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adrift-in-thyme · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 3: "Make it stop"

Read it on Ao3

- Wild & the Chain

- Summary: When Wild is captured by the Yiga Clan, Master Kohga decides to get his revenge

CW for graphic depictions of violence, torture, blood and injury, vomiting, and a character briefly wishing for death

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“Get up!”

Wild pries open his eyes just as a boot connects with his side. He jerks away with a hiss of pain.

Of all the horrible ways to wake up…

The face of a Yiga assassin comes into view as his vision clears and he groans.

Even better.

“I said, get up!”

Another kick that takes Wild’s breath away.

“Yeah that’s not the best way to get me off the floor,” he remarks, dragging himself into a seated position.

That earns him a sharp smack across the face. Wincing, he watches as the assassin bends down, unlocking his chains. They fall to the floor with a clatter. But Wild hardly has time to breathe a sigh of relief, or rub his wrists, or even to plan a quick escape. Almost immediately, the Yiga yanks his hands behind his back, then ties them tightly with a thick rope.

The coarse material rubs at his already raw wrists. It only adds to the cacophony of aches that have begun to arise now that he’s conscious. Wild blows out an annoyed sigh. As if he could forget how sorely he had lost his last fight.

Rough hands haul him to his feet and he stumbles. His surroundings go fuzzy and dim and for a moment he is certain he’s going to faint. But then it passes. And not a moment too soon. The Yiga shoves him forward and wrenches open the cell door.

The same one they’d thrown Barta into, Wild realizes dazedly. The thought doesn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“Walk,” comes the sharp order, accompanied by another, hearty push. Stumbling on achingly numb legs, Wild starts forward.

He falls more than walks down the stairs. Between the Yiga’s forceful movements and the haze he has yet to pull himself out of, he can hardly keep himself upright. Even the journey across the main room is difficult.

Especially once he realizes where they’re headed.

“Master Kohga will be so pleased to see you,” his captor hisses, no doubt noticing the sudden increased tension in Wild’s shoulders.

“Didn’t I kill him?” Wild asks, with a forced chuckle. Maybe if he feigns nonchalance it will mask the thundering of his heart. He sends a furtive glance around the space, looking for anything that could possibly allow for a quick escape. But there is nothing.

…and no one. Save for the few assassins who leer at him from beneath their masks.

He swallows, hard. “I think I remember dropping his own weapon onto his head.”

That garners him a swift kick to the shins. He trips, only saved from face planting by the Yiga’s tight grip.

“You are a fool to think our master is so easily defeated. You on the other hand…”

The hallway narrows, then widens into a familiar room. He forces himself to take a deep breath.

“…you will meet your end today.”

Wild lifts his head as he walks through the doorway, heart situated painfully in his throat. Master Kohga sits before him, looking very much alive.

“You,” he snarls as soon as he lays eyes on the champion. “You cocky, undying little punk! You thought you had seen the end of the Great Master Kohga, didn’t you?”

Wild shrugs, a slight smirk on his lips. “I did drop a boulder on your head.”

The Yiga restraining him kicks his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with an “oof.”

“That-that is inconsequential!” Kohga replies, huffily. “I am more powerful than death! But for the pain you caused my beloved, loyal followers” – He rises now, stomping his foot along with every word– “You. Are. Going. To. Die!”

His captor’s grip tightens and he yanks on Wild’s hands. Wild falls back, head bumping against the assassin's hip.

“Shall I take him outside, Master Kohga?” A sadistic sort of excitement colors his voice. It makes Wild’s blood run cold.

Kohga nods. “Yes, take him. I do not wish to ruin my furniture with his blood.”

Again, Wild is hauled upward, though this time a vicious sickle finds its way into his back. It bites into his flesh and he fights not to let out a hiss of pain.

“Move,” the Yiga snaps and Wild stumbles out into the sun.

Kohga sits cross-legged over the crater Wild had been so certain he had plummeted into, hovering serenely just above it.

“Come forward, hero,” he sneers as Wild is shoved toward the gaping hole. “You will be pleased to find that I have perfected my art more than ever!”

With a snap of his fingers, a massive boulder appears above his head. Dozens of tiny spikes protrude from its smooth surface. Wild’s blood runs cold. Abandoning his more measured, methodical tugs of before, he begins yanking ferociously at his bonds.

But then, the Yiga drives his sickle into the back of his leg and all thoughts of an escape vanish. He chokes on a cry. His vision bleeds white. It’s all he can do not to pass out.

One, swift movement and the weapon is out of him, tearing through his flesh as easily as fingers through tissue paper. This time he screams.

He hardly registers it when the Yiga backs away, barely realizes that a large, stone door is sliding over the opening behind him, blocking any exit.

But Kohga’s shrill laughter pierces his ears like knives and he drags his head up to look at him.

“If I were you I would run,” he says, voice nearly brimming with excitement. “Because the time for vengeance has come!”

He begins to swing the boulder over his head. With each trip around it gains momentum, growing closer and closer to the moment when it will break free and careen straight at Wild.

Come on, get up. You’ve got to move.

Gritting his teeth, Wild forces himself to his feet. Pain shoots through his leg anew, like a thousand tiny shards of glass have entered his wound. A scream breaks through his parched lips. His lungs burn, breath coming too fast, heart beating erratically. Stars explode before his eyes.

And still the boulder spins. The motion makes him dizzy.

On trembling limbs he stumbles forward, bile rising in his throat. But each step is sheer agony and he’s slow.

…much too slow.

When the boulder flies free, he can’t evade it. It collides with his body and he goes flying. Pain erupts within him. It steals his breath, propels forth a shout of shock and agony, makes his extremities go numb. He can hear his bones cracking even over the rushing in his ears. His vision goes blindingly white, then spotty, then dangerously dark.

He hits the ground, crying out at the agony of the impact. And the boulder comes down with him, crushing his prone body.

Somewhere, Kohga is laughing. The boulder disappears, retreating back to its owner to prepare for another round. Wild knows he should get up, knows he should at least attempt to run. But all he can do is lie there, trying to breathe. Trying to stay awake.

Blood gurgles in his throat and he pitches sideways, gagging on it. Against the blurred sand, the liquid looks far darker than usual. Almost black.

Like the blood of the Shadow, he thinks dazedly.

He doesn’t get much farther than that thought. Because once more the boulder shoots forward. This time it rolls into him more than flies, shoving him against the far wall and pinning him there.

He doesn’t have the strength to scream, even as the spikes tear out chunks of his flesh and his shattered bones protest this newest assault. He yearns for oblivion that refuses to come.

“So, hero, how do you like it?”

It hits him again, smashing him against the cool stone. He gags on blood once more. It drips into his eyes, runs in rivulets down his face, pools in the gashes that run along his body.

“Painful, isn’t it? Well, that is what you did to me!”

Wild teeters on the edge. Of death or unconsciousness, though, he isn’t sure. Death, he hopes.

(Though at the same time, he doesn’t, because that means he has lost the battle again, failed everyone again, but sweet Hylia he just wants this to stop. Please make this stop.)

And it’s clear now that there will be no other escape.

Your brothers aren’t coming for you. Even if they are, they’ll be too late.

It’s already too late.

“But the mighty Master Kogha prevails over pain and death! You, however, are weak! Weak, weak, weak!”

The boulder retracts and Wild watches it dimly. One more hit is all it will take. He is certain.

So much for coming back to life.

He can see bone, he realizes, shining gorily from his left arm. It is at a strange angle too.

Must be broken.

It certainly isn’t the only thing. But somehow, that hardly seems important at the moment.

His eyes slip closed. Everything hurts. The only other time he felt like this was when he collapsed on Blatchery Plain.

I’m sorry, Zelda, for putting you through this again.

I’m sorry…

“Champion!”

A shout rings out across the space, protectively furious and wonderfully familiar. There’s a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. But the blow he expects doesn’t fall on him.

Instead, gentle hands lift his head, cradling it. He blinks open swollen eyes to see the blurred face of Twilight hovering just above him. Legend and Sky appear over his shoulder, seconds later.

“Twi.”

Clumsily, he tries to reach out with his less injured arm, eager to touch him, to prove that he is real. But his body refuses to follow his commands. He doesn’t have to worry, though. The rancher’s hand easily finds its way into his.

“I’ve got you, Wild,” he says, and there is pure fire in his tone. “You’re safe now.”

A head of familiar pink hair leans over him. Gentle, trembling hands nudge his chin upward.

“Here, you’ve gotta drink this.”

Potion is poured down his throat, lukewarm and burning. But the magic of it begins its work immediately, zipping purposefully toward the worst of his wounds.

Wild swallows it with an effort. Then, he drags his eyes back up to meet Twilight’s. “Kohga?”

It is hardly a whisper, yet they hear it anyway.

“Dead.” He thinks it’s Sky who answers, though his voice doesn’t quite have its usual tone. It is a brittle thing. Dangerous. “For good this time.”

Wild tries to grin, but finds he isn’t quite up to it. “Good,” he mumbles instead. “Tired of his dumb belly.”

Twilight’s lips quirk the slightest bit. Gently, he brushes aside Wild’s bangs, wet with blood and sweat.

“Well, he’s never gonna touch you again.”

“Now, rest up,” Legend says, shakily. “We’ve got this handled. You focus on not dying.”

Any other time Wild would laugh and tease the vet about his blatant caring. But all he can focus on is the pleasantly numb feeling that has begun to spread throughout his body, and how warm Twilight’s embrace is as he scoops him carefully off of the ground. His eyes slip closed of their own accord. Before he even realizes what is happening, the darkness swallows him and he is gone.

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octoberobserver · 9 months

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*cracks knuckles* guess who's ready to start writing the second good omens fix-it fic in as many days?

me. it's me.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #crowley #the plot bunnies won't cease #this one's a doozy

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afterdarkprincess · 3 months

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#7 with your choice 😉😉

7. Go on. Ride my thigh.

Thank you SO SO MUCH bestie for the prompt, I very much enjoyed writing this one 😜

Prompt List can be found here

Relationship: Roman/Sami Rating: Explicit Word Count: 860

Warning: Pet play, Dom/Sub relationship, Collars, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Humping.

Tag squad: @imabillyami @feelschicken @elementaldoughnut12 @harmshake @jeysbvck @southerngirl41

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Roman sat in his armchair with his legs splayed wide, ice cold whisky glass in hand, his dark eyes watching with intent as Sami kneels before him.

Sami’s eyes are downcast, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. There’s a blood red collar on his neck, with a dangling gold charm that reads “Property of the Tribal Chief” in delicate engraved script. The collar is the only thing adorning Sami’s body, the rest of his pretty pale skin fully on display for Roman’s enjoyment.

He takes his free hand and cards his thick fingers through Sami’s curls, those lovely eyes closing in pleasure as Roman pets him like the loyal pet that he is.

Roman had his reservations about Sami when he first approached him, begging to be let into the bloodline, begging to be close to the Tribal Chief. But in the end he was just as malleable as his cousins, eager to please and easy to subjugate. He wanted this, had cried and pleaded for it, any opportunity to please Roman.

And please him he shall.

Roman abruptly ceases his movements, curling his fingers in the dense hair at the base of Sami’s skull and tugs hard, tilting his head back so Sami has no choice but to turn those sweet trusting eyes to Roman’s face.

Sami lets out a moan, breath coming in pants as he arches his back, pushing his puffy nipples forward to brush against the rough material of Roman’s jeans.

“Lovely,” Roman murmurs, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. “Are you ready for your reward, sweet thing?”

The ginger nods fervently, and Roman watches his pet’s pretty cock bob with the motion, like it’s nodding as well.

He laughs in spite of himself, knocking back the rest of the whisky before rising to stand and setting the glass down before leisurely unbuckling his belt. Sami’s eyes watch his every move as Roman deftly unbuttons and unzips the jeans and pushes the material down to expose the hefty bulge in his tight briefs.

Sami’s mouth falls open, cute little pink tongue darting out to lick his lips, and his hands hover near Roman’s thighs, knowing he needs permission to touch.

“Go on,” Roman chuckles. “You know what to do.”

The ginger wastes no time pulling down the band of Roman’s briefs, freeing the massive erection within. The thick uncut head smacking against Sami’s face in his eagerness.

Sami takes him into his mouth, drooling as he suckles on the tip, running his tongue around it and driving Roman wild. His hand returns to Sami’s hair, taking a firm grip but not yet applying pressure either way, just there as a reminder of who’s in control here.

He moans, sending vibrations through Roman’s dick, the heat in his belly coiling into delicious pleasure. One of Sami’s hands wraps around the base of his dick, while the other gently cups Roman’s balls, his saliva dripping down Roman’s length to ease the way.

It’s not the best blowjob the Tribal Chief has ever received, but there’s something special about the way Sami looks up at him; those beautiful eyes framed by thick lashes and full of adoration.

Sami makes quick work of it, putting his all into this as he does everything else. Roman’s balls tighten, and he just barely has the forethought to push Sami’s head down, forcing his cock into the ginger’s throat as he releases into that warm wet hole.

When Roman’s grip eases up and Sami pulls back off his cock, several strands of milky saliva and cum connect between Roman’s softening tip and those pink lips. It’s a very pretty picture, and if Roman were any younger it would get him stirring again.

Instead, Roman fetches the decanter of whisky, pouring himself another drink before returning to his chair, without a care for his still free’d cock.

Sami stays kneeling on the floor, but his eyes follow each footstep, waiting patiently for further instructions. How did Roman get so lucky to have such an obedient adoring pet?

Roman settles, spreading his knees wide again and taking a sip from his glass.

“Go on, sweetheart. Ride my thigh.”

Sami scrambles to his feet, his cock red and leaking obscenely, before straddling Roman’s large thigh and sliding his dick against the rough denim of Roman’s jeans.

He looks almost like a dog, desperately humping Roman’s leg as he searches release. Sami’s eyes fill with tears, his head drooping to rest against Roman’s broad shoulders while the Tribal Chief takes another drink of his whisky and enjoys the show unfolding on his lap.

“S-so close, sir, please-“ Sami pleads, tears beginning to fall now.

Roman tries to keep his face calm and neutral, despite the delight he’s feeling.

“Come for me.”

Sami sobs, hips spasming as he comes all over Roman’s thigh, making a mess of the jeans. The sobs turn to whines, turning to hot pants of his breath into Roman’s shirt as his pet comes down from his high.

Roman runs his fingers through Sami’s hair again, and presses a solitary kiss against his pet’s sweaty brow. After all, he did so well.

#roman reigns #sami zayn #roman/sami #roman x sami #wwe fanfiction #smut prompts #my writing #this one's a DOOZY #I really did have so much fun with this tho

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nyxicnymph · 1 year

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What's up y'all, the biggest fic of my year So Far is up!

Please go check it out! And please reblog this post!

#genshin impact #diluc genshin impact #nyx writes stuff #diluc ragnvindr #gi diluc #genshin diluc #zhongluc #this one's a doozy #make sure to read the tags

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doevademe · 8 months

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I've been working a lot, though not exactly on what I said I would be working, so...

Next chapter of Cycle of Death will be up in 24 hours.

#about my writing #this one's a doozy #the plot finally starts moving forward

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itsbenedict · 1 month

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telephone art

exercise

EG session

J/A: script 2 wrong answers

#sc accountability #telephone art prolly gonna take the bulk of today #this one's a doozy

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phtalogreenpoison · 11 months

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Btxt Atla AU Worldbuilding

OK ok here we go. Also credit for this also goes to @onedreamseeker (sideblog of @1001galaxygal) because we were a hive mind of two people for this.

For reference, here is a map of the ATLA world if you like visuals. Now overall, this would be set pre-Kyoshi era, so pretty near generation wise to the founding of the different groups, so the conflict of the story is not that there is war. It would be more along the lines of what happens when new alliances or dynasties are being formed, and the change that comes with that. Like if you were to take the Yu taming the flood myth, except as a longer narrative.

Earth Kingdom - Mostly focused on internal struggle at the moment for who will rise to power and claim the most territory. Because of this, there is a lot of fighting, assassinations, and backstabbing, hence atla Beomgyu's casual relationship with violence, Hobi traveling from uncertainty, and the need for initially earthbending Jin as the Avatar. There is also the question of whether it is best to have one Earth Kingdom or multiple sovereignties, and the eventual founding of Ba Sing Se will feature heavily into this.

Air Nomads - They would be pretty peaceful and chill during this era, but their arc as an overall group would perhaps focus on how they go from being more of a secondary power and not much of a global player to being known for their diplomacy because of their taught skills in mediating disputes. This is where Huening Kai gets his background from and why he tags along initially with Soobin and Beomgyu. Jimin and Taehyung also go with Jin out of a desire to understand the world and help bring peace.

Water Tribes - The northern and southern tribes are in contention with each other, and though it's not outright fighting, it's very tense. Possibly, they just split from each other just a generation or so back due to differing approaches or views. From here, Namjoon is from the Northern Water Tribe and is the next apparent leader, and he is setting out to meet with the Southern Tribe out of a desire to come to an agreement or treaty of some sorts. Soobin, on the other hand, is next in line for the Southern Water Tribe, and though he is not opposed to peace, he feels pressure to either gather information, sway things to his people's side, or possibly even assasinate Namjoon. He is torn on what is the best thing to do for his people.

Fire Nation - From the elite's perspective, the Fire Nation is stable for its relative newness, but from this more laissez-faire approach to both internal and external politics, there has become a wildly unequal class structure/hierarchy. Out of this resulting anger, Yoongi, among others, begin to lead a grassroots revolution out of a desire for change. He picks up Jungkook along the way, and they are working for better opportunities. While they are far less involved in the conflict, this also adds to the difficulties of logistics between the friendship of Yeonjun and Taehyun - they are both greatly talented, but because Taehyun comes from much more wealth, there are obstacles for Yeonjun to get to have the same opportunities.

From these differing conflicts and character arcs, there will be the eventual resolution of peace or an alliance between the Water Tribes as well as the founding of Ba Sing Se and the creation of peace in the Earth Kingdom.

#btxt atla au #bts #txt #tomorrow x together #atla universe #worldbuilding #this one's a doozy

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theroyalthrones · 10 months

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Your pictures and screenshots are so pretty though! How do you do it? I love your blog btw!!

Thank you!! I really appreciate you saying that! I'm not totally sure if you want a tutorial or not. I can't give you a step-by-step run down, since it's different every time. but I can tell you a few of the things that I do the most often. If you want yours to look a bit like mine!

I editing software I use is Photoshop. But there are many alternatives like Pixlr, and Gimp.

Another big factor that plays into the coloring and depth of an edit is by using Reshade. I couldn't do anything without it.

before and after with just Reshade

Next I hop into Photoshop. and do the basics that I do for every edit. that's what I'll show you today.

I would first crop it, if that's what I needed to do. but for this one I won't.

Then I would make one duplicate layer of the image, and then a blank layer. That blank layer would be put on multiply.

I use these layers to add shading and highlights. First I use the blank layer use the eyedrop tool (shortcut: I) to select the color in the shadows. and draw them on. Next I use Dodge tool (shortcut: O) to add highlights in the t-zones of their faces, in their eyes, on their jewelry, and in their hair.

before and after

The next steps are one after the other. and Illustrated below with letters. I do it in that order.

A. I merge the layers for the shadow and highlights.

B. This next step uses an action that I made for my editing. but you can replicate it one by one on any editing software. The Action makes my life easier, by editing the photo with settings that I've specified. I sharpen the image with it, adding a few shadows and highlights. You will have to find a specific setting that works with your photos, as each Reshade is different. this is just what works for me.

C. Lastly I put all of my PSD settings into a folder. and then saved all of those settings into my library. So All I have to do now is drag and drop everything over the image. and in most cases, I could be done.

C (continued).

This is how the image looks right after I put the PSD on. As you can see this is how I get the Letterbox effect. and how I write the dialogue. but I remove that for edits, of course.

This is what my layers look like. It's all quite organized, But the editing folder is where the magic really happens.

Although the pictures of settings might not help that much. but I can tell you most of these are just subtle changes. but all together they make something great.

So this is the before:

And this is the after

So all of that to say, This is the main coloring and editing for all my edits. but most of them are different. To get the magazine covers, I use the devilliers magazine PSDs for the most part. While they aren't available on Patreon anymore. @lucky-content uploaded them all onto SimsFileShare. You can find them here!

Anyway, that was a lot, but I hope it helps you or someone else! If this wasn't what you meant send me another, and I'll figure it out!

#tutorial #ttasks #anon #This one's a doozy

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mmoxie · 11 months

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Part 10 - Bounce

The Xerox Alto was a piece of shit. A revolutionary piece of shit, but just the same, with its vertical screen and crackling boot-beeps and grey-gone-beige-gone-yellow patina, it looked pathetic in ways that Dani found a little adorable. Thrift store adorable, flea mall adorable. Scoop the guts out and make it a fishtank, that kind of thing.

Craig thought it was the most important device he owned. He navigated the primitive interface as if visiting an old friend, so familiar with their life and their home that he could pick out the bathroom without asking. He cracked his hairy knuckles and pushed his bifocals up tight against his face, then flashed Dani the grin of a much younger, much less responsible man.

“You know how long she’s -snif- been waiting for a reason to come out of retirement?”

Dani gave Craig a sympathetic shrug, hands in her apron pockets. She still hadn’t undressed from work- today, with Seebs and Vinny safely stowed on the houseboat with a rerun of M.A.S.H. to keep them at peace- she had sped away from Turtlebees’ and wiped enough burger wrappers and empty paycheck envelopes out of the passenger seat to make room for Craig.

They were leaving Fish Camp for a while, braving the winding roads around Yosemite in search of a place somehow more remote than their humble town with its population of forty-three.

They drove with the sun at their back, illuminating the craggy, layered face of Iron Mountain as they bore east toward a site that Craig insisted would be necessary.

“Roosevelt got his picture taken there, y’know,” he said, helping himself to a bag of chips from the back seat. “You could try having fun with this, Dani. Take a few snapshots when we get there, huh?”

Dani leaned over the wheel and squinted at the road. Work hadn’t been going well lately- the fatigue was starting to set in. Turtlebees’ was supposed to be a cover gig, not a full-time responsibility she was meant to care about. She was tired of being Gina Lincoln, especially after having to firmly turn down Redd Lake and watch all his good will dry up when he realized he wasn’t getting laid. It kept her dreading work, and she already didn't really want to be there. –But turning him down had made the distance she needed to keep him alive. One push in the wrong place and the poor bastard would have been fit for the ashtray.

“Craig, what if we find out there’s no getting a grip on this?”

“Huh?”

“You said yourself, it’s not like we can expect to find something good at the center of whatever’s happening to me. What if we can’t find a way to put a cork in it?”

She flit her cigarette against the little cup she bought at the general store. No tossing butts in Yosemite. That would be a little much. Craig was quiet for a few, crunching chips and flipping over the Steely Dan tape they were playing before replying.

Drink Kirschwasser from a shell,

“Dani, I’m not gonna turn you in,”

San Francisco show and tell,

“I mean, hell, the idea of getting in front of cops after the life I’ve lead… I’d just as soon take my ass back to Peru. I’ve thought about it, too,”

Well I should know by now, that it’s just a spasm,

“But you should know, I’m about as qualified as it gets on this kind of shit. The intersection of planar, scalar, esoteric, geometric, signal and sympathetic, nobody put those concepts through the wringer like we did. Like I did,”

Like a Sunday in T.J., that it’s cheap but it’s not free,

“And I can do it again. When we get there, I’ll use the Alto to show you sides of yourself you can’t even perceive. It’s like living without mirrors, you know? How the fuck’ll you know what to do with your hair if you can’t see it?”

That I’m not what I used to be…

In the shadow of Globe Rock, Dani popped the hood of the Taurus and Craig lashed together a handful of junky converters until the Alto and the battery could have a conversation. The old, discolored machine creaked to life, and Craig hitched a number of homemade devices to it- a telescopic six-foot aerial, some sort of clamp made out of brass or gold covered in carved gargoyles fit to the edge of the keyboard, a gyroscope of some sort that bolted to the side of the screen and housed a pale blue gem- aquamarine, Dani guessed.

“Whew- okay. We’re going somewhere dark, but be gentle with yourself, alright? I already told you I’m no shrink, so if you go spiraling, well… the best I’ll be able to do is a ride home and a cold beer.” He squatted over the keyboard, the whole assembly perched on the flattest and nearest stump, and began opening programs authored by himself and his comrades half a century ago.

“Close your eyes and… do what you gotta do. Aerial is reporting one, two, three pings- you’ll be the fourth, and we can quadrangulate from there.” He flicked the gyroscope with his thumb, then closed his hand over the strange gold fixture on the keyboard and shut his eyes. “Latency’s pretty high. Once we get the linkage we need, just one or two baud should do us, but until we get it, it’ll be slow going.”

Dani nodded her way through Craig’s advice, but she wasn’t listening. She stared up at Globe Rock- ancient, ominous, and just as sure about this as she was. Her hands trembled as she raised them to the smooth, round surface and exhaled. Four seconds in, four seconds out- no fire yet. Good.

She closed her eyes tight enough that she couldn’t see the orange glow of sunset, and let herself drift backward into her own mind.

She saw Redd, and Sean, and Mike. She saw her mother, and saw Gina- the real Gina, from the lotto counter at Wilson Titlee.

That fucking store. Everything had started to fade, but suddenly she was right there again, gritting her teeth across the desk in the HR office, remembering how even as she questioned and quipped, her mind was reeling with actual problems the company might solve instead of stupid bullshit like this.

They pushed and pushed and pushed- Dani do this, Dani lift that, Dani can you pick up some overtime? Dani we’ve got a walk tomorrow, think you can stay long enough to finish this project?

They had ASKED for the very same labor she was being punished for! All she did was agree!

Mike… god, dude, you didn’t deserve it. If you had just waited long enough for them to call you, say you weren’t getting me back for a few days… none of this would’ve happened. If they hadn’t called me in for the suspension, none of this would’ve happened. And if that hadn’t happened, young skinheads everywhere wouldn’t have lost their stupid online role model. But she wasn’t supposed to live that kind of life! She was fine just punching clock, moving furniture, and going home to watch old movies with Seebs.

Wait, no I’m not. No, that fucking sucks too! I wasn’t content, I was too tired to move!

She was suddenly engulfed in a vicious eruption of fire- a ten foot pillar of flame reached into the evening sky past Globe Rock, then settled until it wicked from her shoulders and rolled down her back like a mane. Somewhere outside the angry depths of her psyche, Craig barked a triumphant little laugh under his bristly white mustache and clacked at the keyboard.

You don’t watch shit like Cleopatra Wong unless you’re numb to every other kind of stimulation in the world. I was dead. They killed me. Wilson Titlee fucking killed me!

The cloak of flame flared again, and this time when it settled, it clung to Dani like a bright, destructive aura. It was wild, burning the edges of her flapping apron, but she somehow willed it not to climb. That’s when she heard the second ping- and the clicking again- the device measuring “Zeners” was protruding from Craig’s back pocket, and it was hissing and popping like fryer oil.

She didn’t realize she had moved, or that she was looking at him. Her vision was wreathed in orange and gray, smoke pouring from her with every step. She hated that it didn’t smell bad.

“Redlining again. Christ over rice, redlining again. Sixty zeen, maybe more, no way of telling since the gauge doesn’t go that high,” Craig was muttering. He gripped his belt and hitched his pants a bit, then retrieved the multi-dimensional Geiger counter from his pocket and shut it off.

“Yeah, yeah. We know now. Big zeens. Strong reading, at least. Gremlins were getting hot, almost lost my grip. –Dani, are you alright? Our upload’s going- if you can just maintain this for a few, it'll complete its route and bounce back. Need a consistent data stream until then.”

Every muscle in her body was painfully tense, and her skin was taut and ached, sunburnt under her own corona of flame. She crouched to get level with Craig and saw herself- a silhouette at the center of a bonfire- reflected in his bifocals.

He wasn’t afraid, and that was something. She felt so strange- sick, sick with anger, like the only way to quench this feeling of ultimate violence in her heart was to take hold and vomit her white-hot agony into the first thing that moved. But that was just it- he wasn’t moving. Didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even -snif-.

“When we get the bounceback, grab that artifact we generated. The weird little nametag.”

“Ain’t that… s’posed to hurt me?” Dani’s breathing was labored, and tongues of flame curled up between her teeth, graying them all over again.

“It’s dangerous. But like we talked about, it’s an on switch. If we want it to be anything else, we’ve got to get it entangled with this pit of yours.”

“Do I need- gnh- to do anything else?”

“Look behind you.” He kept his left hand tight on the golden fixture, while his right hand fluttered across stiff old keys. “Fifteen tons of igneous granite. The Mono people used to gather here. Fresno Dome isn’t too far off either.”

“Why are you telling me this stuff, man?”

“’Cause I want you to think about it. First the Mono, doing what they do. They had an interesting diet, I’d like to try it myself. Then Roosevelt, probably sitting astride some big bastard of a horse and yukking it up about what he heard at the last Masons dinner. They were drawn here.”

“Uh-huh.” It hurt. God, it hurt. How long could it take for a signal to bounce around?

“And in 1961, Frank Hoyle turned up here with a suitcase full of ill-gotten lottery winnings and spoke to god.”

“What?”

“Frank was never one of us. Came up from Kentucky- we all already lived out this way. But we were still on campus, and before we ever got the work started, he was here, just like Roosevelt, and just like the Mono, and he made first contact before we made our first payment on the Alto.”

Dani’s head was swimming. She groaned and set her hands on the enormous stone, hoping to find her balance before she burnt up entirely. The Taurus’s radio seemed to turn itself up. When had they put Abba in?

There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando…

“We talk a lot about axes and fixed points, especially in this line of work. Beaver Math, extraplanar condensation, fussy atomics, Clairvoyant Klondike… but that’s just vocabulary words. You want the hard truth of it, Dani?”

“God, shut up,” she slurred, pressing her forehead against the rock.

They were shining there for you and me, for liberty, Fernando…

And then he was gone. Everything but his voice, but he wasn’t attached to it anymore.

She stood on a plinth under a dome of darkness, casting her orange glow into a gray expanse with nothing in it but low fog that clung to the pale, smooth ground.

“You’ve been everywhere,” Craig echoed. His voice came from high up, as if the dome she stood under was the cone of a giant speaker. “Back and forth, up and down, in and out. Then and now, here and there.”

In this strange isolation, staring at her own glow reflected on the fog, she felt bile rise in her throat, the acid reflux of anger unattended and left to curdle. She wanted to speak, but felt like she’d vomit- just as she had with Mike. Every part of her resisted the urge, toes curling in her boots, hands clawing into the fabric of her apron.

His meaning dawned on her only when she stepped down from the plinth.

She had been here. In the dark. Standing in the shadow of a greater self, agglomerated of moments- ugly moments, hurtful moments, moments of shame and failure and inadequacy, all crammed down, down, down, so that she could build up an easy façade, 'take it all in stride,' and so on.

Why had she done that? So people would like her more?

They fuckin’ didn’t!

The fog began to clear as she grew hotter, brighter.

The only people who made friends with her were just as aggrieved, just as angry, and just as impotent.

That word stung her from the inside, and her flame grew angrier, revealing more of the dark dome.

A face loomed over her, etched into the stone. It was angular, androgynous, lined with age and lopsidedly amused. It didn’t move. It did abide. There was a magnetism to it- spiritually it was animate, even if it wasn’t physically.

The face of god.

Looks kinda like Marlene Dietrich, in Garden of Allah. –Didn’t Cyndi Lauper watch that movie in a music video?

“You made it,” the face intoned easily. The voice was deep and cool, but not unkind.

“Time After Time,” she answered, a little stupidly.

“Did you know Lou Albano was in that video? Played her father.”

“The wrestler?”

“He spent more time as a manager,” the face answered.

“I’ll be damned. Did you know she was-“

“Crying for real in the video?” They both said. Suddenly Dani hurt a little less. The face laughed.

“Alright. Okay. Are you Craig?”

“No, yes.”

“Aw, come on.”

“This doesn’t happen very often. I gotta get my kicks in somewhere.”

“So are you god?”

“Not really. Not the one they hope I am, anyway.”

Dani felt the corner of her mouth hitch in a grin. She didn’t realize it, but she was matching the amused expression of the face before her.

“Do I get to ask which one you are?”

“You can ask anything, Dani.”

“Alright. Can I smoke?”

“You shouldn’t, but sure. I’ve had a few nicknames. I like to tell people I’m Indrid Cold, but you’re a little too close to all this for that to work on you, huh?”

Dani lit a cigarette against the palm of her steadily-burning hand and took a long drag. “I mean, call yourself what you want, but if I’d think you’re hiding something- yeah, with that name, I would.”

“So call me Mangala, or Neto, or Bahram, or Lenus.”

“How long is this going to go on, Neto?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

Ah. Until I die.

“Could be a while. But you’re not a chosen one, and you’re also not a monster. You came close, the night you roasted young Sean, but he’ll come around again.”

“Well, if I’m not a monster, then what is?”

“Someone who likes it. Let’s face it, Dani, you do enough self-flagellating to sit the table at any old monastery you like. If you weren’t so cynical, you’d make a hell of a crusader.”

They both laughed at that.

“So what do I do?”

“What can any of us do?”

“Come on, man. Again?”

“Listen, you want answers. I get it. But you and I are in motion, right now. It always goes, it never stops. Ask your man Craig about that ‘langolier mechanism’ he’s so enthused about sometime. You try to pump the brakes, you get rear-ended.”

“So I never get to rest?”

“Not until you realize that resting and running are the same thing. –But with the way you go through old movies, I think you have a pretty good idea of that already.”

Dani sighed and gave the face a long look.

“Neto, Craig’ll kill me if I don’t ask while I’m here—”

“There’s a lot that man shouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, but…”

“You can tell him he’s right about the Nazca lines, but he’s on his own from there.”

“Are you two like, not cool?”

“It’s not like that. He just sucks all the fun out of everything. He’s kind of a math pervert. I’m sure there’s a lot of joy to be had in measuring the spokes of the Big Wheel or knowing the thread count of the Easy Chair’s upholstery, but that’s a joy I can never understand. It’s not an enlightened kind of joy. The man’s a real profligate.”

They regarded each other in vague agreement for a while.

“We should probably cut to the chase,” Dani eventually said. “There’s something wrong with me. You can, uh… see the fire.”

“I won’t tell you it’s a good sign. But I’ll also tell you that gunning for control is a mistake. You were striking on something interesting the other night, during Star Trek.”

Jeez, it knows about how I spend my nights. Kinda puts me on the spot.

“The thing about learning to like it?”

“Not it, Dani. Remember, you’ve been everywhere.”

And then its voice was gone, and Abba was back.

If I had to do the same again, I would, my friend, Fernando…

“Dani! Holy jeez, what the hell happened? I got the bounceback just now. You looked… you were gone, it was just fire standing there!”

Dani shuddered and ran her hands over her apron. Still intact. A little singed. Same with the woman underneath it.

“Did you- you’re right about the Nazca lines,” Dani blurted, suddenly losing her balance. She caught herself on the plinth beneath the giant stone and coughed up a mouthful of wet ash.

“The Nazca lines?” Craig blinked and adjusted his glasses. “What happened to you?”

“I thought you were pushin’ me toward that, with all your talk of Roosevelt and… the native folks, and whoever the fuck,”

“Hoyle. I was just trying to get you into a significant kind of mood, I didn’t plan for you to vanish! Where’d you go?”

“Honestly, Craig, I’m starting to think I went in.”

“In the rock?!”

“Yeah.”

“It’s solid granite!”

“Yeah.”

“…Yeah?”

“I think I did some Buckaroo Banzai shit. –Man, I’m still on fire, are we good? I feel like I’m gonna barf. I can’t turn it off once it’s going.”

“Signal’s strong and steady. Think you can stand up straight? –And to the East, you’ll want to cast your shadow ahead of you. Good frame of reference.”

Craig leaned into the driver’s-side window of the Taurus and flicked on the high-beams. Dani wobbled a bit, but turned away, and set her gaze on a shadow that stretched forward, deforming over the massive stone sphere.

“The Alto is about to produce a tone. When it does, close your eyes and think of… something really fundamental you can follow. Smoke on the Water, or uh… Billie Jean. Something you know by heart, okay?”

The old computer began to produce a strange tone. It was high, but it also hissed, and something underneath it seemed to pulse and thrum in a way that made her feel even sicker.

So she closed her eyes and sang.

“You could have a steam train,

If you’d just lay down your tracks,

You could have an aeroplane, flying,

If you bring your blue sky back,”

When she opened her eyes, her shadow had in some way peeled from her, no longer attached at the boots. It stood on the front of the stone, a hole in the headlight beams, eye-line equal with hers. She forced herself not to recoil from it.

“I wanna be, your sledgehammer,

Why don’t you call my name?

Ah! Let me be your sledgehammer,

This will be my testimony,”

It slid away from the surface of Globe Rock toward her- not hovering, not floating, sliding, like an abacus bead, on an axle that she couldn’t see. As it drew closer, she could see the time shear, the so-called langolier mechanism, damaging it. The edges frayed when they should have grown clearer. She opened her mouth to speak, and it opened its mouth to speak.

Fire poured into it from Dani’s open mouth. She clenched her fists as it boiled up unbidden. Her hatred for herself was dragonbreath, compressed plumes pummeling the ragged shadow, a stream of deadly white-orange trying again and again to make it disappear under light and heat.

But it wouldn’t. It was her, and she was here. And she had been everywhere.

It sang back to her.

“All you do is call me,

I’ll be anything you need,”

The song was infectious. Steady in her head. Peter Gabriel. ’86.

She reached out to herself. Laced burning fingers with solid shadow.

Reflections reflecting reflections. A two-dimensional shadow, half of a four-dimensional being.

It suddenly fell into her arms, a swooning dancer, weak and weary, dizzy and delighted. She could feel it shiver and sob in silence, the deep pit of her aching hatred and repressed miseries brought to bear in a way she finally had to confront.

It was her. And seeing it like this, unable to hold itself up under the weight of all these burdens, she felt her heart break at the sight of herself.

She had let Dani down.

She lifted her manifest shadow by the chin and kissed it, deeply, filling it with a smooth, steady exhale of living fire. It began to vanish, but she could feel it there, clinging to her, reattaching, coming ever closer. She didn’t dare pull away- not until it was gone, not until it was so close that it was her again, until it knew it was going to be safe. That she wouldn’t leave it. That it wasn’t all for nothing.

She numbly remembered the nametag as her fire began to die. She scooped it up from the top of the Alto’s awkward vertical screen and held it tight in her hand.

She felt her shadow holding it from the other side of reality and understood.

“I’ll take care of you,” she said. “We’ll be alright.”

If there was anything more to say, she couldn’t get a grip on it. She began to fade, and then collapsed in the headlight beams, unconscious.

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#IPYIHGU #dani from my bullshit #this one's a doozy

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