Another Sawyer take on a Malcolm in the Middle screenshot, I have a few of these so,,, you’ll be seeing them soon enough

-Tristan

Reformation Part 1

Read the Previous Chapter [Here]

Word Length: 4,877

Summary: A parting from Lotus Pier and a therapeutic stay at the Cloud recesses.

As the morning sun rose steadily in the sky, the sound of cultivators waking from restless sleeps and the flurry of the previous evening filled the spacious halls of Lotus Pier. Disciples dressed in their robes and polished their blades while servants shuffled about the sect with crates of materials for the competition only hours away.

The gates to the pier were open as always; civilians also getting ready for the morning couldn’t help but peak inside the tall, polished wooden doors. The grounds of the sect were overloaded with disciples of some of the minor sects. Because of the events from yesterday, some had changed their minds about competing in the competition, feeling Lotus Pier was not a healthy environment for their juniors and opted to cut their losses and return home.

Most damning however, were the group of Lan sect members preparing to depart with Wei WuXian amongst them.

“Are you sure you want to ride on your sword back to the Cloud Recesses, Young Master Wei? One of us wouldn’t mind carrying you, “Lan XiChen stated while watching the young man unsheathe his sword

“No, no, I can fly just fine, no worries, “Wei WuXian replied, giving him a small smile in return

“We’re just worried about your wounds, “XiChen started but paused, walking over and placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder, “Don’t...be afraid to ask for help.”

Blinking in surprise, Wei WuXian could only nod slowly in acquiescence.

“The sooner we leave the better. We’ll have Lan Yu look over your wounds, “Lan Qiren spoke while fixing his qiankun bag over his shoulder

“So, you really are leaving, “Wei WuXian, hearing the familiar voice, turned to be faced with a glowering Jiang WanYin

The Jiang sect heir was covered in a cloak of envy and enmity, his eyes were alight, almost electrified with emotion. Dressed in rich robes befitting his station, the cast and sling around Jiang WanYin’s arm was as bright as a dead rat in a pile of jewels.

“Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian frowned

“Father told me I’d be head disciple until you decided to return, “Jiang WanYin sneered, “Guess I’m supposed to pick up your scraps from now on.”

“It’s only for a few months, Jiang Cheng, “Wei WuXian replied, “I’ll....I’ll be back before you know it.”

The sight of Jiang WanYin near Wei WuXian immediately put every cultivator on the grounds on alert; apprehension filled the air as they noticed that the young cultivator had once again acquired Zidian from his mother.

“I’m supposed to lead this competition now, “Jiang WanYin continued, “Though I suppose if you didn’t start whining about your wounds, you’d still do it before you left, huh? After all, it is your work father is showing off.”

Sighing, Wei WuXian sheathed his sword and walked a bit to Jiang WanYin, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You should be happy Uncle Jiang is giving you this opportunity. If he sees how capable you are, he might let you keep the title of head disciple by the time I get back.”

Slapping his hand away, Jiang WanYin growled, “What’s the use of being head disciple now! Now that everyone thinks your some amazing cultivator and I’m some useless twit. Everyone’s gonna think I’m only head disciple cause father’s pitying me, but I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it!?”

Face flushed red in anger, he truly was the spitting image of his mother. Breathing harshly and glaring down his shixiong, the sect heir twisted the ring on his finger, agitation in his eyes.

Bringing a couple a fingers to his head, Wei WuXian massaged his temples, “Jiang Cheng, just...*sigh* I...should go. I’ll see you in a few months.”

About to turn back to the Lans, Wei WuXian was caught in a harsh grip by his lapels.

“Leave? Leave so you can evade responsibility for the shit-show you created?!, “Jiang WanYin shouted at him

Grabbing his shidi’s wrist, Wei WuXian demanded, “Let me go.”

A few senior disciples of the minor sects made way to step forward, however, none were as close as the Lans, who moved together as one near the ensuing conflict.

“My mother went into seclusion because of you!, “Jiang WanYin screeched, “Have you heard what people are saying about her? They’re calling her a lunatic and a demented woman with authority! Am I just supposed to stand there and take it while her integrity is being slandered? How dare you try abandon responsibility and go off with the Lan Sect, have you no loyalty to YunmengJiang!?”

Lan WangJi stepped in front of Wei WuXian, blocking Jiang WanYin’s assault, “Yu-Furens actions are her own, “He said tersely, “She suffers her own consequences.”

“Suffering her own consequences? She’s being tormented because this snake couldn’t help but show off! But I guess that doesn’t matter to the Lan Sect, now does it? You have that big library filled with who knows what; you probably want this deserter to fill an entire new section, huh?, “Jiang WanYin sneered in Lan WangJi’s face

“Wei Ying may choose to share his knowledge with whomever he wishes. The Lan Sect will endeavor to support his research. He needn’t fear abuse for elevating our collective knowledge of cultivation, “Lan WangJi spoke low and deep

Eyes widening in anger, Zidian cracked against the Jiang heir’s finger. For the slightest moment, the grounds were filled with the thoughts of a Jiang/Lan warfare if Jiang WanYin decided to strike the second heir to the notorious sect.

“Enough!, “Wei WuXian exclaimed, sensing the growing hostility between the two, “Lan Zhan, let’s just go. Please.”

“Mn, “Lan WangJi replied and raised an arm in the direction his clansmen were waiting, “After you.”

Giving a sideways glance at Jiang WanYin, Wei WuXian simply nodded at the man, knowing words would only escalate the situation. Jiang WanYin scoffed at him, doubling back to the inner halls of the sect.

Turning on their heels, Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian rejoined their group and mounted their swords. In seconds, a huddle of white - and one purple - clad disciples were flying through the air.

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“How often did the Violet Spider whip you, Wei WuXian, “the Lan’s chief doctor, Lan Yu asked while running spiritual energy laced hands down the man’s back

Laying shirtless on an examining table, Wei WuXian said nothing while she examined his injuries, a look of indifference upon his face. Having unbandaged his wounds, his back was still bright in color, draining to a light pink over the many hours.

“I’ll remind you that gossip is forbidden amongst the Lans, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu stated after there was no reply, “You do not have to concern yourself yourself with Madam Yu’s reputation while in our presence; I simply want to know more about my patient’s history.”

Pursing his lips, Wei WuXian still did not reply.

Giving a low hum, Lan Yu retracted their hands and step to the side to retrieve salve and new bandages.

“I hope that you will come to trust us, Young Master Wei, “Lan Yu replied in a low voice as they started to apply the salve, “We Lans haven’t invited you here simply because of your research.”

“I never said you did, “was the first thing Wei WuXian said the entire time he’d be there

“True, you didn’t, “the doctor unfurled the bandages and started to wrap them tight around his person, ��I just hope you don’t think that’s the reason. Had anyone else been in your position, I’m sure our Twin Jades would have helped them all the same.”

“Yeah, that does sound like them, “Wei WuXian cracked his neck and then joked, “I thought there would’ve been rule forbidding interaction with me by now, though.”

Pinning the bandages with a couple of clips, Lan Yu gave Wei WuXian a final once over with their spiritual energy.

“Everything looks to be in working order, “they nodded in satisfaction

“That’s good, “Wei WuXian gave them a wide grin, “Now Lan Zhan can stop giving me that doe-eyed look.”

“Doe-eyed?, “Lan Yu raised a brow

A knock sounded at the door, “Lan Yu, may we enter?, “Lan XiChen’s voice was on the other side

“Yes, of course, “they replied while giving the Jiang cultivator another inquisitive glance

Stepping inside, the older jade nodded at the doctor before turning his smile toward the man on the table. Lan WangJi tentatively stepped into the room, standing side by side with his brother.

“Uncle had to head down to Caiyi to check on the Waterborne Abyss, but he promises to be back later today, “Lan XiChen started, “WangJi and I have a night-hunt to get to, but he wanted to check on Young Master Wei before we left.”

“Aw, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian said with a teasing lilt in this voice, “I told you I was fine, no need to hold up your night-hunt checking on little old me.”

Lan WangJi blinked at him before looking to Lan Yu, “Is he?”

Wei WuXian rolled his eyes while slipping off the examination table. Walking over to his robes set side and folded neatly by an assistant on a nearby chair, he began to dress.

“Infection has not set in and his meridians are stable, “Lan Yu stated more to the two other Lans than Wei WuXian, “I recommend Young Master Wei take some time out of his schedule to visit the Cold Springs to help accelerate his healing.”

Lan WangJi nodded and gave a bow to the doctor, “I will make him go there as much as possible.”

“Ai-ya, Lan Zhan, “Wei WuXian gaped at his words and put his hands on his hips, “You say that like I’m gonna run away or something.”

“Wei Ying declined Lan Yu’s treatment when we got here this morning, “Lan WangJi gave a glare to the other man, “I had to drag you here.”

The doctor turned to raise a concerned brow at him; Wei WuXian blushed and turned his head away.

“Young Master Wei..., “Lan Yu started

“I’m fine, I’m fine. All of you treating me like some porcelain vase, ah,what am I supposed to think, “Wei WuXian waved them away, “Didn’t you say you had a night-hunt? Best get going, hmm?”

“It shouldn’t take long, “Lan XiChen bowed to the doctor in thanks as well, “We should be back after breakfast tomorrow.”

Sliding on his outer robe, WeI WuXian replied, “Then....I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

...

The next day, Wei WuXian found himself in the Hanshi with Lan Xichen, a sea of cultivation notes strewn about the desk and themselves.

“I never thought you’d let me hold Liebeng, Zewu-jun, “Wei WuXian caressed the flute with a curious look on this face

To his side, Lan XiChen was giving the same amount of attention to Wei WuXian’s ChenQing.

“She’s beautiful; did you craft it yourself, “XiChen fiddled with the jade token on its tassel

“Mhmm, took me forever to find the right piece of bamboo, then even longer to purify and etch in blessings, “WuXian smiled twirling Liebeng

“Is there any specific song you want to play?, “WuXian handed the white xiao back to its owner while retrieving his dizi from the first jade’s hand

“We can play anything really, but I’d like to try a few of my clan’s techniques, “XiChen started, “I’m curious if it’s a instrumental difference or a personal difference in the effects of the song.”

“Right, right, so then we could start with Cleansing or Clarity?, “XiChen and WuXian started to shuffle through the mountain of notes they had accumulated

A light knock sounded at the door before a servant came in, “Young Master Wei, you have received some letters.”

“Already?, “the young man raised a brow while rising from the piles of parchments, “Well, thank you for bringing them.”

Taking the satchel from their hands, he shifted through the parcels. Prim folded letters filled the bag.

An uncomfortable frown found its way onto Wei WuXian’s face, “Ah, these people don’t know when to quit.”

Taking a letter from the tote, the official sign of the PingyangYao sect shined back at him.

XiChen had a bemused smiled watching as a cloud of frustration lined Wei WuXian’s brow.

“That seems like a lot to get through; I can help you pen a few replies, “he tried his best not to laugh

“Ah, Zewu-jun is a life saver.”

...

A few days later, Wei WuXian was asked to attend to a class with Lan Qiren. Being awoken at the ridiculous hour of six in the morning, Wei WuXian found himself in a room filled with juniors not unlike his own lectures seven years ago.

Resisting a yawn, he greeted them, “Morning Little Lans.”

“Good morning, Senior Wei, “the white clad disciples bowed in greeting before sitting down in perfect Lan posture, not reacting to his nickname for them

“We still have a few minutes before your Lan-laoshi gets here, “Wei WuXian started, sitting on Lan Qiren’s desk in the front of the classroom, “Before we’re all stuck in here for hours, any questions?”

The younger disciples suddenly piqued up, all rising from their seats, faces a light with curiosity. Being too young to attend the infamous lecture and banquet, they were left in the Cloud Recesses to read the materials. After, they were overwhelmed with gossip and tales from Caiyi town, and now the center of the commotion was right in front of them.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“How are your back wounds, Senior Wei?”

“How many night-hunts did you have to go on to write all those books?”

Surrounding the older man, the disciples hammered on with their questions and didn’t notice Lan Qiren stepping into the room. A notch appeared on the older man’s forehead as he watched the tornado of students in the front of the class.

“How often were you whipped?”

“Do you plan on going back to your sect, or staying here?”

“Enough!, “Lan Qiren’s voice boomed making all of them flinch, “All of you will copy Etiquette fifty times after class.”

Wei WuXian chuckled at the now dejected faces of the students as they returned to their seats, “Ah, Lan-Laoshi, don’t you think that’s a bit much? They were just curious is all.”

“Should I assign you lines for corrupting our youth?, “The man was stern faced, taping his hand with a scroll, scowling at the younger man, “I also don’t think you finished from the last time you were here; shall I re-instate the punishment?”

Face suddenly covered with sweat, Wei WuXian addressed the students, “Now, now, listen to your Lan-laoshi. I’m....gonna go find your second young master. Where might he be? The library? The library. See you Little Lans.”

Striding out of the room, the students were agape as the Jiang cultivator made a quick escape.

“Senior Wei!, “they cried, “Aren’t you supposed to help teach today?”

“Don’t forget your essays tonight!, “Wei WuXian’s voice called from far off

...

A week later, Wei WuXian found himself in a field with Lan WangJi, along with a few hundred guests.

“Ah, do you really have an entire field of rabbits, Lan Zhan?, “Shuffling through the tall grass, the little balls of fluff jumped here and there to avoid the large human man

“Not mine, “Lan WangJi replied, “I only come to feed them everyone once in a while.”

“And to think that you refused the two I gave you..., “Turning with a large grin , Wei WuXian was suddenly awestruck, “Wait...are those?”

Cuddled in Lan WangJi’s arms were two rabbits, one black and one white. The black rabbit happily kicked its feet against Lan WangJi’s arms while crunching on a piece of lettuce. The white one, on the other hand, chewed sedately, nose twitching at it’s companion.

“Wei Ying’s rabbits, “Lan WangJi brought them closer to Wei WuXian

Taking the white rabbit with one hand, Wei WuXian felt his cheeks flaring up and rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, Lan Zhan, you must really like rabbits, hmm?”

“ Xiongzhang brought the rest here; I feed them and play music sometimes, “WangJi said, bending down to sit primly in the grass

The Second Jade of Lan was immediately surrounded from all angles by the army of white fur.

Following suit, Wei WuXian was enamored to watch with his chin in his hands, Lan WangJi feed each and every rabbit their own piece of carrot or lettuce, tapping those trying to steal from others on their small little noses.

Covering his face with his hands, Wei WuXian entire body heated up, ‘Lan Zhan, you really are too cute!, ‘he thought

“Wei Ying?, “Peeking through his eyes, Lan WangJi was staring at him

“Huh, oh nothing, “taking the white rabbit back into his hands, he spoke, “so, what’s your name, hmm.”

The white rabbit didn’t seem to be impressed, eyes solely focused on its companion, watching as it claimed Lan WangJi’s lap as its throne, swatting away any other bunny that tried to join it.

“Eh, it’s ignoring me, “shaking the animal lightly, WuXian snarked, “It’s Lan Zhan in rabbit form!”

“Then Yin (Silver) is Wei Ying, “WangJi replied in a dead pan voice

“Yin?, “scratching the white rabbit behind the ears, WuXian gave WangJi a questioning glance

“Yin, “the Second Jade placed a gentle hand on the black rabbit running down its back, “Very energetic. Very mischievous. Ate one of Xiongzhang ’s letters from Chifeng-zun once.”

Snickering, he brought the white rabbit eye level, “So what’s rabbit Lan Zhan’s real name?”

“Yun (Cloud), “WangJi replied, “Only likes playing with Yin.”

The white rabbit illustrated this by swatting at Wei WuXian’s nose with its paw, almost glaring at him.

“Hmm, you want me to put you down, “WuXian grinned flopping the rabbits ears, “you want your friend? Well you can’t have him!”

Reaching over, Lan WangJi saved the rabbit from Wei WuXian’s grasp and placed it in his lap with it’s companion. Raising his arms once more, he captured Wei WuXian’s hands in his.

Wei WuXian grew quiet, staring down at their hands clasped together.

“Lan Zhan?, “was all he could say

“Wei Ying, “Lan WangJi said intertwining their fingers

Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi were once again staring into one another eyes. Silver and Golden eyes radiated with an untold amount of emotions.

Wei WuXian felt his cheeks heating up once more, "Lan Zhan...you-”

Letting go of his hands, Lan WangJi gently shoved the rabbits to the ground and stood with a flourish, “Lunch is in a few hours, let’s rest your wounds in the Cold Springs until then”

Turning around, Lan WangJi walked out of the field as fast as the Lan rules allowed him. Mouth agape, Wei WuXian could only stand on clumsy feet and hurry after him.

“Eh? Ah! Lan Zhan, what? Wait for me!”

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Wei-Xiong How are you? Are you okay? I’ve been missing sleep over this whole thing, I can’t get that banquet out of my head. I knew Yu-Furen could be callous, but I didn’t think that she be that cruel. And to think that she’s been doing this to you for years, I’m sick.

I will say that I’m a bit angry at you; why didn’t you tell me what was happening? I’m your friend aren’t I? I care about you and want you to be okay. If you had said something, I would have tried to talk to Da-ge, maybe we could’ve, oh I don’t know....

Da-ge and I plan on coming to visit XiChen-ge in a few weeks. When I get there, I am taking you to Caiyi Town for some Emperors Smile. Wishing you well. --- Nie Huaisang

Nie-Xiong I am well and I admit I missed the beauty of the Cloud Recesses. The Lan Sect is as beautiful as ever, but, as expected, still no one can match up to the Twin Jades.

I do not wish to worry you, Nie-Xiong. I promise that I am fine and this situation is simply blown out of proportion.

You would not believe these Lans. I can’t go anywhere without someone asking me if I need assistance or worrying about my wounds - which are healing nicely and quickly might I add. Even Lan Zhan, our ever present piece of living jade, keeps around me. Not that I mind his company, but he’s never seemed to want to be around me before, always telling me to “get lost”. What am I supposed to do with this new Lan Zhan?

I will say though that the Cloud Recesses is lacking in the other sort of material that you and I enjoy. If you would be so inclined, dear friend, would you send me a package? I promise your discretion will be repaid in full. ---Wei WuXian

...

a-Xian It has only been a few weeks, but I can feel your absence greatly. I miss your smile; it always seemed to brighten my day. I cannot wait for your time in the Cloud Recesses to be over; I’ve bought some rare chilies from the market; I plan on making you a special pot of pork rib and lotus root soup when you get back.

a-Cheng has taken to pushing the shidis like mother; the other day he made them train with weights for six hours straight and then made them run the entire training grounds twenty times. He has been very gloomy ever since you left, and I think this is his way to vent. I think he’s still a bit sad that he can’t practice his sword forms, due to his cast.

Father rarely leaves his office these days other than to eat and sleep. A servant has told me that the minor sect leaders keep hounding him about his lack of action with mother. Sect Leader He even said that our clan was dishonorable for mother’s treatment of you. Father looks so haggard whenever we have dinner together.

And that’s not all. Last week, one of the merchants we normally trade with retracted their contract with us. We will no longer be receiving the amount of talisman paper, inkstones, and supplies that we normally get.

Mother is still in seclusion, but she converses with Madam Jin by letter. I happened upon one; Jin GuangShan is refusing to re-instate my betrothal to ZiXuan again. Due to the banquet, he believes that the Jiang Sect’s reputation would only taint LanlingJin’s; Madam Jin and mother are both enraged. --- Jiang Yanli

Shijie I am healing nicely, so nicely, I will probably end up leaving early. The Cloud Recesses are nice, but making sure my Shijie is happy is even nicer! I do not want you to be sad, and I’m sorry that this situation has stressed you so.

Tell Jiang Cheng that the shidis need positive reinforcement and breaks; otherwise they will strain themselves and possibly harm their cores. Do not tell him I said that.

I myself have been receiving letters from the minor sects. If Uncle Jiang wants, I could take on some of his work load, just send the letters to me here. It is unfortunate that the merchant has decided they no longer wish to work with us, but I’m certain we can find another in time. Since the minor sects are rallying against YunmengJiang it is only profitable to be one of the only merchants not on our payroll.

XianXian cannot wait to taste your extra spicy pork rib and and lotus root soup! I’ll even bring some jars of Emperor’s Smile back for us all to enjoy. There’s a vendor who sells loquats, so I’ll make sure to buy some baskets and pastries when I leave. ---Your Forever Three Year Old XianXian

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“WuXian, are you sure you’re up for a nighthunt?, “Lan XiChen raised a brow at the grinning man

“Zewu-jun, no offense, but if I don’t get off this mountain tonight, I’m going to scream, “Wei WuXian huffed in bemusement, “I can’t stay cooped up here forever; besides, it’s just some walking corpses, right?”

“Mm, “XiChen replied, “the villagers have barricaded themselves in the northern villages to escape, the southern town has been completely run over.”

Climbing upon their swords, the three cultivators and their entourage sailed through the night sky. The villages were only a couple hours away by sword, so it took no time at all to reach the deserted province.

XiChen took out a map, “Let’s all split up into groups. Lan Bao and I will cover the markets. Lan Ju and Bai An Na will cover the residential area. Gong JingYi  and Lan Qing will perimeter the village, and WuXian and WangJi will clear the surrounding forest. Everyone understand? After you finish, head straight to the village center.”

Everyone nodded in in agree and sent off into their teams. Brandishing a Demon Wind Compass, WangJi and WuXian headed off the into the surrounding trees.

The forest was silent except for a few trilling insects and owls. The sound of their feet against the rough ground was like the constant thump of a beating heart.

“Lan Zhan?, “Looking to his side, Wei WuXian had a contemplative look on his face

Lan Wangji hummed in reply.

“We’re friends right?, “Wei WuXian gave a small smile

“Yes, “Lan WangJi replied without hesitation

“Good. That’s good, “WuXian said kicking a stray rock out of his way

The continued walking in silence for a few more minutes.

“I really wanted to be your friend when we were younger, “WuXian said to clear the silence, “I thought that if I could get past that cold exterior of yours, you’d be really fun to play with.”

“We are friends now, “WangJi stated

“Yeah, but we’ve missed so much time together, “WuXian countered, “There’s so much we missed out on! So many places in Yunmeng I wanted to take you to.”

“We can still go, “WangJi said, “After you are healed.”

WuXian let out a small huff, “Ah, Lan Zhan, how smart of you, but I’ll probably be very busy when I go back to the sect.”

“You intend to go back?, “WangJi questioned

“Hmm, of course I do. What other choice do I-”

*SCHREEEEEEECH*

“What was that, “shifting in defensive stances, the two were immediately on edge

*SCHREEEEEEECH*  *SCHREEEEEEECH*

Sound blaring out into the night, birds and critters normally sleep at night startled and ran away from the piercing sound. Looking to his companion, WangJi and WuXian nodded at one another and unsheathed their blades.

“I’ll take left, “WuXian said hurriedly while rushing into the trees

The forest returned to its quiet state, but the calm air had long disappeared. The cool wing now felt harsh against his bare skin.

Taking out his compass once more, the needle pointed back towards the village.

“Not working? How’s that possible?, “he mumbled to himself

“Ying, ”a voice called out

“Who’s there, “raising Subian, he glared into the darkness

“Ying, ”it said once more

Throwing up a light talisman, the trees produced elongated shadows, towering around him. The branches were thin and prickly, almost like sharp nails.

“a-Ying~, ”it sang, almost taunting

“Lan Zhan?, “Wei WuXian turned in a circle and called out to his partner, “Lan Zhan, are you there?”

The wind laughed at him, leaves tearing from their branches showered down upon him.

“Who’s there, “ banishing talisman in hand, he gritted his teeth, “Come out right now.”

“Young Master Wei?, “a familiar voice called

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian said, confusion lining his voice

“Young Master Wei!?, “the voice called again, “Where are you?”

“Zewu-jun?, “Wei WuXian called back, “I’m over here!”

The wind blew harshly once more, branches crackling around him. Another sound shifted from behind him; the bushes rustled violently.

Turning rapidly in defense, Wei WuXian gasped as a black shroud covered his vision.

“!!!”

...

Lan WangJi sat against the wall of the village gate, posture perfect and face looking devoid of any emotion. The only sound he made was the rapid tapping of his fingers against the wall. Not facing his other group mates, his eyes laid perfectly on the surrounding forests of the village, searching.

“I hope Young Master Wei is alright, “Lan Bao said tapping their foot repeatedly against the ground, “it’s only been a couple hours, but what if his back wounds acted up?”

“He has a signal flare on him. If it were truly serious, he would have called for us, “Gong JingYi tried to placate them

“Young Master Gong is right, “Lan Qing agreed, “Besides, the Demon Wind Compass isn’t detecting anything dangerous from the forests.”

Lan Bao sighed and stopped their foot, “That’s why I’m worried. The villagers said the town and surrounding areas had been taken over, but Second Young Master Lan didn’t find anything before he came back.”

The three fell silent once more.

Lan WangJi paused his hand, taking his own compass out of his sleeves. Staring at the unmoving needle, he narrowed his eyes in question.

“Medic!, “the sound of Zewu-jun shouting had everyone’s head turning in alarm

“Xiongzhang?, “Lan WangJi was to his feet quickly, rushing towards his brother’s voice

The others followed,  clamoring behind the second jade as he pushed through the tall trees. The came upon a clearing.

Lan Qing gasped, “Zewu-jun! Young Master Wei!”

Lan XiChen was pale faced, one arm slung around Wei WuXian’s waist and the other having slung his right arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t conscious from what they could see, feet dragging on the ground and head lolled forward, but most alarming....

blood was gushing out his neck!

“WuXian’s been injured; we need to leave now!”

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Author’s Notes:

-The original draft of this entire fic was only four chapters long, you can see how that turned out.

-Yes, I know this chapter is almost 5k words, but you wouldn’t believe it was much longer before I re-wrote it, it was at least 8k in the first draft

-I made WWX a little bit terser with JC cause I feel like if No SSC happened and living with Madam Yu and JC’s shit for even longer would have him treating JC like his resurrected self does quicker. Also, no 22yr old man is gonna baby another 22yr old lol.

-However, I also wanted to show that the Jiang’s abuse and conditioning is still in affect/there with his interactions with others. Hope I did a good job of it.

-I feel like a no SSC Lan WangJi might try to get with Wei WuXian, especially since he’s had time to work over his feeling with no war in the way. And then especially if the man he loved was whipped right in front of him.

Read my Prompts and WIPs [Here]

Fandom: The Magnus Archives, Star Wars The Clone Wars (2008), vague Dead by Daylight

Tags: @crc-general-orin, @crc-commodore-sana9

Reblogs are love ^-^

-

[Recorder click]

Statement of Tup Fett regarding an incident that occurred in a Junkyard when he was a child.

Audio recording by Tech Fett, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institution, London.

Statement begins

I never blamed my brothers for what happened, it was my fault in a way. I never should have gone to that junkyard. It was a dare. Just a dare. It was harmless. 

I was 7 at the time. My brother’s Fives and Echo had dared me to go into the weird junkyard out by our old house. It's not a bad junkyard. It's just a dump a few meters back of the houses. Someone started a rumor that dead bodies were found there, but many members of my family is in law enforcement and they stated that no bodies were ever found, so I never believed those tales. Fives and Echo had been charged with taking care of myself and my twin, Dogma as all other members of my family were busy. Fives and Echo are good brothers, don't misread this, but they were not babysitters.

It was obvious early on they did not know what they were doing. They took us to the Junkyard, as they went there for fun a lot. It was a short walk, and sooner than I'd like, we were at the entrance. I was a bit scared, but Dogma was petrified. He clung to Echo and refused to go in. He said the "shadow people" didn't like this place. The shadow people were Dogma's imaginary friends (yet on some days I wondered if they were really imaginary) and he had them since, well, he was four after our uncle...did some disgusting things to him. I won't go into detail, but you can guess what our uncle did. He started seeing these "shadow people" everywhere. Anyway, I'm getting off track.

Fives only laughed when Dogma mentioned the shadow people. He dared us to go in

"It'll be fun!" he had said this with such glee.

I wanted to prove to my big brother that I was brave. So I went in. It was like any junkyard I've ever seen. It was just stuff piled high with no real order to it. I wandered for a bit, not long. It was when I turned a corner did I see the gate. At first, I couldn't figure out why it put me on edge. It was pitch black, with vines from some plant coiling around it so tight it warped the metal. I could see strange flowers bloomed on various and random places on the gate. I was curious so I got closer. I wish I hadn't. I wished I had turned and walked back to Fives and Echo and didn't go through the gate. But I did.

I stepped through the gate and the world around me warped. I don't really know how to describe it. The world almost folded around me and I felt really hot and really cold at the same time. Then it unfolded and refolding again and again. When it stopped I was standing in a junkyard but it was different from the one I had been in. This one had broken down cars everywhere. The next thing I realized was that the sky had taken a red tint, casting the whole area in a red glow that sent shivers down my spine. I turned, wanting to go back, only to find the gate slammed shut. I ran to it, but it had no handle. I saw a lever, but when I pulled it, nothing happened. I was scared and so utterly alone. I reached into my pocket for my phone, I need to call for help, but found my pocket empty of any phone, lost I looked around. I spotted the generator. It was an old thing, just sitting there. It wasn't on and I got the odd feeling that I needed to fix it. I walked over to it. I didn't know what I hoped to do, I was 7 and sure as hell didn't know how to fix a generator, and yet I did. I worked on it for 2 and a half minutes and fixed it. I still have no idea how. When it clicked on I got this odd sense of dread. I got up and walked to one of the red lockers that was sitting near the generator as the sense of dread grew into terror. I opened it and climbed in, closing the door. The terror I felt made my heart hammer in my chest. And then I heard it. The thump thump of something heavy walking near. The smell of rotting flesh was so strong I nearly gagged. I knew the smell of rotting flesh anywhere. My Grandpappy Jaster owned a farm, and one time I had found a dead cow that had been missing for days. She had wandered up into a wooded area and died. I found her and vaguely remember losing my lunch and crying into my older brother, Fox's, shoulder. Grandpappy did feel real bad about that, even though it was not his fault.

I heard a snarl of rage before the heavy footfalls got quieter and quieter. The sense of fear and dread went with it. Once I could no longer feel the dread, I climbed out of the locker and hurried off in the opposite direction of the footfalls.

I have no idea how long I ran. It was a while before I ran into anyone. I mean literally, I ran right into someone. A man in his 20's wearing a suit, now torn, ripped, muddy, and bloody. He had black hair and green eyes and I would later learn his name was Anthony. Anthony looked horrified to see me. I was confused back then, but I know why now. He was scared because I was a seven-year-old kid put in a demented game with a ruthless killer, but I'm getting ahead of my self. Anthony helped me up and hurried me along. I was went with him, too scared not to. He led me to another generator.

"I'm guessing you got the 3rd generator," he said and I just nodded.

"We just need two more and then we are free," he said that with such a hopeful tone.

There was another person with us, a young woman named Sarah. She was a young woman, maybe 19 or 20 with short, dyed pink hair and a few piercings. Her clothes were tattered and bloody and I noted she had a bandaged wrapped around her shoulder, yet I could see no wound. She was already working on the gen. Myself and Anthony knelt and helped her. Soon, with a rumbling click, the gen turned on. Then the dread crept in. I looked around desperately for a locker, but found none. Anthony grabbed me and dragged me behind a stone wall. There was a tree near us and I had to hold in a gag at the scent of rotten meat wafted from the crow slung up on the bark of the tree, stomach open. Anthony put his finger to his lips and we sat there crouched. The dread turned into terror and I heard the footsteps. thump thump. Loud and commanding. I was scared, far more scared than I had ever been in my life. I was shaking and Anthony knew that. He placed a hand on my shoulder, trying to console me. Then I saw Sarah run and I got the first look at the monster. It was humanoid, an arm covered in strange, boil like spots. I think the most horrifying part was it's face. It's flesh there was pulled, I have no idea how else to explain it. There were staples on various parts of it's body. It was terrifying. It held a chainsaw in one hand and a hammer in the other and it ran after Sarah. It activated it's chainsaw and I heard it whir and then the squelch of it hitting flesh. I heard Sarah scream, a sound so raw and so painful I wanted to cry. I think I was. I watched as it threw Sarah over it's shoulder. It carried her to a hook standing in the field. It was nothing special, but I found it odd that the hook was just there, swaying ever so slightly in the wind. Then, it threw Sarah onto the hook and she screamed again. He watched her gag for a second before limping off and vanishing into the tall grass. I tugged at Anthony's sleeve

"Shouldn't we help her?" I had asked through tears but Anthony shook his head

"Death hook" was all he said

Sure enough, long spider like limps emerged from the hook and impaled her. I watched in horror as they lifted Sarah's body up as more spider-like limbs descended down and grabbed her body and lifted her up into the void above. Once her body was gone, the limbs emerging from the hook, knocked the hook off and onto the ground. I let out a chocked sob as the realization hit me. I had just watched a person die.

"C'mon kid," Anthony had said and ushered me along.

I followed numbly, I was in shock, but the gravity of our situation shook me out of it quick. We found the last gen quick. We worked on it fast, but slow enough as to not make mistakes.

"I have a kid around your age," said Anthony, smiling at me, "Once I get out of here I plan to hug them and remind them how much I love them. You got any family,"

I nodded,

"Lot's of big brothers, a dad," I sniffled, "How does time pass?"

"I've been here a few minutes, what's the date,"

"the first of august, 2009," I responded and he looked pale

"No, it's-it's the second of January," I shook my head at that and we lapsed into silence. The dread came just as the gen clicked on. We both shot up, but by that time the dread was terror. It was here. Anthony ran at it and tried to draw it away from me, but it didn't work. I ran as it chased me, fear surging through my limbs, but I was seven, I wasn't fast enough. Do you know what it feels like to be slammed in the back with a chainsaw? I can't even begin to describe the pain. It hurt worse than any injury I had ever gotten and I screamed. Next thing I knew, I was being carried over it's shoulder. It was taking me to an open field. There were two hooks. Both faced each other. He threw me on one. The pain from that was worse than the chainsaw as the metal hook ripped through soft flesh and muscles and threw bone and I screamed a blood curdling scream. I was only there for a moment when I heard a strange noise. The gate had been opened. A sense of panic hit me. Had Anthony left me to die. But then I heard the whir of a chainsaw and a cry. It hooked Anthony right in front of me. He gave me a small smile as the creature ambled off.

"Listen," he had said, "Gates open, straight ahead, hurl yourself off the hook and run, don't stop, don't try to get me, I'm on death hook, Just run,"

"How?" I cried in desperation.

"Throw yourself off the hook," he said before the limbs stabbed him and dragged him away.

I wanted to cry, but it would have to wait. I took a deep breath and threw myself forward and off the hook. There was an explosion of pain, but I didn't register it. I ran. Ran as fast as I could. I saw the gate, wide open and tore forward. The whir of the chainsaw came from behind me and I got the idea to bob and weave. I did and it worked. I knocked over a pallet with strength I didn't even know I had and tore to the gate. I ran threw the gate out without stopping. Like before, the world folded in on me and repeated until, it stopped. I was back in the junkyard, no broken cars in sight and a soft blue of the sky almost made me sob. Warm blood trickled down and, to my horror, I realized I was still hurt. I reached into my pocket and was greeted with my phone. I called the first number I could think of. 911. I just said I was hurt in the Junkyard, fell and hurt my shoulder and that I need help and fast. The operator was a nice lady, helped keep me calm. The fire and rescue arrived fast and I felt happiness when the words 212 came into view along with squad car 1010. I wanted to cry as I ran towards them. I watched Helix run and catch me and I collapsed into my cousin's arms.

"Tup?" he had sounded so horrified and I guess he had the right to.

Fox rushed over and froze when he saw me. Helix was treating me as fast as he could as Fox knelt beside me and cupped by face with his hand. He told me it was all okay now, and that I was safe. I knew I was.

I woke up in the hospital three days later. I learned that I had been missing for almost an entire month. Fives and Echo felt so guilty, blamed themselves, but I could never blame them. Never.

-

Statement ends.

Another victim of the Entity's twisted games, and my own cousin. I remember the scramble for search parties when Tup went missing, but I still lived with my abusive mom, so my brother's and I were unable to search for Tup, who had been a close friend in high school for me. After this, Tup went through a lot of therapy, but he still struggles. He informed me one day, years ago, that he too now sees the shadow people. I've seen the shadow people too. All my brother's have. They are always there, just watching us.

As for follow up, there is not much we can do. The entity exists in a realm outside of ours and we have no way of stopping it or telling who it's next victim will be.

So another dead end, but not matter. Unfortunately, most of the files in the archives have statements made by members of my family. A lot mention a horrible tragedy and the sudden appearance of these shadow people. I wish to look into them, but my own shadow people have grow restless, usually that means-

[Static on recorder]

Yes, I know

[Static]

Yes

[Static]

Fine

End recording

[Recorder click]

Mythopoeia

She told them her school.

They had said “That’s fine, we guess, but be careful what you do there.”

They had said “We really trusted you would be a thaumaturge. We’d have even been okay if you were a pyromancer, like your uncle; or maybe a diviner... you have creative energy.”

They had said “Is it too late to change?”

Was it too late to change?

Was there an expiry date on learning? No, maybe not. She’d stick with it though, the test was adamant to her, it almost seemed to threaten what would happen (or, worse, what wouldn’t) if she didn’t submit to being a conjurer.

A tricky thing. 

It was all fine and well those first few years at the school. Kind of boring, actually. Cyrus was a very mean professor, and she was a meek and restless child. So, maybe her disposition wasn’t great for Myth. She was flighty and subdued, not grand, not like a legend. She did daydream a lot, in a lost, wistful way, but the haze of it all made her think maybe she would’ve been better off curled behind the desk in the back of the Storm classroom. At least, maybe, Balestrom wouldn’t yell at her for it. Maybe he wouldn’t even say anything.

She did like her preliminary classes in the Fire school. She liked the flame and the heat, but she was absolutely miserable at casting, at focusing her attention and getting things to stay and materialize with enough magnitude to be meaningful. She’d have switched over to Fire, but she dreaded the idea of starting all the way from the bottom of the ladder, years and years and years behind, trying to overcome what appeared to be just an innate lack of a knack for it.

So, in the Myth class, she found her spot. Not quite at the bottom of the ladder, but low enough on it. Good enough in ability to pass, bad enough in her behavior to warrant lots of public ridicule in front of her classmates. Cyrus seemed to think that by calling on students, bad students, in front of everyone, he had embarrassed them or taught them a lesson or something, but the reality was that none of the other students really cared. There was no bullying or rumors or harassment for being called on, just a glance of well-meaning but undesirable pity after class. They all got it. They had all been the kids sitting disengaged at the back of the classroom once.

Her parents would write her once every week or so. 

“How are you doing?” “Fine.” Occasionally, she’d add in one episode of her trip to the Shopping District and what she bought.

“What are you learning now?” “I’ve been stuck in the Library for three days writing essays.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” “I have a lot of friends, but they are all in different schools so I don’t get to see them during the school days because our schedules are different.” Signed. Stuffed in an envelope. Wax dripped over the fold. Stamped. Sent. 

Her signature took on a different look every time. The top loop of the “J” got larger and wider, more grand, the little loop at the bottom got finer, more dagger-thin. In a few days, the return letter would arrive.

“Be smart with your money. Do you have a part-time job where you’re earning?” and,

“Work hard.” and,

“Do you think you would like to switch schools so you can be with your friends?”.

She would sit on the letter and let it expire, waiting instead for her parents to send another one that reverted back to the usual questions.

And it went on, for a couple of years. And then, it changed. And then there was the noise, the loud rumbling from all around the City during one of the afternoons she had detention.

She wanted things to change so badly, and everyone was distracted, and she was just finally fed up with wasting her afternoons continuing to be forcefully immersed in a subject she couldn’t bring herself to care for. She ran down Unicorn Way towards the sound to see what was amuck; when the guards asked her to show her badge, like a pass, to show she wasn’t a novice and would be safe, dutiful, thoughtful, she palmed her sister’s old adept’s badge from her pocket. The guards looked at it quickly and waved her along, not noticing the mismatch of the Ice symbol on the badge and the yellows and blues of her robes.

So it spiralled from there. The dead were undead, and then they were dead again. Had she really done that? With Myth magic? 

The cards and spells were so different in battle than the practice duels that Cyrus would take them to in the Arena and the few seconds of spellcasting she and her classmates would do in the classroom before Cyrus entered in the morning and told them all to hurry to their seats, sit straight, and prepare for lecture. They rarely got to attempt magic, and then they'd have practicals where their nerves got to them and the spells came out wonky.

But there, in the streets she had once only been able to try and stare down, it was all so real, so vibrant. The magic pulsated through her, like a second heartbeat.

She had that same kind of enamor with it all the way through the worlds. In Krokotopia, her magic never made her feel bad. In fact, it was the fire that made her feel bad; when she burned the Ahnic mummies. That left her feeling like her hands were always covered in soot, grimy, guilty. The soot stains on her soul never faded.

Then in Marleybone, there was just a hint of a shudder running around her bones, a shiver within the marrow, when she beheld the faces--or lack thereof--of the agony wraiths in Big Ben. Where had they come from? Did they miss those places, those tombs or graves or mausoleums? Were they even of Marleybone, or were they far from the grounds of their homes?

She didn’t try to think much of it when she went for the duel. She was too busy thinking of giants dislodging the bones with a club, long hollow femurs clattering to the wooden floor; an earthquake following and swallowing up the center of the clocktower. When she left, her lungs felt blackened from spending too long in the city breathing in the smog.

In Mooshu, it sank in the most. She would summon earthquakes in spirit realms and feel the little chunk of earth she was on rattle, the chasm opening up from nowhere. The friction between the worlds and shifting dirt underneath would normally propel the earthquakes, but in those disconnected little places, where the grounds were thin and hammered out flat like saucer-plates, she wondered where they stemmed from. The chasm and the shadows within it seemed to plunge deeper than the earth actually was. 

The onis that stared into her seemed to be looking deeper than they actually were. Her mind sweltered. The whole of the place was confusing and demented. And she thought that maybe it rubbed off on her too. Everything felt out of reach.

Her parents wrote a letter.

“How are you?” “I am tired. I have been travelling a lot. I am doing an externship as a part of my schoolwork, for Headmaster Ambrose. It is very busy.”

“What are you studying?” “High-level Myth magic. I have learned some new spells, but they required that I go collect some things from different worlds, that’s why I’ve been visiting so many places.” She’d include one of her sketches she did of the yellow windows of Marleybone or the endless fields of Mooshu in the envelope. Her parents would’ve liked her to travel, as long as they knew it was purposeful and being done in structured way, a safe way.

“How are your friends?” She didn’t address the question, and instead sent her parents a pressed flower. Sealed. Stamped. Sent.

Then, before Dragonspyre, Cyrus pulled her aside after class. He said “Malistaire is my brother,” like she wouldn’t have maybe guessed from appearances. And then that he wanted to duel her, to see if she was competent enough to handle the war-ravaged world alone. 

She desperately wanted to prove she had attained something, she had learned, she was good at this. She desperately wanted to come close in the duel, to be on the precipice of winning, but just barely lose, and to sob, put her head down, beg for help. She wanted to prove she could, and also that she couldn’t do it alone.

But the flow of battle, the rhythm of that second heartbeat in her dictated in a way all its own. It was powerful in that duel in a way it never had been. It was totally engulfing, pounding in her ears and vibrating against the veins in her wrists, and she won and she had to. If she didn’t, maybe her skin would crawl and split from the overbeat of the magic that was left unfulfilled.

Oh, and that feeling rose up once more when she faced Malistaire, when she could smell a metallic and humble aura of death and lava all across the top of the volcano in Dragonspyre. The same feeling, rushing over her, her hands floating in the air like she was only watching the spectacle and not acting in it, like her hands weren’t even hers. She was acutely aware of all she was doing, how fast her mind was moving, though. Her actions were all her own. At least, she thought, these few things I own wholly, no matter what, and they were not left to fate, nor the headmaster or the Book of Secrets, or ancient warring tribes, or an old tree’s prophecy, or her professor or her parents.

She wondered if she became overzealous at the thought. If it made her too fierce. Cyrus sat back somewhere, afraid to intervene, maybe knowing he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to have his brother meet an unfortunate end at his hands, so he made his student do it for him.

Or maybe she wanted to show Cyrus her unflinching worth, and that training and practicing across the worlds and in the streets taught her something he never could, that he never thought would emerge in her: a dauntless courage to face cruelty, sometimes with cruelty in turn.

But, deep down, both knew that the most important factor of why Malistaire died, why he lost the duel and didn’t manage to stand to his feet again after, was because he was an incredibly ambitious man with a gravely weakened soul. His magic truly had split out of his skin, creating the aura that permeated around them, and infusing with the rituals to raise the Dragon Titan. And the human, non-magic parts of his soul were broken all across too. His wife was gone, truly gone. And his brother couldn’t face him, and he was beating on…a child. A hopeful, brave child who had the whole world in their eyes. And he just had nothing left in him at all.

Returning home after that was difficult for her. She walked out of the volcano and into a portal, with Cyrus’s hand pressed against her shoulder. He was guiding her toward the foggy vision of the Headmaster’s office, urging her forward but also holding her down to the ground. Under his palm, she wasn’t going to float away in a confused mire, and she also knew she couldn’t slink from under his palm into a ball on the ground and cry. She could only move forward. She knew he was telling her she had done well, she had done the right thing.

How was she going to explain to her parents that this is what her “externship” was about? That she wasn’t being a student, not at all; she was being a hero. And though a hero seemed much grander and fancier, it was very, very different from what she had prepared for. It was thoroughly taxing in the most unpredictable, inexplicable, extraordinary ways. There was no training for how to be a hero.

And after she was emotionally spent and wasted away in her room for a few days, she packed her things and went home. 

“Sabbatical, dear.” That’s what Greyrose said to her. “When you’re old and wizened like me, you take one every so often to remember to slow down.”

“You need one,” said Balestrom. “Very badly, you do need one. You look tired.” She was tired, and confused, and no longer hungry when all her life she had loved food, and she felt dirty and greasy.

She turned in a letter to Cyrus, who just stared down his nose at her, then nodded. His mouth stayed pressed shut through the entire process. She almost cried. She could feel her teeth pressing into each other, and they were so tightened in her jaw they felt soft, like little marshmellows. She thought she could maybe tell that Cyrus’s jaw was also more levelled out, more squared, like he was also clenching his teeth.

She walked out very quickly.

She walked into her home very quickly. Her parents hugged her, her father gave her a kind of firm pat on the back that made her shake a little. Like he was welcoming someone he didn’t particularly like into his home. Maybe she overthought, but her mother’s laughter was all wrong too. It used to fill the room, like a joyous thing, but now it filled the room in a suffocating way.

“We laugh to show our teeth, to show they’re still there,” she remembered from the readings for one of her essays, where she spent her time in the library for a day. 

They sat together at the dinner table, a plate of mashed potatoes with a loaf of bread and turkey casserole before each one of them. She picked at some of the things, then had her elbows on the table as she tore the bread into tiny pieces and began to chew them slowly, one-by-one, like a mouse.

“Are you okay, honey?” they asked. “Do you want to talk with us about something?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Oh. Okay. How are classes, by the way? Have you been doing well?”

“Yes. I actually, uh, I did some directed independent studies with Cyrus.”

“OH! Advancing so fast, are we? Are you the teacher’s pet, and that’s why you get to do higher-level work?”

“Uhm, kind of. I also just needed to do something different. For my learning. Sitting in the classroom all day wasn’t really working for me.”

“Oh, like a practical? You’ve been safe, haven’t you? Are you missing any classes?”

“No, I’m actually on a short break right now,” she said. The questions were sweltering.

“Listen, we received some post from Headmaster Ambrose, that you’d maybe have something you want to share with us? Maybe about the kinds of schoolwork you’ve been doing? That you’d have something to tell us?” The curtain was up. She stared blankly, with her mouth open, blinking a little.

“Well, yeah, I... uh, Ambrose had a special assignment for me, I guess. There was...Listen, it sounds mad, but you must’ve felt it, the disruptions, and all of the ash and stuff. Anyways, there was an unhinged necromancer trying to destroy the Spiral? So, Ambrose had me and a few other strong students help him out with getting rid of undead monsters on the streets.” Calling Malistaire “unhinged” felt wrong, like a spike was being driven across her mouth, through her cheeks. She added the bit about there being friends, thinking that maybe if other students had been a part of the picture, her parents would find it less dangerous.

“So he had students acting like dogs for him,” they said, sitting back in their chairs. Her mother crossed her arms. She could barely look to them, unable to balance one disapproving face and the other. “And Cyrus approved of this all and had this count as your study versus the schoolwork you should’ve been doing on-campus?”

“It wasn’t as bad as it seems.”

“You’ve went all over the Spiral, you could’ve been killed. And we are aware about the changes recently, from that necromancer. And we’re also aware that he was a Professor at Ravenwood once, a Professor Drake. Cyrus is a Drake too, yes?”

They sounded like they were accusing her, but she wasn’t sure of what. It wasn’t like it was up to her that Cyrus and Malistaire were brothers. 

“So your professor had you meddling in his family affairs. Ambrose and Professor Drake had you engaging in some blood feud with Drake’s old family. That isn’t appropriate for a student,” her mother said, like she was going to try and create a case against the school and Ambrose. “You know, we didn’t like the idea of you being a conjurer,” she continued.

They all got into a yelling match over the schools, whether she was a disappointment, if she was cut out to continue on there. They blamed conjurery, endlessly. Always. Always, it was the fault of the Myth school and Myth magic.

Out of one of their mouths came “you killed someone,” or perhaps it was “I killed someone,” from her own mouth, owning it. Whoever said it, it greatly upset everyone at the table. Her parents talked to her, level again, and said “you can’t go back.” They would consider getting her an apprenticeship in something like bookkeeping or art.

“You could’ve listened to us. This wouldn’t have all happened if you had just studied under Professor Greyrose, like Katarin.”

Sitting at the table, she now could look her father in the eyes as he said those words. She was frowning, and crying furiously, a silent crying, and untempered one that showed no weakness, but instead infinite and defiant strength. 

She had learned some things in Cyrus’s classes. Not magic, nor imagination. She had been ridiculed in front of her peers, she had known that her professor saw her as low and untrying. She learned an unending patience, and the grace to know when the fight was over.

“That’s fine,” she barely murmured. “That’s fine.” A tear dripped off her chin with the movement of her jaw as she spoke. She grabbed her plate off the table with both hands and walked it over to the sink, scraping the contents off in one motion, then walking to her old room.

She spent the night there, passed out after dinner with the door locked in a stupor that reminded her of what her past few years should’ve been like. And then, in the morning, she packed everything she cared for from that room, swiping things off the dressers and desk and putting them into every corner of her backpack until it was nearly splitting its seams and lumpy all around.

And then she left, waving goodbye to the silent dark house behind her as she opened the door. She knew that her parents were people so different from her and that, despite their words, they had sent letters every week, cared about whether she was lonely or not, invited her back home often though she didn’t visit every time she possibly could’ve. They didn’t understand. They might never have understood. And because they didn’t understand, they seemed to want to wash their hands of her, their restless, second, failed child. At least for the immediate future.

So she would let them. They acted like she might be a student of some promise, like her studies and advancements were making them proud. They let her throw out their follow-up letters and pretended like they never existed. She would let them pretend like she didn’t either.

But she understood. She would find them later, if they wanted to be found by her. They didn’t think she was doing things that a mere student should have been resigned to. She was a conjurer, roped into an unfortunate, yes, feud. And she had done one thing that was horrible, and many things that were wrong, and she would never rid herself of those things. She resolved to do the only thing that she could’ve done, and pressed onwards as a hero.

Retrospective Analysis of Dirk:

After the initial thoughts I had this morning, following some light (re-)reading, I have come to various conclusions: The role that Dave Strider played in the Meat Epilogue was nearly identical to that that Dirk’s Bro (Alpha Dave Strider) played in the story---   DOOMed rebel fighting against the rise of another dictatorial Crocker.   I am sure that Dirk realized this, both considering the fact that this was an echo of Dave’s soul across the multiple instances of himself, and because he partially engineered this eventuality. Intriguingly enough, this might imply that Rose likely would have sided against Crocker (Jane) if her ascension had not incapacitated her and Dirk hadn’t been puppeteer-distracting her at the time (for reasons beyond her connection to Kanaya). More importantly, it helps establish an important further parallel:  Dirk acted as the puppetmaster in the shadows, essentially controlling the election and determining its outcome from the beginning.   Lord English remained the most important force in the Alpha Kids’ world and session in much the same manner, despite )(er Imperious Condescension’s attempted Rebellion. Both individuals were playing broader and longer games than the women they were manipulating to suit their purposes.  Though Dirk’s purposes have not yet been revealed to the fullest extent, Jane Crocker had a narrower perspective that failed to grasp the true nature of the battles going on and underestimated her “supporter” ‘s power and intentions. This relates to another way in which Dirk Strider and Caliborn/Lord English:  Both of them represent iterations/avatars/fulfillments of the idea of Calmasis---   both tricked a Calliope into losing a major confrontation by making her confuse an attack on one piece with that of another (a major short term/immediate objective--- an attack on a queen [in Dirk’s case, Jake English/the election] ---with an attack on the king [Alt!Calliope, who acted as essentially the commander of the forces opposed to him]); furthermore, and more importantly, both act as protagonists and antagonists to the story at the same time (villain and anti-hero).   Dirk presumably sees himself as working towards the perpetuation of reality by forcing more conflict into an otherwise ended story; or alternatively, sees himself striving for freedom in opposition to causality and enslavement to cosmic will (which would jive well with his Kamina-esque aesthetic).  Meanwhile, Caliborn/Lord English obviously served as the main villain of Homestuck, but were also the protagonists of their little side adventure and was trying to develop himself and expand his horizons despite his severe disadvantages, much the way the Kids and Trolls did. Dirk’s fulfillment of that role may have actually been why he downplayed the importance of Complacency of the Learned in his conversation with Rose just before he began to subsume her will in earnest. Of course, that is somewhat speculative, and hard to prove, one way or the other. ... Regardless, upon making these sorts of connections, I began to think about whether Dirk was intended to become a villain from the moment he was introduced, and/or relatively early on.  Andrew Hussie seems to have a habit of working out many plot details a great deal in advance (see the Alpha Kids being hinted at as early as Act 4 with Jake’s letter to John, Doc Scratch probably being intended to have been/contained at least an iteration of Dirk from the beginning [as shown via his comment to Rose that she ought to think of him as a kindly human uncle figure-- shoved in our face via a certain Truthsplosion]), so the idea didn’t seem all that farfetched. After all, as referenced in the above parenthetical reference, Doc Scratch shows that Dirk always had at least the potential for villainy in him, under the right circumstances. The first thing that jumped into my mind (other than the fact that Bro is a bit of a dick, I guess, and the early narrative of Act 6 emphasizes the fact that this is in fact the kid version of Bro quite a bit) was the fact that Dirk’s introductory period created clear parallels with two trolls of a highly corrupt moral character---  Vriska and Equius:   Beyond the obvious tendencies to manipul8 others and his willingness to “cheat” in certain ways (defeating Squarewave in a rap battle bit exploiting his weakness to liquid shorting him out, teleporting his head to Jake for the revive+kiss with the intent of forcing a start to their relationship that way, et cetera) Dirk is also pining for a Page who he attempts to force a redrom with (more effectively, in his case, at least in the short term), and whom he attempts to “groom” by pushing challenges that the Page is clearly not prepared to face his way (Brobot’s awkward difficulty settings parallel the FLARP encounters  Vriska gave Tavros).    That Vriska and Dirk’s first on-screen kills were both decapitations is probably a coincidence. As for Equius:  There is the wife beater that Dirk sometimes wears, the similarities between horses and musclebeasts, the fact that both build robots whom they then face off against in lethal combat, the fact that both wear shades and are initially blacked out upon introduction (though this latter matter is of less significance) the fact that both have dominating personalities and a secret kinky submissive side (albeit these play out in different ways for the two), the fact that Brobot and Aradiabot both take out their “hearts” and POUND POUND POUND them up dramatically (note: though this is a bit of a stretch, the parallel makes the affinity’s intention obvious), their willingness to lie and take extreme measures (Equius considers lying and double-crossing to be in a blue blood’s nature and/or their “superior” culture; Dirk outright tells Jane that one of three statements he is making is a lie, and the only one it could possibly be is that he believes that Roxy’s decision to blow up Jane’s computer as a way to scare Jane away from playing was too extreme [meaning that, since this was a lie, he is absolutely willing to go to such extremes to get the job done--- as shown later with his willingness to decapitate himself, publicly display the fact that he’d killed Hegemonic Brute, et cetera])... and most obviously+ominously, his declaration to Jane that while she was going to remain the group’s leader as far as everyone else was concerned, he was going to be the person controlling things from the shadows (which is a reversal of Equius’ demand that Aradia be the shadow leader for the Blue Team, but obviously calls him to mind via allusion/reference). Now, while a case can be made for either of these characters not being that bad, and I am personally someone who likes and feels for Vriska quite a lot, I will be the first to admit that she is the closest thing the trolls have to Caliborn or Dirk (Gamzee doesn’t count: he’s has a mental breakdown and is basically brainwashed by LE via Lil Cal; he’s not a planner or someone who went out of his way to embrace his “turn to the dark side” of his own volition--- if you can call it that, for Caliborn; you know what I mean).   As for Equius: he was highly violent and could have been quite the menace, if it weren’t for his moirail. He had a generally demented mentality.           Neither of these are the sorts of comparisons you want to be made with a character being painted as particularly heroic and good.  Next comes the fact that, as I have discussed previously, Dirk Strider and Caliborn/Lord English have been deeply entangled with one another’s fates.   Caliborn liked Dirk the best out of all of the Alpha Kids, it was ironically Dirk who ended up defeating him in the end (in both the form of soul trapping and via ARquius). However, it was also Dirk who provided Caliborn with the mechanical leg that allowed him to escape (and presumably have confidence in the idea of escape) from his SAW Room Death Trap binding with Calliope.  Presumably, either Dirk or AR must have figured that that was the intention behind the request/present, at some point. (I rather doubt it was something that Dirk knew the implications of at the time, but I wouldn’t necessarily rule out that possibility. He might not have cared, especially since that was years before the Alpha Kids began their session, and he/they might not have had much of a bond with Calliope, at that point. Not that he ever got all that close to her, generally.)  Note:  Caliborn’s favor toward Dirk does not necessarily suggest anything inherently wrong with Dirk, but it helps set him apart from the others. This is just another warning sign suggesting something “off” about him.      Dirk’s “I have failed,” before he went wandering off into the glitches and self-destructed in the [S] Game Over. version of the Alpha similarly can be interpreted as hinting at his God Complex/Megalomaniac tendencies.      It seems a logical extension of his general personality that he wouldn’t be able to settle down and enjoy a peaceful life in a “perfect” paradise planet (which is probably one of the reasons he decided to leave it). I suppose this is just another thing that wasn’t generally thought about as the community was so focused on the actual process of getting to the victory point, and what that would mean?   At the very least, I don’t remember any such considerations.  There were certainly warning signs. The biggest factor that convinces me that Dirk’s villainy was planned quite early on (and which thus supports to some extent the idea that Jake is meant to be his eventual foil) is that Dave, after seeing his Bro’s corpse, said, “I’m not a hero, my bro was.”   This was almost certainly made at a point where Dirk Strider was conceptually developed/invented already, definitely was at a point where Dave’s baggage surrounding heroism and its connection with how he felt toward his brother was in play, and most certainly was well after the audience could have seen that Bro was abusive and sortof a dirtbag. Thus, there was already some irony, there.  However, he also called John a hero in that same statement, so it clearly was not totally derogatory, and so the irony could be increased. It was, as shown by the fact that the Alpha Kids were not “Heroes” of their session, but Nobles. This was not enough.  Dirk has eventually turned into the anti-hero and villain of his own story.   Perhaps this might be enough; however, it wouldn’t quite feel fully “right” if he hadn’t been intended to have been so from the beginning-- and perhaps that’s actually why their group were called Nobles in the first place, not only because of the fact that they couldn’t complete their session without the others, but because not all of them were heroic at heart.  [Non-sequitur: I wonder if LE would have been anywhere near as dangerous, if not for Lil Hal’s capacity to make incredibly complicated calculations {needed for Furthest Ring travel, among other things, presumably}, and his capacity as Doc Scratch to pave the way for LE’s arrival. This would seem a very similar relationship to how Dirk facilitated Caliborn’s entry via the leg, in retrospect.] ... While the section immediately above isn’t as well-developed as I’d like-- mostly because I’m tired, distracted, and it’s been at least 3 hours since I started this post in the first place, and I want to at least get the last part that I thought of in before it leaves my memory.    I may add to/edit in more for this post, or post follow-up material later, when I remember more that might have slipped my mind on this subject/I think of more. Anyway!---    as I was considering all of this, a very intriguing thought popped into my head:    While I had initially assumed that it was simply to not rehash old material and/or that it was to keep us with John for the sake of narrative consistency, since I now know that it was Dirk who was narrating this segment of the story, and thus it was a narrator with bias and interest in the facts being related, it has occurred to me that it is actually quite odd for Dirk to omit some relation of the actual facts of the Caliborn’s Masterpiece encounter.   We are placed by his hand at a place even further removed from the reality of the battle than the clearly biased and somewhat embellished account that the Cherub gave of his own rise to power.        This strikes me as odd particularly given the fact that it is Dirk’s great moment of heroism, which might serve as a sort of counter-balance to much of his otherwise morally questionable deeds.         Given his egotism (and the fact that there would seem to be no OOC reason strong enough to justify such an omission on the author’s part, since this means that there is no faithful depiction of the battle shown to us in the story), this makes it seem as if Dirk chooses to not show the conclusion of this battle for some specific and tangible reason.  I would not suspect it to be out of embarrassment, a desire to conceal his identity longer, or plain trollishness (though the last of these strikes me as almost being fitting).  Rather, I wonder if there is something worth concealing in the end of this encounter.  Maybe the Alpha Kids actually lost, and Dirk’s placement of Cal into Lil Cal was an act of capitulation. Maybe Dirk otherwise willingly and knowingly created Lord English via the soul trap at the behest of ARquiusprite, or said sprite tricked him into doing so, claiming it was the only way to defeat their opponent (which it was) and omitting the consequences.     I do not know which of these, if any, is the correct answer, but Dirk being the one to choose to omit the details does, I shall repeat, seem extremely fishy to me, all things considered. ~~~ While I will not put a summary here, I would just like to say:   In retrospect, the Meat Epilogue has done more than the requisite “adding on to the story in appreciable ways and tying up loose ends,” but has served to add depth to an already incredibly deep story and caused me to reconsider and better understand characters and themes which I had not previously delved into so deeply before.    I wonder, now, if Dirk Strider and Lord English shall prove to have been even more deeply connected than it has seemed up to this point, once I have reached the end of the Candy Epilogue and thus will be allowed to properly investigate what’s going on at the beginning of Homestuck^2. Final thought:  Hmm. So much of his imagery speaks to him being a sort of twisted version of Kamina (embodiment of masculinity, warrior spirit, noble sacrifice, heroism [not being able to live up to those last two, and lampshading to some extent his frustration at that, in Epilogue Part 7]), but it also vaguely seems to me that he at least sees himself as being like Simon--- this is to say, leading the charge for freedom against the forces of determinism and the chains of repression that would hold back humanity (and/or himself). It’s a very striking thing, especially considering the fact that it is only Simon who takes the fight to space in a fancy ship, once what seems to have been the final villain was defeated and the real threat began to loom on the horizon.  I wonder how this contrast will develop in the future, and how noble his true ideals may in fact be. ~~~ Major Edit:  

What. The heck. How did I not remember this blatant nonsense?    Fricking... darn it.

Quotable Quotes and Memorable Moments

“From NVMN (& co.) in The Harrowing:

Character: Mikyur / Player: Laz @lazzuderp

Character: Neith / Player: Kiyo @waffuruki​

Character: Nergui / Player: Deej @djkalis​

Character: Velis / Player: Kimi @kimlime-pie​

GM and all mentioned NPCs: Yours Truly

In approximate chronological order: 

Quotes

Neith, all the time: “It’s good craftsmanship.” (Also Neith, at one particular moment: “I guess you can say... it’s good cardsmanship.”)

Velis, at the start: “I am a librarian.” Neith and Mikyur, every chance they get: “Aren’t you a libraaarian?” “Shouldn’t you know about that, Mr. Libraaarian?”

Mikyur, oftentimes: “Here comes INSPI-YAAAAAHHH COURAAAAAAAGE!!!”

Brambleson: “I’m Brambleson. Who are you?” Mikyur: “Mikyur!” Neith: “Neith.” Velis: “I’m Velis.” Nergui: “Peter.”

Brambleson: “I got there late though, so I only got to eat [Sonnorae’s] feetsies...” The Party: “.........” *silent horror*

Neith: “Hey Brambleson, you wanna try some of this?” *holds out infinite hipflask of mead* Brambleson: “Ooohhh...” *opens his mouth and tilts head up* Neith: “...” *pours some directly into his mouth*  Brambleson: “OOOH it makes me tingly! I like it!”  *later, upon a separate encounter* Brambleson to Neith: “You got more of that drink?” 

*Going to Barrow Island*  Nergui: *flies over* Neith: *climbs the steep slippery banks with cat-like reflexes* Velis: *slips all over the mud, barely managing to scramble up to the top of the banks, his invisibility ruined as he is now covered in mud* Mikyur: *critically fails to climb the banks, slips and almost slides under the end of the drawbridge into the water*

Barrow King: “Are you here to mourn?” Nergui, with zero hesitation: “NO.” The rest of the party: “WHYYYYYY.” GM: “Roll initiative.” 

Velis: *shows that he can fight, sneak attack, inflict bleed damage, use poison, go invisible, etc.* Neith: “What kind of a librarian fights like that?” Velis: “Well, being a librarian isn’t my only job--” Nergui: “Are you a bandit?” Velis: “No, I’m n--” Nergui: “It’s okay to be a bandit.”

Mikyur: *wanders off in the Prophet’s Garden* Velis: *throws a rock at him to get his attention, dealing maximum damage* Mikyur: “OWW WHY DID YOU THROW ROCKS AT ME???!!!” *flips his shit and throws rocks back at Velis, missing three times before giving up and sulking* 

Sonnorae: *gets baleful polymorphed into a frog, still clings stubbornly to Mikyur’s face* Everyone else: *tries to pull her off with no success* Mikyur, with tears in his eyes: “Guys, guys! Just stop!”

Sonnorae: *screaming way too much and too shrilly as a frog* Nergui: “Do you want me to turn her into something quieter...” Mikyur, getting a lightbulb moment: “Can you turn her into... a mole?” Nergui, clicking his fingers: “Done.” Sonnorae: *turns into a golden mole*

Mikyur and Laz: *literally cries*

Neith: *finds some drawers hidden in the walls of the Nightpeddler’s machine room*  Kiyo: “I open a drawer.” GM: “You hear *demented shrill moaning and crying* and see this.”

Kiyo: “I slam the drawer close.” 

Nergui: *casts Blood Biography on blood and gore on a bed* “...These are birthing fluids.”  Velis: *recoils in visible disgust* Nergui: *holds his soiled finger out towards Velis* Velis: “Touch me and you’ll lose that finger, boy.” 

Nergui: “You know how... clerics get powers from their deities? Well, I have my own, lesser-known god, and I get my powers from him or her.” Neith, without missing a beat: “So you’re a swamp cleric.”

*After the Eclipse event* Neith: “We destroyed the moon.” Neith: Neith: “Now there’ll be no night.”

Anyone other than Deej, after an enemy dies: “hOW diD yOu DiE?” [see Actually Dramatic Moments]

Neith, as Eleith and Nergui speak Auran to one another: “Get a room!”

Neith, holder of multiple extradimensional items, after learning about the consequences of putting one bag of holding into another: “...Oh.”

Mikyur, looming over Jocob’s shoulder: “Do you have any insects?” Jocob: “Uh, I have this--” *pulls out a dried dragonfly in a jar* Mikyur: *snatches it*

Mikyur, looming again: “Do you have peanuts?” Jocob: “I have boiled peanuts--” Mikyur: “Don’t want it. I want roasted peanuts.” 

Velis: *seriously considers how to most brutally sabotage the Nightpeddler’s wares* Velis: *sees caged cockatrice chicks amongst his wares* Velis: 

Mikyur: *shoots a lightning-charged bolt from between Rogg’s legs, hitting an Ogre Guard in the thigh, while the lightning travels to zap the ogre’s testicles* Brambleson, watching all this up close: *covers his own testicles* 

Everyone: *watches Eleith tear the succubi apart brutally*  Algon: “I hope no-one is enjoying this.”  Brambleson: *pulls his ears down* 

Mikyur, after misunderstanding Essessol’s insult to Agrasug as directed at him, moving to a spot outside of the line of fire, Messages Essessol: “Stupid bitch!”

GM: “Algon uses Smite Evil! ...How does Smite work again--” Kiyo, instantly: “I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Neith, from inside a blue gem: “Hey Velis you look kinda blue.”  Velis: *internal panic, checks that he still has his disguise of human skin colour over his blue tielfling skin* 

Nergui, after a battle with shadow demons involving Magic Jars: “That wasn't too bad.” Mikyur, with smugshit face, having called it: “Uh-huh, having your soul sucked out of your body seems pretty bad to me.” Nergui: *closes the door between himself and Mikyur* Mikyur: *bars the door from the other side*

Mikyur: “What did I telllll you, huuuhhhhhh? Oh iT’s NOt A cULt, aSmODeuS dOESn’T Do CuLTs-- *continued unintelligible petty ranting*”

Velis: “There you are. I was about to find some rocks to throw at you again.” Mikyur: “Well I don't need to find rocks, I'll just have Rogg throw some at you!”  

GM: “Are you going to bring Eleith?” Deej: “Uh, no.” Neith to Nergui: “Gonna leave your girlfriend behind?” Ongaur to Nergui: “You got a girlfriend? Congratulations, boy!”

Zassrion: *roars in rage as the party enters his Grand Library* Neith, in Draconic: “FUCK YOU!”

All players: “Sonnobitch.”  All players: “Brambleboi.” All players: “Algon will be all-gone.” All players: “Ongaur Bongaur.” “Uncle Ongaur.”  All players: *ships Algon x Barrow King*

Clown Shoes Moments

Nergui buying forty full-sized pretzels and stuffing them all into his bag of holding. Bonus: Neith actually witnessing such act. 

Mikyur continuously failing to recall the details of his conversation with Rumul, the young Dwarven wizard, from two years ago.

Neith being in constant denial of magic. Everything is just “good craftsmanship”. 

Velis piling on lie after lie about his identity and putting in massive effort for his disguise, while the party remains suspicious the entire time and just don’t bother questioning him.

Nergui sucking at conferring information from his divination, often causing unnecessary panic or leaving out vital details.

Nergui eating nothing but pretzels (and the occasional frog or grub) for almost the entire duration of a week in the Harrowed Realm, and using pretzels to barter with Brambleson and Embor. 

Mikyur obsessing about seeing a Unicorn over the course of several sessions after seeing it on a card; by the time he actually gets to it, he becomes distracted by a pear tree instead.

Sonnorae --> Sonnobitch --> Sonnofrog --> Sonnomole

Nergui getting distracted by a frog while helping the others lift the healing berry plant out of the ground, and proceeding to literally drop everything to pounce on the frog.

Nergui accidentally putting the healing berry plant into a teapot with Tokens in them, and having to dig them back out discreetly.

Neith and Nergui trying to hastily restore Marzalee’s wax statues that they had broken on their way in, getting it all wrong (limbs on backwards, in the wrong places, extra/missing parts) in their panic.

The party really knowing how to make comfy camps.

Velis working out a way with Neith to store all the books he wants to take with him. It involves holding fees.

Velis trying and failing to set anything on fire at the Nightpeddler’s Camp.

Mikyur and Velis freaking out over cockatrice chicks.

Velis getting very fixated upon an expensive rug in the Nightpeddler’s tent.

Mikyur getting actually triggered by 1. Balimar’s fireball, 2. Nergui setting the Fortress’ Courtyard plants on fire, 3. Lamashtu’s statuette, and 4. the thought of cultists.

Brambleson having front row seats for multiple Striding Fortress fights, simultaneously being completely in the way.

Algon and the Barrow King always stepping past / beside / over one another. [Hence shipping.]

Neith and Mikyur literally bathing in the pile of coins.

Actually Cool Moments

Neith bursting through the tent of the Midnight Circus most dramatically, getting an intimidating jump on Bernaditi. 

Neith and her gun-fu.

Mikyur placating the Barrow King and the Grasping Dead by way of a critical hit with his lightning-charged crossbow, causing the electricity to radiate over the ground, eventually also winning the Barrow King’s favour and receiving his blessing.

The party, especially Velis, unanimously getting sick of the Unicorn’s condescending shit and deciding to murder him.

The party giving Algon an existential crisis, eventually leading to an alignment change.

Velis having just the right thing (Ticktock Man’s eyes) to trade Marzalee for her token.

Mikyur narrowly surviving Balimar’s fireball.

Nergui dominating Balio, giving him a sickle to kill himself. Balio, in rabid fury, swats away the sickle, and tears his own throat open. (Nergui, being spiteful, uses Blood Biography on him, asking him “How did you die?” to rewatch the violent death.)

Nergui straight up cutting the gangrene out of a sick slave’s leg with a dagger and no anaesthesia.

Eleith slowly tearing several succubi limb from limb, while everyone else watches on and offers the occasional ranged attack to help end the poor succubi’s misery.

Neith and Nergui succumbing to Magic Jar; their bodies overtaken by shadow demons, their eyes opening to black voids and bleeding smoky tendrils.

Nergui erecting a Blast Barrier just in time to block Zassrion’s lightning breath directed at Neith and himself.

Ongaur hacking Zassrion apart, and Algon somehow dealing the killing blow despite having lost his powers, rewriting his fate in the most dramatic way.

And finally, something memorable, funny, and awesome all at once...

The party making allies along the way, increasing the group to almost three times its initial size, and bringing a whole village to kill Zassrion in 24 seconds.

TBH I think Orochimaru's obsession with developing and discovering new jutsu is just a byproduct of his desire for immortality at any cost, and that his views of self-serving immortality was a gradual logical conclusion for him than an innate one.

Early Years

He was orphaned as a child and showed a desire to see his parents again. Hiruzen commented that the shed snake skin on his parents' graves is a symbol of rebirth and rejuvenation, and so Orochimaru naturally took that to heart and it became a motif of his fighting style and abilities. He grew up to see Jiraiya, despite being a fool, as a comrade, and he greatly respected Tsunade's chakra control and spirited nature (Orochimaru is far from a misogynist in any respect) as well as her ability to put Jiraiya in his place when he got too goofy. Orochimaru took Tsunade's little brother Nawaki under his wing, or at least doted on him as a friend of the Senju family or like an uncle. He was his sensei, so at least in an official capacity he had responsibilities toward him, responsibilities that were not inherently self-serving. And so he had at least four people (Hiruzen included) upon which he could say he was close to. 

Nawaki's Death

While Orochimaru was a quietly confident, reserved, and cagey individual in his early years, Nawaki's horrible death shook him as much as it did Tsunade. For the first time since the death of his parents, he felt an emptiness and sorrow that he was unable to properly fix the source of. He was powerless to reverse death then as a child as he was in that moment while watching Tsunade sob uncontrollably over her little brother's body. He was not one for tears, he was not one to feel despair in the capacity that everyone around him seemed freely able to do, but in his own way he felt it. The fragility of life, the ease in which people can pass away, and the finality of mortality -- pointless, it was pointless. And so his heart hardened more that day.

Dan's Death and Tsunade

Upon Tsunade's second tragedy with the death of her lover Dan (during the Second Shinobi World War), I feel like Orochimaru had by then developed his views to the point that love was not enough to shield people from their ultimate expendability in life. Tsunade loved Nawaki fiercely, and he died. Tsunade loved Dan fiercely, and he died. Orochimaru was orphaned at a very young age but he doesn't recall hating his parents, and they were dead.

He admired Tsunade's concurrent crusade to train medical nin and place them in team cells so as to significantly lower the mortality rate during missions--now pushed even more fiercely after Dan's death, but deep down inside he knew it was staving off the inevitable. Still, he did not find her contemptible for such efforts because they were driven by logic and strategy as well as passion.

Ame Orphans

Another thought: Before the Sannin split up to do their own thing (Jiraiya to travel; Tsunade to train medic nin, at least initially; Orochimaru to work with Danzo, I guess), the Sannin met Yahiko, Konan, and Nagato in the Rain village, again during the Second War. Orochimaru's first instinct was to kill them, but the line delivery of his suggestion was not one of malice or sadism but pity, and not even a mocking pity. The war with Hanzo and the destruction that they the Sannin had caused was not unknown to Orochimaru since he had a huge part in it, nor did he feel guilt about it, per se. He was realistic about it, just as he was realistic in claiming that the trio of kids would likely suffer from starvation and disease before dying cold and alone in some burned-down house. This was a very accurate assessment of the situation before Jiraiya intervened and decided to train them for a spell. This was perhaps one of the final times that Orochimaru displayed genuine sentiment at the thought of death as a form of personal loss and suffering rather than the individual as a unit/pawn that can be cultivated, manipulated, and ultimately broken or discarded when it can no longer be used.

Sakumo Hatake and Disaffection with the Leaf

While Tsunade has clearly shown that tragedy and death do not necessarily break an individual, shinobi are successful partly because that is one of their most enduring rules -- no emotion, get the mission done. This is just conjecture, but it is unlikely that Orochimaru had not at least had a passing conversation with Sakumo Hatake, given how much renown he accumulated as the “White Fang of Konoha” during the Second War, and the news of his suicide after being branded a disgrace for choosing to put the lives of his team over the success of the mission may have further solidified Orochimaru’s growing conviction that people fear death so much that they are willing to act irrationally and forego what is logically most beneficial for the group because death’s severing of peoples’ close bonds is more detrimental and dangerous than the potential for failure. 

And even though Sakumo succeeded in preventing the deaths of his comrades, his very human decision--a decision he was able to pull off because he was strong enough and capable enough to do so, an ability that Orochimaru did not possess in the moment when Nawaki died, an ability Tsunade did not possess when Dan died in her arms--still led to his death by his own hand. Tragic irony by this point was only becoming somewhat comical to Orochimaru, something that you can't help but laugh at because it is so ridiculous and yet the people around him are so blind. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch that this scandal, if Orochimaru had paid attention to it at all, wouldn’t have furthered his graudal dissatisfaction and contempt of the Leaf for their circumstantial and hypocritical war time politics. Orochimaru always operated in shades of gray, but the Leaf's inability to reconcile the psychological anchors of their soldiers with the requirements of a shinobi must have read to him as being foolish and wasteful and a futile attempt at denying human beings' true nature, a nature that he himself had begun to gradually shed over the years.

Little Side Note of Orochimaru's Ability to Connect with Others

To say "camaraderie" and "friendship" would sound too Shonen, because Orochimaru did not grow up without enjoying the company of his sensei and teammates, but he was someone who either had the willpower to cut those ties and find satisfaction in his own company (like how some people just prefer to be alone and never report feeling 'lonely'), and thus psychically fulfilled with his own person (arguably, like Sasori, or Kakuzu to a certain extent) or he was born with something that allowed him to form bonds with others but those bonds were separate from his Self. He could live and thrive without them, sever them if he had to when he pleased if they furthered his own goals. Opportunistic and self-sufficient, independent but not the point of being incapable of working in tandem with others. Mentally, he was more than versatile and can not be be placed squarely in either the "Does Not Play Nice With Others" or "A True Team Player" boxes. Whatever is best for the situation and the long run is good enough for him, and he is not someone who does not clutch his chest in pain when his actions unintentionally benefit another, unless that benefit interferes with his own net gain.

Tanzaku Town and the Offer of Resurrection

When Orochimaru and Tsunade finally met again in Tanzaku, I honestly don't think that Orochimaru was kidding when he said he would resurrect Tsunade's loved ones in exchange for her healing his arms. He had been working on this technique for a long-ass time, upgrading it from Tobirama's original jutsu, and he was more than willing to show it off and give her a taste of it in return for her services. This here is where Orochimaru's demented way of thinking seems to reveal itself most clearly, though: For Orochimaru, the most powerful driving force that can encourage or break someone is grief and love. He saw how Dan and Nawaki's deaths ruined Tsunade for a time and changed her to the point that she developed a severe phobia of blood after the former died of blood loss (something he used to shake her up to compel her to agree, what an asshole). Playing with her head aside, I think that in that moment, him offering her her loved ones back seemed logical to him. She had been pining for them for so long beneath all that brassy exterior and gambling and medical ninjutsu, so why would she not jump at the chance to see them again?

But he underestimated Tsunade's grudge factor and her own maturity. She was able to throw away the ability to see them because of what he had done to the Leaf Village, the place that all three Sannin had grown disillusioned with in their own way, and that surprised him big time because on top of him having been one of her closest companions for a long time and seeing how their deaths wrecked her he had also become a master at manipulation and human psychology to Hannibal Lecter-like levels.

Aaaand that's all I got. At what point he went all Dr. Machiavellian Mengele, I have no clue, but he wasn't a completely heartless bastard in the beginning.

Edit: Added a few more ideas cuz my thoughts were running in every direction when I first wrote this and I wanted to get them down as soon as possible. P.S. If you have any more insights or want to debate with me on any of the characters or backstories I have mentioned, please do. I am not an Orochimaru, Tsunade, Jiraiya, or Sakumo stan, so any of your insights would be coolio. Also, apologies for long-winded sentences. I don't breathe sometimes when I'm trying to make a thought and it reflects in how I write :O

ALL MY WIVES, PART 1

The next surah is about Mohammed’s sex life, I regret to tell you, and so now is as good a time as any to discuss Mohammed’s many wives and sex slaves. Islam allows men to have four wives at any one time, but as we will see in the next surah, this does not apply to Mohammed, who can have as many wives as he wants. Straight men really be like that.

These will be brief biographies of his wives... but even so, I need multiple posts to discuss all of them. The man had a damn collection.

KHADIJA: A wealthy businesswoman who inherited money from her deceased husband’s estate and used it to grow her caravan, Khadija bint Khuwaylid was Mohammed’s first and only wife back when he was semi-normal in the pre-Islamic days. She was the mother of his only surviving children, and is therefore the ancestor to every person who claims descent from Mohammed himself. Despite that, frustratingly little is said of Khadija in reputable sources. We can put together a very basic outline of her life: she was born into a merchant family of the Banu Asad clan of the Quraysh. She was married twice before she met Mohammed, with both of her husbands being traders who died young. Between those two husbands, she had at least three and possibly up to five surviving children. Very little is said about them.

According to Ibn Ishaq’s sira, Mohammed was one of Khadija’s merchant contractors, hired to travel with the caravan to and from Syria. Upon his return, al-Tabari says that “he brought Khadijah her property, which she sold for twice the price or nearly so”. Khadija was impressed by his skills and proposed to him. Mohammed was unmarried at the time and accepted her proposal. Most sources say she was older than he was, though the actual age difference between the two varies from source to source.

The two seem to have had a fairly normal life until shortly before 610 AD, at which point Mo became increasingly withdrawn and reclusive. They had several children, some of whom died in childhood, as was typical for the era. Their surviving children were all girls--four daughters named Zaynab, Roqaya, Umm Kulthum, and Fatima. If you guessed that virtually nothing is said about Mohammed’s own goddamn children in reputable sources, you are correct! All we can say for sure is that all four ended up becoming Muslims, though the eldest stayed with her polytheistic husband in Mecca; he was later kidnapped by Mo’s goons in Medina and Zaynab was “encouraged” to go join her dad. All of them seem to have died of disease fairly young, in their twenties and thirties. Fatima is the only one who outlived Mohammed, but barely. We'll see more of Fatima later.

Khadija herself was, according to the biographies anyway, the first person Mohammed told about his whole angel-visiting adventures. The biographies state that Khadija had a cousin named Waraqa, who had converted to Christianity some years prior. He assured her that what Mohammed was talking about was similar to the message of Moses and said that he was a prophet. Waraqa conveniently dies and disappears from the story thereafter, and Gabriel ghosts on Mo for a while. Hmm.

The Prophet (ﷺ) then described whatever he had seen. Waraqa said, "This is the same Angel (Gabriel) who was sent to Moses. I wish I were young." He added some other statement. Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) asked, "Will these people drive me out?" Waraqa said, "Yes, for nobody brought the like of what you have brought, but was treated with hostility. If I were to remain alive till your day (when you start preaching). then I would support you strongly." But a short while later Waraqa died and the Divine Inspiration was paused (stopped) for a while so that Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) was very much grieved.

Regardless, Khadija seems to have believed Mohammed. And she stuck by her poor demented man’s side for around nine years after the prophet business started. According to most accounts, she, Ali (Mohammed’s younger cousin, who lived with them), and their adopted son Zayd (whose story we will be seeing this surah) were the first Muslims, other than Mohammed. Al-Tabari relates a story of a man stating:

I was a merchant, and I came during the pilgrimage and stayed with (Mohammed’s uncle) al-'Abbas. While we were with him, a man came out to pray and stood facing the Ka'bah. Then a woman came out and stood praying with him, followed by a youth who stood praying with him. I said, "'Abbas, what is this religion? I do not know what this religion is."

He answered, "This is Muhammad b. 'Abdallah, who claims that God has sent him as His Messenger with this (religion), and that the treasures of Chusroes and Caesar (Persian and Byzantine kings) will be given to him by conquest. This woman is his wife Khadijah bt. Khuwaylid, who has believed in him, and this youth is his cousin 'Ali b. Abi Talib, who has believed in him."

(Give yourself a pat on the back if you can spot the continuity error in this story.)

Again, surprisingly little is said about Khadija thereafter, even from not-entirely-reputable sources. It’s said that she was charitable. There’s a mention of how her relatives gave her supplies to get around that sketchy-sounding failed “boycott” of the Banu Hashim that we talked about. Then she dies in the year 619 AD. That’s literally all that is said about her in the early biographies and histories. It’s especially frustrating because we’re told over and over that Khadija was respected by the Quraysh, so you’d think she played an important role in the early years of Islam, right? Being a brand ambassador of sorts? But it never really says that.

Part of the problem with Khadija is that she kicked the bucket before the migration to Medina--and as we’ve seen before, there’s just a lot more written about the Medina days than the Mecca days. So Khadija ends up disappearing from the story a bit, even though she was clearly either the most prominent or one of the most prominent of Mohammed’s wives. But even after her death, she remained Mohammed’s favorite wife, in addition to Aisha (who was jealous of Mo’s devotion to her memory). Mo seems to have had a decreased sperm count or something in his older days, so he only conceived one other child that we know of, and that child died. Khadija’s status as the mother of his only adult children permanently put her above the other women.

SAUDA: After Khadija died, Mohammed needed someone to take care of his daughters. Enter Sauda. Again there is little said about her in the reputable sources, but what we can put together is this: Sauda was from the Banu Amir ibn Luayy clan of the Quraysh and was married to a guy named as-Sakran ibn Amr, who was a merchant and the brother of a Qurayshi leader named Suhayl ibn Amr. They had one child. The family converted to Islam fairly early on, though the exact time and circumstances are unknown, and the details of Sakran’s later life are a bit sketchy (some sources say he died of illness, others say he left Islam). They lived together in the Muslim trading community in Abyssinia for a while, then Sauda and her son returned to Mecca. Upon her return, she sought Mohammed’s blessing for another marriage. He offered to marry her himself, as Khadija had been dead for about a year. Sauda accepted and became his daughters’ caretaker. That was her primary role in Casa Mohammed.

Aisha did like Sauda, for those keeping track, even though she repeatedly called her a fattie. And yes, that will also be relevant this surah. She didn’t leave much of a definitive mark on Islamic history beyond that incident. Presumably she was quite close to Mohammed’s daughters, since she took care of them, but there isn’t much said about their relationship.

In Mohammed’s last years of life, Sauda allowed him to stop performing his “husbandly duties” with her, knowing that he was not attracted to her. She donated her allotted time with Mohammed to Aisha instead. This is often presented as Sauda’s way of ensuring he did not divorce her.

Little is said about her later life, but she probably outlived Mohammed by at least a few years. Al-Tabari says her son died during the Islamic army’s invasions of Persia.

AISHA: Ah, Aisha, the one that makes everyone uncomfortable. Aisha was the younger daughter of Abu Bakr, who was a wealthy merchant from the Banu Taym clan of the Quraysh. Abu Bakr was well-known, influential, and respected in his community, and his conversion to Islam was a very big deal. (The exact timing of his conversion is uncertain--it was early, for sure, but early Muslims’ desperate attempts to say that he converted before Ali or any other man are probably bullshit.) He was the biggest sucker Mohammed picked up in those early years. Mo thought it would be a good idea to tie himself to his new lackey as tightly as possible, and there was no better way to do it than marry his daughter.

Even though many people really wish it weren’t true, Aisha was by unanimous agreement (prior to the 20th century, when Muslims realized ppl were making fun of them for it) six to seven years old at the time of the marriage. They were technically married before Sauda came into the picture, though they did not start living together as man and child wife until she was nine, by which point they’d moved to Medina. Evidently Mo, being a gentleman, waited for her to start her period before taking her into his bed. Now that’s classy.

While the marriage was obviously a political thing combined with deeply questionable morality, Mohammed would later tell Aisha that Allah himself wanted them to get married.

the Prophet (ﷺ) said to her, "You have been shown to me twice in my dream. I saw you pictured on a piece of silk and some-one said (to me). 'This is your wife.' When I uncovered the picture, I saw that it was yours. I said, 'If this is from Allah, it will be done."

As Mohammed’s youngest wife and prime grooming victim, Aisha would quickly establish herself as The Favorite, to the point that his other wives felt neglected. Aisha was often childish and petty as a kid, but Mohammed indulged her (given that she was, you know, a child). Her antics seemed to amuse him. We’ve already seen some of Aisha’s trials and tribulations in her teenage years, like The Slander, but through it all she remained his favorite wife; he died by her side.

Aisha is a complicated character, and modern Muslims’ reluctance to talk about her (beyond saying she narrated a lot of ahadith) due to the child bride issue doesn’t help anyone understand her any better. Remember, she was only eighteen when Mo died. Her father had just become the leader of their community, and not everyone was happy about it. In the ensuing decades, the Muslims would encounter tensions and civil strife that pit the core members of the Qurayshi Muslims against one another.

Since Mohammed was the sun that the Muslims’ world revolved around, those who knew him best automatically had a great deal of power, and Aisha knew that people would want to know as many personal details as possible about her deceased husband. Details that only she knew. And she would use that opportunity to shape her own legacy. Whenever there was a question about the proper Islamic way of doing things, or whether something was or was not permissible, Aisha could just say “well, when the Prophet was with me, he’d do it this way”, and several debates were ended on the basis of her testimony. Was everything she said true? Honestly, probably not (more on that later), but the girl knew how to play the game.

When this project is over, I’m gonna have an epilogue where I go over this, but for now let it suffice to say that Aisha’s most controversial moment came after the death of the caliph Uthman. The fallout of his assassination, and differing opinions over what to do about it, provoked a political crisis. Some decisions she made resulted in sectarian issues that persist to this day. If you want my personal opinion: given that she was forced to marry a cult leader as a child (and her dad was kind of a dick to her too, even beyond that), prevented from marrying thereafter, called a whore and belittled as a teenager, and roped into the political conflicts of a rapidly expanding imperial state, she did pretty damn alright for herself.

Regardless, after the whole Uthman fiasco, Aisha kind of fades from the record (along with every other woman tbh). She lived for quite a while, dying in the 670s AD, but her adventuring days were long behind her.

HAFSA: Umar’s eldest daughter; Hafsa was already married to some irrelevant guy as a teenager and was left widowed when he died. Her father offered her to both Abu Bakr and Uthman, but they turned him down, knowing that Mohammed wanted her for himself. Shortly thereafter, around the year 624 AD, Mohammed suggested the marriage. Umar accepted the match and they were wed when she was roughly 19 years old. Like Aisha, this was almost certainly a political move--Umar was Bro #2, and Mohammed wanted to bring him into the family. (Bro #3, Uthman, would go on to marry two of Mohammed’s own daughters.)

Hafsa’s most notable contribution in Islamic history is usually said to be her involvement in the collection of the Quran. But the ahadith actually flesh out her character to a surprising extent. To me, it seems like she had a sort of bitchy friendship with Aisha, with Hafsa irritated by her younger sister-wife’s status as The Favorite but still drawn to her, as the two were the youngest of Mohammed’s early wives. Their interactions always make me laugh. Here, for example, is a story from when Mohammed was dying:

[Aisha said:] Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) in his last illness said, "Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." I said, "If Abu Bakr stood in your place, he would not be able to make the people hear him owing to his weeping. So please order `Umar to lead the prayer." He said, "Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." I said to Hafsa, "Say to him, 'Abu Bakr is a softhearted man and if he stood in your place he would not be able to make the people hear him owing to his weeping. So order `Umar to lead the people in the prayer.' " Hafsa did so but Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "Keep quiet. Verily you are the companions of (Prophet) Joseph (referring to those ladies from the Joseph story). Tell Abu Bakr to lead the people in the prayer." Hafsa said to me, "I never got any good from you."

Here’s another good one. Umar was his usual dickish self to his poor daughter and reminded Hafsa that Mohammed liked Aisha better than her, so I dunno, maybe living with Mohammed instead of her father wasn’t such a terrible trade-off. We’ll see more of Hafsa in a later surah and find out why Mohammed briefly divorced her. She outlived Mohammed and died around age 50.

ZAYNAB 1: This woman was named Zaynab bint Khuzayma and basically nothing is known about her because she died of disease barely a year after Mohammed married her. She was probably around 30 years old and had been previously married to a man who was unlucky enough to die at Badr. Other biographies say he instead died at Uhud. No one can agree on who the guy even was, though usually he's said to have been one of Mohammed's many cousins. Zaynab 1′s one notable detail mentioned in some biographies is that she gave food to a poor beggar once. Other than that, there’s nothing much to say. 

UMM SALAMA: Real name Hind bint Abi Umayya, Umm Salama’s father had been a wealthy merchant and one of the leaders of Mecca, and her first husband was one of Mohammed’s cousins via his aunt. (One of her father's other wives was also an aunt of Mohammed, showing how all the important Qurayshi families were connected to each other.) As such, she was an upper-class woman.

She and her husband converted to Islam early on and were some of the first to move to Abyssinia, where the Muslims lived in a merchant community along the coast across the sea from Arabia. When they returned home, they moved to Medina with the other Muslims (a hadith mentioned by Ibn Ishaq says that Umm Salama was originally caught in a scuffle between her clan and her husband’s clan and prevented from leaving, but then they let her go), but Umm Salama’s husband later died of wounds he’d incurred at Uhud. As she was from an important family, the widow of his cousin, and a mother of young children, Mohammed offered to marry her.

There are some ahadith that, taken together, suggest that Umm Salama was one of Mohammed’s most respected wives, especially after his death. That is not particularly surprising given her pedigree and her family’s status. In particular, she is assigned the role of Ali’s primary supporter among Mohammed’s widows in the mess that unfolded after Uthman’s death, with Aisha leading the wives in the other camp. (We’ll get to that eventually.) There are stories that indicate that she was quite close to both Fatima and Ali and that she defended Ali against accusations of incompetence and inadequacy. A few Shia traditions also have her weeping in the aftermath of the Battle of Karbala, which resulted in the death of Fatima and Ali’s son Hussein. Beyond these two incidents, little is said of her later days (are you detecting a theme yet?), though she evidently lived into her 80s.

⇚ previous day | next day ⇛

Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988)/

Halloween 5: The Revenge of

Michael Myers (1989)

gluishtuuks: return/revenge flick, Pleasence in extremis, creepy uncle, seasonal afflictive disorder, Haddonfield follies, formula soluable

This review is tougher to justify than the Ms. 45 one, which at least I hadn't seen. These two I am somewhat well acquainted with, and am pretty sure are more bad than good. Not to mention Wham City's pseudo-interactive livestreamed call-in melodrama (The Call of Warr) is back on Adult Swim for the next few days. If it's as scary, hilarious, demented and original as last year's The Cry of Mann (they even did a fantastically vapid accompanying show-about-a-show parody called Tanking Mann), then there is next to no reason to be wasting my time with these crummy sequels.

But I made this arbitrary October commitment, so I'm gonna go ahead and shovel some overdue dirt on this sorry pair and pat it down.

First of all, there's Donald Pleasence. He don't look so good. Particularly in Revenge, it seems as though the movie itself is trying to kill him as we watch on, bemused and more than a little bored. Danielle Harris is Laurie Strode's daughter Jamie, who is now a foster child, but her uncle strides past the Videodrome-for-dummies corporate death conspiracy (easily the best sequel, both because of and despite its crazy Michael-less storyline, for starters) and death itself to cut that family line. Harris was great as Furry Tom and the thorn in her McClane-redux-daddy's side in The Last Boyscout. She's solid here too, conveying more believable traumatized intensity than either film earns.

I was ten when I first got steeped in these sorts of movies, and the ruthlessly simple machinery just worked. The mockery of the more silly elements (though more so with the Friday/Elm Street movies) was often over-eager, barely containing the rising dread. That the anticipation dulls with age is a phenomenon often fixed on the viewership, but I'd argue that the blame lies more with cynically crude bottom-lining, crass presumptions of audience by the money. Horror is a genre with merit beyond watching people get butchered, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who'd go too far to attest to as much. No matter what you're watching, exploitation is the name of the game. But if you're producing, as is the case here, purely rote content, who can blame a viewer for glazing over till the killing starts?

Depsite some nice flourishes here and there, the Jamie saga portion of this franchise is as dull as it is anti-climactic. Particularly regarding the kills, which are all flat. The original and naturally best of the series wasn't particularly gory, but it had a lot more on the ball than anything that came after. It was working within budget constraints, but its perfect score and naturally winning cast (namely Curtis, PJ Soles and Nancy Kyes) and masterfully scored autmnal atmosphere made it work. These two films strive to recapture that original spark, but wind up feeling like drab, minor, tv movie-slight variations.

At a glance they may seem classier than the Friday the 13th stuff, but that's kind of what makes them obnoxious. They're slashers with delusions of thematic heft. The fact that they manage to stick some of their stylistic landings only seems to make this pretense worse. In Return there is a droning minimalist credit sequence comprising a series of drab, desolate country exteriors. It is a great mood setter, but when we leave these outskirt locations for the suburbs, it seems superfluous. All the best stuff happens outside of Haddonfield. Loomis gets nearly blown up at a sevice station, then hitches a ride with the boxcar hobo from Pee Wee's Big Adventure (still boozin' his cares away, but with a somehow worse singing voice and a sweet gig as a turn of the century fire and brimstone preacher). Sam actually smiles in this bit, and the unPleasence of this is mitigated by the fact that its a small relief to see the man take a brief siesta from the ceaseless wide-eyed flailing.

After that (and this holds for Revenge as well) it seems as though aping the highschool crush mini-drama of the original and endless hallucinatory false scares is supposed to suffice. Loomis would be hilarious in his stumbling mania were it not for the fact that he seems more horrific to poor Jamie than her stabby Uncle Mike. It doesn't help that, as has oft been remarked, they kept fucking with the mask to worse and worse effect, leaving one to wonder if it was ever scary to begin with. One thing's for sure, "humanizing" Michael (apparently what they were going for in Revenge) was never the fucking point! He was called "the shape" for good reason.

Even if they're roughly the same ratioed templates, Revenge squeaks ahead in the quirky teen dept. Though its anachronistic greaser boyfriend in Revenge pales in comparison to those rat-a-tat-tooie boys in the fifth Friday movie (and we have to spend considerably less time with them). But Jamie's friend (foster sister? who fuckin' cares) Tina is actually kinda charming and smarter seeming than her ditsy lines and misguided notions (including ones of neon-hearted love w/r/t the aforementioned greaser) would suggest.

Sadly, it looks like Tina's Wendy Kaplan may've never went on to anything more substantial. But here's as good a place as any to remind people that there's much more to Donald Pleasence than this babbling shrink with a gun (or the Bond villain, Blofeld). Despite having some decently budgeted technical chops (most exemplified in Jamie's nerve shredding, claustrophobic knife/laundry chute sequence in Revenge), these two are not the beat use of one's viewing time. So why not check out the 1971 film Wake In Fright? Directed by Ted Kotcheff (First Blood), its a nasty, sweaty, drunken trip set in the outback with a lively Pleasence, unhinged as you've never seen him. And if you've seen it, see it again. It's better than both of these movies combined, with a lot of room to spare.

Halloween movies ranked:

10/11

Halloween 1/2 (Rob Zombie has too much money and no/dumb ideas. shoulda just stuck with that rusty rutabega mudflap metal what made him famous)

9

Halloween: Resurrection (reality tv premise bites hard, though that similarly plotted Tales from The Crypt ep with Morton Downey Jr.* was a hoot)

8

Halloween: The Curse of MM (Paul Rudd is wonderful and all, but he cannot begin to save this tedious exercise in myth padding - but here's a clip anyway.)

7

Halloween 5 (roman numerals...

6

Halloween [2018] (I can remember nothing about this, except that I don't see myself watching it again. i guess it was loud and expensive, and wasted Judy Greer and Toby Huss. Just another cash-grab reboot nail in imagination's coffin.)

5

Halloween 4 ...are for squares, man!)

4

Halloween II (creepy enough, strangely dreary, but more than a bit sluggish)

3

H20 (the boarding school setting works and its slick cast and production values don't smooth over the grit. plus there's the weird kid from The Ice Storm that Christina Ricci deflowers)

2

Halloween III: Season of the Witch (Tom Atkins, heads exploding into bugs and snakes, mustard-bleeding robuts and a catchy jingle. Bites off more than it manages to chew, but in an uncommonly satisfying way)

1

Halloween (best John Carpenter film after The Thing and one of the best horror films period)

* "Television Terror"/S02/E16/1990

We open a lawsuit on bjA in the class action I'm going to put his name on it my son Christopher akerley, he's been abused by this monster who posed as his brother and really is sick retarded demented sadistic cannibal uncle and now he's the director of the CIA and abusing the crap out of him so we're going to start abusing the crap out of him I'm going to deliver lawsuits to his office class action lawsuits with my son's name on it to his office in the CIA over and over and over we did today it works great guy flips out has a bird calls people we kill them all bring them all in go after his people and take it around nobody keeps suing the a****** for a teeny bit of money and taking just so much money it's about 100 million non-alien non-alien each time and that's the true number if not too small and we take it in the form of gold and platinum and money and anything that is currency stocks Von's businesses he's a complete fool and the problem is what he's been telling us the whole time is I have a problem with this one he's going to sacrifice anything to bother me he's a f****** huge f**** and I want to go on so we're working on it and I'm going to put lawsuits up on him and sue him he doesn't show up we're going to arrest him and we're going to keep doing it everyday just like Gu and Goddess drops the message off cuz he keeps doing it daily. So we're going to do that too we're going to have Bitol and Goddess Wife sue bjA for us and we are Gu and Goddess Wife. A bunch of us are lining up because they see your idea you have a demon Sue you go in there and you just drop the lawsuit in and you have the plaintiff is a demon and we just start ripping him apart cuz they'll say no so you're going to have someone stand in for you and you can do that too and it's going to be illegalese and it's going to be the guy that looks like Satan on TV which is actually bja I guess they're going to see him killing everybody and think it's him little jackass needs to pay it's very very insulting I feel like getting a machete and attacking every single one of them I'm looking assholes and stare at me so I see it's extremely sensitive no he sits and turns you on and pisses people off it's very bad dangerous so going after him and I dropped it on his desk I said you've been served and I hear and I see that you have it took a picture with him with it and said you're being sued as your character it's going in the paper right now so he tried to stop and you couldn't people saw your name and said this is ridiculous these people are suing us because of this a****** so I'll try to get him out of there and they couldn't they notice is a real pain in the ass so when he laughs at is he's very clever he's got him in this position and they trick him and then they switch out things and he gets Williams and he gets killed and he hurts Max because he's incompetent in his level of performance will never match ours and I'll never rash Max and he's always in the way is he just uses threats on families and kids and all sorts of dumb things it's completely useless to their people useless so eventually you might figure out that Dracula has all the stuff but right now he's a complete f**** and he's running around bothering our son to no end and is looking for power and it's not here and he can't understand it it's probably threatening for orkin Dracula and this is what he's doing cuz he's a moron you can't tell him so we're going to sue him and sue him every day and kill off his character until he doesn't come back.

We're opening it up with the Prilosec lawsuit and it makes sense because he is elevarney and he's the one who is hurting Arnold and he's the one who said he treated and had him let go a little and all of a sudden Arnie got very mad and he said we're not into this Brian and who are you grafting onto your body that looks like that and the girls got up and said what are you doing and they said they take care of it and all of a sudden they started to figure out something he's fighting for his life against this piece of s*** and he says this you all are and you don't know it they are complete losers professor Green that I did a study and it turned out to become a book it's called Lord of the flies she was amazed because that's what professor Green said eventually and he said the study turned out to prove this that their w**** can assholes to anybody but they grow and grow because they're like bugs we thought they were bugs and brains are wired similar ways they're just complete jerks then he says well that's not entirely true because he probably was mutated permanently in the womb using certain bugs and other things but a lot of bug juice all of a sudden we suddenly got some idea here he's got to go I mean he's an irate bug that's correct and they're going to bug out about it all the time and that's all they're going to do it's their clothes not their kids the kids are probably more human and they are.

So now you see the problem if this case you ever gained their brains they would be Wicked adversaries and very very permeating so we can't allow anything to go wrong and I can't allow it to go out of control and we need this guy to shut up it's way out of control I'm going to fight as men not realize who might allow this thing to let it get out of control he's worse than there sorry to admit something this is what I'm thinking these people have to get out of the way and there's performing that job well that's supposed to take cuz the truth that's what I found actually doing the job the only thing that's ever saving us is me and Thor sometimes and incrementing incriminating and all the stuff and decimating them based on what he's doing to take his territory in a small group you know what I said and Thor in a small group with him are taking him on like by themselves and his maddening and they're defeating him but it's very difficult and here's why so now tons of people are helping and we have volunteers we're making this group that goes after them huge they destroying them they sound very dumb because they are and he said what is a bug like that's what he's like so no you can control it don't suggest bug juice he laid off the bunches felt a lot better when this room and cried because he's weak even though he felt pretty good I said after a while you realize that having no emotions as a bug it's not good you figured out something someone's having to do that nope.

Listen to cut something from him he wants to have no emotions so I can do his job and cut everybody off so now I'm going to go after him permanently we've had it I went right up the report and the rosary eliminated at all costs destroy him

So he was eleva varney and BG was doing her as his wife and she's constantly screwing him over with stupid stuff you figured it out rip s*** on her him I said who's torso is that he can hit him from the neck here upwards so he started laughing and said I can only hit you right here and sliced his head right off. You find out who's torso it was and he went and reattached and left his head there and somebody came by his wife and put it back on someone really hard part about it was that he kept on trying to get BG's torso and BG's kept explaining I'm the one that shoots you don't come after me I'm going to shoot you I said I don't care I have to go after you did that I wonder if that's what JFK's who said this is your character I don't care it's like okay bang that's kind of funny but you know you have this like social issues and Mac can easily play on you're blaming me I'm going to wipe out half your clan and race if you blame me as a matter of fact I've got to teach you lesson now and how to speak to me probably a lesson f*** you shut the f****** you understand that little turd now you're going to die for what you're doing and you deserve it yes you do

How the idiot reacts does he starts saying stuff that's nasty in the past and our son hits him about 500 times each time sometimes in separate occasions and the guys dying all over the place people see his stuff all sudden the side to bring all these black guys came out of nowhere and started hitting a little s***

So suing Ella varney. They're bringing a suit on bjA for impressing his mother whom he killed and yes representing it in part of the class action and assuming BjA. for impersonating his brother. We're putting a bunch of them in the paper with our son's name on it because we want to be known that he's suing this a****** for that kind of stuff and with suing him for killing Mac Daddy practically in front of him because it's a threat on our son and us and we're bringing that action and we're going to go to the end of the Earth until he pays us out of pocket I'm suing for a lot of money a ton half of his empire if he doesn't pay up I'm going to grab it and he has a time limit it's 20 days from the resolution of the matter if you if he neglects to try and fight it he has to pay meaning if he doesn't show he has to pay and we're going to leave it with the courts yes and we've been doing that we told him we didn't pay and several many occasions and the judge was ordered people to pay and they're going through Brian killing them off in order to get to someone who would

We increased the value of our son's lawsuit to include pain and suffering lost wages lost income from inventions and we're going to have him pay for it all cuz he has enough money to cover and we're going after it now and if he doesn't pay him we're going to kill him until he does it's life or you pay you never pay so we're just going to kill him and take it all and then we're going to leave it with the court to pay our son. We confiscated a lot of our son's money and we have the court get the money to him cuz they want to and they should they should be Justice for this Injustice he's an unholy pain in the ass and they will get it to and they will say that it's your money and to put in the letter and it comes and gets it will make sure it goes well it doesn't over there and BJ will start messing with them this is how it starts because we've had enough he's had enough long time ago but really we've had enough of this bjA guy.

I think you my son for your time this has been a very valuable experience and we're going to go after him hard and we're going to sue him hard I'm going to get a team of Max 2 with lawyers some sick and tired of you getting nothing this a****** weird piece of s*** bother you with all this dumb stuff the guy should shut up everyone should learn from it you'll go around blabbing at people who sit there with a gun say look everybody around me is deadly they want weapons not your dumbass so until he learns we're going to keep killing him cuz he says well he attacks Mac Daddy and doesn't have any drawbacks or whole bags or nothing and nobody really was attacking him not even us that's time for us to attack this piece of crap constantly cuz he's always around he's always bothering me we have to have Force here to stop him every single second of the day or we have delinquency if deficiency need deficiency report written up by each Olympus head so there's a 15 of them cuz I can't write it on security here regards to everybody and write the biggest defender and biggest threat we'll figure out what's going on

He says we have sue the crap out of you BjA

It didn't threatening future of offspring by attacking me in the nuts I've been doing faulty surgery neck criminal negligence purposeful attempted homicide on many occasions sue for everything he has. But I want at least my money and that's going to really hit home with the max because of withhold stuff from people all the time and eventually they may drop this thing that is this part of the plan to get back at everybody because they're sitting there getting back in the Max and their mouth is so rude I can't believe they take it and they had this plan to feed the guy to cage and it doesn't seem to care at all I mean it is just amazing cuz just brazen complete freaking f** there's the monster there it's not your friend see you're getting eaten your head's gone he says

Thor Freya

The Reluctant Guardian, ch. 20

*gross sobbing*

Needless to say, this is not a fun chapter by any stretch of the imagination. Once again, buckle up. Also, a special thanks to @mpuzzlegirl for help with this chapter.

Disclaimer: this takes place post canon, and this refers to events that take place in an alternate verse. Michael belongs to @mpuzzlegirl; Rowen, Sylvie, and the twins belong to me; and YGO and its associated characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

Never in a million years did Michael expect to find himself in a situation such as this.

It had been bad enough separating from Rowen in that building, fearing that he would lose his cousin. It had been bad enough fleeing through the strange complex, using every single skill he had learned from his father about evasion and redirection. It had been even worse returning and facing not just the twins, but a frantic Sylvie who had woken up to find her brother gone and in danger.

Then Dartz had appeared from literally nowhere, whisked past them all as a maelstrom of fury and magic, and then disappeared through the front door. Michael had thought then that the situation was astronomically worse, because Dartz had been palpably furious.

When Rowen had come back, Michael had initially been so relieved to see his older cousin safely home that he had not taken full stock of his cousin’s shell-shocked and dazed expression until Dartz had started yelling at him. It was uncalled for and he had stepped in to defend his cousin. When Rowen had not made a move to defend himself, though, he had taken stock of the older boy. That was when he had noticed the pale features, his lips thinning and brown eyes darkening until Michael did not recognize Rowen.

When Rowen spoke, his voice was soft. "You knew."

He only said two words, but it was as if he had yelled. The twins flinched and Sylvie moved behind Michael, her eyes wide. Michael instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulder, watching Rowen with wariness for the first time he could ever remember.

Rowen had only used that tone of voice once before. Once, in all the fourteen years Michael had known him, and if he was using it now then something was wrong.

"You. Knew." Rowen repeated, and Michael frowned. Knew what? He held up a hand to quiet the twins when they started to ask, a strong sense of foreboding twisting his stomach uncomfortably.

There was a long pause, in which Dartz seemed to weigh his response very carefully. Then his shoulders slumped and the man softly inhaled. "…I did.”

At this point the twins looked to Michael and both mouthed what are they talking about? He was aware of Sylvie’s eyes on him as well, since her older brother was not looking at her. Michael could not explain anything yet and so kept his focus on Rowen.

"Why?” Rowen asked at last. There was an angry tremor in his voice. “You watched us for almost two weeks, Dartz. You knew we were grieving, you watched us mourn and cry for what we lost, and you knew the whole time we mourned for nothing."

The foreboding grew stronger and Michael felt something in his chest clench. He couldn’t be talking about…it was not possible…

Was it?

Rowen’s voice rose into a snarl. "They need your help! You've known, and yet you've done nothing to help them!”

Michael had been frozen by the sudden realization—the full significance—behind Rowen’s sudden anger. Rowen was so hard to rile up and to make angry, and the only reason Rowen would ever be so furious was if it was directly related to his family or those he loved.

Michael’s knees shook and he paled, the room starting to spin. The twins were stiffening in place, Claire’s hand rising slowly to cover her mouth. The older children, in one moment of horrifying clarity, realized who Rowen was talking about.

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN OUR PARENTS WERE ALIVE?!”

Rowen’s roar echoed the one that thundered in Michael’s thoughts.

                                       ++++++++++++++

Rowen felt as if he was coming apart, legs trembling and eyes burning. He wanted to yell, he wanted to throw things, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to punch Dartz, he wanted to do something, anything, that would stop him from hurting so badly.

“Our…our parents are alive?” It was Claire who had spoken, her voice thin and fragile. The amount of hope in her voice, however, made Rowen’s heart break. “Rowen, they’re alive?”

“Are they okay?” Michael asked, his voice matching Claire’s and holding just as much hope and disbelief as hers. “Did you see them? Are they safe?”

Rowen did not get the opportunity to answer. Dartz had quietly sighed and in a moment his focus was back on the other man. The anger, which had cooled at the sound of his cousin’s voices, blazed back into life.

“I’ve known for some time.” Dartz’s voice was cool, neutral. His eyes were blank, nothing reflecting his thoughts in any lines of his features. “I have not known for months at a time, but I have known longer than you that your parents lived.”

“Some time,” Rowen repeated. He did not even realize it was his voice that had spoken—he did not recognize the cold derision in his own voice. “How long is some time?”

“This is not something I want to discuss with you being this distraught, so I want you to—”

“NO.”

Rowen’s voice was a snarl. Outside, there was one final clap of thunder before the heavens opened up and the rain started slashing against the house. This was Rowen’s storm, and it had begun to unleash its full fury.

He waved to his cousins and sister, jaw clenching. “We have waited long enough. That was my father, Dartz. My. Father. He is back there, in some generic office building, being held hostage to play teacher to a bunch of demented lunatics and doing so with a damn bomb strapped to his neck. I. Want. ANSWERS.”

“A WHAT?” Sora’s eyes widened, while Claire swore sharply. Sylvie looked ready to cry. “Uncle Raph has a bomb on ‘im?”

Rowen could have kicked himself—great, now he had scared his cousins even further. He could not make himself look at them at that moment. If he did he knew he would lose what little control he had left over his emotions. Still, his heart twisted as he heard the start of a whimpered sob bubble from his little sister.

“You’re in shock, Rowen,” Dartz said quietly, bringing him back to the conversation.

An unsteady laugh rose out of his throat. “Oh really? That tends to happen when someone comes face to face with their dead father.”

“You need to calm yourself. I am doing what I can for your parents.”

“Like what?” Rowen challenged suddenly, his own eyes flashing. “Tell me how you’re helping them. For that matter, how is your progress with stopping a dead magic from reviving, hm? You don’t seem to be any closer to solving this problem!”

Rowen had come dangerously close to saying the Orichalcos out loud, and even in his anger Rowen knew better than to say that out loud. Still, he knew he would have to deal with the mention of magic with his cousins later. It was only a distant realization, however—his current focus was on the long-haired man in front of him.

“I have already told you I am doing what I can,” Dartz said. He sounded as if he was struggling to reign in his temper. “I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Rowen’s laugh was bitter. “I’ve been doing just that! I’ve tried! In spite of what I heard about you, in spite of everything you’ve done, I trusted you. You asked me to give you a chance, so I did. And yet, you reward that by telling us half-truths or not telling us anything! And look how that panned out!”

“Rowen—“

“You know what I think? I think the reason you won’t tell us anything is because you don’t want to admit that you haven’t made any kind of progress whatsoever! You’re too proud and mighty for that, aren’t you?”

Rowen had expected a rebuttal or a redirection, or even Dartz ending the conversation following that remark. It had come from nowhere, and really had no founding or bearing on their current topic. But it had been a thought that had been hanging around for days, unspoken but ever present.

Instead, he got silence. Dartz said nothing, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw, but his eyes…

“You…you have been making some form of progress, right?” Rowen asked slowly. “You had to have, given how much time has passed since we got here. You’re keeping it to yourself because you don’t want us involved, aren’t you…?”

He trailed off, understanding traveling through his thoughts like wildfire. Dartz did not want them to know the truth, because the truth of the matter was—

“You haven’t gotten any closer, have you.” His voice was matter of fact, knowing. Accusing.

The continuing silence was answer enough.

“Oh that’s just perfect!” he said bitterly, throwing his hands up. He felt wrung out and fragile, but his anger still burned strong. “So what have you been doing, then?”

“I have been doing what I can.”

“Would it be too much to ask if I begged you to give us a straight answer—for once?”

“I’ve already told you, this does not concern you now. The only thing you need to immediately worry about is your family.”

“Hey, uh, genius. Guess what? My family includes my parents!” Rowen snarled viciously.

“You can do nothing for them in this moment, Rowen,” Dartz replied. His voice was stern, his expression still impossibly neutral. “The family who needs you most is here. Your sister, your cousins…they need still need you. Don’t lose control now.”

Rowen’s laugh this time sounded distinctly unhinged. He saw Sylvie flinch, and it took a considerable effort not to start yelling again. Even as angry and distraught as he was, in that moment he remembered his younger cousins and sister. Hold your temper for their sake. Try, Rowen.

“I have been, Dartz,” he said, and his voice cracked and his vision blurred. “I’ve been keeping control for two months. I’ve been keeping control so I wouldn’t break down in front of my baby sister. So I wouldn’t let down my grandparents when they needed me most. So I could be there for Sora and Claire, and for Michael, while our worlds fell apart and we tried to figure out how to move forward. I kept control even when I didn’t want to do anything more than sit down and cry.

“I don’t think it unreasonable to ask for answers. I don’t think it’s losing control to want to save my parents, and since you haven’t been very clear on what you’ve been doing I can only guess you’ve done nothing for them. I shouldn’t be so surprised at your inaction—when have you ever done anything for their benefit?”

A small part of Rowen’s mind protested. He was pushing the limits, he was being unfair, he was speaking out of anger—Dartz surely had a reason, he would not have done this on a whim. The remainder of his mind, the part that was exhausted, at the end of its limit, and burning with protective fury and betrayal, cut over it.

When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and shaking, strained from the shouting. “Well then, Lord Dartz, forgive me for speaking out of turn. Clearly I don’t understand your wise and powerful logic in this situation—after all, I’m directly affected by your decisions, what would I know? You’re only toying with my family and their lives. No big deal, right? You’ve done it before. So long as you don’t get hurt, that’s what matters.”

Dartz flinched, the first sign that Rowen’s words had hit their mark.

“We are not our fathers! We are not your Swordsmen, Dartz!” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “We will never be your Swordsmen, so quit treating us as if you expect us to blindly follow you and not question you!”

A ringing silence fell, Rowen suddenly and horrifyingly aware of what he had just said. Swordsmen. He had just revealed the word in front of his sister and the twins. He could already see something shift in Sora’s and Claire’s faces, Sylvie’s tears momentarily stopping their silent trek down her face. No…no, not this. He couldn’t do this on top of everything else. Don’t make me shatter their faith in their father.

“Come on.” It was Michael who spoke, his voice soft. He was not speaking to Rowen or even Dartz, but to the younger members of his family. He lifted Sylvie up into his arms, moving past the twins and nudging them toward the stairs. “We can’t stay.”

“But they’re discussing our parents!” Sora snapped, eyes flashing. “We have a right to—“

“Twins. Go.” There was no room for argument in Michael’s voice. “We can trust Rowen to tell us what’s happening later.”

The word trust was bitten out, Michael’s gold eyes flashing furiously at Dartz. It was obvious Michael’s shock had subsided, his own anger growing. But he, like Rowen, was suddenly and painfully aware of the twins and Sylvie. They couldn’t discuss their father’s pasts and Dartz around them, and Rowen could not back down to get them out of the room.

Rowen’s breathing was unsteady, shaky, his eyes burning and his heart pounding. Still, he held his tongue until he heard the door upstairs close. He was uncertain of where the conversation would go from here, the momentary lull making him feel off-balance.

He had never felt more lost in his entire life.

                                             +++++++++++++++

The moment the word Swordsmen had entered the conversation Michael had jolted out of the dazed shock. Rowen’s anger had burned and filled the air around them, powerful and paralyzing. Rowen was so very rarely this furious, and it had frozen them all. The one word had been enough, however, and Michael had snapped out of it. His eyes went to Sylvie, who was silently sobbing beside him, and then to his other cousins; Sora and Claire were bundles of nervous energy, fidgeting in place and looking very much as if they were in the fight or flight stage.

He had acted out of instinct, picking Sylvie up into his arms and moving her upstairs after rounding up the twins. Sylvie did not need to see this. She did not need to see Rowen so angry and hurt and betrayed, and neither did Sora and Claire. Rowen was also limited in what he could ask, since any mention of the Orichalcos would draw unnecessary attention to their fathers and their former jobs.

He ushered them all into the room Rowen and Sylvie shared, as it was the furthest away from the family room. The moment the door closed behind them he set Sylvie down on her bed, kneeling before her. “Hey, little fey—“

“Is it true, Michael?” she sobbed, her small hands rubbing her eyes as tears continued to fall. “What Rowen said about Papan, is it true? Is he really alive? Is Mama okay too?”

His words died on his tongue, Michael unsure of how to answer. The most he knew was that Rowen had seen his father—there had been no indication of the other parents in his explanation. He felt the eyes of the twins on him as well.

He nodded, his voice a whisper. “…Yes.”

“Why was he taken? Who took him? Why did he take them? Why won’t he let Mama and Papan come home, why didn’t Mister Dartz help them—!”

“Sylvie, shhh…” Michael pulled her into a hug, Sylvie’s arms latching around him in a desperate hug. “It’s complicated…very complicated…whoever is behind this is after us too, little lamb.”

“Ro’s really mad.” Sora’s voice was small, uncertain. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“He’s got a right to be, if what he said is true!” Claire said, and her own voice was fierce. “This git was sittin’ on that information while we cried for them in front of him. He knew Ma and Dad were alive! And just what did Ro mean by Swordsmen? What, is this bloke that’s got them turning them into his henchmen or something?!”

Michael flinched. Of all the conversations to have, this was not one he wanted to start especially with emotions running high. He fished for the words to say, trying to think of how to either avoid the topic or how to explain to his family the terrible truth of their father’s past.

“I’m scared.”

Sylvie’s voice was so soft that Michael nearly missed it. He looked down to find Sylvie watching him. “I’m scared,” she repeated, tears welling again in her blue eyes. “Rowen…”

Michael felt something in his chest squeeze, the air leaving his lungs. In the face of Rowen’s anger, would Sylvie fear him now? That would be a terrifying blow to both of the siblings if that was the case. Rowen would never forgive himself if he had frightened his little sister to the point of forever fearing him. “Oh, Sylvie,” he breathed. “Rowen’s not mad at you. He wasn’t yelling at you.”

“I’m not afraid of him…I’m scared for him.” Sylvie’s voice held a wobble. “He’s hurting so much and he’s scared. He tried pretending he wasn’t, but I know him, Michael. Isn’t there something we can do?”

The three older children collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Sylvie had read between the lines and had seen the fear and pain beneath the anger. The relationship between the siblings was safe.

However…

Michael had worried about Rowen for a long time, even before this situation had happened. He had known that a breakdown had been inevitable. Rowen had been bottling everything up for so long, only rarely allowing himself to grieve or to show weakness; he had not addressed his own needs, rather those of his family first in these long months. It was uncharacteristic for his cousin, and obviously a huge strain on the normally easy-going Rowen.

Now, however, Rowen had been pushed past his limit and once the anger burned out…Michael was genuinely worried as to what would be left over.

“I don’t know,” Michael said softly. He was not addressing just the little girl in his arms, but his cousins too. “I just…I don’t know. All we can do is be there for him.”

                                              +++++++++++++

Downstairs, neither of the two remaining occupants in the room had spoken since the younger children had left. It was a standoff, each side waiting to see who would break the silence first.

Rowen did not feel the conversation was over, and he was not backing down. Not this time. Not until he had answers. He had calmed in the lull of the conversation, enough for the edge of his anger to dull, but it had not dulled the need for an explanation.

“I do not need more Swordsmen, Rowen. That was never my intention.” Dartz was the one who had broken the silence first. His voice was soft, something old and tired in his voice. “I do not intend to have any more child soldiers. That was why I kept you in the dark. To tell you meant involving you.”

“Yeah?” Rowen’s voice was bitter. “Well thank you so much for lying. That was clearly the best decision you made.”

“And is what you’re doing any different?” Dartz asked. His voice held an edge now. “You won’t tell your younger sister, or Sora and Claire, the truth about me. Even in the middle of a heated discussion you still won’t allow them in the room to hear about my involvement in your family history.”

“Don’t you even dare compare that to what you did!” Rowen snarled, eyes flashing. His anger roared to life once again, and outside the storm intensified. “You know that keeping quiet about our fathers stealing souls is not the same thing as outright lying about our parents being dead.”

“Oh, well forgive me then for failing to make that distinction. After all, lying to avoid hurting anyone is clearly a sin.” Dartz’s voice was cold. “You are not in a position to where you can help anyone, Rowen, least of all your parents.”

“I know that! I didn’t live like Dad did, I know I don’t have experience here. But if you’re not thinking we can help, then you should tell someone!” Rowen burst out. “You didn’t even have to tell us! You could have told Uncle Noa, or Aunt Isabel, or Mister Mutou—Kaiba—Uncle Joey, someone, anyone! Tell someone what’s happening! Reach out for help! Swallow your pride and ask for some help, before it costs my family their lives!”

“I am trying to tell you, Rowen, that I cannot involve them without—“

“Find a way, Dartz!” Rowen snapped. “I know, I know that you don’t want anyone else involved because this enemy seems to be all powerful and makes everyone disappear! But if you can sit there and arrange for my father and uncles to be your Swordsmen, if you can live for ten thousand years, could take over Kaiba Corporation, and if you could threaten the balance of the world so much, then why can’t you find a way to help them now? I don’t understand, Dartz! Help me understand!”

There was a plea, a desperate cry in his voice. Rowen was not even angry any more, just upset and sick and tired and stretched too thin. All he wanted was just a reason. Just a reason, some insight, some answers. Why hadn’t Dartz helped his father in all this time? Why was Dartz so afraid of this new threat? Why had he not accomplished anything to stop this person from targeting them? Why couldn’t Dartz simply let people help them?

“I do not have to answer to you, Rowen,” Dartz said, his voice cool. “You are not in charge here. I am, and what I say goes. I do not want you involved, and I do not want anyone else involved in this predicament. This is my responsibility and I will handle this on my own.”

“But—!”

“This conversation is over, Rowen.”

It was a dismissal and a shut down, and Rowen felt something within him break.

“Then I hope you enjoy being responsible for my parent’s deaths, Dartz,” he said, and he could not tell if there was anger or tears in his voice. Maybe both. “I really hope your pride is worth their lives.”

“…Fine.”

It was a complete departure from the conversation, one word that left Rowen frozen and brought his emotions to a screeching halt. Dartz’s voice was cold, eyes flat, lips a thin slash in a suddenly pale face.

“You wish for action to be taken? Fine. Then I will, as you so articulately put it, do something. Why? Because Rowen, congratulations—you have very likely triggered this enemy into speeding up his plans. In all likelihood that was the last time you will ever see your father alive, and if so it will be because of your actions earlier today.”

Dartz turned away, moving for the front door. The man pulled it open with a wrenching motion, and when it slammed closed sparks flew from the doors and the windows cracked.

A ringing silence followed, Dartz’s parting words echoing in his thoughts.

That was the last you will see your father alive, and if so it will be because of your actions today.

Rowen felt his knees buckle, cold waves washing over him as he hit the floor. He stared at the wooden floor, ears starting to ring again, vision blurring to the point where he could not see. Dartz’s parting words echoed in his mind, relentless and cruel and crushing him in every passing second. He had been so angry and betrayed, pushed past his limits, but now he just felt sick to his stomach and far too brittle.  

Had he signed his father’s death warrant? What if by going through the door he had killed his father? How could he have known? If he had known, he wouldn’t have gone…but if he had stayed, he would not have seen his father face to face or even learned as much as he had about the situation.

He was not sure how long he sat there. Seconds, minutes, hours, he didn’t know. But then there was a hand on his shoulder, a small and hesitant one. “Rowen?”

He looked up mutely, his eyes on his little sister. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He had made Sylvie cry on top of everything else that had happened—a cardinal sin in Rowen’s book.

“Hey, lamb,” he said gently, his gaze softening. He reached over to ruffle her hair, relieved beyond measure that he did not see her stiffen or flinch away from him. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Ro?” Now it was Sora and Claire, followed by Michael. All three of them were watching him, concern and uncertainty lining their features as they moved in front of them. They all looked uncertain, and his heart clenched with guilt once again. “Ro, are you okay?”

Rowen nearly tried to lie before he shook his head. He was too tired to pretend he was fine.

“Sora, Claire. Michael. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see Uncle Valon, Aunt Serenity, Aunt Carmon, or Uncle Alister. I didn’t even see Mama, just Papan.” His voice was hollow, empty, dull. “I don’t know if they’re alive. Papan just said that they were alive two months ago, before they were split up.”

A pause. He didn’t have to look up to see the dejected slump in the shoulders of his cousins. It only compounded the sudden guilt he had, because here he had failed them again. He had already blown up at Dartz, he had likely killed his father with his actions, and now he could not even tell Sora, Claire, and Michael if their parents lived.

“He said he loved us.” Rowen’s voice was so soft and gentle, something terribly fragile in his voice. “He said he didn’t want us forgetting that, no matter what. Last words,” he said, finally putting the thoughts into the open. “That was the last thing he said before he left to help me get out, and I may have…he…Dartz said that by going into that building I ki…”

Rowen couldn’t put it into words. He didn’t dare, not when he had upset his sister and his cousins so much already by his anger. He did not even know what to do or what to say. The lump in his throat had returned, almost choking him. He kept his gaze fixed to the floor, not daring to look at his family.

It was Sylvie who moved first, sitting down in front her older brother. She did not say anything, her arms wrapping around Rowen’s neck to hug him silently. It was not just to seek comfort this time, but to give it.

And that was all it took.

The tears had been threatening for almost an hour. From the moment his father had left him in that office to this moment, the tears had been building; if he was being honest, they had been building for the entirety of the two months since his parents had been taken. Rowen had not allowed himself to grieve properly, had pushed his own emotions aside because Sylvie and his family had needed him and looked to him to for answers. They had needed him to be the strong one.

Now, however…Sylvie’s quiet hug had been the final straw.

The sobs bubbled out of him before he could stop them, his own arms circling his little sister and holding her tightly. He couldn’t stop, he tried because the instinct to stay strong, don’t cry, they need you was flaring to life, but he could not hold them back anymore.  

He was babbling, unaware of what he was saying until his own voice reached him. It was a keening wail, fragile and broken and desperate. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry, I couldn’t do anything to help—I can’t stop, I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t be crying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—!”

And then there were the sounds of footsteps, arms wrapping around him and Sylvie from three different directions. Then whispered reassurances, voices filled with tears and hands that rubbed his back and shoulders soothingly.

Rowen sagged into the embrace of his family and he finally allowed himself to fall apart.

Previous | Master Post | Next

Abandoned

Imagine: being the only surviving child of Cersei and Jaime Lannister. (takes part during the last episode of season 7)

You had hoped that this meeting would have gone in a different direction but it didn’t. What you witnessed…that thing attempting to grab at your own mother was horrifying and to think that there were more of them was terrifying. You would have liked to not believe Jon Snow and his claims of an undead army heading this way but the threat had been proven real.

And you have never been more afraid then now.

But your mother…your mother’s paranoia had gotten the best of her. When Jon had foolishly admitted that he had already bent the knee to Daenerys…your mother was not happy and ended the meeting quickly much to the shock to you and your father.

“Mother, we cannot ignore this!” You defiantly stood up to her because you were the only one who could without getting serious and lethal consequences’. To see the devastation on Jon’s face as your mother walked by without a care was almost gut-wrenching.

You knew Jon and you liked his person. You only had a few weeks in Winterfell when your legal father, Robert, traveled there to name Ned his Hand and you had grown close to the Stark children—practically Jon and Robb (your father even proposed a marriage between you and Robb but your mother refused and gave your father Joffrey instead) but now with Robb gone—his death would always haunt you because you did everything you could to stop your murderous brother from butchering him in such a cowardly way.

You weren’t a demented lion like your father or your younger brother. You were a soft cub like your sweet little brother sister. You knew when to be fierce and when to show compassion—it was what separated you from the rest of your family.

Your mother and her guard moved forward and your father was quick to follow.

Brienne, the woman who managed to deliver your father back home, was quick to interject and to try to talk to Jaime into talking sense into Cersei.

Your mother paused and looked back at you angrily. Her eyes were fierce like any mother lioness but you were not fazed. You remained where you were and held up your head high and angrily said, “If they could not defeat those monsters what makes you think we can? They have dragons and if they couldn’t win with those winged beasts,” You gestured towards the two dragons flying in the distance, “What makes you think we can?” You didn’t care that you were showing the wedge between mother and daughter and showing potential weakness in front of the enemies—could you consider your own Uncle your enemy?

“We will always find a way to prevail.” Your mother said in a strangely calm voice—not looking bothered by your burst of anger and defiance.

You stared at her with barely concealed disappointment as she left you with the others. She knew you wanted to stay and speak to Jon. She could care less about you socializing with the enemy because now there was another enemy more capable of ending the Lannister house.

Your father and Brienne exchange words—Brienne desperate to sway your father but your father brushes her off and continues to follow your mother. You stare after the black cloaked figure of your mother and feel the deep emotion in the air. They are frazzled and even scared.

You could feel the Dragon Queen’s stare on you.

Jon turns to you and you walk up to him. Without a care, you give your friend a hug—something you have been longing to do for so long. Jon isn’t surprised by your affectionate display—you were still the wild, wide eyed Lannister Princess that ran through the forest with the Stark direwolves because you never felt so free. He embraces you and feels a familiar comfort he felt when he first saw Sansa at Castle Black.

“I am so sorry,” You breathed trying not to tremble well aware of the stares on your back. He smells exactly like the North…how was that possible? “I cannot express it enough.” You say thickly as you pull away from him—he no longer looks like the young lad he once was so long ago. His face has hardened and his eyes were darker. There was this…strange feeling about him. Like, he wasn’t completely himself.

Jon gives you a small smile, “An apology from you is very well accepted. I know you did your best to try to stop it, Y/N.” He reassures you that the bond between you two was never damaged, “In fact I was more worried about you. With your loud, blunt mouth I was surprised your mother or Joffrey didn’t lock you up for good.” He dares to tease.

You breathlessly smile and shake your head as the man who stood next to Jon spoke, “I wish you hadn’t done that.” This man looked very familiar, who was he? 

Jon had this sour look on his face as if remembering the grave mistake he had done.

Daenerys got up and walked towards the both of you—she shot you a unsure glance but spoke to Jon fiercely, “I am grateful for your loyalty, but my dragon…” She looks at you now and you have a feeling that you weren’t meant to hear her words.

“She can be trusted.” Tyrion speaks up quietly.

“Can she?” The girl doesn’t look that much older then you and she’s glaring at you now.

You stare back unfazed, “Trust me, I want nothing more then to end this fucking war. I’ve had my fill on death, alright? I won’t tell my mother anything you say because honestly, it wouldn’t change anything.” You say harshly not caring who you were speaking too.

She looks clearly taken back by the way you speak.

Tyrion sighs and he is now beside you, “You still have that terrible mouth on you.” But there is a gentle, loving smile on his face to show you that he is teasing.

You grin at him—happy to see him alive and well. “Well, it’s part of my charm.”

Daenerys isn’t pleased by the obvious bond between you, Tyrion, and Jon but she continues, “If this is all for nothing then he died for nothing.” There is a glimmer of grief in her violet eyes and sorrow in her voice.

You stare between her and Jon with narrowed eyes before concluding, “That’s why you only have two dragons with you. The other died by the hands of those monsters?” You are sick to your stomach and as the Queen glares at you…you feel nothing but sadness for her, “Then we’re definitely fucked.” You muttered, “I offer you my condolences, your grace.” You added with a respective tone.

The silver-haired woman looks unsure how to proceed—the last thing she expected was a Lannister that wasn’t Tyrion to be kind to her. Perhaps this lion was different.

“I’m pleased you bent the knee to our queen,” Tyrion speaks in his usually drawled out voice, “I would have not advised it, had asked.” He gives him a stare of annoyance, “But have you ever considered learning how to lie every now and then?”

“Just a bit?”

Jon stares at him with obvious offense, “I am not going to sweat an oath I can’t uphold,” He rightfully states and you only feel your admiration for him grow, “Talk about my father, if you want, tell me that’s the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything.”

“In the end, there are only better and better lies.” You spoke quietly making Jon nod towards you in agreement.

Tyrion looks defeated, “And lies won’t help us win this fight.” Jon ends looking unbelievably stressed out. You feel for him because now he was the one left to clean up this shit mess that our parents left us.

“That is indeed a problem,” Tyrion muttered, “The more immediate problem is that we’re fucked.”

You nod in agreement and said, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Why are you here again?” Daenerys glares at you as if your presence was becoming bothersome to her.

“You shouldn’t be fucking drinking.” Tyrion scolds with a scowl.

“I am here because I wanted to speak to Jon and my uncle, is that a crime, your grace? Does my Lannister appearance bother you? Are you going to burn me alive?” You sassed glaring back at her, “Geez, and you wanted to make an alliance with my mother with that bloody attitude?” You scoffed as Daenerys scowled at you fiercely.

“I always did like her.” the Hound commented giving you a proud look, “Always gave that little shit hell.”

“Does everyone here apparently favor her then?” Daenerys bit out angrily, “We have bigger things to worry about!” You roll your eyes but agree, this was no time for such games.

“Is there any way to change that stare of affairs?” The man with a rugged accent questioned.

Tyrion looks out towards where your mother and father had left, “Only one.”

“Hell, no.” You step up and glare at him, “You’re fucking crazy. She’d slaughter you.”

“That’s why you’re coming with me.” Tyrion speaks with a sigh, “I never thought I’d use my own niece as a shield, how low can I go?”

**

 “You don’t have to walk us there, you fat shit.” You hiss turning to look over your shoulder to glare at whatever the fuck the Mountain had turned out to be—or whatever Qyburn had done to him.

He only kept walking without making a second sound.

“Do I even want to ask about him?” Tyrion looks scared of him and he should be. He’s in a dangerous situation right now.

“No.” You mumbled, “I liked him better when he was…alive.”

There was only tensed silence as the three of you walked towards your mother’s office. Your father appears looking very displeased to see Tyrion. They exchange a few words about being idiots and goodbyes. You roll your eyes and reply impatiently, “Can we stop acting so dramatically? Tyrion is not going to die. That’s why I am here.”

Your father looks at you, “Your mother won’t like that.”

You shrug, “Have I ever given a shit?”

Your father frowns, “I honestly don’t know where you got that blunt mouth from.”

“I am my own person. I shouldn’t be compared to you or my mother.” You remarked a bit sourly. You had always known who your real father was ever since you were ten. It was always blatantly obvious because you looked nothing like Robert. Your younger siblings never caught on though, you guessed it was because they were stupid.

Jaime shook his head with a small smile before stepping to the side.

Tyrion stared ahead unsure what fate awaited him. He knew if it came down to it, he would not risk your life for the sake of his. You entered her room with bothering to knock and saw her sitting at her desk. She eyes you but then her eyes land on Tyrion.

You take your seat and remain quiet knowing it would be wise not speak.

“I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. She’s your kind of woman—a foreign whore who doesn’t know her place.” You groan at the immediate insults hurled at Tyrion. Your mother pointedly ignores you.

There are words being exchanged. Your mother’s eyes growing with hate and anger towards your uncle for killing Tywin—your grandfather. Her eyes grew watery as she spoke about Myrcella and Tommen. Your heart clenched at the mention of them but you knew it wasn’t really Tyrion’s fault.

Tyrion suddenly said, “I will always be a threat…so put an end to me.” His words sound tired and desperate and you stare at him shocked.

You don’t miss the murderous look on your mother’s face as he suggest that she end his life—just like she always wanted to do. He continues to fuel her hate and anger reminding her of how she was motherless, fatherless, and two of her children were dead. You could see the look on your mother’s face—she wanted to kill him.

For once, you are speechless. Your mouth is dry because you couldn’t have predicted that your uncle would go for this. Tyrion stands in front of the Mountain and demands your mother to kill him.

But then…your mother is looking at you and seeing the horror on your pretty face…and she can’t bring herself to say the words. You were…her last surviving child…although there was one in her belly…you were her first babe. Seeing such a look on your face…she couldn’t do that to you…as much as it killed her to admit you loved Tyrion fiercely and Cersei feared the repercussions if she did kill Tyrion right now.

The last thing she wanted was you, her precious daughter, to hate her.

Cersei growls and looks away.

You let out a sigh of relief while Tyrion remains surprised. He looks at you and knows very well that you were the only reason why Cersei didn’t butcher him.

**

Tyrion had convinced your mother to reconsider. Eventually, your mother gave her word that their war would be pushed aside to fight in the real war. You were thrilled to hear her words because it meant that the future for you and your family wasn’t so bleak. You were happy because the child in your mother’s belly would have a chance at living.

But then everything came crashing down that same night.

You were asleep in your chambers when a voice and someone shaking you woke you up. You groggily opened your eyes and saw your father hovering above you. You were confused and dazed—taking into account that he wasn’t wearing his usual armor.

“Papa?” You mumbled sitting up.

Your father sat down on the edge of the bed with this sad look on his face, “I need to tell you something before I ask you to make a difficult choice.” He says caressing the side of your sleepy face. He was leaving but he had to take you with him…he knew what would happen if he were to leave and you were to stay. He couldn’t leave knowing how Cersei would act towards you –obsessive, paranoid, and by her side at all times.

But he knew you just as well as he knew Cersei…you wouldn’t allow it your mother to coddle you and obey her commands especially after he leaves. You would defy her, rebel, and make your statements known which something that Cersei wouldn’t tolerate now.

He couldn’t leave without you because it would mean your death.

Something serious was happening. You were fully awake now and peering at your father through the darkness—the only light coming from the moon outside your window. “What’s wrong?” You questioned with a frown.

Your father swallows thickly and tells you, “Earlier this morning, your mother advised me that we wouldn’t be riding north anymore. That she intends to betray Jon and the Dragon Queen and let them deal with the white walkers.”

You frown, “She’s insane. If they can’t stop them, we can’t either.”

He nods, “It is what I told her and she told me that Euron didn’t flee like we had thought…he went to ferry the Golden Company across the sea and back to Kings Landing.”

Why would your mother conspire with that mad-man Euron and not your father? Was her paranoia getting that bad that she didn’t trust your father now? “Was it because you met with Tyrion without her consent?” You asked with disgust.

He gives a curt nod, “That’s not the worst of it.”

You see the dreadful look on his face, “When I told your mother that I intended to ride North to keep the promise I made…” He blows out a heavy sigh and you see his shoulders drop, “I tried to walk away from her…but that monster got in the way.”

Your heart almost stopped beating. Anger rose in your body, “She did not.” You stood up with the Lannister fire in your eyes, “Tell me she did not do it.” You said through gritted teeth.

Your father looks down at the stone floor, “I was in disbelief and when I told her to order that thing to kill me…she only nodded after a few seconds.” He looks shaken up by the ordeal and you could understand. Your mother and father loved each other even when it was wrong in every sense and through it all they always stuck with each other.

For your mother to have gone this far by having that thing cut your father down…

“And then what happened?”

“He took out his sword; ready to cut me down but for some reason…nothing happened. I walked away in complete disbelief…I can’t believe your mother would…” He shakes his head with disgust and anger, “After everything…”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “So, you’re leaving?”

He nods, “I made a promise. Besides, next time I won’t be so lucky. Cersei has made her intentions clear to me.” He says looking very anguished.

You stare at your father with uncertainty and ask thickly, “And what about me?”

“I cannot force you to come with me—“

You were not stupid and knew what would happen clearly and quickly once your father abandoned your mother, “I am coming with you.”

It wasn’t a hard decision for you to make. You always knew that her paranoia would get the better of her—her twisted nature would always win. This woman was not your mother anymore. No mother would give an order to kill the father of her children. She didn’t give the order to kill Tyrion but did so with your father? It was unacceptable. Not that you wanted Tyrion dead.

Your parents had faults, yes, you would admit. You were a direct result from one of those faults. Your heart was heavy with emotions and you couldn’t believe this was happening. How did things turn so bad? You looked at your father with grief, “Do you think this all happened because you pushed Bran off the ledge?”

Your father isn’t surprised that you know—you were always a very clever lion, “Perhaps,” He murmurs with guilt and he closes his eyes as if disgusted with himself, “But now is my chance to try to make things right…as much as I can.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you with hope, “I have to do what I can to make sure that there is a future for you…a better one then the one you have now.”

This was just something I’ve been dying to write. It’s long and boring, I know, but I really like it c: There are no other parts for right now. Maybe I’ll add a part two when we see Jaime in the next season!

UPDATE: PART TWO HERE

Universe Falls Preview 3

So ya’ll gettin lucky with this one I’m giving you an entire damn scene here just so I won’t have to give you a fourth preview (which I may still end up doing anyway idk it depends cause this chapter is going to be very long) but for reals I fucking love all of this and I’m so excited that I figured I”d share it so here you go!

Almost as soon as he had voiced this question, Dipper instantly noticed an abrupt breeze start to pick up, one that quickly turned into a full on, admittedly ominous gale as it whipped through the trees. Somewhat unsettled by this, he pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders as he securely grabbed the laptop and braced himself against the sudden chill, only to realize that the light of the full moon in the skies ahead of him was starting to change as well. Slowly, a long, slitted line began to draw itself over the moon, splitting it cleanly in half as a series of initially transparent, glowing blocks began to gravitate towards it out of seemingly nowhere. Dipper gasped, alarmed by this bewildering phenomenon as he leapt to his feet, taking a nervous step back as he stared towards the moon with wide eyes, only for it to stare right back at him. The bright blocks continued stacking against the moon, forming a distinct triangular shape as the winds picked up to near hurricane levels. And then, as they finally all joined together in a bright, practically blinding flash of light, the world bled of color instantly, turning into a full, frozen greyscale scape as cause of all this strangeness finally made his appearance:

Bill Cipher.

“I THINK I KNOW A GUY!” he proclaimed boldly, his distinctively pitchy voice echoing harshly throughout the colorless woods. In light of this completely unexpected, unprecedented encounter, Dipper was effectively stunned into frozen silence as he stood in the dream demon’s massive triangular shadow. Still, Bill hardly seemed to notice or care as he drew in closer, his manner just as casual as ever as he circled the dumbfounded human before him. “Well, well, well. I gotta admit, you’re awfully persistent, Pine Tree. Hats off to you!” At this, Bill took his top hat off and tipped it, the entire world seeming to abruptly tilt along with it.

Dipper let out a startled gasp as he struggled to maintain his footing on the roof as it slipped sideways, though fortunately it leveled itself once more moments later. As it did, he was quick to regain his composure for the sake of putting on an air of brazen defiance to the crafty dream demon, remembering well how much trouble he had caused during his last appearance. “You again!” he exclaimed crossly, holding the laptop a bit tighter as Bill calmly glided past him. “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

“Oh, just checking in,” Bill shrugged coyly. “Did ya miss me? Admit it, you missed me.”

“Hardly,” Dipper scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You worked with Gideon! You tried to destroy my uncle’s mind! Oh, and not to mention that you constantly terrorized all of us while we were trying to save him, what with you stealing Steven’s gem and shooting a whole straight through my chest. Need I go on?”

“Geez, it was just a job, kid!” the dream demon countered defensively. “No hard feelings! Besides, since then, I’ve been keeping an EYE on you!” At this, Bill instantly shot up to a massive size, his voice ominously deepening and his eye turning pitch black as he peered at Dipper piercingly. “And even if you are a bit rough around the edges, I must say I’m impressed!”

“Y-you are?” Dipper asked, unsure of what to make of that. After all, he really didn’t see anything particularly good about garnishing the interest of a being like Bill Cipher, especially given the countless warnings the journal gave against him.

“Sure am!” Bill agreed brightly. “In fact, you deserve a prize! Here, have a head that’s always screaming!” With a mere snap of the dream demon’s fingers, a disembodied head appeared, one that, sure enough, was crying out in shrill, endless agony as it fell onto the roof. Dipper gasped in fearful disgust as he flinched away from it, only for the head to begin to peel itself away layer by layer, from skin, to muscle, to bone, before it disappeared entirely as Bill simply laughed in sadistic amusement all the while.

“Augh! What’s wrong with you?!” Dipper exclaimed at this, appalled by such a twisted, demented display.

“Ain’t that the question of the millennia!” Bill chuckled carelessly as he floated down to take a seat on the edge of the roof. “But the point is, I like you, kid! And I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been having a hard time with that crusty old laptop there, so how’s about you let me give you a hint, huh? I only ask for a small FAVOR in return.” As the dream demon said this, both his hand and his eye lit up with an unnatural strain of blue fire, his manner still incredibly casual, even despite the immediately harsh rejection his offer received.

“Are you kidding me? I’d never do a favor for you!” Dipper exclaimed adamantly, unable to believe that the dream demon would even have the gall to propose something so outlandish. “Don’t forget who defeated you last time!”

“Right, you ‘defeated’ me,” Bill rolled his eye as he disappeared into the roof, only to come rising up out of it behind Dipper just a second later. “Still, seems to me like you’re passing up a great deal like this pretty quickly, Pine Tree. Kinda ironic when you think about how Water Wings didn’t hesitate to take up Stripes’ deal to save you…”

Dipper was completely caught off guard by this, especially as his picture of him and Lapis came flying out of his pocket to hover over the dream demon’s hand. “Hey! Give that back!” he protested, reaching for the photo only for Bill to teasingly pull it out of his reach.

“Whoa, hold your awkward, pre-pubescent horses for a sec, kid, and think about this,” the demon contested coolly. “Do you really think you’re getting anywhere by making all those shots in the dark about that password? You think you’re not just wasting your time out here while Water Wings has a non-stop, all-out brawl with Stripes at the bottom of that lake just so she can keep you ‘safe’?”

“S-stop,” Dipper muttered, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to block out what Bill was saying, even if he knew it was all true. But of course, the dream demon simply ignored him and kept going with his sly, almost cruel form of manipulation.

“Wouldn’t it just be so much easier to get just a little help, to get just a tiny bit closer?” Bill kept the photo positioned right above Dipper as he talked, deceptively close but still so far out of his reach, much like the blue Gem herself was at the moment. “Wouldn’t that make whatever small thing I want from you worth it just to bail her out?”

“Stop,” Dipper said a bit firmer this time, sending the dream demon a fierce warning glare as he tried to remind himself that he wasn’t going to take this deal, he wasn’t going to give Bill what he wanted, whatever that was. Still, that didn’t mean his appeal wasn’t starting to become the least bit tantalizing.

“After all,” Bill continued callously, clearly taking pleasure in how uncomfortable his truthful words were making Dipper. “Water Wings sure thought it was worth it to bail you out, didn’t she?”

“Stop!” Dipper finally shouted, unable to take any more of this, lest he actually give in under the pressure. A beat of heavy silence passed as he stared the dream demon down, his heated anger cooling just a bit, even if it was still very much on the surface as he offered a firm, but surprisingly tranquil response. “I don’t need your help.”

“Oh, suuuuure you don’t!” Bill deadpanned, rolling his eye once more. “After all, you already have Shooting Star and Rosebud to help you out with this, so why would you need me? Oh, but wait! They’re busy with that little puppet show, aren’t they? Oh, well, you can always ask those Crystal Chumps for help, right? I’m sure Fuse Box, Half-Baked, and Bird Brain know all there is to know about that laptop, almost is if they didn’t mysteriously lose all their memories on that journal of yours!”

Dipper stilled at this, hating the fact that, once again, the dream demon was right on the mark with such claims. With Steven, Mabel, and even Connie still distracted by the play and the Gems as clueless about who the author could be as they were, he was really the only one who could put the time and effort into this mystery that it truly deserved. And, so far, trying to tackle it completely on his own had gotten him absolutely nowhere at all. Still, to accept help from Bill, of all sources, would definitely be asking for trouble, trouble that, after all of the disasters of the recent invasion and its brutal aftermath, Dipper certainly didn’t need right now. “I said,” he began again, squaring his shoulders as he glared at the demon unrelentingly. “I don’t need your help!”

“Eh, well, then have it your way,” Bill shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by this refusal. “But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here for you, ready to make a deal!” To punctuate his point, a slot machine appeared on his flat surface, all three wheels stopping right on the pine tree symbol. “You know, now that I’ve brought it up, maybe I’ll go pay your pal Water Wings a visit down at the bottom of the lake and let her know all about how her precious little Pine Tree doesn’t care enough about her to lend her a hand! I bet that would a lot of fun!”

“W-wha—no!” Dipper exclaimed, his calm manner all but gone at the idea of the dream demon tormenting the blue Gem. As if she wasn’t being tormented enough by being fused with Jasper alone. “You leave Lapis alone!”

“Boy, you sure are easy to rile up, Pine Tree.” Bill laughed twistedly, finally letting the picture fall back into Dipper’s hands. “It’s hilarious, almost as funny as you thinking you can guess that password all on your own! Oh, speaking of which, wanna hear my impression of you in about three seconds?” At this, the demon let out a loud, fearful scream, one that Dipper ended up inadvertently echoing only seconds later as he found himself abruptly pulled back into reality. Bill was fortunately finally gone and color had returned to the world as the skies filled in with the breaking of dawn, a calming sight after the still, lifeless void he had just been in.

PS4 Spider-Man Easter Egg Breakdown

Ol’ webhead is back in a brand new trailer for the PS4 exclusive “Spider-Man” (catchy, right?). It’s almost entirely made up of cutscenes, but we can glean a few hints as to what the web slinger’s new adventure is all about. Let’s break down some of the trailer’s biggest easter eggs!

Aunt May appears early in the trailer offering to help Peter with his financial problems. With her nephew out of the house she’s put her nurturing nature to good use by volunteering at the local homeless shelter F.E.A.S.T. I mean that place seems like it’s on the up and up and it’s not like May has ever put herself in harm’s way…

F.E.A.S.T. is owned by businessman/philanthropist Martin Li. He’s clearly a humble man but still felt the need to highlight this copy of the Daily Bugle showcasing his generous nature. Luckily we gain a few other bits of intel from this cover. Wilson Fisk a.k.a. Kingpin is under scrutiny for his wealth, Shocker is appealing his conviction, the mayor is God’s gift to NYC, and Spider-Man is still getting a bad wrap. Give the guy a break, will ya?

Peter isn’t visiting the shelter alone, though! He’s brought along a new friend: Miles Morales. We knew he was going to be in the game before this but we still don’t know if he’ll be taking on the mantle of Spider-Man at some point in the story. Let’s hope his origin happens sometime before the inevitable post-credits scene.

Remember how the mayor was trending positive? Well turns out it’s Norman Osborn founder of Oscorp and alter ego of Spidey’s arch-nemesis the Green Goblin. In the game’s universe it seems like Norman’s a positive role model, but then again so does Martin Li. You never can tell with these wealthy, businessmen types.

Speaking of wealthy, businessmen types, Wilson Fisk, Kingpin of NYC’s criminal underworld is not having the best of days. It seems like he’s finally answering for his crimes but not before boasting about his great organizational abilities.

One thing that stood out in the trailer is Mary Jane playing an active role in this adventure. While doing some investigating she discovers a folder detailing a biological weapon known as “Devil’s Breath.” Considering Martin Li is responsible for using the demented sounding bio-weapon in the comic’s “Brand New Day” storyline, I would guess he’s probably behind this. Let’s hope MJ can solve this mystery before things get inverted!

Is that a Sanctum Sanctorum I see on the right? I’m purely speculating but that round windowed edifice looks an awful lot like Dr. Strange’s digs. There’s also some signage for Kingdom, Addington’s, and Toppings, none of which sound familiar but are possibly obscure references to the Marvel Universe at large.

Based on this next scene Grand Central Station is the Oscorp equivalent to an Apple store frequented by Kabuki mask-wearing gang members. Screens and posters display the many advancements that the company is making in technology and an up and coming science called symbiosis. Let’s be honest, that’ll probably go really well for them.

Looks like Peter really needs to clean his apartment. There’s old take out on the floor, the plants are dying and he’s not even refrigerating his Sriracha! I realize you’ve got to save the city but take some time for yourself, bro. The big easter egg here is the wrestling poster for “Crusher Hogan vs. The Spider.” This is in reference to Spider-Man’s origins and an event that eventually led to the death of his beloved Uncle Ben. Based on the poster the match happened back in 2010 so we can assume this webhead has swung around the block a few times. Peter’s apartment also contains some college-level science books, an old photo of Ben and May, and a calendar with important dates like, “Mary’s Party,” “Pay Day,” and “Rent Due.”

Need more villains in your life? Have no fear, Shocker’s here. Looks like the mattress padded villain ended up without a conviction after all. Either that or he escaped prison, which seems pretty absurd for a comic book villain. Anyways, he was apparently making a withdrawal from the local bank when Spidey decided to close his account. Bank humor is fun.

Honestly, there is just a ton packed into this trailer but it comes across as a cohesive and exciting new spin on one of the world’s greatest superheroes. Clearly the developers are saving even more surprises for fans when the game drops in 2018, but until then we’ll just have to speculate.

Did you notice any other easter eggs in the trailer? Do you think we might see other Marvel references pop up? Let me know in the comments below or on Twitter @itsFairbanks!

No Rest E1 C3

MASON’S FUCKIN CREEPIER AFTER HE DIED WTF. Also some errors occured when spacing the paragraphs, and I think the...event was completely out of left field and bad. Let me know if I should delete it

 I stared at the metal door, praying that some how I would obtain heat vision and burn a hole into the door. We had been trapped in this room for a month now. A month sense the New Frontier took over Richmond and threw us in here that is. Mason held us for over three months now. It had been two months sense uncle Javi ran away.  "I don't like it here..." Mariana whimpered softly. I turned around from where I stood, looking at my sister. Mari sat besides the couch, while dad laid on top of it. That's where he was now mostly, sense his leg still hadn't healed from Max shooting him.  "It'll be okay Mariana. Uncle Javi will come back for us." I replied, walking towards her. She looked up at me, smiling sadly.  "He won't come back..." Dad suddenly said. Mari looked at our father surprised, while I couldn't help but be angered.  "He will come back dad! I know he won't just leave us!" I exclaimed, looking at my father. Dad looked at me, shaking his head. Mari glanced at me with concern, not knowing what to say.  "Gabe...your uncle. Damnit. Whenever he could, he would always up and leave. Never be there for the family. He wasn't there when pipo died, he wasn't there." Dad growled out. His face showed anger, but in his eyes I could see he was hurt. Not just from his injury...but the fact that my uncle had left us. I knew he was going to come back, but it almost looked as if dad didn't have that same hope.  "Dad...I know he'll come back for us. We're gonna get out of here." I attempted to assure him. Dad looked away from me, causing a sigh to escape my lips.  A small hand took mine, causing me to look down. Mari looked back up at me with blank look. I frowned, taking a seat next to her. She seemed more comfortable with me besides her, but was still visibly terrified of our surroundings. Couldn't blame her after considering where we were. Being trapped in this same room for months. Watching as people would be added, and taken away every single day.  I turned back to my sister, watching her play with her casette player. "Does it still work?" I questioned. Mariana shook her head silently, frowning. My fingers intertwined with hers. "We're gonna get out of this sis." I said.  She looked up to me, holding out her other hand. Slowly she pulled in her fingers, until her pinky was left out. "Tienes que prometer." Mariana stated. A small smile tugged at my lips, as I returned the pinky promise. "Prometo que saldremos." I replied. Mariana smiled back at me a bit, clearly happy with the result of our conversation.  The two of us sat there silently for a while, hearing dad softly snore. "I told him he snores." I whispered. Mariana giggled softly at this, grinning at me. "You get it from him." She said. "I do not snore." I mocked a hurt expression as I looked at her. Mariana gave me a very unconvinced look. "Okay, maybe a little." I chuckled. "Seguro lo haces." Mariana countered. I narrowed my eyes at my sister.  "You should go to bed." I finally said. Mariana's smile vanished, as she stared at the tile floor. It upset me to see her this way. After Kate died, she became more quiet and introvert. It affected everyone else to. Mariana was the one that was most optimistic, heck she kept dad and uncle Javi going. So this change, it was hard on everyone.  "I can't..." She replied.  "Why not?" I questioned.  Mari looked at me again, sighing heavily. "I get scared...that their gonna take one of us next." Mariana stated.  I grimaced, looking back at her. "There's no way I'm letting that monster hurt you." I hissed out. Mason was a monster. Tricking innocents to join his cause, raising settlements, burning people to show they were his. He was worse then the muertos at times. Noting how tired she looked, I glanced around. "Is there anything that can make you sleep?" I asked.  She looked surprised by this, but turned behind us. "I remember when dad would sing me to bed...maybe if we can..." Mariana began. "You know it's impossible to wake him up." I chuckled. Mari gave me a serious look, causing me to sigh. "Okay okay." I replied.  I turned toward our father. Dad laid asleep on the couch, snoring. The others in the room either weren't bother by it or just to tired to say anything. Being gently not agrivate his wound, I shook my dads shoulder. "Dad...Dad wake up." I whispered.  "Not now Alexa...." Dad breathe out. My throat tightened slightly at the mention of the name. Our mother. As he said it, it made me wonder...what if she never died in the car crash? What if the world never ended? Could we still be a happy family? Would Mari finally remember our mom?  Before I could continue to try, the metal door swung open. Everyone in the room gasped, cowering in fear. Mason stepped into the room, a demented grin on the mans face. I felt my dad sit up from behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. Of course this monster could wake anyone up.  "Come now? What's with all the angry looks?" Mason cooed, pushing up his glasses. I glared at the man, tempted to do something. However my father kept his hand down on my shoulder. Mariana clung to my arm, fearing the leader before us. If you could even call him a leader. He just seemed like some head cultist of a murdering society. Well that was except for Ava.  Mason turned his attention to my family, smirking. Mariana huddled closer to me, looking at me, fear wide in her eyes. I stared back down at her concerned for our well being. The man approached the three of us, keeping Rufus and Ava at the doorway. Ava flashed us a sympathetic look. "Ava please help us." My mind pleaded. She looked at me, frowning as she turned away.  As Mason walked over to us, dad growled angrilly at the man. "Oh, this army dog can growl, how cute." Mason teased, stepped over me and Mari. Mason looked at my father, observing him.  "You Garcia's and you damn pride~" I went wide eyed seeing Mason lean over, and lick my father's cheek. The creep dragged his tongue down dad's cheek, until he reached the chin. Dad's hand gripped tighter onto my shoudler, as I began to realize something.  He was holding me back. I was holding him back.

“Shame about your brother. Oh well, I guess I’ll deal with second best.” Mason took a handful of my fathers hair, as he pressed a kiss onto his lips. Dad tensed at this, looking ready to murder someone.

 Mason eventually pulled away, dad giving him a look of disgust. "Nice taste. I might get you out here and keep you myself Garcia~" Mason cooed. "Never." Dad growled. Mason frowned, looking us over. "What a shame." He sighed out, "But I guess that means we can get back on topic.".

 I gasped realizing what he meant. Every few days he'd take someone from the cells, and more often then not, they never came back.  "I'm feeling generious today though so." Mariana screamed as Rufus pulled her away from me. "MARI!" I exclaimed as my little sister was pulled back. "You piece of shit-" Dad stopped talking as Rufus and Ava aimed their guns at us.  My body shook as I looked at my sister. Mariana stared back at me, tears streaming from her eyes, staining her cheeks. "Mari, I'll keep my promise." I rasped out. Mason laughed at my reaction, before walking towards the door. Rufus followed behind him, Mariana in his arm. Me and my dad could only watch as she disappeared up the stairs.  Ava looked at us remoursefully, before shutting the door behind her.

[SF] Dragonsphere

A wee story I penned today in my spare time. Thought some folks here still might enjoy it. (A little over 5,000 words, so...take it on if you have some spare time!)

It's in the form of personal and mission logs. It's very rough. It might not be fully consistent or make total sense all the way through.

---xxx

Personal Log: Lt. Percival Smith, 1106776 1st May 2145

Commander...well, if you're watching this one tomorrow, then I guess I know what happened. Let me say this: I'm sorry. It wasn't the right thing to do, not between you and I. I stole the action, I stole your job, and it might not be the most important thing, but I took the glory. And now I'm dead, where it should have been you, right?

It's funny, I can't help but think about how my dumb name might go down in history. Assuming anyone is around more than a few days to appreciate it, of course. I was birthed in Vat 112, I think I told you. Most of the vats named people automatically, left it to the computer, but not 112. Someone chose to call me Percival. Being military gives me a few perks in the system, a few years ago I got the records for others birthed on the same day as me. The guy before me was called Colossus. Right after me was Mars. And I got Percival...maybe it's special to someone.

I wondered if those other guys from the vat were my family, but I've been told over and over I don't have family, and I never will. I don't have the equipment to make my own family either. But Mike, I have to tell you, I have always thought of you as family. You trusted me, never questioned me, gave me every bit of respect you gave the others. I never knew anyone else like that. And I think if you're my family, that makes Abigail...and Steven...they're my family too. Sister-in-law, nephew. And you're my brother.

So, I didn't betray your command, or sacrifice myself for my flight commander. I saved my brother, for his family. Abi and Steve need you a lot more than anyone needs me. I hope you can forgive me, and be with them. Whether it's the end or I actually managed to accomplish something, just be with them.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 1st May 2145

We make for the anomaly today. Command had some argument over whether it was worthwhile at all, with so little time left. Less than a week, it'll be here. Not one of my flight backed down, they more or less demanded to fly. Science team says they haven't found a single thing in years of observations. The word "intractable" gets thrown around a lot. We don't know whether it's alive, a vessel, a storm, or any damn thing really. So we have to try this.

Orders are to approach and observe, and we're carrying more scanning gear than I've ever seen on a mission. The antennae have antennae. We've been warned - if we notice so much as an unusual warmth in the cockpit, turn around and go. We just don't know what this thing is or what it can do. I've made up my mind, anyway. If the scanners aren't getting anything from outside, we launch in a probe. If it gets nothing, even at close range, then I'm ordering the flight back to base, and I'm taking my ship inside.

I fully expect that will be what I need to do. If we've been watching this thing for this long, and not gotten a hint of a clue, I don't see why the same scanners should work just because we're at the front door. I don't know if it will accomplish anything. I might vaporise on contact, or before I even make contact. I might die passing through from some horrible radiation or other. Maybe there are some badass alien guys waiting inside to cut me up. Or, maybe a signal will get out, or my ship will circle back with some telemetry aboard, or maybe I might survive. Maybe I'll make contact with someone and negotiate. Who knows?

Abi, Steve. I hope you can understand. It's my job - taking risks to keep others safe. And there's only a short while before this thing gets here...I can't bear the thought of letting it just...I don't even know what, but I have to at least try to do something about it. If it works, and I found something, then it was worthwhile. If it doesn't, please don't think it was a waste...without knowing what would happen, I just had to try. I really hope you guys are ok. Better go, don't want to be late to meet our visitor.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 1st May 2145

I've come back to CnC, though May and the children were not happy with me. Over a decade I've been an absentee parent, married to the program. I vowed to be with them at the end. I will be, but something needs to be done here, something I did not expect. May found a clue. When I came home last week, I couldn't bear to tell the children what was coming. I just said I was home, and we were going to have a holiday...relax, eat terrible food, watch movies. But that night, when I told May that we were no closer now than when I started the project a decade ago, she begged to see it, the thing that was coming for us. With only days left, I broke confidentiality and finally showed her the...thing. The Dragonsphere. She nearly fainted.

May's uncle left his lab in a total mess. He had been demented near the end, rambling. Somewhere among all his junk was an image of the Dragonsphere. May remembered it, plain as day - it had haunted her, that he had been living in such fear of this image. It took half the night, but we found the book. The notes were a crazy jumble, paragraphs scattered about the yellowed pages seemingly randomly. I grabbed the book and anything else within arm's reach, and bundled it in to the car. After breakfast, I came back here, to Command. That was yesterday. Today, my techs are poring over everything old Uncle Dean put to paper, searching for anything meaningful.

Mike Conlon is flying out today, too. I tried to stop them from sending him. It's pointless. Every scan, every probe we ever sent, simply returned nothing at all. The probes disappeared, the scans gave us nothing. Aside from the constant hum - the omnipresent signal of every conceivable type of matter emerging from the sphere - there is nothing to read. And that signal cannot be right - how could it just be generating all that matter? One of the techs said he thought it was a false signal, a mask for a vessel inside. Another thinks it's a new universe spilling out in to our own - or maybe a vessel somehow using a universe as a power source. Frankly, it could be a space unicorn for all that we can tell about it. Conlon and his pack are flying in to a black void of ignorance.

Maybe that's not strictly true...we do know one thing. I told May about the alien, too. He came to us in 2133. He's the reason I have a program to run, a seat on the council. In the few minutes he lived after crash landing, he managed to use his computer to decode our language, and told us the following: his people were dead, mere ashes left by some dread assault on their home; he escaped, and brought doom in his wake, for it had followed his route perfectly; he was profoundly sorry for dooming us, and said something about singing us a song of hope for our future. I'm no xenobiologist, but I swear, doesn't matter what the species is - I could read the terror in his eyes as he died. Amongst strangers, in a strange land, holding in his mind the last memory of an entire people, he died.

We gleaned nothing from his ship computer before the ship destroyed itself, utterly. Studying the advanced alloys and strange radiation from his ship was the best we could do, and even that yielded new materials and energy science that justified the program. When no doom appeared after 12 months, we stood down our alert. Another year went by, and then finally we saw it. We came to call it Dragonsphere for its greenish hue when viewed through the space telescopes. And now I’m faced with the fact that, somehow, twenty years ago or more, at least 8 years before the alien crash landed, May's uncle drew this thing in a notebook, and wrote cryptic nonsense all around it. What did he know?

All of this is probably for nothing anyway. With a week left, what can we achieve? If Uncle Dean's notes show us a machine with which to save ourselves, how can we build it in time? I need to go back to May and the kids. I have to keep my promise to them. I don't know what I will do for the kids. It might be best if they went to sleep and didn't wake up. But then, we might also be fine. There's just no data to make a decision, any decision. All we can say with certainty is that the Dragonsphere will be here in a week, and we don't know how to begin to prepare.

---xxx

Mission Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 2nd May 2145

Percival's ship is in tow. It came back out, he didn't. Can't slave his hi-speed drive to my ship, so we're crawling back. A couple hours more until docking.

Son of a bitch disabled my ship with an inhibitor. Must have placed it before we launched. Insubordinate, dumbass, infuriating, disrespectful. Everything I would expect from a snot-nosed little brother. And he's gone.

<pause>

Aside from the disappearance of Lieutenant Smith, we noted nothing of interest. Scans returned nothing, probes went silent. Smith pulled his little move and flew in. Twenty minutes later, his ship comes out silent.

What did it see?

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 3rd May 2145

I can hardly believe it. First Conlon hauls a ship back that has been inside - actually IN the Dragonsphere - and then Uncle Dean's notebook knocks us all for six.

Conlon's man didn't make it back. Interestingly, his seat buckle was open. What would happen, I wonder, to make that the case? I suppose he might have opened it before being atomised. Or maybe not. In any case, the ship has told us much, in a way. Everything, every byte of information, from the recording logs down to the basic instructions in the microcontrollers for this ship's systems, has been wiped. Not a single piece of information made it out. The sphere keeps its secrets close to its heart, it would seem. I can't conceive of any natural process that should have this effect. It must have been the work of an intelligence, to be so total. Any natural process should have been random, imperfect. Not this. Everything is a zero...not a single one among them.

The ship looked perfect, but on close inspection, there was all kinds of corrosion and every sort of alloy, amalgam, or compound you can think of, all in tiny amounts. The result of being exposed to all of the wild random matter coming from the sphere. So, it would seem it is not a false signal - all sorts of everything, from normal matter to anti-matter and dark matter, on all orders of complexity, is spewing forth from the sphere. One thing stood out. A signal from a nuclear decay, which as yet we cannot identify. What nucleus, which sub-atomic particles, in what arrangement, could produce this? It must be a new substance. It is so prevalent over all the other signals. Maybe it's important.

Uncle Dean's scrawls are maybe an even bigger mystery. He speaks of demons eating his body and feeding his dreams. Worms consume him in every waking moment, and in his nightmares they bring him to horrible places, dungeons that stink of death, the floors and walls slick with rotting organic matter, black from the decay of the flesh that coats them. The stories go back decades, but there is a sudden change, right around 12 years ago. The nightmares are different. They are still terrible, fearful, but there is a feeling in the background...a desire to help. An occasional image seeps through, a strange dreamscape of fantastically coloured meadow, a night sky brilliantly lit by stars and a streak of purple nebula. The air is clean and fresh, and the night is warm and welcoming. And there is a song.

Everywhere in the notebook, there are sketches and diagrams of sheet music. The timing is scattered, the notes and key vary wildly from page to page. Eventually, all sketches and narratives stop, all the random little paragraphs cease to appear. It's just page after page of sheet music, refinements and adjustments on each page. A few days before his death, Dean's music becomes almost static, tiny changes here and there, but the melody is complete, and the harmony merely shifts places. Then, suddenly, it is the last page.

What does the song mean? Do we broadcast it? Will it help us? Is it nothing more than the creation of a fragmented mind?

Note: Record a message for the kids later, they're already asleep.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 4th May 2145

I've never seen anything like it. Councillor Ghest rigs up the computer to the tannoy, starts playing this...music. It's haunting, lovely, but that's not what I notice. No, I notice the damn storage crates walking themselves off the shelves all around the warehouse. The alien ship was stored here in pieces, some of it in puddles, it just broke down to nothing. I yelled for everyone to get clear, and in a matter of minutes there were splinters and bits of plastic showering the workspaces. Counters were thrown aside, metal racks - very, very heavy metal racks - just cast about like chaff. From the observation room, we watched it take form. The alien's ship, unmistakeable. Missing a few parts for sure - some of the ship was taken to other places for study, I guess.

Ghest looked like he was going to drop, or scream, I don't know which. In the end he just sort of straightened up and walked out to his office. Turned off the music. Right away the ship settled on the ground, and in a few minutes it started to decompose again.

Percy would have loved this. He always had interesting taste in music.

Update: Running to infirmary, just heard, Percy's back.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 4th May 2145

May has been calling, but I can't - not after this afternoon. We still don't know anything, damn it! We know a lot more than we did, but what do we DO? Old Dean hears music in his dreams, music from someone that wants to help. The song activates the alien's vessel...the vessel of a race that was defeated by the Dragonsphere - of that much I am sure now. How can it help us if they were beaten? Do we run, use its engines? Is the song a new song, one that will make their ship better? In the absence of understanding, I have requested all samples and materials from the alien ship to be returned to us immediately. The other labs are asking if this has to do with the object in the sky. It's no secret any more, people know something is coming, and they're demanding answers.

Smith's ship is a dead end. We haven't been able to work out what this new substance might be. Time is running out, and we haven't got the apparatus to learn what we need to.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 5th May 2145

I've been working on Lieutenant Smith all night, and at this point, all I can say is that he's stable. Everything seems to be working, in the organs at least, but that's more than I can say for his brain. I'm reading nothing there, no patterns that indicate thought, even at the most basic level. He is salted earth, mentally speaking. Even his autonomic function is absent - the moment he appeared in the hallway, we had to drag him here and hook him up to total life support. He doesn't sleep, he's just...there. His eyes seem to lock for a moment, and the scanners jump, almost like he has a few moments of consciousness, but then he's gone again. Honestly, I hope he doesn't know anything. His skin has been burned away at the outer layer, not lethal but very painful if you could feel it. There isn't a hair left on his body. He looks like an old man, wrinkled and pink, his lips and eyes sunken and bones showing through his skin. I'm infusing him with glucose solution, as I think a feeding tube would probably cause a bleed. His skin is like paper. It's like his body doesn't know what to do with the sugar, there's metabolism here and there, but it's not consistent.

Without a doubt, this man is dying. The other thing, very strange - as if any of this isn't strange - his vocal chords have been removed. Sometimes when he has a little "jolt", it seems like he motions to scream...but only a hoarse croak comes out.

Personal: Is this what will happen to all of us? I have a syringe ready to go. I'm not going out like that. This damned ringing in my ears is making it hard to think, I need to sleep, but the syringe will be under the pillow.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 5th May 2145

I don't know why they sent it back, and I don't know what is lying in that bed, but it's not Percy. I'm angry now, more than before, and it's just getting worse with this noise. They're hearing it everywhere now, even in the Lunar base. It started as a ringing, now it's like a hundred thousand voices pulsating, and it's getting worse. I want to blow this damned thing up, I want to fire every weapon we have at it, blast it out of the sky. I know it won't work, but making some very large explosions might calm me down a little. How DARE they? They took his vocal chords, they took his mind - why the hell did they send him back? Or this husk that used to be him, anyway.

I need to calm down. Ghest wants me to join his little choir. He thinks if we sing the song from this old maniac's notebook, we might be able to fly the alien ship. I've never sung a bar in my life. Not while sober, anyway. I'm going down to the lab, maybe if I sing loud enough I can block out this din from the sphere.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 5th May 2145

Something, something to do with sound. Has to be. They took Smith's vocal chords, what was that about? So he couldn't sing the song? The techs have been singing the notes and getting better at it, the ship was really starting to come together last time. We're going to need to enhance our abilities though, we don't have anyone that could learn and reproduce the song this quickly. And if we just get a singer, they won't know how to fight. I feel like we almost know what we need to do, but I can't just figure it out...and this noise! I can't think straight. It's worse outside, but only slightly...there's just no hiding from it. Horrible. Like screams in the distance, too many of them all at once.

Addendum:

Played a basic version of the song on a portable speaker, and with the techs and Conlon singing along, the ship flew together in moments. We're inside now. It's quiet in here. I didn't realise how loud the sound had gotten...my ears are really ringing, Conlon's voice is muffled when he speaks to me. The ship's computer is responding to us, but I can't make much sense of it. The symbols keep changing. One thing is constantly on display, a waveform. It looks very familiar, but I can't quite place it - I think their method of graphing is a little different from ours. I haven't slept for 48 hours, not really, but we need to keep going.

Oh...May. Kids. I have to contact them. I'm sure my techs have kept them informed.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 6th May 2145

That's it, I can't treat anyone else this morning. Nothing works. Earplugs, deadening the aural nerves, nothing short of actually rendering someone deaf, which this sound doesn’t quite seem to do. It is very effective, however, at driving us CRAZY! There was a fight in the waiting area over who was next. I hear from the MPs that there is "public disorder". Code for mass panic, riots, chaos outside the gates. It'll be chaos inside the gates soon enough. I have my syringe. I won't let them drive me mad, let alone flay my skin from my body. Smith...he's alive for now, but I forgot to check on him several times already. I don't know what's going to happen, but it has to happen soon.

---xxx

Mission Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 6th May 2145

I'm 10,000 meters above the Pacific right now. The ship is responding to my commands...to my songs. Ghest has taken to calling them hymns. I don't know how it works exactly, I just think of what I need to do, imagine how that would sound in the main hymn, and improvise something. It seems to work, though it's not very precise. Ghest and I, and a couple of the techs, are working on this, but I'm thinking of Abi and Steve. Ghest seems to have completely pushed his family out of his mind. I wish I had that discipline, if only so I could focus on the job at hand. I nearly crashed us earlier when I went off key, my voice broke thinking of Steven wondering where his dad is while he's...suffering. He is suffering, right now. But so are billions of others...we have to stop this.

---xxx

Medical Log: Dr. Lisa Brogan 6th May 2145

Families of the staff are showing up at the gate. They expect me to care for them - me! I'm in as bad a condition as they are. MPs let them through. Apparently some did not make it. Humanity is at a boil. There is murder in the streets. I've opened the wards, but they're already over full. There's no food, nothing has been delivered.

Smith died earlier. He locked his eyes on me, motioned with his arms a little, then suffered enormous haemorrhages, basically everywhere. A few more hours, that's all I can do. Maybe I should get more syringes for the others. Maybe I could help them, help all of them. It's not right for them to suffer...do no harm. Do no harm.

---xxx

Station Log: Guard Captain Gerard Holt, 99827 6th May 2145

I've been through a lot, but pretty much always in a combat zone. Outside of that, outside of desperate people seeking escape, or sustenance, I've never seen people behave like this. I don't know why they think there are answers inside, or some kind of safety. The wards are full of starving people, at each other's throats. Outside the fence at least they could move around, get away from the fighting. Instead they stand their ground, and are trampled in to dust for it. Inevitably someone turns on someone else, and they all start fighting like...like dogs. It is feral. As they finish tearing each other apart, they make for the gates. And I put them down, like dogs.

I hate them for what they are doing. I'm angry too. I don't know how long it will be before I turn my gun on those inside, or on myself. How much longer can we stand this? The noise, the voices, there is no respite. I'd give anything to be back in the hell of an ordinary war...anything but this.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 6th May 2145

So close now. The alien ship swallowed up my tablet when I set it down for a moment, and then the panels started coming through in English. Damn it, why didn't I do that before? Seconds could mean the difference here. I don't know what's going on planetside. We're in orbit now. The traffic controller warned us off landing, said people were going mad. None of the space stations are responding to signals. Millions could be dead...billions, maybe. Here we are, fumbling about in an unknown craft.

Well, fumbling is a little unkind. The alien's scanners are amazing. I have identified the substance found on Smith's ship. The alien archive indicates it is metallic. Maybe some sort of hull inside the sphere is composed of this? The ship seems to be able to replicate it now that it knows the details. I think it can integrate it in to its structure. If there are life forms aboard the sphere, they must be protected against its effects...maybe this substance would help.

There's more. The alien archive contains designs for a...harness. A mind harness, I suppose you could call it. It allowed them to create what has been translated as a battle choir. Choristers singing the battle hymns to have their ships fly to the needs of the current engagement. Their greatest choristers seem to have been heroes, those who knew many hymns and could create more on the spot. I believe the ship has altered the design to work on a human, but as far as I can tell, anyone harnessed would lose much of their higher brain function to the task of singing the battle hymns. Can I truly ask Conlon to make this sacrifice? He would be the most suitable given his experience to date.

I now believe that Smith's fate was a warning. I can't explain why they skinned him or took his mind, but the vocal chords...they warned us not to sing. The waveform on the alien computer, I can make it out now. It's clearly the sound coming from the sphere that is scouring the Earth, and what is more, it is the complete opposing waveform to the song we discovered. It is suppressing the song. If anyone was to sing it outside this craft, it would collapse in to nothingness. If we had not already assembled the ship, we would have been done for.

There is the bones of a plan here. But there is much to do, and a lot to ask. And I have no idea whether it would work anyway.

---xxx

Personal Log: Cmdr. Michael Conlon, 1082125 7th May 2145

Here I am again, saying goodbye. Abi, you know. Steven, I love you, more than anything else in the universe. You're my boy, you're my hero, and I have to do anything and everything that I can to try to keep you safe. I hope you're safe right now. I remember bouncing you up and down on my foot, holding your hands while you laughed your tiny butt off. And always you wanted me to sing "Down by the Station"...I was shy, even in front of you, about singing, but you loved it so much. Now I have to sing something else, something entirely different. And I need some help singing it...but that help is going to cost a lot.

<pause>

There's no time to think about this. I have to go. I love you both. Goodbye.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 7th May 2145

It is done. The surgery looked painless, but the sight of it. His head is a different shape now, from the harness. And his eyes...they look white, blank, just a tiny pupil staring ahead. He barely acknowledges us. The techs have said very little all day, I think they've gone beyond their ability to process what is happening. Maybe I have too, but I never could shut up. Well, except when trying to think of what to say to May. That always quietened me down. I wish I could speak to her now, before the end. Earth below is a pastiche of dark patches, gigantic, raging fires and smoke, and occasional patches of electric lighting still burning bright. Every few orbits there are less patches of lighting. What is left for us to save?

Conlon, if that's still Conlon, has been sitting at the ship's console, humming in to it. There are noises coming from the hull. I think he knows what he needs to do...the scanners indicate that the substance from the sphere is integrating everywhere. I think I'll call it Conlonite. Once it is complete, we fly in to the sphere. It should only take a few minutes to reach it with the speeds this craft is capable of, not to mention how close Dragonsphere is now.

I've been thinking. I believe the sphere somehow...absorbed the species of the alien who crashed on Earth. Somehow, they were able to persist inside the sphere. Some piece of them remained, and they altered Uncle Dean's dreams to teach him the song. The sphere must have been in contact with him before that, and 12 years ago, the aliens were taken, and they changed the dream.

The song is the key, but why could they not use it themselves? Maybe they could not survive inside the sphere without the Conlonite? Or maybe it was no use before their world was absorbed. From what I've seen, the hymns work on this ship, but they had no effect whatsoever on Earth matter. What if, for the song to do anything, the sphere needed to have matter from the alien world inside? Just like their mental essence, their physical essence changed the sphere.

Anyway...no further analysis is required. There is no changing the plan now. We have this, and we have nothing else. We wait for Conlon's move.

---xxx

Personal Log: Councillor Ghest 8th May 2145

Never forget Conlon, the chorister.

Never forget Smith, the burned man.

Never forget the alien, or his people.

They were our salvation. I cannot begin to explain what I saw, what I experienced inside the Dragonsphere. It was like walking through a graveyard filled with restless souls. Many of them bestial, as I suppose most species absorbed were not intelligent. Many were cowed, afraid of a more dominant consciousness that could cause them to suffer. Overall, there was anger, hatred, an unquenchable thirst for destruction and consumption. There was an ego, too, a sort of twisted pride in the sheer power the sphere commanded. There were machines within, the limbs of this disjointed, gestalt mind. They did the sphere’s bidding, and were surely the means, if not the architects, of Smith’s demise.

I am no closer to understanding what the sphere was, or how it worked, but it was more ancient than I think we can understand. Its current state was the product of everything it had absorbed. It had become something dark, evil...and yet, it had its benevolent parts. I could sense them yearning for release, cheering us to victory even as we destroyed them. Conlon's battle hymn was devastating, the ship answering his every beat, breath and note.

I do not know how many we lost on Earth. Shortly I will set out for home, now a journey of many days where once I might have been home on the same day I left CnC. We have lost a lot, and we must rebuild. I hope to find May and the children waiting for me, but nothing I have seen since landing encourages me to believe that they are out there, safe and sound. Still, I hope. We beat long odds before.

I know Abi and Steve survived. They are here, with the chorister. He is singing an odd song to the little boy, something about trains, though he hasn't said anything else. He doesn’t look at them, he just sits nearby and keeps singing, over and over. ‘‘Down by the station, early in the morning, see the little engines all in a row…’’

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