you can tell me." He gently takes your hands and brings them close to his chest, and the warmth of him grounds you enough to get the words out. You fiddle with this collar for a second while you carefully consider what you're going to say.

"I want you to....tiemeup." You rush the last part out, hoping that he'll catch your drift.

"What? I didn't catch that like, at all."

"I want you, to...y'know." You make vaguely suggestive gestures with your hands.

"I already do that. Like, a lot." He's still not getting it. And he isn't going to unless you nut up and say it out loud. You cover your face for a moment before he pulls them away, and you can't tell if he's messing with you again.

"I WANT YOU TO TIE ME UP AND FUCK ME! GOD!"

The immediate silence is somehow deafening. He releases your wrists, and you may live with your hands seared to your face forever with how hot your face is right now, you just know it. Your palms and your cheeks have become one, and your face will never see the sun again.

"Y/n."

Archaeologists may finally get a glimpse of who you once were years and years from now, when your flesh rots into nothing and the delicate bones of your phalanges blow off in the wind. But until then, your mortification will remain.

"Y/n, babe, it's okay." You turn your back to face him as if that will make him forget what you just said.

"No, it's not. I want to crawl into a hole and die."

"Hey, hey, hey! We don't want any of that." Jacob makes you face him and pries your hands away from your face with a ridiculous ease.

"There's my girl." He releases of your arms to pull you in by your waist, and he's smiling at you. Why is he smiling at you like you hung the stars when you just confessed to being a sex fiend.

"I thought you were gonna say something actually crazy, like that you were gonna stab me but like, sensually."

Your giggle is muffled into his shoulder.

"Not that I'd be totally opposed to it but, it's still a pretty big jump-"

You're full-on cackling now, and he laughs with you, pulling you to his chest and rolling back onto the bed until you're breathless and beneath him.

"Would you really let me do that?" Jacob isn't looking directly at you, but the stretch of your jaw as he caresses it. "Tie you up and have my way with you?" he chuckles a bit as he says it, but you can tell by the hardness pressing into your front that he isn't joking.

...

You couldn't say how or when you found yourself like this, wrists tied and held together behind you while your werewolf boyfriend railed you from behind.

You can do nothing but moan brokenly into the drool-soaked pillow below you, and Jacob isn't faring much better. You can hear his shaky pants and grunts with the effort and dizzying pleasure of your tight cunt.

His skin is dripping with exertion, making him almost glow in the low light of your bedside lamp, and you can't seem to look away. He's breathtaking in every way.

When he catches your dreamy one-eyed stare, he bows further over your back, still thrusting, still holding your bound wrists steady, his voice is a honeyed growl as he continues poinding into you, "This what you wanted, huh?"

It feels like you're being split apart; like with him inside like this, there is no room for your lungs to expand and words to come out. You must have let out some pathetic noise because he barks a short laugh against your temple before kissing it and burying his face in your hair.

Maybe the afterglow would be a better time to bring up the cuffs in the drawer.

[sheliesshattered]

This Isn’t A Ghost Story extras for Chapter 8: The Temple

The eighth and final chapter of This Isn’t A Ghost Story has been posted! You can find it here on AO3 and here on Tumblr. Below the cut are extras for this chapter and a few things for the story over all. I’ve had such fun writing this fic, and hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and following along with the writing process here too!

Like the previous chapter, chapter 8 is named for the location where it takes place, in this case the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, which is near the Valley of the Kings, Thebes, and modern Luxor, on the west bank of the Nile.

As mentioned in both this chapter and previous chapters, several sections of the temple have stars painted on a blue background on the ceilings:

The ‘towering statue’ Clara comments on is one of a line of statues depicting the pharaoh Hatshepsut as the god Osiris, only a few of which are still standing:

Here’s a short video showing both the exterior and interior of the temple from earlier this year.

I came across the Temple of Hatshepsut fairly early in my writing process, when I was looking into what archaeological dig sites were active in the 1910s and 1920s. This photo from the late 1920s shows the continuing work going on in the area (that’s the Temple at the back left), and served as part of the inspiration for Clara’s memory of finding the Doctor at a dig site in Thebes in 1921:

About a month into writing This Isn’t A Ghost Story, I was grappling with the detail of Clara’s wedding ring, based on the poll results you guys gave me. I had been toying with going with an emerald for her ring, since emeralds have some interesting ties to ancient Egypt, but I also really wanted to go the route of a TARDIS-blue sapphire, and in particular a star sapphire really appealed to me, for its look and its symbolism. The results of that little impromptu poll clearly pointed to a star sapphire -- but also suggested I tie it into the world-building somehow.

Those two elements came together in my head rather abruptly when I remembered the star ceiling at the Temple of Hatshepsut, and after digging into the history of Hatshepsut, I realized it worked almost too well. On 28 June this final epilogue chapter sprang into being in basically the form you see it in here, baring a few edits I’ve made to it in the three months (!!) since then.

As the Doctor says in this chapter, the Temple was designed and overseen by Hatshepsut’s head advisor Senenmut, and many modern Egyptologists do in fact believe that the two may have been lovers during Hatshepsut’s time as pharaoh. While there are many stylized statues of Senenmut (including a few of him with Hatshepsut’s daughter, to whom he served as primary tutor), archaeologists have also found ostracons, chips of limestone that ancient artists used as throw-away sketching surfaces, that depict Senenmut in what he more likely looked like in life:

Please tell me I’m not the only one who sees this resemblance: 

And then there’s Hatshepsut herself, who is depicted in numerous different ways throughout art and statuary, sometimes shown as more typically male in her role as pharaoh, but more often shown in what Egyptologists believe she looked like in life -- large eyes, full cheeks, and a small chin:

I mean:

Once my brain made that connection, I really couldn’t let it go.

I had originally planned to end the story with the sequence in the Cairo museum that eventually became chapter 7, but the connection between Clara and the Doctor and the real historical Hatshepsut and Senenmut -- with the added parallel of Senenmut as tutor and guardian of Hatshepsut’s daughter corresponding to the Doctor watching over Margot in Ghost Story, even -- was just too good to pass up. 

Senenmut’s tomb is as the Doctor described it, with the oldest known astronomical ceiling of any tomb or temple in Egypt:

His tomb is very near to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut, and tunnels into the cliffside such that it is extremely close to Hatshepsut’s own tomb, which is entered from the Valley of the Kings, on other side of that mountainous area. This has only further fueled speculation that the two were very much in love -- as pharaoh, Hatshepsut had to have her tomb built in the Valley of the Kings, and as a commoner Senenmut couldn’t be buried there. But they could design their tombs such that they would be as close as possible to each other, even if the entrances are miles apart.

Part of my goal with this final chapter was to give a hint at a larger story that this version of Clara and the Doctor are just a part of. I left the possibility that they had once been Hatshepsut and Senenmut intentionally open-ended, so the reader can make their own decision. They might have been, they might not have been, but in the end what matters is that they are together and in love now. 

Similarly I also wanted to make allusions to both Doctor Who canon -- Senenmut as an ancient astronomer, and Clara’s comments about travelling the stars together in their next life -- as well as the wide variety of fanfiction that exists for this ship. In a way there are thousands of versions of them scattered about out there, finding each other and falling in love over and over again. This Isn’t A Ghost Story doesn’t exist in a vacuum, it’s part of a much larger multi-layered story that is constantly being told and re-told. And in many ways, that’s what I love best about fanfiction versus any other genre of fiction.

The process of writing this story has been so interesting and rewarding, frustrating at times and huge amounts of fun at other points. With this final chapter posted, This Isn’t A Ghost Story is officially the first multi-chapter, non-series fanfic I have ever actually finished, in more than a decade of posting fanfiction online. This is the first time I’ve made myself wait to start posting a story until it’s nearly complete, and I documented more about my process thoughts here on Tumblr than I have for anything I’ve written previously.

It has been a fantastic nearly four month journey, and so much of that is down to the lovely interactions with those of you reading, both here and over on AO3. From the early interest many of you expressed way back at the beginning of June, to the comments and cheerleading on my #process thoughts posts throughout the summer, to all the many wonderful and humbling comments on the story on AO3, I could not have made this journey without you guys. With what a strange, stressful, and often depressing year 2020 has been, I know that when I look back on this year, this is what I’m going to remember the best, taking this journey along with all of you.

And on that note -- do any of you have any questions about Ghost Story? Anything about the writing process or the world building or really anything at all, I am more than happy to answer in as much detail as you like. Feel free to ask here, or on AO3, or use my Tumblr askbox, now or at any point in the future. ❤️

@tounknowndestinations​ had asked about the timeline I worked out for the entire story, that I’ve been keeping under wraps for fear of spoilers. Originally this started as just a way to keep straight how many years had passed -- ‘do I say eighty-six years here, or eighty-seven??’ etc -- but eventually ballooned from there to cover the entire narrative, and even some of the timeline that is only hinted at in places. This is its final form in my working googledoc:

1875: the Doctor is born

1885: the House is built

February 1899: Clara the 1st is born

13 May 1921: the Doctor and Clara the 1st meet in Cairo, she is 22, he is 46

12 May 1923: the Doctor and Clara the 1st marry in Glasgow, she is 24, he is 48

June 1925: Clara and the Doctor return from Egypt

August 1925: purchase of the House

23 Nov 1927: the Doctor dies, age 52

21 August 1928: Margot is born

23 Nov 1928: Clara the 1st dies, age 29

8 April 1956: Ellie is born. Margot is 27

23 Nov 1986: Clara is born. Ellie is 30

1991: at 5 years old, Clara tells Ellie and Margot about the ghost 

September 2000: Ellie dies of cancer, age 44. Clara is not quite 14

January 2010: Dave Oswald dies of a heart attack, age 56. Clara is 23

October 2014: Margot dies, age 86, leaving her house to Clara, who is nearly 28 

16 Nov 2014: Clara has the nightmare that begins to unlock her past life memories

13 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor return to Cairo to mark 100 years since they met, the Doctor is restored to life

18 May 2021: Clara and the Doctor visit the Temple of Hatshepsut, which leads Clara to wonder if perhaps they have met and fallen in love before

Thank you so much to all of you who have followed along during the writing process, to everyone who has reblogged chapter posts here and commented on AO3, and everyone who has cheered me on during the past four months. You have made writing this such a joy, and I cannot wait to share my next project with you. ❤️

[midas-or-khaos]

The Ones Above Us. Prologue.

Device:-Sony Handycam DCR SR85

Input:-Film

Location:-Ireland Peat Bogs

Date:-September 2008

Time:-6:35.

Title:- YouTube vlog 68, metal detector finds.

Hi, everyone, it’s Neil again. Today on this lovely misty autumn morning we’re back on the peat bogs of Ireland for another early treasure hunting session. I’m here today with Mark- Mark say hi to the camera!

Hello everyone.

Mark’s here with me again afterrrrrr, err, god how long has it been?

Three or four months, give or take.

Three of four MONTHS. Bloooody hell. Well, it’s good to see you again. I hope you lot watching at home appreciate this too! God. Anyway, let’s get on with today’s episode. As you already know, these bogs are well known for harbouring very early bits of Celtic jewlery, coins, knives etcetera back from the Iron Age, so hopefully the peat will be kind to us, though probably not with these conditions, and our combined shit luck. Ground’s gonna be solid. Never mind. Mark, you ready to start?

Yep.

Great, let’s get started!

How far the land goes on when undisturbed by human intervention, it almost makes the world seem endless from human perspective. Of course, these factors wouldn’t dampen the hopes of these history hunters, these foolhardy men. No, they knew what they desired lay within this earth they stood upon; this largely untapped treasure trove of history. And with miles of potential at their fingertips, where to begin?

You start east, I’ll go west. Nice and easy, take your time.

Heading west, Mark with crows feet beginning to form at his eyes and a steadying decline in an ability to accept change, lacked the years of experience his jovial east-bound counterpart possessed, but with at least seven previous sessions under his belt, easy to use equipment and an expert within earshot, nothing could go wrong, right? Just scan and dig, how hard could that be?

Right, Mark’s gone east and while he’s off I’ll start with the introduction to the land we’re on because you never know when someone new is going to see our channel.

Harder than either could have anticipated.

Peat bogs form when plants don’t fully decay in acidic and anaerobic conditions. Anaerobic being a fancy word meaning without oxygen. Peat is made up of mainly wetland vegetation, like mosses, sedges, and shrubs. As it accumulates, the peat holds water which slowly creates wetter conditions that allow the area of wetland to expand. Despite now present conditions, these areas used to be land occupied by early human tribes and thus explains why you can find old jewellery, trinkets, even bodies sometimes, in these bogs despite them being uninhabitable now. And yes, you did hear me right, bodies. Well preserved bodies actually. Unlikely to find any of those though, seeing as we have metal detector and not a sniffer dog, Heh. Plus they’re usually found about a meter deep in the ground, and they blend so well that you probably wouldn’t recognise it as a body if you were just scanning the ground. Ah well, let’s keep going.

Peat preserves bodies near perfectly, save for the flesh becoming black and having the texture of tanned old leather, plus the hair going bloody red: dyed from the acid. The mummy of Old croghan Man (who was discovered in these very bogs) was so perfectly preserved, that the first archaeologists whom discovered the corpse, disclosed after they finished that they felt queasy examining the remains, as the torso was still retaining the vivid wounds of severed flesh and a cut spinal cord frayed with ends of a thousand year old nervous system where the man had been decapitated and disemboweled violently after death. Bones are one thing, you can’t quite empathise with something lacking a familiar face and form. Seeing something so akin to a recent murder is quite another.

NEIL!

Yeah!

NEIL! COME QUICK!

EYYYYY, looks like our amateur may yet be a masterrrrrrrrr! WHAT YOU FOUND?!

I DUNNO, BUT IT LOOKS WEIRD!

Mark hadn’t gotten far at all, barely a few yards; today was a lucky day indeed for the pair. Jogging over, letting his own excitement bleed through, Neil was by Mark’s side in a moments' notice with a full blown grin, gums peaking through. What could it be?! Pointing to a nearly glowing spot in the earth that seemed to reflect the moody sky with its blinding bright whiteness, the two kneeled down together to look further.

Neil, where’s the spade?

Here! You dig first, it’s your find.

Being handed the spade, Mark began stabbing the rock solid earth, frozen through as all that trapped water became solid ice.

COME ON!

They should’ve bothered more with chipping away at diamond, might’ve made more progress then the two were now. These tools were inefficient. This piece of history didn’t want to come out.

We got anything else, Neil?

I’ve got a chisel?

Let’s have a go.

It was time for harsher methods. Neil marked the spot with the chisel tipped in a minor dip in the earth. Mark became the hammer. STAMP! Nothing. STAMP! Still nothing. SSSSSSSTTTTTTAAAAAMMMMMMPPPPP- CRACK! A fault burst open like a spider’s web. Small, but there.

YES! Keep stamping!

There was no stopping now. So close now! Uncovering buried treasure like the archeologists of Egypt finding their next greatest discovery. Would it be silver? Gold? A rarity beyond material that could shake the very foundations of history as we know it?!

SPLIT! At long last, the earth shattered beneath the determination of man. The unnoticeable became revealed. Flesh. Bone white flesh so large, the pattern that made up the texture of skin could be seen clear as day. They’d found a corpse

...Mark, call the police.

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Three: Pestilence (Ignis x Reader) Chapter Nine

Ignis immediately turned around, eyes widening when he saw the snowy-haired girl standing in the doorway. Like him, her (e/c) eyes were wide, but there was only one difference. Tears streamed down her cheeks relentlessly as her lips were sealed together. The droplets trailed down her skin and dropped onto the floor by her feet.

The second Ignis took a step toward her and reached a hand out to touch her, she disappeared in a plume of smoke. He stumbled forward slightly but caught himself by grabbing the doorframe. Gritting his teeth, he slammed a fist against the wooden frame.

"W-What do we do now?! She could be anywhere!" Prompto yelled in panic.

"How the hell should we know?!" Noctis shouted back.

Out of the four of them, Gladio was the only one in a calm state of mind. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the door, glancing toward Ignis. ""We" don't do anything. Iggy's the one who screwed up." He clapped the advisor on the back. "You better go make this right."

Without a word, Ignis left the house in search of (Y/n).

Once outside, he checked the parking lot and asked the young woman who was selling goods if she had seen the Horseman. Morosely, she hadn't and gave him an apologetic smile before he headed back up the path.

In the lighthouse, he asked Cid if he had spotted the girl anywhere, but he shook his head. Next, he traveled down the elevator to see if (Y/n) was lingering around the dock or ship.

No luck, either.

The only other place he hadn't checked was the top of the lighthouse. He headed back into the elevator and traveled all the way to the top. He rounded the walkway above and froze when he spotted her hunched over the metal railing. From where he stood, he could see her entire body shaking and the death grip she had on the metal bars in front of her.

Ignis forced his legs to move and slowly approached (Y/n). He feared if he were to startle her, she'd vanish again and for good this time. His heart raced and ached in pain when he heard her sniffles. He made sure to not make a single noise as he walked up to her.

When he was close enough, Ignis reached out and placed a hand on Pestilence's shoulder. She didn't even budge or flinch under his gentle touch. He tried to formulate the perfect apology, but his mind was blank. He couldn't think of the right words to say to her.

"Now you know..." She muttered sorrowfully, eyes hidden by her snowy locks. "I'm a monster. Raiden had his entire life ahead of him, but I killed him..."

Ignis shook his head. "(Y/n), you are no-"

"I am!" She bellowed, silencing him. "The man I married was not the man I loved. A year after my father's death, I met Raiden. My mother disapproved of him and set me up with her friend's son-Edric. I was forced into a joyless marriage with a man who never truly loved me. My dreams as an archaeologist were shattered in mere seconds. I was his...toy-an object he used to vent his anger and frustration whenever he so desired. Nothing more."

She inhaled a shaky breath, pushing aside the tears to continue her story. "I told Raiden of all Edric did to me. He made a promise to me-the night of my 21st birthday, he would come and take me away from Edric and Galahd. Everything went according to plan until...until Edric rammed our car as we were driving across Taelpar Crag. He had followed us all the way from Galahd, which I'm still unsure about how he learned of our plans to escape together. It crashed through the stone railing and teetered on the edge. Edric took his pistol and killed Raiden before driving away, leaving me to fall to my death."

The tears returned with a brutal assault as (Y/n) could no longer hold them at bay. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to her knees, her hands still gripping the railing. Her head hung in shame and guilt as sobs wracked her body. "I'm the reason he's dead! I should've kept my mouth shut and severed my connection with him! He could've lived and accomplished his dreams, but I took it all away from him!" Her hair fell over her shoulders, further curtaining her face. "An innocent man and the love of my life was killed all because of my selfishness."

Ignis was speechless. He couldn't believe his ears. The nightmare was vivid, but it didn't go far enough back to give names or connections. Once again, he couldn't think of the right thing to say and simply let his body do the talking. He kneeled beside (Y/n) on one knee and reached out toward her. One arm snaked around her waist while the other cradled her head against his chest.

The girl released her hold on the railing and collapsed against Ignis, letting all her tears flow. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she latched onto the back to his shirt. She buried her face in his chest in a desperate attempt to silence her wails.

Her tears soaked the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind one bit. Ignis was more than happy to be a shoulder she could cry on and comfort her through moments like this. While stroking her white locks, he kept whispering to her that she wasn't a monster and she was far from one. He wasn't sure if she was listening since she didn't try to deflect his words and snap back at him like she did a few minutes ago. It mentally wounded him to hear her call herself a monster, especially with all she's done in the short amount of time she's been with them. She's not only saved Noctis' life, but also his own. It was a debt he felt he could never repay.

After nearly fifteen minutes of crying, (Y/n)'s tears evaporated and she was able to calm herself. She took deep breaths to compose herself while piecing herself back together physically and mentally. She kept her face buried in Ignis' chest to hide it, knowing how much of a mess her face was after such a heavy cry. She loosened her grip on the back of his shirt slightly, embarrassed at her recent display. "I must apologize for all this, Ignis. I know I'm in shambles at the moment, but I wish to thank you for listening to all my shouting and providing comfort."

Ignis rested his head atop hers with a small sigh of relief. "Of course, (Y/n). Now I must be the one to apologize. I regret withholding such a secret from you."

She shook her head slightly. "You've nothing to apologize for. My past was bound to rear its ugly head. I do have one question, though." She pulled away, revealing the dried trails of salt down her cheeks created by her tears. "The nightmare-where does it start?"

"At Taelpar Crag a few moments before the car crash. The nightmare ceases once the vehicle falls from the bridge with you in it," he replies, staring into her (e/c) eyes now tinged red from the tears.

"I see..." She mumbled, pulling away from Ignis and stepping away from him. "Now you know the reason and cause of my untimely demise. I must insist on you returning the summoning orb to me."

"What?" He gasped in surprise.

"The orb...It's a manifestation of my memories from my previous life. It's the catalyst of your nightmare. If I would've known this was going to transpire, I never would've given it to you. It's my fault you've been unable to sleep properly." She held out her hand, expecting him to give the orb back without an argument. But what Ignis said next shocked her.

"I refuse."

"Ignis, this is for the best," (Y/n) calmly replied, taking a single step toward him. "Please. For your sake, return it."

"No." Ignis continued to refuse the Horseman, which shocked her.

The girl dropped her hand and placed it on her hip. "I knew you could be stubborn, but not this stubborn." She sighed heavily, deciding to not argue any further and spark an all-out verbal war with him over something so small. "You win this battle, Ignis. I'll let you keep the orb. But if you don't find a way to fend off this nightmare in the next few days, I will be taking it back by force regardless of your stance."

"I will keep your words in mind," Ignis responded.

"You better," She snickered. "You're an honorable man with a tremendous memory. It'd be a shame if I had to remind you in the coming days of what we spoke of here."

"Even if I desired to, I would never forget this moment, (Y/n)," Ignis said with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You've a strange knack for worming your way into other people's hearts in such little time," she smiled before heading to the elevator.

"As do you," he whispered for only his ears to hear before riding in the lift alongside the Horseman.

The duo returned to the house and found Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio sitting around the table. The freckled blonde flew to his feet when he spotted the two. "Hey, (Y/n)! We were worried you had vanished somewhere far away." His cerulean eyes bounced over to Ignis in curiosity. "Did you tell her?"

"And what, pray tell, do you believe I told her?" Ignis asked in return.

"Y'know, that you're crushin-ow!" Prompto cried out after receiving an elbow to the gut courtesy of Noctis.

"It's nothing," the prince said in an attempt to hide what the blonde was about to let slip off his tongue.

"By that reaction, it's a no," Gladio grumbled to the gunslinger beside him. "Iggy's smooth with the ladies until it comes to confessions."

"Oh," Prompto muttered in understanding. "Gotcha."

The advisor heard their mumbling and glared at the shield before sitting down beside Noctis. The brute shrugged innocently with a smirk and scooted his chair out, glancing at his four companions. "So yeah, gonna have to ask you to handle this boat business without me."

"Say wha?" Prompto's jaw dropped a little in shock.

"Got some business of my own to deal with."

"A solo venture?" Ignis inquired.

Gladio nodded. "Just a little hike to help me clear my head."

"An issue with the ship?" (Y/n) asked, confused as to what the bodyguard was referring to when he said "boat business".

"We're in need of mythril," the advisor explains. "Fortunately, Talcott has provided us a possible location of where such valuable ore can be found."

"Ah, I see."

Before departing, Gladio patted the (e/c)-eyed girl's shoulder with a grin. "Think you can watch over them while I'm gone, (Y/n)?"

Said girl feigned a grimace and placed a hand on her lower back. "I'm not so sure, Gladio. I may have pulled my back."

The shield chuckled and patted her shoulder. "I can definitely see why Iggy's fallin' hard for you."

Pestilence was puzzled, her brows knitting together. "What?"

"It's nothing." He removed his hand from her shoulder and glanced at the three boys. "I'll see you guys later."

<--------<<<<<<

Several days later, without the company of Gladio, the group found themselves heading to the Vesperpool. Noctis was behind the wheel with Prompto in the passenger seat while Ignis and (Y/n) sat in the backseat. They entered a tunnel, which shocked the three boys. Prompto stood up in his seat and glanced back at the entrance. "Wait-what happened to "under imperial lockdown"?"

"They all but turned the key and left the gates open for us-as if awaiting our arrival," Ignis said.

"And if anyone's waiting for us, I bet it's that guy."

"Chancellor Izunia."

Noctis kept his eyes on the road ahead. "Can't complain as long as he lets us in."

"Who's to say he'll let us out? Not to mention we're a man down. Would that the marshal were with us," Ignis remarks.

"Yeah, but we've got (Y/n) with us this time!" The blonde chanted. "Nobody stands a chance against us while she's around."

"Who is this chancellor you speak of? Is he another Silas?" Pestilence questioned.

"Not quite," Ignis responded. "Though, he is another thorn in our side."

"Ah," she hummed. "You men have more eyes upon you than just Silas. What terrible cards you've been dealt."

"You can say that again," Prompto grumbled.

Noctis eventually parks the Regalia near the Vesperpool and they head into the nearby swampland in search of the ruins they heard about from Talcott. As they walk down a narrow dirt path, (Y/n) spotted a red car with a single white stripe painted down the middle of the hood and the trunk parked in the foliage. "What an old vehicle. Whoever the caretaker is, they're doing a splendid job of keeping it pristine."

Prompto glanced at the car she was talking about and grumbled when he recognized it. "Oh, no..."

Pestilence was puzzled at his sudden displeasure as she followed beside Ignis, heading further down the trail. Before she could even ask him what was wrong, another voice greeted them. "Gentlemen, what a pleasant surprise."

"Ugh!" Prompto groaned. "Told you he'd be waiting!"

(Y/n) tilted her head in confusion until she remembered the man the boys had showed their distaste for in the car only a few minutes ago. "Ah, this must be Chancellor Izunia."

Arydn sauntered over to the girl and took her hand in his, placing a kiss atop it. "A pleasure, my lady." He released her hand and circled around her as his eyes raked across her body. "My, where have you gentlemen been secluding such beauty?" He gently took a handful of her snowy locks and grinned as he inhaled the scent of mock oranges with a splash of honeysuckle.

All the boys were glaring daggers at the chancellor at his actions, but the sharpest glare was casted by Ignis. Ardyn seemed to have felt their intimidating gazes and stepped away from (Y/n). "May I have your name, my dear?"

"(Y/n)," she responds serenely, pushing the hair he was holding a few seconds ago behind her shoulder.

Ardyn grinned before redirecting his gaze toward the boys now standing protectively around the Horseman. "I've brought a few of my imperial friends."

"Splendid," Ignis muttered in disapproval from behind Pestilence.

"But fear not-I'll put in a good word, especially with such a gem by your side." The chancellor glanced one final time at (Y/n) before taking the lead and heading deeper into the swamp. "Well, come along, then."

[notleriff]

Phoenix

I wish you the best of luck, Takeda. And I hope one day you will join us and return home. Just remember, our people rose from the ashes--you’re allowed to do the same.

“Fight me!”

“Perhaps another time, Dotharl.” Leriff chuckled softly as he wiped the sweat from his brow. He attempted to climb up the rubble in front of him, but could not find a good handhold to start his ascent. “Ahh--up, please.”

With large, looming steps, Ardki stepped forward. He locked his fingers together and held his hands out as a platform to give his fellow hunter a boost. “After! You can even have my pay if you win!” 

With only a smile and a shake of his head in response, Leriff placed his boot into Ardki’s outstretched hands and let the larger Au Ra lift him high enough to grab a crumbling beam. He climbed along it sideways until he found his way higher, finally making it over the rubble. “All clear, here.” The hunter leaned forward to look into the ruined room on the other side of the rubble, confirming that there were no beasts laying in wait within. 

The two had arrived at dawn with a team of relic seekers. Less than a moon past, the sands of the Sagolii had blown in the wind, shifting to reveal another of the tombs of some long forgotten people buried beneath. The group was excavating the ruins to find anything of historical note to bring back to the city to clean and catalogue. Ardki and Leriff had been hired to keep the archaeologists safe from any beasts that would have turned up at either the shifting of the sands or that lay buried within, as the first team dispatched had fled some manner of monsters a fortnight prior.

Leriff waved off Ardki’s assistance in his descent and dropped back to the floor with a thud. He dusted his tabard off before setting his hand on his hip with a huff. “It is safe enough for them to venture this way, but we should check the few passages around here before the sun sets. Which side do you want?” 

After a cursory inspection of the few paths from the courtyard, Ardki pointed down one to the west. The mostly intact terrain better suited his large, hulking figure, and it would require less acrobatics, something he was not very keen on. Leriff nodded in agreement and headed north, dropping to his stomach to crawl under a collapsed pillar before disappearing from sight.

What windows that existed in the passage were sparse, and it grew too dark with the setting sun for the man to see clearly. He frowned before digging into the bag on his belt. Producing a cloth, and searching the nearby area for something to tie it to, Leriff manufactured a torch. He held it out, nestled against the pit of his arm. He lifted his right hand and brought it down against the handle of the gunblade sheathed on his back. The ring around his finger was made of a fire crystal infused flint, and as it struck the steel of the weapon, it ignited, catching the cloth he had wrapped around his glove on fire. Using that flame, the man lit the torch before very quickly putting the fire on his hand out to avoid any burns. 

Leriff grumbled to himself as he wound his way around the maze-like passages. The patron of their operation was a lalafell of some wealth in the city, but seemed rather ill-informed of the operations this far into the desert. When the hunter had asked him what manner of creature the previous team had encountered, their patron had been flippant, if not outright dismissive, and had only given brief answers. It was not uncommon for those in power to not bother themselves with the details, but beyond the minor dune worms the two had cleared out, Leriff had found nothing to warrant calling off an entire digging operation.

Even if the windows in the ruin were sparse, and the few that existed covered by debris and sand, Leriff could still hear the warm blasts of wind outside. He hummed in thought to himself as he pressed deeper, using the whistle of air as a sort of tempo counter to his steps. Some few yalms away, however, he stopped, ceasing his humming as realization dawned upon him. 

Too steady. Too rhythmic. Too short. 

He began to creep forward, holding the torch low in case he needed to quickly smother it to avoid detection. Leriff had only the intent to confirm his suspicions. Dune worms did not breathe in such a manner, and whatever it was was large enough that the closer he drew to the source of the sound, the more the very rubble shook with each heavy breath. Without warning, the breathing stopped. In its place, a low rumble began. Just beyond the edge of the light his torch cast, a massive eye opened, sending a jolt of fear down Leriff’s spine. A gigantic muscular arm rose from the sand, and the creature began to pull itself free from its slumber. The rumbling grew into a growl as it crept closer to a roar. 

Panic set in as Leriff took a step back, but before he could flee in terror, he dropped the torch. He put himself in darkness in hopes the creature could not see through shadow, and had sense enough to dart down the closest narrow passage. It was not much help, as with two deadly horns and powerful grip, the creature ripped through whatever ruin lay in his way to crush the puny creature that would dare disturb his domain.

Leriff had no knowledge on how to fight this beast. Few, if any, did. His mind raced and he struggled to make sense of it. He could not think of how one ended so far away from the mountains, or how it survived buried beneath the sea of sand above; but, in all honesty, the how of it mattered little. 

“Leriff? Did the tunnel collapse? Are you okay?” Ardki called down the passages at the sound of the quaking earth. “Ahh, there you ar--” 

“Run!” Leriff was sprinting towards the large man, pillars collapsing behind him. At the look of confusion on Ardki’s face, and the lack of turning and fleeing, Leriff ran straight into him. He wrapped his hands around the Au Ra’s arm and yanked as hard as he could, nearly dislocating his shoulder, in order to get him to start moving. “RUN!” He screamed, dragging the large man behind him.

From the passage just behind where the hunter had fled from, large purple digits wrapped around the frame of the sandstone door and pulled it, crumbling the wall as a great behemoth followed close behind.

Ardki no longer needed the guidance of the Doman, having broken free of Leriff’s grasp to double time all on his own. The two tore past the encampment at the entrance of the ruins as the relic seekers were already frantically packing to escape whatever was creating such a racket just inside. When the head of the behemoth peeked out from behind the wall the two hunters had just fled from, those in the camp no longer cared about their personal effects, simply dropping everything to flee in a panic. 

The creature burst into the ampitheatre the crew had been using as a base of operations, its stark white eyes expressing its rage of the fleas that had infested its home long before the roar that split the sky did. Through a process of elimination, random chance or sheer bad luck, it settled its seething frustration onto the first target it saw and charged directly at the foreman of the group, who, at the sight of the barreling violet barrel of violence, froze in place and soiled himself. 

There was not time to think. To consider how terrible an idea it was, or of those left at home, or how pointless the endeavor would be. His body moved first, before his brain caught up with his hands. Leriff had skidded to a halt and turned on his heel, his hand reaching up to the handle of the weapon on his back. In the time it took for him to realize he had unhooked the gunblade from his back, he had already closed the gap between himself and the foreman. With no ability to back down any longer, he leapt into the air, twirled to gain momentum and slammed the gunblade directly into the behemoth’s eye.

Striking against the behemoth’s head was like jumping chest first into a stone brick wall. Leriff let out a horrible wheeze as all of the air in his lungs was scattered. He tumbled off the behemoth and landed on his back, trying desperately to gulp down greedy breaths to find the strength in order to push himself to his feet. He crawled a few ilms as the behemoth thrashed about in rage and agony behind him before making it to his hands and knees, and eventually his feet. The hunter staggered in a daze towards Ardki. 

The great Dotharl had managed his axe free on his way to his companion, holding the large weapon in one hand. As all in the room were, he too had not slowed from his full sprint. If he could reach Leriff in time, he could help him free, help them all escape. Ardki could not abandon Leriff, and show his cowardice, after the Doman had just risked himself for another. All he needed do was reach the man in time. Steps more. Yalms. Ilms.

Ardki threw himself into Leriff’s chest, pushing him back onto the ground. Leriff fell backwards, once more finding it difficult to breathe as he landed flat on his back. Above him, in one moment, Ardki looked down on the hunter and in the next, the Dotharl was gone. He had been moved, with rather vicious force, to the wall, gored on the end of one of the behemoth’s horns. The behemoth dragged the au ra across the wall, the horn leaving such a gaping wound that within seconds it had separated the man’s torso from his legs.

Leriff crawled, hand over hand, until he was back onto his feet. He collected Ardki’s axe, and though he struggled to wield it with such ferocity as the Dotharl surely would have, he focused all of his might into his arms. He shouted to draw the attention of the behemoth away from Ardki, and when the creature turned towards him, dropping Ardki from the wall, Leriff brought the axe across with all his might, cracking the shaft of it as he struck one of the beast’s arms, but managing to share that same damage to the behemoth itself. Taking no time to relish in his victory, and using the behemoth’s stumble and pain to his advantage, Leriff grabbed what was left of Ardki from the ground and ran with him out of sight.

He gently set the au ra against a pillar and stepped back with shaking hands, trying to rack his brain for anything he could do to help his co-hunter. At best, Leriff could patch cuts, bruises, maybe a broken limb or two. Ardki had been eviscerated, his lower half severed in the most unclean of ways. Blood spilled freely, soaking both hunters as Leriff tried fruitlessly to bind the man up. 

“I am Dotharl!” Ardki weakly lifted his arm, flailing it to try to find Leriff. Leriff took his hand and placed it on his own shoulder in an attempt to bring comfort. “I laugh at death!” The au ra blankly stared into the distance as color faded from his face. “But it hurts… And I’m afr--” Whatever final words Ardki had ended there, as he slumped to the side, drawing breath no more.

The screams from beyond the walls was all the indication Leriff needed to know the carnage had not stopped. Before he stood, he removed the bag slung over Ardki’s shoulder, the leather stuffed to the brim with a tool to help the large man get through the crumbled debris of the sandswept ruins. Leriff pulled the strap over his head and rose to his feet before hurrying back into the main amphitheatre. 

Blood soaked the floor, workers and mercenaries aliked cowered beneath and behind the crumbled walls and fallen pillars of the ruins as the half-blinded behemoth thrashed about in a wild fury to smash, impale and consume any living creature in the vicinity. Leriff took a single breath--a deep, cleansing one--to steady himself. For the first time since the sight of violence incarnate had filled his vision, he pushed the panic down. He held the air inside his lungs as his fear dissipated and then let it out slowly, in a single word. “Flow.”

Like a lightning strike, he was in motion. He did not give the behemoth time to turn and face him this time. Instead, he planted his foot on one of the fallen pillars left behind in the creature’s destructive wake and leapt from it. With no weapon, Leriff fell to the last one he had left, and perhaps the one he found the most familiarity with. He lifted his hand back and focused, relaxing his muscles--opening every little gate inside his body that would block the flow of power within. He clenched his fist and collided with the behemoth, smashing the creature square on the side of its head. The beast staggered backwards at the impact, and Leriff landed back onto the ground, rolling along the sand to find his way back to his feet. 

His left arm hung limp at his side. He had focused what strength he could muster into his arm, and brought all that strength to bear against the behemoth. When the blow had connected with the near steel-proof hide of the beast, the aether he had summoned needed go somewhere. And, since he could not pierce the behemoth’s hide with the power, somewhere it went. Out. In every direction it could. Muscles burst and bones broke as it vacated his arm, and now it hung useless. He choked the pain back. There would be time for pain later. Or there would not be, and he would be dead. Either way, now it could not be a distraction.

Man and beast stared at one another in a showdown, but it was Leriff who made the first move. There was no time for bravado. If he continued to break himself on the creature’s back, he would surely die. He had to kill the behemoth now. He moved like crashing water around the hulking arms, spinning, stopping and starting again to avoid being crushed beneath one of the behemoth’s fists. When he found his opening, he ran for it. 

He ran, until he stumbled. Skill played its part in keeping him safe, but it did not matter how fast or how skilled Leriff was. He was tired. And eventually, he would lose. In the split second it took for the man to put his plan into action, in the single mistake the lapse of attention brought, Leriff had moved in a direction he could not dodge away from. The fist came down, straight into the sand, and caught the entirety of the man’s right leg. It crumbled like paper. This was not pain he could push down, and the hunter screamed in agony, his body slinging back in response. 

The behemoth pushed its head down, and as easily as a bull charges a cape, it speared Leriff directly through the stomach on one of its massive horns, lifting the broken hunter off the ground. Finally, having brought the man to its level, it met the hunter eye to eye, unbridled fury seething out. 

Leriff choked on blood as he slumped onto the horn, using his one good arm to try in vain to push his body back off. When he could not muster the strength, he fell forward, trying to at least slow the pain until he died. His arms dangled off the sides and hung limply. Click. Leriff slowly lifted his palm and let it drop again. Click. His eyes shot open and as life drained from him through the hole in his stomach, he let his head fall to the side to look just below. His salvation lay still stuck in the behemoth’s eye. Click. Leriff weakly brought his hand up and down. Click. The ring struck the metal of the gunblade once more. “Do not fear it.” CRACK. 

A piece of the infused flint chipped off, and Leriff’s hand went up in flames. He stuck his burning hand into the bag that hung from his shoulder until he found it--the fuse. With the linen lit, and the urge to survive taking hold, Leriff pulled the bag from his shoulder and threw it into the behemoth’s face, sending some of the balls of packed explosive falling out as it flew through the air. He curled his burning fist up and screamed out every drop of air in his lungs as he brought it down onto the horn. He would either die now, or later when he could not muster the strength to take one more step. He chose later. With all of his might, and all the life left in his body, he brought his power down onto the protruding horn. It cracked, broke and dropped the hunter with half of it still stuck within him. The behemoth’s roar was cut short as the explosion ripped its head apart, the shockwave of it crumbling the ruins about on top of it. For his effort, the explosion threw Leriff like a sack, straight back into a pillar where he cracked the back of his head. He dropped to the ground without further fight, and the world went black.

***

It was two full moons before he could enter the office. The workers had dug the corpse out from beneath the ruins the moment the dust had settled, but when one heard the heartbeat, they had dropped everything to abandon the desert and bring him home. Constant care as the suns passed was all that kept him from death. Conjurers, companions, doctors, chirurgeons, and every single person the man had earned favors with in his work had come forth, and only through the constant vigil of those around him did he find himself in the office today.

Jajarilu sat on his stool behind his desk, watching in contempt as his employees helped the monster hunter into the room. Leriff looked like a holiday decoration, so wrapped in bandages. He struggled to stand, and only managed to move thanks to the wooden crutch he had propped into the pit of his arm. The lalafell only spoke once Leriff had situated himself, standing at the other end of his massive desk. “I am glad to see you well! You have come for payme--”

“You knew.” The look Leriff gave the patron of the excavation work was not all too different from that which he gave the behemoth that nearly took his life. “Your foreman told me, already. You knew it was there.”

Jajarilu’s hesitation lasted for but a moment. One did not reach such a level of wealth if they found themselves thrown off by every interruption. He coughed once to command the attention once more before jumping to his feet. “I did. It was a risk, but the work we have done now that--” He stopped as he saw the hunter’s expression. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked briefly around the desk until he reached a set of stairs, the small ladder bringing him to stand atop his workspace. He walked over the desk, arms swinging at his sides, until he could place himself in front of his hunter, and with a big smile, produced a bulging pouch of coins. “Here. A bonus! To our continued success together!” He dropped the pouch into Leriff’s hand as the Doman looked at it with a dumbfounded expression. “Now, if you don’t--”

Leriff smashed his head into Jajarilu’s, sending the lalafell tumbling down off his desk and onto the floor. The hunter then lifted his crutch and pinned the businessman to the floor by the throat, placing a dangerous amount of weight onto the wooden support. It would not be difficult, even weakened, to end the man’s life. All he needed do was push down a touch harder. His eyes shifted to offer his attention to those around the room, some pensively ready to heed the need for aid of their employer. He would not be able to get away, afterwards. He was too weak. Leriff glared down at the small man as Jajarilu pathetically flailed in an attempt to push the crutch off his neck. “Do not contact me again.” 

None of the workers attempted to stop Leriff. They felt he had earned at least that much. He released Jajarilu and stumbled to the door, fumbling it open with one hand before leaving the office for good. After making it to the street, and out the gate beyond, Leriff made his way to one of the myriad of refugees still located in Stonesthrow. He dropped the pouch of coin at the man’s foot to a look of confusion.

“Sir..?”

“I do not want it.” Leriff gripped his crutch tightly and slowly made his way back home.

[angstalottle]

I Promised

Ah sorry @bradcel for how long this took but my part of the @langstron exchange is done.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of Lance’s favourite parts of being a paladin is actually getting to go out and meet people.

With every new planet brings new cultures and new histories to learn about.

Amongst the others he’s really the only one that gets so involved in their culture on each and every planet. They usually just come for whatever it is they need then leave without learning anything.

Then again, most of them had never really been born outside of the culture they grew up in.

They had never experienced having to adapt to a new country with new rules that if you don’t learn you could end up dead.

In Cuba Lance never had to be afraid of getting a police officer.

He never had to be aware of being profiled based on the colour of his skin or the language he spoke.

The others never had to learn to adapt to survive...

Well accept for Hunk.

Lance can actually remember the first day they met and the day he fell in love with his best friend.

He had just been shoved into a locker and told to go back to Mexico when his knight in shining armour saved him.

And unlike the times the teachers pulled him out he never told him to speak English or just ignore them.

Instead he told him something that changed his life forever.

“These are people who believe they are the normal one. That because they see their faces on TV, in movies and running the country it means they matter more. But they don’t. They just know they lack a culture as unique and old as yours and mine so they try to hurt us. And it may not be fair but we gotta make sure they don’t get to.”

Looking back at that moment Lance remembers him standing tall and brave, like he could carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

In reality he was crying and had dirt on his nose from where a project blew up in his face earlier that day.

It had been years since then and Hunk was still as brave and incredible to Lance as he had been then.

That’s why for the mission he had been so excited when the two of them were sent to a planet's archeological site.

Planet Corina was mostly large cities filled with loud and rambunctious people that looked to celebrate whenever possible.

They were currently holding a celebration to honour the paladins of Voltron enjoying their meal last night and declared it a holiday for all chefs.

It was sweet up until one of their large fireworks uncovered an ancient cave system filled with statues dedicated to the planets old gods.

A team had quickly been put together and due to the instability of the cave systems Hunk and Lance were sent along to keep the archaeologists safe.

That had been three hours ago.

Three hours of mindlessly chatting to Hunk as they walked through a labyrinth of tunnels and pointed out interesting markings.

Three hours of Lance feeling his heart melt with every smile and gentle touch he got from the yellow paladin.

Three hours since they had enough signal to get through to their friends on the coms.

“I bet there used to be a river or something down here that cut through the stone millenia ago” Hunk grinned as he ran a hand along the smooth wall.

The group was a fair bit behind them taking their time as they went.

Not that Lance minded. He likes spending time with Hunk.

“Gotta admit it would be impressive if all this was man made.... or Alien made I mean. This place must be under the entire city.” Lance replied as he came to a stop and picked up an arrow shaped rock.

“Huh wonder where this came fro-“

He never got to finish that though as that was the moment the ceiling and floor collapsed.

Hunk woke up slowly to a pounding headache.

It was dark and the floor was cold and hard so naturally he assumed he has fallen out of bed and that ringing in his ears was actually the castle alarm calling him to battle.

However as he felt around and found no sign of his bed nor his pjs things started coming back to him.

He sat up so quick that he whacked his head against the low ceiling that surely would have resulted in a concussion if it weren’t for his helmet.

Groaning and feeling along his armour he came to the built in light and flicked it on feeling terror rise in his throat as he could see.

It was like he was in a coffin made on stone.

It was almost sealed save for a few arm sized holes above him that let a supply of fresh air blow through which considering the long crack along his helmet it was a good thing.

Even if they did have a signal it wasn’t likely his coms would still work.

“Paladins?”

A voice pulled Hunks attention away from his own rapid breathing.

One of the arkeologists was staring through one of the holes at him.

“H-here” Hunk croaked even if it was obvious.

They visibly relaxed upon seeing him “the tunnels have collapsed but fear not as were are getting help for the two of you.”

Two of you?

Hunk couldn’t quite figure out who else they could mean when the realisation hit him with more fear than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Lance.

“The… the other Paladin.” Hunk took a moment to cough clearing the dust from his lungs. “W-where is he?”

Their eyes darted around Hunk before shaking their head “I… I do not know. I cannot stay I am sorry but I fear he is buried.”

They ran off before Hunk could really process the information.

Lance… his Lance was… he could be.

The bile rose in his throat and it took everything he could not to throw up at the thought.

Poor little Lance so skinny and fragile buried under all this rock.

What if he was scared?

Of God, what if he was crying for his help and Hunk was too busy feeling sorry for himself to hear him.

Logically Hunk knew it was a miracle that the rocks had fallen in such a way around him leaving him unharmed and that even one small movement could send it all tumbling down but that didn’t stop him frantically hammering his fists against the rock trying to break out to his Lance.

When dust began to pour into his face Hunk stopped to catch his breath.

That’s when he heard it.

Soft gasps coming from his left.

They were barely audible but by god they were there.

L-Lance?” Hunk called out not really expecting a reply but desperately hoping for one.

“...unknown” it was little more than a whisper but it was something.

It was also broken and followed by a wet wheezing cough but at this point Hunk was willing to take what he could get.

“Lance are you hurt? Are you ok?” Hunk asked frantically as he half turned to face the source of the noise.

There were a few moments of silence before Lance finally answered and it really wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“... my legs… I can’t… oh god I can’t feel my legs.”

Hunk swallowed the lump in his throat.

Now wasn’t the time to panic. He had to keep it together for Lance.

“Ok buddy it’s gonna be ok. Helps on its way and we’ll get you in a pod real soon.”

“Are you ok?” Lance asked while Hunk pulled a few rocks away from the hole he figured was closest to Lance.

He wanted to laugh because of course while buried under a mountain of rocks he would worry about him.

That’s just so… so Lance.

It almost brought a smile to his face.

Almost.

“I’m fine buddy. Just a few bruises but nothing a quick session in the pod can’t fix.”

Lance hummed in response but didn’t say anything.

Hunk hoped it was because he couldn’t think of a reply and not that he was unable to say anything.

A quiet Lance was never a good one.

He didn’t really have much room to put the rubble he moved so he ended up pushing it down by his legs.

It made it harder to move but it was all worth it when he finally caught sight of the familiar blue armour.

Then the blood began to drip down.

Lance was on a ledge about half a foot above him with his hand so agonisingly close to the edge that if Hunks arm was just a little bit longer he could hold his hand.

The blood was dripping sluggishly but at an alarming volume down onto Hunk. The scent filled his nose and made him gag on the air.

Now that he could see him Hunk could see the real reason why Lance couldn’t feel his legs.

Mainly because they weren’t there.

By Lances knees there was nothing but a wall of rock that had markings from the top floor etched into them and Hunk realised with growing horror that it must have fallen and broken Lance’s legs off.

He prayed to whoever was listening that Lance wasn’t awake for that.

Right now Hunk couldn’t think about the fact that this wouldn’t be a quick fix.

That a couple days in a pod wouldn’t make Lance whole again.

When they got out of there Lance was in for a long hard struggle to even walk.

If… if they got out.

Right now he had to focus on keeping Lance awake because he was currently useless to stop the blood loss.

“H-hey Lance i… do you remember when you first tried my cooking?”

Lance groaned but nodded yes “I… I asked you to marry me because it was… so.. good.” He coughed growing quieter.

“Yeah and do you remember what I said?”

This time Lance didn’t reply.

“I said that if you ever asked again I would say yes in a heart beat. B-because I love you Lance. God I love you so much and… I can’t lose you.”

He was crying now.

Full body sobbing as he desperately tried to reach for him but failed.

He was so close….

But so far.

At some point Hunk hyperventilated and passed out.

It wasn’t until he fell out of the pods did he actually realise the full extent of his own injuries.

A concussion and two cracked ribs were bad but nothing compared to Lance.

His entire legs had been shattered and what had remained needed to be removed.

One of his lungs collapsed and punctured due to five broken ribs.

His eye socket was cracked and a concussion meant that when he finally was ready to come out he didn’t really remember what happened.

He did remember one thing though.

It was a fact he held onto throughout his entire recovery and then finally when he could walk again he kneeled before Hunk and asked one very important question.

“Will you marry me?”

And as promised Hunk said “yes.”

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 15: Unboxed (Transcript) - 20th September 2015

tw: hauntings, dolls Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

My great-grandmother was a painter. She picked it up late in life, but she produced dozens and dozens of oil paintings once she hit her stride. They’re mostly still-life studies and landscapes, they’re not Dutch masters by any stretch of the imagination, but to our family they’re precious - they connect us to her. Because of this, those paintings have become a centrepiece of her extended family. Generation after generation now makes room on their walls for as many of these framed treasures as they can acquire. People have a way of becoming attached to things. Maybe it’s the long journey that these objects accompany us on in our lives, or perhaps its due to the feelings they can invoke when we see them or touch them. Or maybe, deep down, we understand that even though our lives might be fleeting and temporary, these things, these objects we grow to love and revere, seem to live on after we’re gone. This habit of attributing personality and emotion to our possessions is something known as “anthropomorphism”. We give human characteristics to things that are far from human. Some people name their cars and talk to them like an old friend; others will say that their house has a lot of “nervous energy”. They don’t, but at the same time, they do, you know? The best place to see this practice in action is in the presence of children. The toys they cherish, the ones that follow them from room to room, or lay in their laps on long car rides, or get pulled under the covers with them at bedtime – those objects take on a personality of their own. Oftentimes, it’s just a game, other times it’s a coping mechanism for loss or fear. But sometimes, on very rare occasions, these objects seem to set the rules themselves. They pick their own personality, they guide the children’s decisions as if someone, or something, were controlling them. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

In 1982, a backhoe operator was preparing a building site for development in Titusville, Florida. While working on one of the ponds, he noticed what he thought were rocks visible in the mud, but something didn’t sit right with him, so he climbed out to take a closer look. What he had thought to be stones, actually turned out to be bones – specifically, a human skull. A county medical examiner was brought in, but it became clear almost immediately that the bones belonged to someone who had died a very long time ago. When Florida State University became involved, they uncovered, so to speak, the truth. The bones belonged to a three-year-old girl who had died more than 7000 years before Florida had become a state. It was clear that she had been buried by her parents, though; they had wrapped her in cloth made from local plant fibres, and then placed her in a shallow grave. But she wasn’t alone – with her in the ground, placed near her arms in case she wanted them, were her toys. It seems that children have had toys, objects that they loved and played with, for thousands of years, perhaps tens of thousands. But toys were still rare - in a world where everyone had to contribute to the wellbeing of the community, even the children were expected to grow up fast and do their part. When they did have toys, they were often basic in shape, such as marbles or tops. They would also play with objects meant to represent the things most important to their village or clan: toy animals, soldiers, religious icons – all are commonly found objects by archaeologists in the graves of ancient children. Interestingly, the ancient Greeks expected children to give up their toys when they came of age. Young women would actually take their toys to the local temple on the night before their wedding, where they would offer them as a sacrifice to the Gods. These rules began to shift after the advent of the enlightenment in the mid-1600s. Society became more affluent, and children weren’t expected to work as often as they had previously. In addition, their toys became more complex and useful. Jigsaw puzzles were born in 1767 as a way of teaching geography, and board games from the same period were meant to entertain. Toys had evolved, but throughout all of history, it seems, across cultural boundaries and spanning thousands of years of art and technology, there has been one constant in the world of toys. From the tombs of the pharaohs in Egypt to the shelves of Target down the street, one toy has maintained a universal and timeless appeal: dolls. They’re little representations of us, after all; they personify the people we love and provide comfort to the lonely in a way that no other toy can, and because of that, people get attached. Children refuse to put them down, and even in adulthood, dolls have a tendency to be kept around. Sometimes, though, the roles are reversed. As unhealthy as it sounds, there have been more than a few stories of dolls, not children, who refuse to let go. They seem to take control, to set the tone, and dominate the lives of the people who own them, and sometimes, the consequences have been frightening.

Thomas and Minnie Otto were a well-off and well-travelled couple who had a deep love of the arts. They were natives of Key West, Florida, and in 1898, they completed building a brand-new home there on Eton Street. Two years after moving in, the couple welcomed their third child to the family, a son they named Robert Eugene. They called him Gene, and the family quickly settled into their leisurely lifestyle in the Keys. They had more than enough money, and they spent it on convenience, which included a staff of caretakers around the house. Cooks and maids were always at the ready, including a woman from Jamaica who worked as little Gene’s nurse. History doesn’t remember her name. If you were a woman in 1904, that was pretty common, unfortunately. If your skin colour wasn’t pale and European, those chances dropped even more, so we don’t know her name. But we do know that she loved Gene; she spent hours with him every day, she travelled with the Ottos on their journeys around the country, caring for him like a turn-of-the-century version of a uptown Manhattan nanny. She was… close to him, and that’s probably why she gave him the doll. It was big, about the size of a four-year-old boy, in fact. It was filled with straw, hand-sewn and dressed in a white sailor’s uniform, and Gene loved it. He took it everywhere with him, on travels abroad and on day trips into town with his mother. It was said that Gene even sometimes wore a similar outfit, and the two seemed like siblings. Gene called the doll “Robert”, using his own first name, and their relationship got off to a storybook start. The doll had its own chair near the dining room table, and Gene would sneak little pieces of food to it as the family ate. During bath times, the doll would be placed on a dry towel near the tub, while Gene played in the water with toy boats and corks and all the usual things that little kids love to do. And at the end of the night, Gene would bring Robert to bed with him, and the two of them would be tucked in together. Everything about this is normal – my own children do similar things, naming their dolls and bringing them along for car rides.

But for Gene, that’s where the normality stopped, because not long after settling into a routine with his new toy, things got weird, and according to most reports, it all started with the talking. Gene’s parents would often hear their son’s voice coming from his bedroom as he played. Even though he was in there alone, it would always sound like he was in deep conversation with someone else. First, they would hear his voice, sweet and tiny, and then another voice would reply, different and rougher than his own. Oftentimes, the second voice would sound insistent, while Gene’s would almost sound unnerved and flustered. Of course, Gene’s parents assumed it was a game, and that he was simply playing make-believe, but over time, they began to second guess that presumption. During a few of these apparent conversations, Gene’s mother would quietly approach the boy’s room, and then, without warning she would burst into the room. Inside, it was said she found her son cowering in a corner of the room, arms wrapped around his knees, while Robert the Doll sat on the bed or chair. She couldn’t be sure, but it seemed to her like the doll was glaring at the boy. Things escalated from there. The Ottos awoke on a number of occasions to the sound of Gene screaming in his bedroom. They would rush to his room, only to find him sitting on the bed, furniture in the room overturned and his belongings strewn about. According to Gene, Robert was to blame. Robert, the doll glaring at him from the foot of the bed. “Robert did it,” became a common phrase around the Otto house after that. They didn’t believe their son, of course, but the boy blamed the doll for most of the unusual activity. When his parents found toys that appeared to have been mutilated or broken, Gene said that Robert had done it. Sometimes the Ottos could hear giggling from somewhere else in the house. Sometimes, this happened at night, and each time when Gene was supposed to be in bed. Dishes and silverware were often found thrown about on the dining room floor, clothing would be found on the floor, appearing to have been shredded by some unknown person. Sometimes servants would enter unused guest rooms, only to find that the bedding had been disturbed and pushed off to the carpet. The staff would even find themselves locked out of the house when making their nightly rounds. If Gene was clearly not at fault, sometimes the servants themselves were blamed for the disturbances. As a result, turnover at the house was high, with a constant rotation of servants coming and going. One constant through it all, though, was Robert, the unusual doll in the white suit, and according to some reports, he did more than make a mess. He may have killed.

Hearing giggles from distant parts of the house was one thing. Sure, it would unnerve most of us, I know it would freak me out, but the Ottos soldiered on, putting up with the repeated excuses. They were strict parents, maybe even a little overbearing by today’s standards, and were always quick to punish Gene for the mischief. It was one thing to make a mess, but staff was hard to train, and having them frightened away all the time wasn’t congruent with their life of convenience, and so they punished Gene. To the boy’s credit, he appeared to have been a true believer in his stories. He would put up a small fight, blame the events on the doll, and then take the consequences like a responsible child. But there were other reports about the doll, and these were things that could in no way be blamed on the youngest Otto boy. Visitors to the house reported that the doll would blink. Some of them claimed to have heard the laughter themselves, and at times when the Otto family wasn’t even at home. Neighbours said they would sometimes see the doll in the upstairs windows, moving from one to another, glancing out through the curtains toward the street. Servants would find Robert in a completely different part of the house from where he had been left moments before. Sometimes the sounds of small, little feet moving from room to room. All of this became to much, and extended family stepped in to find a solution. One of Gene’s great aunts visited the family to plead her case. The doll was cursed, she said, some evil spirit lived inside it and if they wanted to be rid of the chaos and random episodes of disturbance, they needed to get rid of the doll, once and for all. On her recommendation, Robert was taken away from Gene and placed inside a box. The box was then moved to the attic of the large house, out of sight and, at least in theory, unable to cast his shadow of fear over the house anymore. The next night, the aunt was found dead in her bedroom. She was an older woman, and so the official story, that she had died of a stroke, was passed around and believed by all. But the Ottos themselves didn’t buy it. Out of fear for their own safety, Robert was brought out of storage and returned to their son’s side, and that’s how things remained. As all kids do, though, Gene eventually grew up. He trained as a painter, travelled throughout Europe, and eventually married an accomplished pianist. But after his parents passed away, the couple moved back to Florida and took up residence in his old childhood home on Eton Street. Gene spent his days painting, and his wife, Anne, settled into domestic life. And somehow, in the middle of it all, according to the reports, was Robert. Rumours in town spoke of how the doll had a place at the dining room table, and that there was a chair beside their bed for him to sit on during the night, and that Gene had a habit of taking the doll with him as he moved about the house. There were whispers that his wife, Anne, hated the doll. Unnerved by the presence of the doll so close to their marriage bed, it was said that she stopped allowing Gene to bring him into their room, and for a while, he complied. Robert was locked back in the attic, but according to reports, that didn’t help. Robert would sometimes be found sitting in a rocking chair downstairs, even though he was supposed to have been locked upstairs in the attic. The couple would hear footsteps in the attic at night, and the soft, distant sound of laughter. Local legend claims that all of this drove Gene’s wife insane, eventually ending her life.

The study of folklore often encounters the same patterns, throughout the world and across the centuries. One common theme that we see is the dehumanization of people of minority status. The witch trials stand as a sombre example of this, where the accused – often women, often poor, and often social outcasts already – were stripped of their humanity and treated like animals and monsters. Robert the Doll, though, stands on the opposite side of the spectrum. Rather than being one more tale of someone having their humanity stolen from them, Robert, a cloth and straw doll without a soul, appears to have had humanity bestowed upon him. Why? It’s hard to say. Perhaps it’s because Gene Otto’s parents needed an excuse for their son’s unusual behaviour. Maybe it was a culture of superstition, brought into the house by servants with ethnically different backgrounds. Somehow, a living, breathing Robert was an easier story to swallow than the alternative. We’ll never know for sure whether Gene Otto invented it all, he passed away in 1974 - with Robert at his side. For a while, the house remained uninhabited, unless you count Robert as a resident. But eventually a new family moved in and made the house on Eton Street their own. They restored a lot of the original charm of the house and in the process, they found the doll. Maybe they were compelled to, or maybe they had heard about it from locals, but for whatever reason, the new family packed up the doll and moved it to the attic. Eventually though, the family donated Robert to a local museum, but it wasn’t charity that motivated them. It was fear. You see, not long after moving in, they began to experience odd things, things that Gene Otto would have known all too well: soft giggling, light footsteps in the attic, and random, unexplainable messes. The family’s 10-year-old daughter reported that the doll would appear in the house on its own, and on a handful of occasions, it even tried to attack her, a claim that she holds to even now, as an adult. But the final straw happened later, when the girl’s parents were awoken in the middle of the night, in the darkness of their room, they could hear laughter and the sounds of movement. Alarmed, one of them flipped on the bedside lamp, only to feel their hearts stop. There, at the foot of the bed, was Robert the Doll, a kitchen knife in his hand.

This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can learn more about me and this show, as well as info about live events, episode transcripts, and more over at lorepodcast.com, and be sure to follow along on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram, @lorepodcast. This episode of Lore was made possible by none other than you, [Insert sponsor break]. This show wouldn’t exist without all of you. Your reviews, your tweets, your emails, all of them are a gift, and I think you’re pretty swell for doing it. Did you know that I release extra episodes on the off-weeks? They’re shorter, usually focused on one single story, but they’re ad-free and fully produced, and the feedback has been tremendous so far. These extra episodes are only available to Patreon supporters at the $5 level or higher. Patreon, if you don’t know, is a platform that allows fans to support their favourite creations with monthly donations. I would be honoured if you joined the team over there and helped Lore grow. Just visit lorepodcast.com/support to find links to all sorts of ways that you can help out, including Patreon. And as always, thanks for listening.

[sciencespies]

Even 85,000 years later, we can still see how early humans shaped the land with fire

https://sciencespies.com/humans/even-85000-years-later-we-can-still-see-how-early-humans-shaped-the-land-with-fire/

Even 85,000 years later, we can still see how early humans shaped the land with fire

Fields of rust-colored soil, spindly cassava, small farms, and villages dot the landscape. Dust and smoke blur the mountains visible beyond massive Lake Malawi. Here in tropical Africa, you can’t escape the signs of human presence.

How far back in time would you need to go in this place to discover an entirely natural environment?

Our work has shown that it would be a very long time indeed – at least 85,000 years, eight times earlier than the world’s first land transformations via agriculture.

We are part of an interdisciplinary collaboration between archaeologists who study past human behavior, geochronologists who study the timing of landscape change, and paleoenvironmental scientists who study ancient environments.

By combining evidence from these research specialities, we have identified an instance in the very distant past of early humans bending environments to suit their needs. In doing so, they transformed the landscape around them in ways still visible today.

Digging for behavioral and environmental clues

The dry season is the best time to do archaeological fieldwork here, and finding sites is easy.

Most places we dig in these red soils, we find stone artifacts. They are evidence that someone sat and skillfully broke stones to create edges so sharp they can still draw blood.

Many of these stone tools can be fit back together, reconstructing a single action by a single person, from tens of thousands of years ago.

So far we’ve recovered more than 45,000 stone artifacts here, buried many feet (1 to 7 meters) below the surface of the ground.

The sites we are excavating date to a time ranging from about 315,000 to 30,000 years ago known as the Middle Stone Age. This was also a period in Africa when innovations in human behavior and creativity pop up frequently – and earlier than anywhere else in the world.

How did these artifacts get buried? Why are there so many of them? And what were these ancient hunter-gatherers doing as they made them? To answer these questions, we needed to figure out more about what was happening in this place during their time.

For a clearer picture of the environments where these early humans lived, we turned to the fossil record preserved in layers of mud at the bottom of Lake Malawi.

Over millennia, pollen blown into the water and tiny lake-dwelling organisms became trapped in layers of muck on the lake’s floor.

Members of our collaborative team extracted a 1,250-foot (380-meter) drill core of mud from a modified barge, then painstakingly tallied the microscopic fossils it contained, layer by layer. They then used them to reconstruct ancient environments across the entire basin.

Today, this region is characterized by bushy, fire-tolerant open woodlands that do not develop a thick and enclosed canopy.

Forests that do develop these canopies harbor the richest diversity in vegetation; this ecosystem is now restricted to patches that occur at higher elevations. But these forests once stretched all the way to the lakeshore.

Based on the fossil plant evidence present at various times in the drill cores, we could see that the area around Lake Malawi repeatedly alternated between wet times of forest expansion and dry periods of forest contraction.

As the area underwent cycles of aridity, driven by natural climate change, the lake shrank at times to only 5 percent of its present volume. When lake levels eventually rose each time, forests encroached on the shoreline. This happened time and time again over the last 636,000 years.

Harnessing fire to manage resources

The mud in the core also contains a record of fire history, in the form of tiny fragments of charcoal. Those little flecks told us that around 85,000 years ago, something strange happened around Lake Malawi. Charcoal production spiked, erosion increased, and, for the first time in more than half a million years, rainfall did not bring forest recovery.

At the same time, this charcoal burst appears in the drill core record, our sites began to show up in the archaeological record – eventually becoming so numerous that they formed one continuous landscape littered with stone tools.

Another drill core immediately offshore showed that as site numbers increased, more and more charcoal was washing into the lake.

Early humans had begun to make their first permanent mark on the landscape.

Fire use is a technology that stretches back at least a million years. Using it in such a transformative way is human innovation at its most powerful. Modern hunter-gatherers use fire to warm themselves, cook food and socialize, but many also deploy it as an engineering tool.

Based on the wide-scale and permanent transformation of vegetation into more fire-tolerant woodlands, we infer that this was what these ancient hunter-gatherers were doing.

By converting the natural seasonal rhythm of wildfire into something more controlled, people can encourage specific areas of vegetation to grow at different stages.

This so-called “pyrodiversity” establishes miniature habitat patches and diversifies opportunities for foraging, kind of like increasing product selection at a supermarket.

Just like today, changing any part of an ecosystem has consequences everywhere else.

With the loss of closed forests in ancient Malawi, the vegetation became dominated by more open woodlands that are resilient to fire – but these did not contain the same species diversity.

This combination of rainfall and reduced tree cover also increased opportunities for erosion, which spread sediments into a thick blanket known as an alluvial fan. It sealed away archaeological sites and created the landscape you can see here today.

Human impacts can be sustainable

Although the spread of farmers through Africa within the last few thousand years brought about more landscape and vegetation transformations, we have found that the legacy of human impacts was already in place tens of thousands of years before. This offers a chance to understand how such impacts can be sustained over very long timescales.

Most people associate human impacts with a time after the Industrial Revolution, but paleo-scientists have a deeper perspective.

With it, researchers like us can see that wherever and whenever humans lived, we must abandon the idea of “pristine nature,” untouched by any human imprint. However, we can also see how humans shaped their environments in sustainable ways over very long periods, causing ecosystem transformation without collapse.

Seeing the long arc of human influence, therefore, gives us much to consider about not only our past, but also our future.

By establishing long-term ecological patterns, conservation efforts related to fire control, species protection and human food security can be more targeted and effective.

People living in the tropics, such as Malawi today, are especially vulnerable to the economic and social impacts of food insecurity brought about by climate change.

By studying the deep past, we can establish connections between long-term human presence and the biodiversity that sustains it.

With this knowledge, people can be better equipped to do what humans had already innovated nearly 100,000 years ago in Africa: manage the world around us.

Jessica Thompson, Assistant Professor of Anthropology, Yale University; David K. Wright, Professor of Archaeology, Conservation and History, University of Oslo, and Sarah Ivory, Assistant Professor of Geosciences, Penn State.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

#Humans

[adsahara]

Top 10 Ancient Cases Of Rare And Bizarre Skeletons

“Six feet under” is sometimes the best place for an archaeologist. However, combing through the right ancient grave dredges up more than just somebody’s remains. It often sheds light on our ancestors and their way of life. Unusual burials and those abandoned where they died also bring historic questions to the living—sometimes mysterious, often heartbreaking. Then there are the bizarre things people did with the dead as well as amazing glimpses into lost lives.

10 A Medieval Female Criminal

Photo credit: archaeologyinbulgaria.com In 2016, Bulgarian archaeologists discovered a necropolis in the city of Plovdiv. A year later, investigations progressed to a late medieval grave and the contents were unusual. The person inside had been placed facedown. Reports speculated that the remains most likely belonged to a bandit, especially since the skeleton’s wrists were tied behind his back. A better look at the skeleton has since proven that it was female. Though her history is lost, the strange position was almost certainly punishment for a transgression in life and not to prevent her from turning into a vampire. In the past, a spate of strange and gruesomely treated graves betrayed the ancient Bulgarians’ fear of the undead. Some were staked; others were thoroughly nailed down. But the woman, one of eight medieval graves found in the Nebet Tepe Fortress, had no such mutilations. The rare burial was not the only noteworthy find. The same excavation also found evidence that human occupation at Plovdiv started as early as the fifth millennium BC. Read More : 10 Legendary Tales About Mythical Creatures

9 Strange Status Symbols

Photo credit: sciencenordic.com Iron Age Scandinavians considered the goose the ultimate status symbol. Researchers reached this conclusion after peeking into several Nordic graves. If you lacked the rare bird (as geese were in Scandinavia at the time), a chicken in the tomb was an acceptable switch.Tesla Hits Solar Roof Customers With Massive Price Hikes The 2018 study cataloged content inside 100 graves from AD 1–375. This was a critical time when Nordic countries saw many cultural changes because of Roman influences. Scandinavia took to the Roman trend of burying animals with their dead. Women were typically buried with sheep, and one infant was interred with a decapitated piglet. Geese were sacred to the Romans. Thus, only the most privileged Danes took one along into the afterlife. One man’s tomb was royal, filled with a menagerie that included a goose, cattle, sheep, a pig, and a dog. The latter proved that not all the animals were food for the dead. Cut marks on some species did suggest that Nordics adopted another funerary tradition from the Romans—to feast on the meat first. The dog had no cuts and probably symbolized friendship with a warrior master. Read More : Top 10 Bizarre New Finds About Black Holes

8 Turkish Mass Grave

Photo credit: newsweek.com The 3,000-year-old city of Parion started out as a Greek settlement and fell under Roman rule in 133 BC. Today, the ruins of this major harbor stand in Turkey. In 2011, archaeologists puttered about the site during an unofficial dig. It soon turned very official when a mass grave was unearthed. One child and 23 adults turned up. Unlike most mass graves, their burial was not the result of violence. On the contrary, the multi-tombed structure was lined with grave goods. In addition, the careful arrangement of the bodies suggested high status. The dead were not interred all at once but over a long time, from the first to the third centuries AD. However, a grisly find appeared odd among all the signs of respectful funerals. The occupants of the tomb were decapitated. At one end of the mass grave, 15 skulls were recovered. The rest were eventually located in a northeast corner, together with the child. Read More : Top 10 Bizarre Belief Systems

7 Knives Made From Humans

Photo credit: Live Science During the 1800s and 1900s, missionaries reported a gruesome practice: The warriors of New Guinea used bone daggers sourced from humans. The weapons were used in close combat, reportedly to disable prisoners who were later served up as dinner. In 2018, researchers wanted to know why such a gory relic was a prized possession. As it turned out, human knives were practical and bestowed powerful rights upon the owner. Measuring up to 30 centimeters (12 in) long, these thighbones were not plucked from the leg of just any random person. They came from one’s father or an influential individual. The dagger continued to hold the status and rights of the deceased, so the living person who possessed it could claim those privileges. It also turned out to be more resilient than another New Guinea knife crafted from the cassowary. The cassowary is large and flightless but remains one of the most lethal birds on Earth. Their thighbones made decent daggers. Unfortunately, they turned out flatter and lacked the fortifying curvature of human thighbones, making cassowary knives only half as strong. Additionally, bird bones were easier to find, which made human daggers more valued for their rarity. Read More : Top 10 Costliest Coffees in the World : Most Expensive Coffee

6 A New Pompeii Child

Photo credit: The Telegraph Alone and scared, a Roman child fled from hot volcanic ash and debris in AD 79. The youngster decided to take shelter in the public baths building. But as Vesuvius erupted, its superheated pyroclastic cloud killed everyone who stayed behind in Pompeii—including the child. Citizens received a fair warning when the volcano smoked and rumbled for days. Even so, about 2,000 people chose to remain in the city. In 2018, sophisticated scans swept the bath complex. When the discovery inevitably happened, it was unexpected because the area had been considered fully explored since the 19th century. He or she was around 7–8 years old and became the first child to be recovered from the ruins in half a century. To determine the youngster’s gender and health, archaeologists removed the skeleton for future testing. As to how exactly the child perished, he or she likely died of suffocation when the pyroclastic cloud sealed off the building. Located some distance away from Naples, Mount Vesuvius remains a danger today and had a major eruption as recently as 1944. Read More : Top 10 Most Expensive Cars in the world

5 People With Extra Limbs

Photo credit: National Geographic In 2018, archaeologists did a double take when they opened dozens of graves in Peru. Discovered in the town of Huanchaco, some skeletons had extra limbs. The 1,900-year-old individuals belonged to the enigmatic Viru people (AD 100–750). Why almost 30 of 54 burials included additional parts, especially one skeleton with two extra left legs, stumped the archaeologists. However, there was one disturbing clue—most were adults with traumatic injuries. These included blunt force trauma and slice marks. One theory suggests that the limbs were funerary sacrifices. However, for the moment, that idea is shelved with other unknown facts, such as the age and gender of the multi-limbed people and whether there existed any link between the deceased and donors. Interestingly, the culture that followed the Viru, the Moche people, did the exact opposite. They often packed their dead away with missing limbs. When they did decide to include something extra, they added more than a single arm or leg. Usually, it was an entire sacrificial victim. Read More : Top 10 Most Expensive Cars in the world

4 A Horse Surrounded By People

Photo credit: Live Science In 2011, a pyramid was found in Sudan. Nestled inside the ancient Nubian city of Tombos, the elite structure suggested that a very important person was buried inside. The complex had a chapel, and a shaft led to underground rooms. This architecture was known to be reserved for high-ranking humans. In fact, the remains of over 200 individuals lined the four chambers. However, in a surprise twist on most ancient burials, scientists realized that the tomb was meant for a horse and the people were secondary occupants. The 3,000-year-old mare was found 1.6 meters (5 ft) down the shaft, surrounded by artifacts of status. Wrapped in a shroud, her color was still obvious. The chestnut horse died at age 12–15. The advanced age and elaborate grave indicated that the mare was important to her owner. She’s valuable for modern reasons as well. The animal is among the most intact horse skeletons from this period, and an iron piece, likely bridle-related, is the oldest iron in Africa. The monument also suggested that Nubian horses were more revered than history gave them credit for. Read More : 10 Eerie Early Images Of Gods

3 A Dangerous Amputee

Photo credit: sciencealert.com From medieval Italy comes a really weird graveyard. Among the eternal human residents are greyhounds and even a headless horse. The showstopper was a man found in 2018. In life, the middle-aged guy had been an amputee. For reasons unknown, his right arm was severed at mid-forearm. Instead of causing vulnerability, one grave item suggested that he actually became more dangerous. He belonged to the warrior Longobard culture and, like most males in the cemetery, was buried with a knife. While the rest had their blades next to them, this man’s arm and knife was found on his chest. Their positions suggested that the weapon was a deadly prosthesis. His body showed the wear and tear from regularly tying something down. The arm bones were deformed by pressure, dental damage was consistent with using the teeth to fasten straps, and his shoulder developed a ridge from keeping the arm in such a way that he could use his mouth. That the man survived the amputation in an era without antibiotics is remarkable. He lived for years afterward, a hat tip to one individual’s spunk and community compassion. Read More : 10 Graveyards Supposedly Haunted By Vampires

2 Sandby Borg Slaughter

During the fifth century, Sandby Borg prospered on the coast of Oland island near Sweden. When archaeologists finished a three-year dig in 2018, they left with a few horrors. The villagers had suffered a brutal end. Around 1,500 years ago, an enemy attacked and massacred people in their homes with shocking efficiency. The violence was exceptional. Nine bodies were found in one house. In another, an elderly man had been left to burn in a hearth. People were struck down in the streets. Read the full article

[timelord-winchester-22b]

The Library

So guess what? This is not a request. It’s a story I thought of, following the trio of Team Tardis from ‘Sweetie, Darling, Love” It’s a two-parter to follow the canon episodes of The Library. This here be part one. As you may imagine, there may be tears. This is, in fact, the Doctor’s first meeting with you and River. So, here we go then, the day Team Tardis met.

Word count: 2080

Allons-y!

“The Library is breached. Others are coming. Warning, the Library is breached. Others are coming. Warning…”

“Oh shut it”

With one quick movement you pulled out your gun and shot the node point blank, destroying it as one of the people behind you screamed. You simply placed your gun away calmly.

“What were you attempting to achieve?” River asked, walking in front of you.

“Shutting it up, and I did achieve” You corrected, glancing around once more as you walked.

“Warning, the Library is breached. Others are coming”

You groaned as the repeated message played again. You couldn’t keep shooting all of them, your battery would run down. Besides, River likely wouldn’t let you. You scowled at the sound of her laughter through the speakers of your helmet.

“I hate this thing, River. When can I take it off?” You whined.

“Soon enough, Sweetie. We need to establish that the air is safe first” She reminded you. The group walking behind you remained silent. River turned into another room, you following close behind and the others behind you. You grinned excitedly at the sight of the man inside, stopping in front of him beside River. The two of you cleared your visors in synch.

“Hello, Sweetie”

“Hello, Darling”

You both smiled at the man, who simply stared back at you.

“Get out” he said sharply, but neither of you were fazed.

“Doctor” The woman beside him chastised.

“All of you turn around, get back in your rocket and fly away. Tell your grandchildren you came to the Library and lived, they won’t believe you” He continued. You grinned at his attempt to scare you off and he frowned slightly at you.

“Pop your helmets everyone, we’ve got breathers” River declared. You were the first to yank the damn thing off.

“Much better” You sighed, tossing the helmet to the man, who caught it. He was still giving you that look, where he was trying to work you out and trying not to be obvious, which he was failing at.

Lux was complaining again and River quickly told him the two of you had lied before turning back to the man, the Doctor, the younger one at least.

“You came through the North door yeah? How as that? Much damage?” She asked, seriously yet kindly.

“Please, just leave” He all but begged. “I’m asking you seriously and properly just leave- hang on. Did you say expedition?”

“My expedition. I funded it” Lux spoke up.

“Oh, you’re not, are you?” He whined, looking back at you and River. “Tell me you’re not archaeologists”

“Got a problem with archaeologists?” River asked quickly.

“I’m a time traveller. I point and laugh at archaeologists” He spoke seriously.

“Ah, Professor River Song” River introduced with a grin.

“Professor (F/N) (L/N)” You followed, matching with a grin of your own.

“Archaeologists” You spoke together.

“Thank you” You told the Doctor, smiling genuinely as you glanced up at him from where you sat on the desk beside him. Why did he have to be so tall? This one was taller than the last. Or the next.

“For what?” He frowned.

“The usual” You shrugged, dragging your fingers over the table and looking down at it as you spoke. “Coming when we call”

“That was you?”

You nodded.

“You’re doing a very good job, acting like you don’t know us. I assume there’s a reason” River spoke up, handing you your diary as she did. Yours matched the pattern of hers but was (f/c) while hers was blue. The two of you picked carefully through the small books.

“A fairly good one actually”

You smiled, glancing up at him through your lashes before returning your eyes to your book.

“Okay, shall we do diaries then? When are we this time?” River asked, looking over her pages.

“Going by his face, I’d say early days” You pointed out, gesturing up and down with your pen at the man in front of you, who frowned in response.

“Yeah” River agreed. “So, umm, ‘Crash of the Byzantium’, have we done that yet?” You both looked at him, who just watched who both with a blank face.

“Obviously ringing no bells” You pointed out, glancing at River.

“Alright. Um, oh…” She trailed off with a smile as she found one.

“What is it?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

“’Picnic at Asgard’. Do you remember that?” She asked you. You nodded, the same dreamy smile crossing your face. “Have we done Asgard yet?” The Doctor didn’t respond.

“Obviously not” River realised. “Blimey, very early days then. Huh, life with a time traveller, never knew it could be such hard work. Um…” While she looked through her book once more, you had occupied yourself staring at the Doctor. He glanced over at you and you smiled softly.

“Look at you” You mused, propping your chin on your hand with your elbow on your knee, your other arm crossed behind it. “You’re so young”

“I’m really not, you know” He corrected, seeming almost amused.

“No but you are” You insisted, sitting up straighter and setting your diary down beside you. He watched it for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Your eyes…” You couldn’t describe it. “River, look how young he is” He turned to her and she slowly placed her diary down, putting a hand to the side of his face.

“You’re younger than I’ve ever seen you” She realised. You nodded in agreement.

“You’ve seen me before then?” he asked, glancing sideways at River’s hand. You froze, your mouth dropping open in shock as you realised and River moved her hand away slowly.

“Doctor… Please tell me you know who we are” She pleaded. He opened his mouth to answer but hesitated, glancing at you.

“Who are you?” He asked, confused. You could swear you felt your hearts break at those three words. You looked down, closing your eyes tightly and ignoring the world even as a ringing filled the air. Even as the Doctor stood and walked over to Proper Dave to see what he was doing. River placed a hand on your arm gently but you didn’t move.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly. You hesitated.

“No” You answered bluntly. “Are you?”

“No” She copied. You opened your eyes, looking up to meet her gaze. She looked as broken as you felt, but was trying her best to keep herself together. You knew it was because of the Doctor and his friend and Lux’s group but you also knew it was partially for you. The two of you moved at once, pulling each other closer for a tight comforting hug. You rested your chin on her shoulder and found yourself meeting the Doctor’s eye. He looked almost worried about the two of you, but also confused and intrigued. You couldn’t bear to see it, so you lowered your eyes and buried your face in River’s shirt.

“I wish our Doctor was here” You whispered brokenly. You heard River swallow tensely.

“So do I” She admitted.

River went over to help the Doctor, knowing you’d rather time alone right now. After a bit the Doctor moved back over to the computer you sat next to. You pulled your legs up and hugged them close as you shifted away from him slightly. Just giving him more room, you told yourself. He glanced at you worriedly as he worked before his eyes found yours and River’s diaries stacked up next to the computer. You had refused to meet his gaze and since he was facing your direction you were making sure to face the other way.

River walked up beside him, taking the diaries from his hand.

“Sorry, you’re not allowed to see inside the books. It’s against the rules” She said curtly, handing you yours, which you took silently.

“What rules?”

“Your rules”

River walked off with her book and you could feel the Doctor’s stare. It wasn’t long before you followed River, needing to get away from him. He may have been the Doctor, but he wasn’t your Doctor. He didn’t even know who you were. And that broke you.

The Doctor ran in behind the girls, shining his torch around the room.

“I’m gonna need a packed lunch” He announced. You were confused at the request, but you knew to just go with it when he had a plan.

“Hang on” River spoke first, going to kneel beside her bag. You did the same, digging through your own bag beside her. The Doctor kneeled down in between the two of you, looking at each of you in turn.

“What’s in those books?” He asked.

“Spoilers” You spoke in unison.

“Who are you?” He asked, still looking between you.

“Professor River Song”

“Professor (F/N) (L/N)”

“University of-“

“To me” He interrupted. “Who are you to me?”

“Again, spoilers” River told him, glancing at you. You stood and walked away, standing against a desk as you watched River handing the Doctor her lunch box. You looked away quickly as he glanced up and found yourself looking right back at Donna. She was staring at you unashamedly, glancing at River and the Doctor every once in a while.

“Right, you lot!” The Doctor announced, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s all meet the Vashta Nerada” He tossed his torch in the air, catching it again without looking down. You found yourself smiling at the familiarity of the move, looking down to try and hide it. But as you glanced up again Donna hadn’t looked away.

This might be harder than you thought.

You were standing next to River, both of you watching the Doctor work, when Donna walked up beside you.

“You travel with him, don’t you?” River asked her. “The Doctor- you travel with him?”

“What of it?” Donna asked in return. There was a moment of silence between the three of you as you watched the Doctor continue with his work, making Proper Dave move from his spot as he went.

“You know him, don’t you?” Donna asked slowly. You couldn’t help but laugh, albeit rather bitterly.

“Oh, god, do I know that man” River agreed.

“We go way back, that man and us” You told her, hesitating before continuing. “Just not this far back”

“I’m sorry, what?” Donna frowned, confused.

“He hasn’t met us yet” River clarified. “We sent him a message but it went wrong, it arrived too early. This is the Doctor in the days before he knew us. And, he looks at us…” She paused, trailing off with a glance in your direction. She knew this whole ordeal hit you harder than even her, and she was worried for you.

“And he looks right through us” You finished, your eyes fixed on the man. “He looks right through me, and it shouldn’t kill me, but it does”

The Doctor sonicked Proper Dave’s suit.

“800%, pass it on” He told you, holding out his sonic screwdriver.

“I got it” You told him, holding up your own that he had given you.

“What’s that?” He asked, confused.

“It’s a screwdriver” You told him, sending him a ‘duh’ face.

“It’s sonic” He pointed out. You glanced at him as you continued on, increasing the mesh density of everybody’s suits.

“I know” You said simply.

The Doctor was working on an overhead light with his sonic screwdriver, standing on a chair as he talked.

“Trying to boost the power. Light doesn’t stop them but it slows them down” He explained.

“So what’s the plan? Do we have a plan?” River asked, glancing at you before looking back at the Doctor.

“Do we ever have a plan?” You returned, holding up your sonic and brightening the light the Doctor had been working on. He took his hands from the light, staring at it.

“Your screwdriver…” He started, climbing down to stand in front of you as he took your wrist in his hand, looking down at your sonic screwdriver.

“…looks exactly like mine”

“With a bit of an upgrade” You reminded him. “You gave it to me”

“I don’t give my screwdriver to anyone” He insisted.

“I’m not anyone”

“Who are you?”

The two of you stood still, staring at each other. No one else spoke, staring at both of you, River watching you closely. You tore your arm from his grasp and but he continued to watch you as another moment of silence passed.

“What’s the plan?” You asked, effectively finishing the conversation. 

Tag list: @dekahg

Series tag list: @riveranddoctorsong123

[happybeanpoptropica]

Poptropica AU

Poptropica (Marctavian) AU • Instead of following the novels, Poptropica is the same world we all know and love except with more possibilities of islands • Octavian is a treasure hunter who is obsessed with getting to a legendary treasure that is beyond any known wealth, but he has to find the map first • Marcus is an explorer. He used to be in a duo with his husband, Adem, but unfortunately Adem died in an accident involving their balloon. He has continued to explore the rest of poptropica alone, keeping track of every detail in a series of journals. He is currently on his 8th journal. His husband wrote a journal himself, but some pages became lost in the accident. • Marcus actually ends up saving Octavian after his own balloon gets struck down in a storm • Once they find shelter Octavian lies to Marcus by saying he’s looking for his map that was stolen from him, but in reality the map is under the custody of archaeologists who are taking the map to another island to study it • Marcus agrees to help him retrieve it. The two become pretty close friends (Possibly lovers) until they get to the archeologists’ campsite. • Octavian sets off an alarm of some sorts when he steals the map. The two attempt to escape, but the archeologists are hot on their trail • As they’re running Marcus falls down a sink hole, badly injuring his arm in the process. He calls Octavian out for help, but instead of helping Marcus, he tells him “You’ll just slow me down” and leave him there to die. • Hours later Marcus is found by the archeologists. Luckily, the archeologists were kind and took him to a hospital. Unfortunately he had to get his arm amputated. • Marcus explains what happened, and the archeologists explain to him that Octavian is actually a ruthless treasure hunter. They weren’t really going to take the map to study it, they were taking the map to hide it. • The archeologists pay for Marcus’s medical bills and for a robotic prosthetic. In return Marcus insisted to find Octavian and get the map back • Marcus tracked Octavian down for two more years until a storm broke out. Marcus saved Octavian (Again) and took them to shelter. • Octavian has the nerve to act like nothing happened between them and that everything was okay, but Marcus is furious! He yells at him about leaving him to die and that it was his fault he lost his arm! Marcus takes the map from Octavian and continues on in his balloon despite the storm (and Octavians wishes for Marcus to at least stay until the storm passes) • Marcus leaves the island, but Octavian grabs the rope and hides under his basket. When Marcus fell asleep on the balloon Octavian snuck on and steals the map. As he steps out of the basket Marcus wakes up and attacks him, and the two fight until one of them sets the balloon on fire. The balloon ends up crashing on another island and the two end up falling out of the basket • Marcus panics and runs back towards the basket, which is horribly on fire, as he tries to find his journals. His own journals end up okay, but the journal that once belonged to his husband gets horribly damaged in the fire. • Octavian pulls him out of the fire, which causes Marcus to drop the journal and it falls to pieces. Pages get lost in the wind despite Marcus’s desperate efforts to get them back. Seeing the ruinous state of his husband’s journal, Marcus breaks down in tears. • Octavian has no idea about Marcus’s past so he thinks he’s crying about one of his own journals. Octavian calls him out on it, which causes Marcus to turn to him and angrily scream at him about the sentimental value of his husband’s journal. • Octavian, in shock, stares at him as he clutches the journal to his chest. He looks at the map as well and contemplates leaving, but instead stays with Marcus. • Octavian asks Marcus about Adem, and Marcus tells him all about Adem and eventually admits to never reading his husbands journal before because he was afraid of feeling like he was there with him. • After Marcus explains to him about his husband, Octavian tells him about how he lost his wife to illness, and the treatment that could’ve saved her life was just too expensive. • Despite this heart touching moment of these two sharing their emotions, Octavian still wants to look for that treasure, but he doesn’t want to leave Marcus because he knows he would still chase after him. He looks at the map and notices that the island they are on is close to the island where the treasure is buried. So he lies to Marcus about going home. • The plan was to build the boat. As they were building the boat they grew close again(The boat building takes a few days because Octavian wanted to make it big enough to get as much treasure as he can). Once they finished the boat and set sail. Later that night Marcus sees an island up ahead. He goes to wake Octavian, but he is fast asleep. He decides to take a look at the map, and he sees that the island up ahead is the island with the treasure. Octavian wakes up to Marcus beating him with an oar as he calls him a liar. The two argue and Octavian demands that Marcus returns the map to him. Instead Marcus tears up the map and throws the pieces into the ocean. Octavian dives in after them and collects as many pieces as he can before getting back on the boat. Furious, Octavian grabs Marcus by the collar of his shirt and holds up a knife to his throat. Octavian couldn’t bring himself to go any further so he ties up Marcus and sails them both to the island. • Octavian manages to piece the map together again before they landed to shore. Octavian left the boat but before he got too far he went back to untie Marcus only to retie him and take him along. The journey takes a few days, but the night before they get to their destination an argument breaks out, resulting in Octavian saying “Because god dammit I still love you!” This statement takes Marcus by surprise, but instead of saying anything back he just says nothing and turns away from him. After a while Octavian unties him and says “Go. I don’t care what you do. Just leave so I don’t feel any worse about doing this to you.” Marcus hesitates, but eventually he leaves. • The next morning the two are separated. Octavian finds a temple where the treasure is hidden. Marcus, however, stumbles across a different part of the temple and finds out the temple itself is rigged, so anyone who dares to take any treasure will die. • Marcus goes to find Octavian to warn him, but Octavian has already found where the treasure is. He finds a really nice artifact and figures why get a bunch of small things when he can steal this and sell it for even more than it’s worth. Just as Octavian reaches out for it Marcus runs in. Octavian yells at him for following him, but Marcus is desperately trying to warn him, and he tries to pull him away from the artifact. Octavian pushes him off and takes the artifact and puts it in his satchel. • As Octavian walks away from the podium, the podium lowers down and the entire temple starts to shake. The ground between him and Marcus breaks open. As the ground pulls further and further apart Octavian urges Marcus to jump. So Marcus jumps and Octavian catches him and they make their way out of the temple but a terrible tremor causes the ground beneath them to break apart. Octavian loses the hold on his satchel and it gets stuck on a piece of rubble. Octavian climbs out and reaches to get his satchel, but he looks over and sees Marcus, with his prosthetic arm damaged, struggling to climb up. Octavian looks back at his satchel, then back at Marcus. • Marcus loses his grip and falls, but he is caught by Octavian. Octavian pulls him out and carries Marcus bridal style out of the temple. Just as they get out the temple collapses. Octavian hugs Marcus in relief, and Marcus hesitantly hugs him back. The two make it back to the boat and go to the island where the archeologists said they would be. The journey is long and quiet, mostly because Marcus refused to speak to Octavian, but Octavian finds it understandable considering how awfully he treated him. • Octavian explains what happened to the map to the archeologists, and the archeologists agree to let him go if he promises to change his ruthless ways. Octavian agrees. He meets Marcus out in the hallway in front of their office. They stare at each other for a very long time before going their separate ways. • About 3 months later Marcus is in a hotel room in the city, packing up before he goes back out to his usual exploring. He gets a package delivered to him. He opens it, and he finds his husbands journal. Marcus’s eyes widen as he looks where he usually kept it and found it wasn’t there. Marcus picked up the journal and opened it up, seeing each and every page, burnt ones and the ones lost in the accident. A note falls out. Marcus picked up the note and read it. It was a note from Octavian apologizing for stealing his journal but he found a guy who had the missing pages and paid him to put the journal back together. • Marcus spent the rest of the night reading the journal. Many of the entries were about him, their wedding day, their adventures, and how much Adem loved him (As he is reading this imagine Adems voice reading the entries and his spirit in the exact same room with him as he’s narrating). There was also a note to Marcus from Adem himself. It read: Marcus, As much as I love you, there are things that I cannot say with spoken word, so I will try my best with paper. When I first saw you I saw that spark of adventure in your eyes, and when we first spoke I knew you were everything to me. Even if we didn’t end up together I would still cherish you in my heart. There is no doubt that there is danger in our profession. I’m surprised I made it past thirty. But if either of us had to die I would rather have it be me. It’s awful, I know, but if I lost you there would be no adventure left for me. You are much stronger than I, Marcus. And I have faith that if I were to die from this you would find adventure anywhere you went. All I ask is you don’t forget me, and I would be waiting for you. I suppose now you see why I had trouble saying this in spoken words. Saying stuff like this must be taboo for anyone else. Nonetheless it is true. These past ten years we’ve spent together were the best, and I can’t wait to spend even more with you. Happy Anniversary, my best adventure. You’re humble explorer, Adem • Marcus starts crying after reading the note, clutching both it and the journal to his chest. He looks out the window and stares at the few stars that are out due to the city before smiling to himself. • The next morning Marcus is preparing to continue his explorations. Just before he is about to take off Octavian stops him. They awkwardly stare at each other for a while before Marcus asks him what he wants. Octavian explained to him how he just wanted to say good bye before Marcus left. Marcus smiles slightly and asks Octavian if he wanted to join him. Octavian was more than happy to do so. So they sail off and start their own adventure.

[bleedingcoffee42]

City of Gold- Part 2

Royai Week Prompt: Day 5: Letters

Title: City of Gold Part 2

Word Count: 2008

Rating: Teen.

Summary: A Mummy AU of sorts with a gun wielding adventurer and a gorgeous museum employee teaming up to find a lost city in the desert and maybe start the apocalypse in the process.    

AN:  Part 2 of this:  City of Gold: Part 1- Promise  .   

Xxxxxxxxx

“It would be my pleasure.”  Riza said and took his hand and they went to the dance floor as if they had planned this all along and they took up position for the waltz. It was then that she was able to get a good look at him, dressed in a classic tuxedo with his hair slicked back and a look of determination on his boyishly handsome face.  There were more than a few other women looking him over and a few men sizing him up, but what inpressed her most was that he looked like he belonged here.  This was a long way from that man hunched over his desk, straining to see by candlelight.   “Are you here to ask me about the map?”

Roy waited for the music to begin to cover their conversation and took the brief moment to look at how perfect she looked in that dress.  She looked just as comfortable in it as she did in the museum wearing black tactical gear.   As much as he liked the shoulder holster, he had to admit this was quite appealing as well.  She was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that, but he wasn't here for a date.  The music began and they began to move around the dance floor effortlessly, like they had practiced together instead of just met.   “Actually I'm here to ask why you burnt down my museum.”

Riza didn't mask her shock.  “What?”

Roy cocked an eyebrow, she seemed to be genuinely surprised.  He didn't saw anything, just continued to waltz with her and watch her expression for signs that she was lying.  

“That wasn't me.”  She said and looked him dead in the eye.  “I told you to forget you saw it. I told you it could get us all killed.”

“Well the only ones who knew I had that in my possession were you and my best friend.”  Roy said. “Anyone else who followed him from the bar that night after the poker game, besides you?  Perhaps someone who went to my apartment first to trash it?”

As much as she didn't want him involved, it appeared it was already too late.  Riza looked over his shoulder and scanned the crowd.  “I don't need to tell you about Xerses.”

“Tell me anyway.”  He said and watched her look around as they covered the dance floor.  She wasn't concerned with him, danger lurked elsewhere.   Suddenly he knew this wasn't going to be a simple answer, it wasn't going to be about who burnt down his museum but why.

“Xerses, the City of Gold.  An entire country's wealth and power resisting inside it's capitals walls.” She said.”Buried somewhere in the desert under the sands for all eternity for performing the taboo, an entire civilization vanished overnight.”

“And what taboo is that?”  Roy asked.   “Legend says it was for turning lead into gold....”

“This is no legend, Mr. Mustang.” Riza said and looked him in the eye.  “Xerses is real, I have been there.”

“Impossible.”  He said.  “Not that I doubt your skill, Miss Hawkeye, but I find it hard to believe that you have found the lost city and spend your time chasing down your father's losses at poker instead of using your riches for something like this gaudy hotel.  Unless this is actually you're elaborate party.”

���Xerses is nothing but sand and death, the city is not made of gold nor does it store it.”  She said and leaned in to whisper in his ear.  Her chest pressed into his and she had to get close enough to feel his hot breath on her neck to say, “The City of Gold refers to it's people, not it's wealth.”

He leaned in and brushed against her cheek with his own to whisper in her ear, “I don't believe you.”

She could feel her heart racing as they spun around the floor, locked in a close embrace.   “Then follow me.”

Roy let her lead and she waltzed them towards the server entrance.  As soon as the dance ended she stepped off the dance floor and pulled him towards the door, anyone looking would assume they were going somewhere private to get even closer than they had been.  Roy let her pull him down the hall, quick steps that made him wonder who she was worried about following them.  They weaved between wait staff and kitchen staff to get to the door that lead to the basement storage area, according to the sign posted on it.   He thought about going back to get Maes, but knew his best friend could handle himself if he had to.   He followed Riza down the stairs and around a corner to a storage room.  “Look this is interesting an all but...”

Riza kicked a vent cover off and bent down to pull a duffle bag out of it.  Apparently bending over in front of him was enough to shut him up.   Then she pulled out an envelope and handed it to him before dragging the bag over to somewhere she could go through it.   “Inside you will find letters, letters from a pair of brothers looking for their father named Van Hohenheim.”

Roy didn't understand what any of this had to do with Xerses, but he pulled the letters out anyway.  All had been addressed to a Van Hohenheim at military posts in various departments in Central HQ.   All had been stamped return to sender.   He opened them and saw a letter begging this Van Hohenheim to come home because his wife was ill.  He pulled out a picture and saw two kids and a woman.  

“The Xerses people were known for their unique golden hair and golden eyes.”  Riza explained and pulled a rolled blanket out of her bag and unraveled it, revealing a stash of guns.   “The people were why the city became known as the City of Gold.”

Roy glanced at the guns.   “Are you expecting someone?”

“Yes.”  Riza replied and strapped a holster around her thigh and placed a small revolver in it.  She continued her story.  “Xerses was destroyed not because of a failed experiment to turn lead into gold or an attacker raiding and destroying the city, but because they had dabbled in something far greater.   Xerses was a city of knowledge and science, not wealth in gold...wealth in knowledge.  It was that knowledge that lead them to try to dabble in things far beyond what man should have.   In an attempt to create a jewel more precious than anything they could mine, they turned the entire city into what alchemists call a transmutation circle.”

“I am familiar with the concept.” Roy said and looked at the photo again.  The boys had light colored eyes.   Curious now he handed her the letter, not understanding it's connection to any of this.  She took it and gave him a gun.  

“Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes.” He said and she rolled up her gun cache and stuffed it back in the bag and stood up.  

“Alchemy was their science.”  She said.  “Thus the only thing greater than gold would be the philosopher's stone.”

Roy nodded.  “And?”

“And they made one.”  She replied. “Using the city as a transmutation circle, using the souls within it to create one and using Van Hohenheim to activate it.   Xerses vanished overnight because he turned the populous into a stone.”

Roy was about to interrupt her, this whole story was ludicrous.

“Those two boys alerted the people within our government that Van Hohenheim is still alive. They know that if he is than he possesses something much more valuable than a city of gold.  I have friends in Central that seized those letters but I'm sure there were many more.  The boys are presistant and certainly would not have stopped at a few letters.”  Riza said. “My father's obsession was Xerses, he spent his life looking for that city and when we finally found it we found nothing.   Nothing.   No remains, nothing but ruins.   Then we found the inscriptions and he came home to decode them.   That was when he found out it was alchemy, which lead him to a town in the East called Resenbool where a man was trying to make a living teaching about this ancient science.   It's when we saw his golden hair and golden eyes and knew we had seen people just like that in murals on the walls of those ruins.”

Roy waited as she took a frustrated breath.  

“It's when we learned the true secret of Xerses from the man who destroyed it himself.”

“He'd have to be hundreds of years old.”  Roy scoffed.

“Immortality is what happens when you turn yourself into a philosopher's stone and are the vessel for thousands of lives.”  She said.  “My father refused to burn the map because he wanted to go back.  Alchemy became his new obsession because that science held more riches than any city could.   Unfortunately the letters triggered something we weren't counting on. My father is unable to let go of his life's work and couldn't simply destroy it.  So he used that little box he found at the ruins and put his map inside and tried to hide it.  That is how your museum was burnt down, that is why I need to protect you in addition to him and those two boys.”

“That's the most unbelievable thing I have ever heard and that is coming from an archaeologist.” Roy said.  She got close to him in that small closet and was once again p against his chest.  

“You saw the box, you opened it because you recognized the alchemic rune for fire.”  She said. “Which means that my father didn't just lose that box to your friend for safe keeping but because he knew you could figure it out. Your museum probably had resources in it that could help him with the alchemy in the ruins and since he couldn't bring the museum with him, he was going to try to take you with him instead.”

Roy noticed she sounded aggrevated. This also sounded like a sudden realization of a new development. “I'm assuming from the sound of your voice that your father hasn't been very honest with you about his work.”

“No.”  Riza said and studied his beautiful dark eyes that were fixated on her.   “Nor has he been honest with himself about the danger he's putting everyone in. Unfortanetely, he's never been very good about that.”

“Probably why you were so quick to burn his map, hmmm?”  Roy asked and she looked away.   He wasn't sold on any of this but he was intrigued.    

“If you want answers you can follow me.  If you want to help me save this country from a terrible destructive force this world has never seen the likes of, I could use your help.  You memorized the map and unfortunately we do need to go back to Xerses as that is where the Elric brothers are probably going and they have no idea what hell can be unleashed there.   Unfortunately they learned their father's lessons well and may be able to activate that circle again.”  She said and stepped into the hall to see who followed them.  “Did your friend follow us or not? I need someone to carry that duffle bag.”

Roy leaned out into the hall.  “Maes?”

“Yo.”

“Want to save the world?”  Roy asked.  Not quite sure how else to summarize this information.

“If it helps you get the girl, sure!” Maes said and materialized with a few knives he picked up in the kitchen.   He put them on a service cart and came over to where they were standing.  He smiled when he saw it was a storage closet and before he could make a remark about anything, Roy slammed a duffle bag into his chest.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

In the way you said it

Whenever there’s representation In a manner that can be called queer Your tone and comments turn so nasty Your mouth curls up into a sneer It’s in the tone of your voice as you watch it The characters just interact You don’t openly say what you think But empathy for them you lack.

You openly mock certain groupings Try to engage me as well But it’s not funny the stereotyping Your unsaid sentences manage to tell.

Yes two guys on tv had some pet names But so do the straight couples too Exactly what part of their relationship Is considered taboo to you?

We stopped watching more than one show Because of the relationships within Now forgive me, but we’re not religious So you can’t possibly see it as sin In fact when the words you don’t say The laughter that openly rings About two girls in love or a transperson Are the reason no one tells you things.

According to Mulan its not genitals That define if you are a man It’s got more to do with the moon and storms Than what’s inside of your pants.

In the same vein a woman can be Anything she should so choose But neither or both, intermittently Are an identity, regardless of your views.

The person you like, love or lust after Can be any gender at all It’s really up to the individual involved To make that judgement call.

No they don’t advocate child-abuse Nor what the media will say But two legal adults consenting To be together will not ruin your day.

It’s odd to hear the hatred inspired And experience the lack of empathy felt Towards two or more characters in media Dealing with circumstances dealt.

What’s the difference between the relationships If they are straight or something else? The shows all deal with their complex situations And give sappy scenes designed to make you melt.

Where’s the empathy lost on the way, When the young woman decides on a wife Over some boring love interest dude to order Who was clearly stifling her life?

When the character realises his friends are attractive In a more than No Homo way Why the sudden disinterest in watching or reading Anything that features ‘a gay’?

The thing is it’s all just labels designed to Try to categorise what differs from the norm To be honest, it’s a tad frustrating Orientation is not as simple as filling out a form.

Some people feel nothing romantic Others for multiple persons at once Some people want to go out on a picnic by a lake Or hold hands with their love over lunch.

They are not all heterosexuals, Nor, to be fair, are they all cis But the reality is what’s it your business To feel that you can judge them for this.

It’s so tiring hearing what you say, Even more in the derision of tone As if, by pretending to not be disgusted You are doing ‘all those people’ a boon.

Well the reality is passive-aggression... Tends to be more the latter For if it lent more towards the former You should hardly consider this a matter.

Representation is important to those Who rarely ever see themselves in stories It covers more than orientations And frankly, The Straights™ are just getting boring.

Can we take another white couple Another comedic romance Where the premise is either believes in love And all the chemistry of a dead plant?

Perhaps it would be nice for once To hear the ‘B’ word on the screen For trans, POC and Disabled to have Their own heroes, that is the dream.

It’s so easy to mock and despise those Whose life and barriers you cannot understand To understand the fight that has led to, Two gay characters being  able to hold hands.

Tut if you must, but it’s happening There are shows in the world just for those Whose existences and viewpoints are usually marginalised The age of Baby Boomer draws to a close.

In this society different is frightening Labelled as wrong or obscene How can the haters be so sanctimonious Considering their hands are not clean?

The conservatives voted in a man who Who pays people to kiss his posterior But even compared to his childish ilk Your negative commentary comes across as inferior.

So you don’t like to see two people kissing,  Unless it’s a woman and man, Somehow the merest things are sexualised, When you view two women holding hands.

If a man calls his partner babe, Sweetiepie, Darl or Megatron, The reality is, what is it to you, Take a look at your flaws, reflect, move on.

You don’t want to see it in public, And you question their ability to work in certain occupations Many don’t want to have them near their homes And actively exclude their ‘wrong’ neighbours.

How will that look on your final report, Before the great lord almighty? You know, the guy you always tote out, To sanctimoniously condescend ‘righteously’.

All people are humans created equal It is the society you uphold that picks and chooses Who meets the questionable standards Or normality, and decides based on birth, who loses.

You claim that tolerance is key when, Dealing with anyone falling under ‘those people’ Because in your mind and your manner and words, They cannot possibly be equal.

Some see them as sub-human, Because of orientation, ability or skin But the reality is that the hatred inspires Bands the minorities together as kin.

They find their own spaces, and shows and representations Despite the prejudice that suppresses The evidence of inherent biology, their individuality To choose the narrative of psychological messes.

Perhaps you should date a boy instead, Lesbians often are advised. Is this about not having a father figure? Of gay men, a rhetoric that never tires.

Bisexuals, Aces and the followers of Pan Hear just as many ridiculous ideaologies As if the only conceptual path In life, is monosexual monotony.

We ask of the ace what is wrong with them, To not want certain contact or touch, Always ‘jokingly’ stating, That without sex what is the use of love?

The Pan, Poly, Bisexuals prefer certain people Sometimes two or more at a singular time It does not automatically assume adultery, And yet the association is always put to mind.

You laugh aloud at the very concept, Of a woman with breasts, and a phallus instead Of what you think should perhaps be, Situated between her legs.

Likewise when a young man has to wear A binder to suppress his chest, There’s always someone out there who dares Ask why ‘she’ is not in a dress.

Have you ever considered it is not, Nor ever really has had anything to do With your thoughts or beliefs, not your business It is their lives, and does not include you?

From the generation that endorsed a series Filled with abuse and assault Don’t blame the gays for your follies 50Shades was the heteros’ fault.

To be blunt, it is just so tiring To see and hear people of all types demeaned Because the ideology of difference disconcerts you And therefore must be obscene.

The fact is your words do unseen damage To people you pass everyday Mockery and condemnation build walls And turn friends and family away.

How could they tell someone like you, The person with a poisoned tongue That they fit the categories of those you condemn Your words wound both old and young. It is always a joke, a laugh, lighten up now ‘You need to stop being so severe, You and your silly internet culture, Where everyone thinks they’re ‘queer’!’

Back in your day... you start with, As young people more informed roll their eyes You claim that ‘x’ never existed Never considering they did, in disguise.

Even now people cannot be open, Holding hands in public tends to invite Someone lewd to proposition or harass them Tongues wag if you dare stay the night.

So of course historical figures, then and now, From Achilles to Sappho, were very open In fact you’ll find that their lives were revised By the straight archaeologists who cloaked them.

People have been people for a long time, It didn’t overtly matter to many If your husband or wife, or mate for life Wore a toga, dress or barely any.

Recently people have gotten hung up Moreso than ever before About which people you SHOULD be with And it’s really quite the bore.

Men have loved men for forever, Entire societies founded on this ideal And women have loved other women Since before civilisation was real.

Some fall into either category, both at once Or then again neither, these individuals exist And have done so, sucessfully For long enough to do without your ire.

Ancient Egypt buried their people, With great ceremony, purpose and pomp Their transgendered persons always honoured correctly, Would you dare to claim they were wrong?

Evidence and history have heroes,  Many of whom have been ‘revised’ For societal consumption as ‘everyday heroes’ Hiding their non-standard husbands and wives.

Look to Hercules and the Gods of Olympus They had a rolicking gay time But dare ask a historian about certain art And they’ll have heterosexualty in mind.

The purpose is to say, here That the reality is, all through history, we existed... Beyond tv and comics and other media It’s not a new fad that we twisted.

So sneer if you must when the two girls kiss, Or put down your book in disgust When the two male characters realise their infatuation Was not with the anticipated one.

But the story and characters are still there, Whether you choose to consume But perhaps consider this instead, livelaughlover They were not created for You.

To see yourself represented, Be it on page or screen As something other than the punchline or villain Feels like a wonderful dream.

It gives a sense of belonging, Normality in a world that blatantly refutes The existence of people outside of a bubble But some media actively salutes it.

An encouragement meant for the groupings Who need to see those people existing at all, The two boys on a date, the transgirl in a promdress Just humans, seeing, doing, being, normal.

So perhaps before you sneer or comment Perhaps before it’s ‘just joking’ Think about why you are acting that way,  Who, in society or family, are you quoting?

Why would you consider this person contemptible Below even basic empathy and compassion When exactly did hatred and bigotry Suddenly rise into high fashion?

They are not the heroes we need, my friend But they are the representation we deserve So let go of your prejudiced ideals They are nothing you need to preserve.

- - - -

I don’t know what this is, but sometimes you hear old people complaining and it’s so tiring...