#AND THEN THEY DIED TO A FUCKASS PORTAL?

[sn0wp1anets]

ok but objectively the best thing about dl boat boys is that etho and joel are both enormous fucking losers and theres no other way to put this. etho is a pathetic sopping wet cat whos stuck in 1.8 and joel is the most insecure man on earth and dies pathetically in every life series. but somehow their maxed out combined loser-cringefail-ness has transcended normal boundaries and then they became the reddit meta prediction favourite

[fandoms-of-erlik]

If you had told 2014 me I would be seeing toxic old man yaoi about the fuckass sadistic triangle and the author of the journals (who will turn out to be. Stan's twin. Who was lost in a weird fucking interdimensional portal) I would have died on the spot but here we are

[pyrogenetic]

--{What do you have.

(( Disclaimer: this was written in 2013, and takes place even before saro’s blog was made, and given a few edits to make it less horrifying to read but was mostly left in its original state. I deleted it previously on accident but wanted to put it back on saro’s blog because it was an important turning point for her character. so here you go! ))

You had no concept of humanity.

What was the point? That was all you could really think, watching him, sitting there, useless, the both of you in that filthy alleyway as he withered away. It’d been three days since he came through that portal with you. Three days since you’d dragged him from that hellish wasteland of silence and metal trees, introduced yourself, and got told that unless you found some way to awaken him, to give him some humanity, he wouldn’t live. He’d die as a pitiful husk. You still didn’t understand what that meant. What humanity, exactly? The kind you didn’’t have? Why you. Why now. Why him, a sliver of a barely living being slumped in front of you in that rainy, dank alley.

“Wake the fuck up! Come on, sunshine! Give me something, you pissant!” That’s what you’d screamed at him. It was in hopes that he’d maybe get up to at least fucking move out of the rain, so you didn’t have to carry him back before he caught his death.

He replied with more silence. Of course.

He was pallid, and monochrome, with long hair down to his skinny ass. He’s nothing but grey. He’s literally colorless. That’s what Bandas had said he’d look like. Until you did something about it. But what? You’d tried everything you know, you’d tried hugging him, albeit very reluctantly, and feeding him, and he just sat there hour after fucking hour with that same, mocking frown on his face and that same lifeless grey veil that covered him head to toe. His skin was chill to the bone. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink, wouldn’t talk. Hell, he barely even moved half the time, and you’d have to check to make sure he was still breathing.

What were you supposed to do? What did he want from you? This had gone on for three days. Since you dragged him by the wings out of that weird realm. The last thing he did was fight you. Nearly killed you actually, before he apparently decided to give up, and became the catatonic piece of shit that sat around with no purpose and no will to live in front of you. But, you couldn’t let him die. That would go against your personal policy. Starvation and dehydration were the worst ways to die in your opinion, you’d rather not see that happen.

So even now, as he’d pressed himself against the wall of the alley in the pouring rain, you felt something odd twist inside your stomach. It burned, in a dull, aching way. It felt like pity, but a deeper version of it. A kind that’d made you want to weep for him. Sympathy, perhaps? That was new. Not very pleasant either. You weren’t sure you wanted to experience this new feeling very much. Snapping out of your thoughts, you glared back at the sad sap on the ground before you.

“Enough screwing around, fuckass! Time to smell the fucking coffee! Get up! Come on!” You leaned down in his face, yelling again, your voice echoing against the damp walls of the empty alley. This time, you noticed minute response. A twitch of his nose as if he tried to snivel. Nice, so he’s a crybaby, too.

You took the opportunity to kneel in front of him. No response to that. Not a thing from him. Of course not. You took his face tenderly in your hands, being mindful of your claws.

--And you hit him smack in the mouth.

Nothing. That didn’t work at all, in fact it looked like the wanker bit his tongue too hard and it’d started bleeding. Great. You cursed to yourself as you opened his fanged mouth to check inside. It wasn’t too severe, a bite against the side of his cheek. Boo-hoo, he’d get over it. Maybe. Hopefully.

You were starting to think the tough approach isn’t going to work. What else could you do though? What else can you do. This was all you knew. You knew pain. Pain is human enough, right? Apparently not. Your panic wasn’t getting better. You didn’t want him to die. You really weren’t sure why, but you didn’t. You felt as if he died, something in you would die alongside him. You didn’t know what that something was, it might be something important like your liver, so you should really fix him. How? a voice echoed in your head.

You grew increasingly desperate as the rain soaked you to the core the longer you stood out in it like an idiot, shouting at this pathetic husk that couldn’t even feed himself. It was the brand of desperate that can only be described by the words that run through your head over and over. Bad bad bad bad bad. Don’t die don’t die don’t die don’t die. How do you teach someone to be human? How do you teach them to be something that you so clearly were not?

How do you teach a person to be alive?

The rain began to pour harder as you leaned forward to do the most primal thing that came to you instinctually, even as an abomination of nature. You wrapped your arms around this drenched, sad creature. You tried to bury your face in his clammy shoulder which, like the rest of him, was cold as hell. The only reason it’s bare was because the clothes you chose for him practically fell off with how big they were against his thin figure. You stayed like that for a while. How long? That was between you and the rain. Your eyes started to sting a little during that time, though you weren’t sure why. Slowly, you realized your embrace was really doing nothing, even after you sat there and squeezed tighter. The only thing that greeted you in response was a tiny rasp of breath when you constricted him. Well. At least he’s breathing.

Finally, you loosened your grip. You pulled away only to realize there’s something warm, and moist bubbling up in your eyes. Your hand reached up to wipe some of it away, registering the liquid as tears instead of really weird rain that hit your eyes without you noticing.

Tears. Crying. You were crying.

Crying is human, right?

You followed the next logical course of action. You took some of those tears that were now making their way down your cheeks and mingling with the downpour, and you smudged them unceremoniously on the sides of his face. Very subtle. That should work, right? It has to. You’re tired. You being tired means this game is over, you’ve won, or have to win. You always won. If you don’t, everyone else loses because you quit and there can be no winner that’s not you. However, nothing was happening. He was still unresponsive. The only thing that’d changed was the fact he had your disgusting tears on his cheeks. That had to have worked. It had to, it wasn’t allowed not to from the minute you figured out you were crying. Yet, there he sat. What do you do? What could you do?

You had nothing else.

Now, you got angry again. It was an anger that made your throat clench, made you cry more, too, you noticed, as more tears started to prick your eyes in the same unfamiliar way. He should wake the fuck up already. Game’s over, bucko, you thought, unable to push the words through your strangled vocal chords. You needed to win now. You didn’t lose. You couldn’t lose. Except.

You had.

You’d lost because this was one game you couldn’t cheat, lie, or burn your way out of. You’d lost because all you were was a monster who couldn’t give anyone something of emotional or sentimental worth. Even this scrappy, unfeeling asshole could see that under all that fucking hair of his, that’s why he wasn’t responding. He knew what you were. The epiphany came to you as you grew more and more frustrated. You screeched and tugged at your ears so hard that the pain it brought shocked you out of your thoughts for a moment.

And you stopped. You sagged down where you were kneeling on the dirty, muddy ground. At that point you couldn’t care less about your clothes. Or his clothes. Or anyone’s clothes for that matter. You hoped this rain fucked over everyone without an umbrella, in fact. Right now, you wanted to cry like a child. The child you really were, deep down. You were crying like a child, actually. Your nose began running as you gazed up at him again with eyes that definitely weren’t wet from the rain. Your hand rose in a very deliberate motion to touch his cheek with just the tips of your tiny, sharpened claws. Finally, you whispered something you never thought you’d hear come out of your own mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

It came out cracked, and weak. It sounded very bizarre coming from you. However, there was an unmistakable tone of defeat in it. You knew when you’d been beaten. It’s about time, you thought, with your ass sliding to the ground. You pulled your knees to your chest. You hid your face in your hands like a mourning statue. A dreadful kind of shame filled you. You’d failed. This was how failure tasted. Knowing that you could kill without a second glance, and the one time you’d wanted to save someone, you’d failed. You destroyed. Not mended. Not helped. Destroyed. That was that.

Man, failure tasted gross.

There was no sound as you retreated into yourself. Even the rain seemed muffled around you. You sat there, your mind blank, next to a dying person. Not the first time that’d happened, though admittedly it’d never happened quite like this. The sadness inside you welled, a fresh batch of tears spilling over your cheeks. It was a profound sense of sorrow, strong enough that it was nearly warm, a hot feeling of shame in your stomach. You were so wrapped up in your grief, you didn’t see the strange light that silently flowed from you to the almost lifeless form across from you. The light flickered out as quickly as it came, with you none the wiser. It was followed by a brief shuffling noise, and something that sounded like someone gasping quietly, as if it was the first breath they’d taken in a very long time.

You elected to ignore the noises, too withdrawn at this point to pick yourself up and look. It grew silent again. Whoever had made the noise before seemed to say something, though you couldn’t tell what it was, or if it was even talking or not, but they promptly ceased. Then, something warm extended to you to touch your shoulder. It elicited an involuntary shiver from you. If that person killed you then and there, you probably deserved it. You didn’t fight back, despite your instincts screaming at you to try. The touching didn’t stop, but it didn’t start to hurt either. In fact, you heard more shuffling and there was more warmth touching you, holding you. It embraced you until you didn’t even feel the rain anymore, just the warmth of that stranger against you. Your mind made itself up for you, and your weary face lifted itself from the shroud of your hands to find an unfamiliar visage smiling back at it.

“Hello there, miss. My name is Markiin. Allow me to extend my sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting.”

[palerdin]

A Letter to Krogu

Dear Krogu,

Well, I guess you prolly seen the new planet in the sky that’s Argus. I dunno what they were thinkin bringin Argus here instead of leavin it where it was, but whatevarrr. Point is, there’s a planet there and it’s got lots of demons on it, and me, I’m gonna kill em.

Well. Not all of them, but a lot.

Chad’s coming too and so’s his husband and prolly we’ll see Mr. MacGlynn there, too (that’s Chad’s dad, he’s dead). You should come too! I mean, it won’t be fun or anything, and it’s prolly a suicide mission (is a suicide mission a suicide mission for people what’re already dead?) but it’d be real good to see you there, like not cause you’re puttin yourself in danger but cause I like seeing you quite a lot.

That and if I don’t gotta get portal sick to ride your dick after a long day of fightin that’d be nice too.

But I don’t blame you if you ain’t gonna come to Argus cause like I said, it’s a suicide mission, and it’s crazy. I dunno if there’s even gonna be booty there, which’d usually make me like I ain’t goin but this is important cause if we DON’T go, like the whole world dies.

If you don’t go, Imma miss you and that’s mostly what I’m writin this letter for cause I figure they’ll have portals set up back to Azeroth (I mean, Khadgar’s prolly comin along and he’s like I GOTTA HAVE ME PORTALS so, well actually, I dunno if he’s like that, but I ain’t nevarrr seen that fella somewhere without portals is what I’m sayin), but I also figure this is a suicide mission so I wanted you to have this cause

Ok

I love you. I know I told you that before and I still don’t wanna get married or anything cause I ain’t nevarrr doin that again, and I still don’t wanna be monogamous cause ain’t doin that again neither, but as long’s we’ve known each other, you’ve made me real happy, happier than I been in a long time, and you’ve made me like myself again and I didn’t think that’d evarrr happen. You’re a pretty great thing what’s happened to me, and assumin I survive this whole mission and such Imma ride you so hard when I get back that you’re gonna need to sleep for 10,000 years after like some fuckass druid or somethin.

If you come to Argus, I’ll see you there. If not I’ll think about you every time I look up and see Azeroth and maybe some of those times I’ll touch myself too.

Love,

Mair

P.S. But if I see booty (I don’t think I will) but if I do I’ll bring some back for you.