#Hope yall enjoy it! :D

[peapodfics]

Misery Loves Company

By: LoverofMidnight / @lover-of-midnight

Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Hurt Dazai and (reluctantly) Caring Chuuya!

[emil1863]

More for the au!

The basics, Gods, Demigods, Devil Fruits, all exist.

World Gov + Marines try and keep the whole concept of gods and demigods under wraps. Because I'm working with "D's" carry divinity. And having a good chunk of them outright despise the government isn't a great look.

Luffy is a god while Garp and Dragon are demigods. Luffy can shift between physical and 'divine' form whereas demigods don't have that ability.

Luffy is the successor/inheritor of his predecessor's will and own divinity. But not through reincarnation necessarily. One in the same but they are very much so different. His devil fruit and promise to Shanks cemented his place as the successor to the sun and freedom. When gods and demigods start out, there isn't a wholly set future for what will they will have, or the ideals they will embody. Luffy has always had his cloudy/intangible form.

Imagine Garp's surprise when his grandson, who was supposed to join him in the marines, is set to embody freedom and the sun. He was pissed for a solid week about that. Garp also had to deal with questioning where Dragon had even gotten Luffy from, he still doesn't know.

Ace and Sabo were very adamant that Luffy not show off his divine form to everyone, especially if he wanted to become a pirate. He can't be a pirate if the government tracks him down and hides him away at the ripe age of like, 8. Also because having a full god is pretty uncommon, Sabo has heard horror story after horror story of what nobles and those in higher society would do to a god. Sabo is the most vocal about Luffy being careful about that.

Luffy meets Koby, and does an absolutely terrible job at keeping his form hidden. It's harder to control which form he's in when he's excited. Koby was a human with no divinity and big dreams that Luffy adored. So, already excited with a new friend, and the two on their way to Shells town, Luffy sneezed and immediately sold himself out. Koby is a terrible liar and so just elects to never speak on this topic ever. If anyone asks why he has so much knowledge on gods, specifically sun gods, he just doesn't answer. Helmeppo thinks it's funny and immediately pieced together why, because Koby cannot keep anything from him. And Garp has to respect how hard that kid is trying to not completely sell out his grandson, even if the brat kind of deserves it for being a pirate.

Luffy is going to be the Pirate King, divine or not. His crew quickly find out about his side quirk/form in varying ways. Zoro woke up one day with a cloudy demon from hell cutting off his airways. Nami was trying to explain clouds to Luffy and that 'no, they cannot just spawn on your person, that's stupid,' and so Luffy shows her that he is in fact, correct.

Usopp got jumpscared early in the morning, before the sun had risen, when Luffy just appeared behind him and asked if he wanted to watch the sunrise. Sanji was cooking dinner and Luffy got so excited he phased out of his physical body.

Chopper found out while asking Luffy if he had any medical conditions he should know about, he thought it was kinda cool that Luffy can change forms. And is only a little jealous that Luffy has a fully human form. Luffy always makes sure to tell Chopper he's exactly who he needs to be.

Robin found out after talking about 'Nika,' who is thought to be long dead, but is not. And is the captain of the crew she is now apart of. Luffy knows the name is important and it has a certain weight when it's said. He physically feels when someone says his name around him. Robin thinks this is very fascinating. (Also can add some context into poneglyphs, that there is a lot to it, even if Robin doesn't yet know and Luffy wasn't alive/doesn't have that knowledge)

Franky was showing off cool shit he could do with his robotic body, and Luffy was like 'me too!!!'

Brook found out when Luffy fell asleep listening to him play a song, and Luffy slipped back into his resting form of cloudiness.

While both forms have their uses and limitations, Luffy is most comfortable in his intangible form, even if his physical one is the default. He cannot access his divine form after a certain point of exhaustion hits.

Im going to end that there before I have an entire novel in this. But that's the general thought throw up I'm smacking down right now.

Sorry if this is incoherent and not easy to understand lol. I will flesh it out more later and when I have actually thought more about it. Might change things later too. Then I'll probably make a good post about it with actual wellish made context and lore.

[snowfadings]

🦄 a magical purple/pink moodboard <3 can't wait for u all to see the summer moodboards!! i'll also start taking requests startin soon (not yet!!!), jus hav to get a post sorted out first w details :D

[chodarktrash]

coming out of the woodwork to actually post some art and tell you to GO FUCKING VOTE!! which election is this about? all of them. VOTE!!!!

[artunderwraps]

oh my god guys i need more relativity falls art and fics i love this au so much jkrsbkhkhsdvbihsdfbs

reblogs are always appreciated :D

[a-cakehound-or-critter-a-day]

4/26/2024 cake hound and sugar fox meeting! ^^

[miserable-something]

listener + yapper (interchangeable)

based off of my fic I will hold you close (for the minute) on ao3!! feel free to check it out!!

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot (First part- Drabble) {If you want things to make sense you probably should read it, the first part, 😁😁😁}

Pairing: Fem! Student! and Soulmate! Reader x Damian Wayne/Robin

AU: Soulmate! Reader

Content: Swearing, angst, teenage stupidity, aged up kiddos 16/17, technical talk about soulmates, lowkey frustrations, some much angst yall, some fluff, mythology, toxic parents, and soul crushing

Word Count: 7,233

(P.S: Okay so this is going to be continuing from the I Feel a Sin Coming On drabble, I've been getting a few comments on it asking for a part two and someone sent in a request for a Shy and Smart Student! Reader with Damian and let's just say the gears in my head started turning. Anyways this could go on if you guys want it to, but it could also end like this! It will break you. I hope you all enjoy! :D)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While, unfortunately, it's true the somewhat cruel existence of soul mates was around and kicking, love- true love was still there. Or at least it was believed to be there. It supposedly thrived even more for some reason. Some speculated that it was because there was a standing of everyone deserving love. Whether they were good or bad or in-between, they got someone who would love them for the rest of their life regardless of all the mistakes they made or continue to make. Others said it was because the universe deemed people good enough to have someone for the rest of their lives. Which seems a little close minded for a society in which everyone has a soulmate. But maybe that was because of the belief that if things didn’t work out with your soulmate- if you didn’t love them as you should or didn’t get the love you thought you deserved- it was because you weren’t good enough. Weren’t good enough to get the right kind of love. But in the end soulmates do exist. They exist and are for everyone. For each person you pass on the road, there is someone out there for them. Just as there's someone out there for you.

But the daunting notion that you have to be the right kind of good to get your perfect love chilled you to the bone. After all, if it wasn’t perfect what did that say about you? Because in the end weren’t they made for you? Maybe that’s why some still believed in true love, that it was real. Both because of and not because of soulmates. Rather because of the concept. Someone made just for you. Even if that person was flawed-if you are flawed, just as they were made for you, you were made for them. But sometimes, what is made for you can harm you a lot more than what’s not. 

It was why you believed that the reason true love might still exist was actually because some people fell for their soulmate before they realized they were fated to be. Before that dreaded bond-that agonizing pull kicked, of their own free will they fell in love. Because they didn't have to suffer through the pull of a bond they never wanted, these people were blissfully ignorant of what forced love was like. They did not know the horrors of those forced to stay with someone their heart loved but mind did not. And despite all your animosity towards soulmates, despite your fear and hatred, what made this all the worse-all the more ironic-was that you were technically one of those people. 

Before you even knew what a soulmate was to you-before you were old enough to recognize the pull, to feel, it’s dark and fervent demand for attention-you fell for him. For his laugh: in the way he tilted his chin back as if trying to suppress its joyous sound and his smile: in the way the corners of his would curve showing a slight dimple in his left cheek and revealing the softness his eyes could have. For his kindness: in the way he disregarded what others said and lived his life freely as himself despite the demand of society for him to be like the rest-to be normal. For his mortality: in the way he would never allow bullies to pick on others around him, even if he thought they needed to toughen up. But most importantly for the way he tried each and every single day to learn more and be better even if you’re the only one who noticed. For the way he seemed to be all what you dreamed, something that should have caused you suspicion but instead drew you in. 

That is until your 13th birthday and, much like many before you, you felt the tug of that dreaded bond.

You were six when you decided to loathe soulmates. Six when you swore on your very soul- your existence that you would never love your soulmate. You swore to live in misery of your own making rather than fates. No matter who they were, you would hate them.

But fate... well fate hated to be tested. So, fate did the worst thing it could. It made you fall for the one person you swore never to.

Your soulmate.

Your very own soulmate who seemed like the only light in the dark and suddenly you began questioning whether or not these feelings- these emotions you had thought were your own and genuine- were actually yours. Or if they were just fate pulling its strings and making you dance and dance and dance.

To say you were upset was an understatement and... well let's just say fate might be prideful, but you were twice as petty.

At age thirteen you shoved the emotions you had so dearly cherished so deep in your chest they seemed like nothing more than echoes of naive mind. You distanced yourself from him and only let yourself feel in your loneliest of moments.

Four years, it had nearly been four years since you had begun your battle against fate. And- and and fate was getting stronger... as you have been told. The older you get- the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the bond is.

Those moments... those lonely moments happened more often, and those stupid annoying emotions rose up with the beating of your traitorous heart.

Which is exactly how you ended up in the last place you ever wanted to be. Face to face with your soulmate... with them recognizing you and what you were to them.

"I'm your soulmate." Damian Fucking Wayne said his eyes locked on you as you felt your heart jump to your throat and all the color drain from your face.

"Fucking shit, " You whispered, unable to break his gaze.

Shaking-hand shaking and heart pounding at your rib cage demanding you acknowledge him-that you give in and tell him he’s right. That you are soulmates and let fate drive you. But there was something fate and your treasonous heart seemed to forget. You were one petty bitch. 

Weakly smiling you let out a nervous laugh and turned, avoiding eye contact. Eyes darting around they finally settled on your bare wrist as your other hand scrambled to gather your things against your trembling chest.  

"Oh- my,” Your voice cracked as you shoved your things into your bag, “would you look at the time! I need to get going." 

Fingers racing over the items in your bag you went to zip it close and make your escape when your eyes rested on your final item. The book you were reading earlier. Which just so happened (damn you fate) to be right in front of Damian. Eyes raising to him, gazes latching for just a moment you did the one thing you should not. You looked down, down and back at your book before making the stupidly impulsive decision to lunge for it. Your fingers brushed the cover, nails barely scraping lines into it when a hand-warm and firm clasped around your wrist. Pulling you back towards the table in a quick tug that caused your stomach to slam against the tables side. Wincing you stabbed your nails into your palm, not daring to look up. You had fallen for his trap, the oh so obvious trap you could have avoided had you just not looked at him. 

"I'm your soulmate," He said again, his voice clear and stanch as he gently pulled on your arm, clearly trying to get you to meet his eyes, "and you are mine."

Soulmate- God why did you have to care about him. Why- why-did it have to be him? Why-

why couldn’t fate just leave you alone?

Something about the tone of his voice made your heart shatter. It was almost desperate, but you couldn’t-you couldn’t allow yourself to be weak. After all, you would not let fate win. Petty- you were so violently petty and prideful- oh even fate knew this yet- it still tried... this- you wouldn't let this stand. You could-no would not allow fate to get away with even attempting this. Taking a breath in-a deep breath- you raised your chin. Steadying your mind with the thoughts of your parents, of how you needed to be around them. Calm, poised, emotionless. Ignoring the well of tears in your throat and the pressure behind your eyes you finally met his gaze. 

Green. All you could see was those beautiful green eyes, wide and desperate. Yearning-yearning for you to give a reply. But the one you were about to give would only hurt those eyes, regardless, it needed to be done. One pain- one moment or time of pain and sorrow was far better than a life of them. 

Slowly letting out the breaths you previously let in you tilted your head, feeling his grip on your wrist lightening. 

“I do not have a soulmate," You began instantly seeing the surprise on his face-the confusion, so you continued, “I won’t have one. Not you. Not anyone. You see, I don't believe in soulmates. So, I do believe you are mistaken.” 

His grip dropped but seeing the broken look on his face made your facade crumble in an instant as your heart screamed to stop. To comfort him. To take back your words and press yourself into his arms. But you were smarter than that, even if you weren’t strong enough to hide the tears anymore. Throat bobbing, you felt your mouth tremble as your eyes stung and something warm began spilling down your cheeks. 

Pulling yourself away from him, you smiled a bitter smile, not even daring to acknowledge the tears you were shedding. Head high, you turned. 

Voice cracking, you bid farewell, “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get going.”

Feet scrambling you nearly dashed out the door, leaving the book that got you into this mess behind. After all, it was now only going to hold harish and painful memories. 

As soon as your feet touched the gravel, you ran. Tears freely spilled down your cheeks and you sobbed and panted. Mind trying it’s best to soothe the heart that had just torn itself into pieces. But there was nothing it could do. There was nothing you could do but cry and run. Run away from him. From all the pain you had and were going to feel. It was hell, yes. But at least it was yours. At least you knew how and why it had happened, at least you knew what was to come. At least you were still you right?

By the time you had finally calmed your tears-though your heart was still howling, you had made it home. Wiping your tears you took a deep breath in and held it, hoping it would steady your mind and breathing enough to face what was about to come. You hesitated for a moment, then let the breath out wiped your face again and walked up to the door. It was then you heard the shouting. The rage filled voices cursing at each other, dishes and shoes flying, shattering and knocking things about. 

Hand trembling you pushed down the doorknob and walked in. The barrage of insults and dissonance of things being thrown slammed into you. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you saw the shadows in the kitchen, too caught up in their most recent argument to even acknowledge your existence-that is until they came into view. 

“God you never listen!” Your father roared

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing all day!” Your mother countered

Quivering you slowly moved towards the staircase as their fight pushed into the living room. Your father’s hands waved as your mother rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed. 

“Really that’s how you’re gonna be?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Fine then, I’ll just take this lazy ass of mine and leave!”

“GOOD!”

With that your father turned and stormed past you straight out the door, slamming it behind him. You flinched and turned to see your mother staring at you. 

“Ugh! I can’t believe him,” She hissed before she shook her head, scowling, “absentee father, sitting on his ass all day while I make the money and take care of the needless kid. God, pregnant at 18- now married to that loser! My life went down the drain. If only it weren't for you...”

Those words stabbed at your heart, sinking in their little daggers in the spots they knew best. You knew she didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you always did.  It wasn’t the first time you had heard things like this, but it did seem to hurt all the more due to what happened earlier this afternoon. Sniffing slightly, you lowered your head and your voice cracking as you had to fight off more tears whimpered,

“I’m sorry mom.”

As if a flip switched your mom’s brown furrowed and scowl dropped. She looked you over, concern in her eyes and she took a step forward. 

“Are you okay honey? You don’t sound too good.”

Raising your head you tightly smiled and nodded, “Of course, just stressed cuz of school. I’ve got some exams coming up and it’s causing my emotions to be all over the place.”

She nodded eyes raving over you, resentment heavy in them as she plopped onto the couch with sigh, “Okay, you better be doing good in school alright? Don't want you to end up like that louse of man your father is.”

You nodded again, “Of course! Actually I was about to go and study.”

“Good, you do that.” She replied as she picked up the remote and flipped on the T.V.

You paused, for just a moment watching her as the resentment began to slide from her eyes, her face softening. She was so pretty, yet harsh lines from constant scowls and frowns bore their way onto her cheeks. Line surrounded her eyes from the tears and sleepless nights. And it was all because of you. Turning, your hands tight on your bag, you raced up the stairs, dashing towards your room where you collapsed onto the ground the second the door was closed. Hand against your face you pressed your head against the door and bit your lip. You did not have the luxury of more tears.  

Turning you found yourself looking at your own reflection. The combination of your mother and father. The perfect combination. It made you wonder what they saw when they looked at you. Did they see a reflection of themselves? Or just an echo of the person they loathed to love. You knew for a fact they never saw you, just you. It was always tied with one or the other. You could tell because today your mother avoided your eyes, that was because you had your father’s eyes. So today, she must have seen him in you. At least until your hair covered your face-her hair- and she saw herself. Maybe that’s why she softened; you didn’t truly know. They loved you, yes. But only because they saw themselves in you. Because on the good days, they saw each other. Because in a way you were them. What hurt the most though, was not when they saw each other or themselves in you. But the fact that they would never see you. And if your parents, the people who were supposed to love you the most, the people who brought you into this world could never see you, who could? 

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

It had nearly been a week since you last saw and denied being soulmates with Damian Wayne. In said period you spent your free time dodging Damian and all his friends as well as digging your nose into every soulmate lore, history or origin you could find. While you didn’t want a soulmate, that didn’t mean Da- you soulmate should suffer because of it. So, you had made it your mission to discover if there was any way you could break the bond now. Research had told you that if one party ignored the bond for long enough it would fade for the other. But you didn’t know how long that would take and merely telling Damian you weren’t soulmates tore you up so badly that the mere sight of him sends you into tears. Therefore, you needed to find a way to break the bond. Both for yourself and for Damian. 

But as far as you could tell it was impossible. Every single myth, origin and lore of soulmates explained them as the other half of each other, inseparable even incomplete without the other. Part of you hated that thought. That you were incomplete without your soulmate. Because weren’t you a person, able to function live, laugh and love all on your own? Without a soulmate? Only Greek mythology even considers you as whole without your soulmate. Though it does say that they are meant to be together and once they meet they will not want to part. Which did not read well for your plans. In Chinese mythology there was the Red String or Red Thread of Fate 

A tangible string, perhaps it was something that could be broken. But from what you read it could not, at least you could not cut it or tear it with your hands. It cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It can-

Taking a deep breath in, you rubbed your brow. It didn’t really make sense to you that the string or thread or whatever it was couldn’t be broken. It also didn’t make sense that a soulmate was to be bound to you for life. Logically speaking there had to be a loophole. Afterall no one feels their bond until they are thirteen. If you were truly bound for life, you would always feel it. Therefore, there must be a workaround. A way to break the bond or someone- or someone to break it- to remove it. 

Since it is not there from the beginning it cannot be like in the Greek, Jewish or Hindu myths. But it might be connected to that string of fate theory. And there was one person who you could think of that might be able to remove or break the bond. The very person who put it there. And if the Chinese myth is right it’s Yuè Xià Lăorén or Yuè Lăo. But as far as you could tell no one was meeting old men at night right before their thirteenth birthday. 

It felt like a lost cause. You doubted anyone actually ever seriously tried to break their soulmate bond. No one ever seemed to have your determination or rather stubbornness. Most people would have surely given up by now, but you desperately needed a way. Because despite how much you hated it, how much it made you hate yourself. You couldn’t help but love him. And it terrified you. 

Your parents started out in love and now they were-... it’d be difficult to say what they had was anything other than torture. Day in day out fighting. Yelling and screaming. Shouting. Such anger at someone they were supposed to love. It made you wonder, were they really in love? Were they really supposed to be each other's happy ever after? Each other's eternity? If so, what did that mean for you? Did that mean you were doomed to be stuck in the same cycle of love turning to hate? Did that mean that you were going to lose a love you always told you had? Did that mean that you were going to die unloved? It was a fear- your biggest if you were being honest. That the person who was supposed to love you forever, doesn’t really love you. And you could take the chance. Not with what you knew- what you’d seen. There was no way in hell you were ever going to let that happen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was truly unfortunate that you just so happened to have a mother deeply involved in her job. One that resulted in her dragging you to a gala because she needed to show she had the perfect little family. What a joke. A cosmic joke as said gala was happening at none other than Wayne manor. And its host? You guessed it,  Bruce Wayne himself with his gaggle of children all in attendance. How did you know this? Well, your eye caught one of the many children. The one you were trying your hardest to avoid. 

Damian Mother Fucking Waye.

And it seems you caught his eye as well, because the second he looked in your direction his face lit up. That is until you turned away from him, the next you saw the color drained from his face and he practically stormed out of the room. Though any random bystander would have thought he calmly exited, you knew better. Which was valid considering you had basically spit in his face and said he wasn’t good enough. But it still hurts. Nowadays it seems that everything hurts. Though it was all probably due to the bond you were so determined to reject. 

So, to dull the pain you clung to the walls of the ballroom. Heavily nursing the glass of champagne you snagged from an unassuming waiter. It had been probably close to two hours since you arrived and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through it, however you most definitely did not want your parents to see. You were underaged and they wanted to keep their ‘perfect’ image intact. Which is partially the reason why when the people began to make their rounds around the ballroom, you decided to slip out. Though you abandon your drink, you thought wandering around the manor’s halls might help you relax even if it was only a little bit. 

Wandering down the darkened corridors you listened to the faint music that trailed after you as you got further and further away from the ballroom. Night encompassing each hallway you turned down it wasn’t long till the sounds of the strings playing was nothing more than a faint humming like the buzz of a fly. Darkness and silence swallowed the area-well near silence. The creaking and settling of the manor seemed to be the only sound. That is until you hear a clattering and an all too familiar voice cursing in another language. 

Maybe, it was due to the slight buzz those sips of champagne gave you-maybe it was the exhaustion from the days of fighting off your feelings-or maybe it was because the pull was just too strong; you walked towards the sound and pushed a door open to find a disheveled Damian Wayne sitting in on a couch, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands, a crystal glass at his feet with half melted ice cubes surrounding it. 

He did not seem to notice your presence, so you slowly began to venture closer. Noticing his messy hair, unbuttoned shirt and missing tie. Why did he have to look so damn beautiful? Better hearing his mutterings which were half in English, you pause to listen. 

“Seems like Todd was correct,” He mumbled as a hiccup stalled his sentence, “this does improve everything… or perhaps not.” 

His body shifted as he hiccuped again, and had you not seen it yourself you would not have believed that the high pitched sound came from him. It almost made you laugh, but you were able to restrain yourself and move closer. This time, it seems Damian heard you as his head snapped in your direction. He blinked a few times almost as if he was trying to get water from his eyes. Head tilting he narrowed his gaze, voice slurring as he asked, “Y/N?”

Sighing you nodded and walked even closer until you stood in front of him. Smiling slightly you waved and took a deep breath in before replying, “Hi Damian.”

He blinked more, brow furrowing as he muttered something you could not catch. Sinking deeper into the couch he gave you a blank look. 

“So have you come to inform me of our ‘non-existent bond’? Because I assure you if you do not wish to discuss it with me I will leave it alone.”

You raised an eyebrow and crouched so you could be eye level with him. Meeting his eyes you found yourself once again admiring their beauty.

“Really? Then thank you. I appreciate that.” You paused concern stirring so strongly in your chest you couldn’t help but let the worry take hold, “ But I’m not here for that.” 

Damian sat up glaring at you and you did not move, swallowing as he got a bit closer. 

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m worried about you.”

As if it was instinctual, he replied, “And who's fault is that.”

Though he winced afterwards despite you merely sighing at his comment. Resting your chin on your knees you gave him a sad smile and nodded. 

“You’re right… I owe you an explanation.”

Heart in your throat you met his eyes again and asked, “Would you let me give you one?”

Silence thrummed between the two of you for a lot longer than you would have liked. His gaze not leaving your face as you took a deep breath in and let it out. You should have done this from the start and at the very least if things go awry he probably won't remember any of this. 

His hand gesturing to the place next to him he said, “Sit.”

You snorted and rose to your feet. Then the seat next to him shifted a bit awkwardly before you turned to him. He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle. It stung far more than you would ever admit seeing him like this. But- but it would fade. It will fade. He won’t be like this forever. He won’t. 

“So… I should probably tell you why I don’t believe in soulmates.”

He grunted in reply, and you weakly laughed, “I-hmm… this is rather hard to explain. You see my parents are soulmates and they-”

You stopped yourself, watching as he stared across the room. Realizing that telling him about this was letting him in. And you could not let him in. Biting your lip you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you once again fought off tears. 

“I really don’t like their relationship. I hate it. And and to me it seems everyone with a soulmate is miserable. They aren’t happy. Shouting, arguing, fighting. I will not risk the chance of being like my parents. I refuse.”

He was looking at you now. Brow furrowed and the bottle slipped between his fingers. Your voice cracked and you winced, swallowing as you shrugged. 

“I- i am a coward. I refuse to take any chances because I don’t want to get hurt.”

The unspoken ever again hung on your lips as your parents' rage flashed through your mind. Fingers picking at one another you looked down. Unable to keep eye contact without crying. 

“I’m scared and- and worried and and I- I’m so sorry. You deserve better and i-”

His hand was over your mouth and you blinked in confusion looking up to see him pinching his nose, bottle still in hand. 

“Please silence your excuses.” Damian snapped, “I will not hear anyone talk about you that way.”

Something jolted in you and you froze, tears springing to your eyes, you nodded and he removed his hand. Fingers darting to wipe away tears you began to turn from him. His hand batted your fingers away and cupped one of your cheeks. The other still clutching the whiskey bottle half cupped the other. Damian pressed his forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes. 

“I care not that you are a coward. I care not that you are running away. I understand your unease, I understand your logic. But I disagree. I can do no better than you, my soulmate. My other half. I will be here for you and will ease your fears, I will drive your worries away and treat your scars. Emotional or otherwise. I am here for you. I do not know what I have to do for you to understand I am yours. Whole and solely yours. As you are mine. Please- I beg you. Tell me what I must do for you to allow me to love you to my fullest capacity.” 

Unable to look away, your heart taking control as that bitter bond turned soft and sweet you began to cry. Tears spilling down your face, you pressed your forehead more against his, words slipping from you before you could even think. 

“Be forever mine and let me be forever yours,” You whispered. 

Something softened in his eyes, a warmth in them you desperately wanted to see but hoped you never did. He began to lean in a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands shifted, the bottle falling from his grasps as he muttered,

“Was that ever in doubt?”

You tilted your head and his lips pressed against yours. He tasted of bitterness, a darkness that burned so sharply it had you clinging to him. Hands bunched in the cloth of his shirt you found yourself leaning in. His arm wrapped around your waist and as he pulled you in tighter, body shifting as he couldn’t get you close enough. As if there wasn’t a way to hold you where he was near enough. It was as if he wanted to shift-sinking-melting completely and totally into you. 

Air, you had no air left, but who needed air? He was here. His touch gentle and constant, reassuring as he pressed against you, gripping you as if he was terrified the second he let you go, you would disappear. And he was right. 

You broke apart both gasping for air and his grip loosened. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiled, a smile that sent your already raging heart racing. His hand rested against your cheek, fingers playing with your hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he muttered,

“I love you.” 

Your heart skittered and-

Tug, there was a tug a mother fucking tug that made your whole-body ache. One that stole the air you had just barely regained. One that sent shivers up your spine and knocked some sense into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. Standing up suddenly, your head spun. Blinking a few times as tears sprang into your eyes you shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” 

And with that, you bolted from the room. Faintly hearing Damian calling after you, you rush down the hall brushing past a butler whose name you think is Alfred. He gives you a soft smile and you nod, quickly wiping away the tears. He paused but you kept moving. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of here now. No matter what it took. 

Feet nearly tripping over the other you stumbled back into the ballroom. There would be hell to pay later, you knew it. But if you stayed any longer you could get hurt beyond repair. Allowing the feeling of everything that had just occurred loose, you promptly burst into tears as you stumbled towards your stunned parents. Your mother frantically moved to you as your father’s eyes widened and he began speaking to the people before them. 

“Y/N, Y/N honey we’re in front of a lot of people. Can this wait?” Your mother whispered as she got closer.

Sniffling you collapsed into your mother’s arms, feeling her embrace again for the first time in nearly a decade. Trembling as sobs escaped you, you were able to get out. 

“I want to go home. Please. Please. Let me go home.” 

At first, she didn’t reply, then she began moving you towards the door. 

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

She did not even turn in your father’s direction. After all, they had done what they always do, taken separate cars. Unable to quell the tears, you let your mother guide you out the door before he came to pull you back into fate’s vicious plot.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Two days, you hadn’t left your room in two days. Not that your parents had noticed, not that anyone really did. You doubted anyone noticed your absences from class. You hoped no one would notice truthfully. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face again. It was driving you crazy. So you locked yourself in your room and hoped-prayed-that these growing feelings would just die. Or maybe you could just die. That sounded like a solid solution as well. It was part of the reason why despite the late hour, despite living in Gotham you had unlocked and opened your window. 

There was a sound that awoke you, yanking you from the nightmares that never seemed to cease. And as you opened your eyes to the familiar shapes and silhouettes in your room you found one that did not belong there. 

"Who are you?" You whispered to the woman hiding in the shadows, not really caring if acknowledging her would lead her to strike. 

After all, who would lurk in the shadows of someone's room while they were sleeping unless you planned to kill them. It was a relief of sorts, that you were more than likely going to die soon. It would help you feel less guilt about Damian, about the situation that occurred a few nights before and the feelings that refused to listen to reason. 

Stepping into the moonlight the woman towered before you. Half her face tilted towards the light and you blinked twice almost recognizing it- but- but that couldn't be possible. There was no way you knew this woman. You hardly knew anyone, let alone an murder or assassin who would sneak into sleeping peoples rooms. 

"You don't have to worry about that.” She replied in a soft voice, her accent reminding you of something-something…something! 

You just couldn’t quite place your finger on what though. It nagged and nipped at your mind, tugging and swirling in faint recognition you could not connect. 

The woman took a step forward, her black hair swaying as she crossed her arms, her tone sharp and barbed, “I think who you are is a more important question.”

Her gaze did not leave you and you adjusted your blanket before glancing towards the open window almost blankly saying, 

"Nobody special I can assure you."

This caused the woman’s posture to relax a little. She hummed slightly as you crossed your legs and set your elbows on your knees. 

"Hmm, really?"

Nodding you rested your face in your hands as you looked at her shadowy figure. She seemed kind, in a way. She was at least talking to you before killing you. That was something was it not? 

"Just the byproduct of fate's meddling and destructive hands."

"Ah, your parents are soulmates?' Her stance relaxed even more and you noted how from what you could see her outfit was nothing like the things the Gotham vigilantes wore. 

"Unwilling but yes, soulmates." 

It was more of a snort than a reply, but it didn’t seem to phase the woman as she rested herself on your desk the moon light allowing you to see the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose. Familiar features that made your gut churn. 

"Oh, oh. I see. They did not choose-"

"To have me?” You interrupted with a sigh, shrugging you nodded, “I guess you could say that."

Silence followed and you saw the woman’s eyes narrow. She crossed her arms again, stance tightening. 

"... you do not seem the type to share your innermost troubles with a stranger, why are you talking to me?"

Pulling your face from your hands you gave her a shrug as a yawn slipped from your lips, "Well, for one I think you're here to kill me and two... I've needed to tell someone for a while. Why not a perfect stranger?"

"Your parent's fate troubles you that much?" Her voice seemed to begin carrying concern, which only troubled you because it made you think there would be a possibility she wouldn’t kill you. 

"They are living proof- hell I am living proof that soulmates shouldn't be forced together…” You paused crossing your arms with a scowl, “and because fate is cruel, I have a soulmate too. Despite how awful they are."

"Your soulmate is awful?"

Something in her tone said she did not believe what she was asking in the slightest. Which was true, yet it still caused that buzzing familiarity to ring just a bit louder. 

"n-no, he's not.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed deeply, running your hands along your face, “ He's kind and- and all I could ask for but- but... how do I know he's all I want? How do I know any of this- any of my feelings are mine? How do I know that it isn't fate pulling my strings and wanting me to dance? How do I know he won’t leave? That the bond will only become apparent when we fight and won’t exist otherwise? When the love is gone and only the bond remains? How will I know that I won’t be abandoned again? That I won't be hurt again? That I will gain a love that will last? I won’t.  Not to mention even if I didn't like him... I would have to be with him."

"No,” The woman scoffed, “you wouldn't, dear."

"Yes, I would. My parents- they tried and now- now I live in the shambles of a home. They are together because of that damned bond even though they hate each other." You were crying now, of course you were, "fate does not like to be ignored and I don't like to be told what to do."

Angrily grabbing a tissue you blew your nose, faintly hearing the woman laugh. From what you could see, she had a look in her eyes that seemed soft- understanding. One you most certainly did not expect your killer to have. 

"Oh my, really?" She mumbled head turned towards the window. 

"Yes! I'd rather live in a hell I have control of, a hell I made rather than one fate forced upon me. If- if I ignore it enough... I heard it will fade for him, I- I will still feel it but- but because he tried, he will be spared. He'll have a chance- one I never had. And though- though I can't truly tell if these feelings are mine, it's all I want. I love him. I love him”

You stopped yourself trembling as you said it yet again, “I love him.”

Nodding you continued on, “and… I want him to be happy without me. Because- because I won't give way to fate, not even for him."

"Hmmm. I have a question for you.” 

“Yes?” You pulled the tissue box closer to you sure more tears would come. 

“Do you really want to die?”

“Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, waving a hand, “It’s just, it hardly seems to me that you want to die. Rather it seems like you want to live.”

"What- I, I’m sorry I-." You were at a loss for words. 

She was smiling as she replied with a shrug, “You have told me of a cause you wish to live for, no? To fight against the soulmate bond. While I personally disagree with your choice, I hardly think dying will do anything other than let the bond win.”

“Wha-... I-,” You sputtered, mainly because what she said made sense. 

It made an insane amount of sense. So much so that it had your head spinning. Why exactly did you think dying was the best option? You may not have the best life, but it was yours right? 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” The whisper escaped not entirely directed at the woman but rather just as a declaration in general. 

The tears on your face felt silly and you blew your nose again as the woman sighed. Causing silence to spin about the room until she remarked,

"I believe I should be the one apologizing."

You laughed, wiping the tears from your face, "Why?"

"Because I'm not here to kill you."

Something in you skipped a beat and you shook your head. Of course she isn’t. Who would want you dead after all. You hadn’t done anything that would cause a reason to be killed.

"Oh darn." You snorted, rubbing the back of your hand across your face, "Here I am looking like a fool asking for something I don’t even want from someone who can’t even give it to me. Fate is cruel… Though life does seem crueler."

"Yes," She muttered looking over her shoulder at the window, "indeed it is."

A figure loomed where she looked, a familiar figure in green, yellow and red. The woman smiled at you again and she moved towards him patting him on the shoulder before climbing out the window. 

“It was nice to meet you Y/N.” 

Blinking in confusion you latched onto the vigilante who was now looming in between your room and the outside, "Robin? What are you doing here?"

He sighed, the woman disappearing as he rested on the window frame, "I am afraid it is quite difficult for me to explain at the moment."

"Wha-.... wait-wait."

In the silence of the night, with the slight breeze trailing in from the window where Robin was perched, you felt a tug. A heart wrenching tug you had felt just the other night. A tug that sent aches all over and made your throat tighten.

"...you're-oh."

Biting, you lip you fought off tears as he slowly entered your room. Breathing deeply, you began picking at your fingers before you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

He was right in front of you as tears spilled down your cheeks and through sharp stabs of pain you tightly smiled remarking,

"...hi Damian."

He was silent and you bit down harder, weakly you took in a breath. His voice was soft in reply,

"Y/N... are you- are you alright?"

You didn't know what to say. After all, he must have heard something... then again, he might not have but-

"How-" Your voice cracked as you avoided looking at him despite him being so close, but it was hard as you could feel the heat from his body, "how much... How much did you hear?"

His was quiet and you squeezed your eyes shut, heart dropping as you tasted blood. Pain dancing across your lips and air fighting to leave you. A tiny sob escaped you and you took a ragged breath in as you opened your eyes facing him. Rob-no Damian raised a hand and brushed it against your face before he leaned in. His lips almost pressed against your ear he said,

"I heard everything."

Tag List: @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @legendarylearner18

[bunnithechubs]

Rotation: Multiple

Chris and Vinny's Spooky Party was a hit! The last person Cain would see there was his neighbor Kitty all dressed up. She rarely went out if Issac wasn't in town. So Cain immediately knew something was up and got a bit too close for Kity's comfort. But he was successful in planting a seed in Kitty's mind.

[brinkle-brackle]

local boy (and dogs) befriend eccentric old man with weird laser pointer who is probably definitely not an alien at all

[majorproblems77]

Sacred Realm updated which means im actually so excited to be making this omg

Hi there Sacred Realm fans! :D

It is I, the one who makes the analysis posts on various comics on the internet. (With permission course) Because I love doing them and they bring me joy.

If you are unaware of what Sacred Realm is, it's a Legend of Zelda AU about a new Link who gets a little medallion that makes him a badass, also it can hold the spirits of heroes from across the realms (Including my fave boy ever okay)

Before I begin, I'll get the important stuff done, This is done with permission from @zelda-the-sacred-realm, and all art from the comics belongs to the comic artist. Please do me a favour and go and check it out because it's a wonderful comic and extremely well-drawn and written.

Now, grab some popcorn, and a drink and please enjoy me rambling about a comic that I enjoy so much. :D

Lets begin!

First, some sass

Damn, possessed Link got a mouth on him. Low key I love him, he looks like he could go for round two like right now. Wouldn't be surprised if he went for the hero of time next.

My eyebrows shot up at this.

Time KNOW's

let me repeat that

TIME KNOWS. HE KNOWS WHATEVER IS IN THE MEDALLION CAUSING THIS.

(More on this later)

He knows he knows he knows he knows he knows

I can hear the mocking voice of Link while he is saying this. Time has experience with this particular entity before.

Okay, so here is when it gets interesting.

Possessed Link or this entity I suppose, referring to Time and in turn Hylians as 'Your Race' Tells me a couple of things.

This thing in the medallion isn't a Hylian spirit. So as much and as fun as a dark link theory is, I dont think it could be.

Time arguing that we're not perfect, again referring to Hylians sounds very much like an "I'm speaking with a god speech"

I present my theory on what is in the medallion.

An extra spirit, a god of some description, from the spirit realm. Out to get revenge on Hylians.

Time has been to the spirit realm, in his games. (I am under the assumption that those still occur in this canon please do correct me if I'm wrong here.)

I'm convinced that this thing in the medallion is a deity of some kind because of the eye colour. I can't get over it.

This style of blue, with no pupils.

We've seen it before.

On Hylia.

From Chapter 2 fate PT2

And here is the first time we see it on Link for comparison, With Sky's alongside him for comparison for what Hylian eyes look like.

From Chapter 2 Fate PT3

The colour isn't exact so it can't be Hylia herself I dont think, but, i believe that there is a spirit trying to escape the sacred realm and is using Link to do it.

Okay, enough of my conspiracy theories moving on!

Link you gotta wake up!

Sky thinks so, I love the coloured speech bubble, what a good idea.

OH BOY I LOVE THESE PANELS

You know those scenes in video games when you're fighting off something that's trying to possess you and you have that ominous-sounding echo that seems to reverberate through your head. But is also muffled at the same time?

(If I find a game example I'll link it)

This. Put that noise you think off over this.

KICK ITS BUTT LINK GET IT, GET BACK IN HERE.

These five panels tell so much when it comes to how much effort Link has to go through to fight off the medallion possession. I wonder if its going to be easier or harder for him to fight it off as he gains spirits in the medallion.

You can really feel his struggle and I just love it. The visual storytelling is incredible in this comic and I will fan girl about it all day because I just love it so much

I'm thinking he says this to gauge just how bad this possession is. time seems like the guy who would, especially as he already seems to know what this is.

I wonder if he really is the hero of realms?

Yes, Time. Yes, he is.

The face he dosent remember any time he's possessed by the medallion is a little worrying.

Makes me think that could be used later.

Like, Link dosent remember fighting this ice comet now. What if he fights an enemy while possessed, breaks the possession then has to relearn how to defeat it because as possessed link he's not gained any information.

Man Link is a cinnamon roll sometimes and I love him dearly okay.

Alrighty, thats me finished with my rambling. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this! And thanks again to @zelda-the-sacred-realm for the permission to do these i really appreciate it.

Please please go and check out the rest of the comic if you haven't it's amazing :D

Thats me finished for this chapter, so I'll be headed out!

Hope you have a wonderful day! :D

[theguffbin]

The collector's edition for Eastward came with a fun little cd soundtrack and there's like three bonus tracks included. These bonus tracks are absolutely no where online except in-game and in this collector's cd and like, for two of them its not a huge issue for me...

But like this one track is missing and its literally my favorite track in the whole fucking game.

It's just an alternate version of "Strange Quest" that plays during gameplay but it deviates from the main track in such a blissfully emotional way that it just makes me so goddamn happy I can't explain it. The fact it's not online and no one can look it up made me sad and now I have to fix that :'D For reference I'll put the main track below that's in the official digital release, cause it's still really fantastic y'all like this soundtrack is just full of fucking bangers mate aaaaaaaaaaaaa

[ahhhh-118]

🐍🍎THE RATTLESNAKE AND THE JESTER🎭🎪

Page 1-2

Page 3-4

[setacin]

Asphodel

A k!pyro send-off, and an alternate ending to his s3ep4. What if instead of being able to rest, he was forced to reckon with his actions? warning for major character death (2025 words)

“No more,” Pyro swung his glaive to fend off Rae and Clown.

“It’s all led to this,” he backed away from them, inching ever closer to the pillar, and farther away from anything that could get between him and his goal. 

“Why did you have to make things be this way? Why did you have to ruin it all?”

“This is the only way that things can truly end.”

As he ran towards the floating gem holding up the nether and tackled it to the ground, the whole nether began to shake. 

The whispers surrounding him grew louder. The voices overlapped with one another, muttering about the end of the nether, about the souls that were sure to result from their actions, about how Pyro was doing exactly what he was meant to be doing. 

He had always lived life with his head held high, his pride as a Wastewalker driving him forward. But something had changed, hadn’t it? He had felt the gentle caress of death as he lay on the ground in that cave. He knew what it felt like to want to die. He had faced his honorable defeat as a warrior and yet something had prevented him from moving on. 

Pyro’s hands began to shake, though he was unsure if it was due to the ground, the withers, or simply the gratification of the perfect execution of his plan. Those that he had used to consider his allies, his enemies, his friends, all reduced to nothing more than ants beneath him, scurrying towards the sweet taste of survival. He would crush them all. Finally taking his revenge on Clown for humiliating him not so long ago. He would take everything from him, even if it meant that he lost himself in the process. 

He hadn’t known that the actions he had so thoughtlessly performed at only 15 would have set him on this path. That killing that wither and taking its head for a trophy would impact him even now. That even with all that he had done in the last few years, his fate was already sealed.

Even if he could go back and warn his younger self of the consequences of slaying that wither, would it have changed the course of history? Or would he have charged in just the same, believing that he was above the warning of the withered specter that he had yet to become. 

He took a step forward.

“At last, this realm’s misery will finally end.” 

Pieces of the ceiling fell down, crashing into the lava below. The walls began to crumble, clouds of dust and debris rising over the blackstone floor. The pillar had been toppled- the nether roof no longer had any supports. The nether would be crushed by the ceiling, and now there was no one left to stop it. The sense of something looming behind him grew stronger than ever before.

One of his glaives fell to the floor, the sharp sound of metal hitting the floor drowned out by the low rumble of falling stone. 

“No more wars, no more suffering, no more death.”

He could just barely see a flash of black and bright blue out of the corner of his eye. The faint rattling of bones joined the chorus of whispers, all chattering in anticipation of the nether’s imminent destruction. 

How could the other Wastewalkers not see the grand plans laid so easily at their feet, the obvious solution for the problems that had been plaguing the nether since the dawn of civilization? 

“Every living soul finally released.”

He barely noticed his other glaive joining the first on the floor, staring up instead at the last moments of the temple. The glow from the wither’s eyes was almost blinding, the voices now deafening as they reveled in the power flooding towards them from those that had already been killed by the collapsing roof. 

“Finally, we’re free.”

Even as his world crashed down around him, it felt like a weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. No longer would he need to lead those around him- he had played his part and he had played it well. No longer would Clown be able to rule the nether and exploit its citizens. No longer would he have to look into his allies’ eyes and see reflected in them all the ways that he had failed. 

“I’m… free.”

He took a final gasping breath as he was crushed under the weight of the world. A fitting fate for any legend, to be immortalized in stone. 

His eyes closed, and all was silent. 

—

It was just like last time. He felt the strength leave his body, an almost painful coldness setting in to all of his limbs. There was no more fighting anymore. However, unlike last time there were no voices, no tether to the material world to drag him back from the brink. The wither was gone. The pressure of the roof no longer weighed on him, the netherian smell of metal, fire, and smoke faded away along with his warmth. 

His consciousness drifted. Was this all that awaited wastewalkers after death? A dark, cold nothingness? 

Maybe he was no longer a Wastewalker to the world. He had forsaken their creed, their oath, their bond as Wastewalkers. And for what? A twisted sense of revenge? The desire to single-handedly make any sort of impact on the world? 

Some legacy this would be, not the savior of the nether but its executioner. 

For the first time since he had been saved from the brink of death, his mind was empty of the wither’s murmuring voice in his ears. He had gotten so used to its suggestions, to the information that it provided him during his 6 months in the void that he had almost forgotten what this felt like. With his mind fully to himself for once, he began to regret. 

Had it really been worth it, the cleansing of Clown’s influence at the cost of the innocent people of the nether? He had fed the voices that cried for revenge, only for the wither to be crushed just the same as everyone else. The rest of the Wastewalkers had died for their sense of justice, but Pyro couldn’t say the same about himself. 

And what of those that he had left behind? Of Rae, who he had watched over for years; of Kae, who was just now learning how to heal; of Ash, who had only just discovered himself? He thought he might have seen them get out alive at least. Hopefully his death will hurt less than how they saw him twist and warp under the wither’s influence in life. Hopefully Sushi and Nirox could find it in themselves to forgive him for pulling them back from beyond the grave. 

There was something grating at the edge of his consciousness though, a faint sound of rustling, like wind through a wheat field. Distracting him from his reflection, the sound drew him in, quickly joined by a sweet floral smell that he couldn’t quite place. 

It seemed to be getting closer, louder, and-

—

Pyro opened his eyes. 

All that met him was a world in various shades of dull grey, the sky a shifting haze devoid of color. As he lay on the ground, the feeling returned to his limbs, though the piercing cold never left. He moved one of his fingers ever so slowly, working his way through the rest of his body until managed to sit up. 

 His hand shook as he lifted two fingers to his neck to check his pulse. Nothing. He let out a sigh. 

Slowly rising to his feet, Pyro took inventory of his surroundings. A field of white flowers stretched as far as the eye could see, a faint breeze blowing a few of the petals around. His whole body ached. 

The stalks of the white flowers varied in height, with most reaching to around his shoulders, with others coming up only to his knees, or stretching up a few inches above the top of his head. 

The sharp grey stones that seemed to make up the ground crunched underfoot as Pyro stepped towards the closest plant, one of the smaller ones. As he knelt down, he held his breath, hand stretching out to touch the flower, fingers lightly making contact.

“Mom, I’m scared,” a faint voice whispered through the breeze. “I don’t want to die.”

Pyro stumbled backwards, the rocks on the ground digging into his hands as he looked around for the source of the voice. Fear washed over him, an emotion not entirely his own. Who was this person?

He reached out to one of the other nearby plants with trembling hands. 

“We could have had a life together,” the flower cried to him, like a confession. 

Something clenched in Pyro’s chest as the feeling of longing threatened to overwhelm him. He choked out a sob as he looked at the vast expanse of white flowers that stretched out in every direction. 

He sat there for a few minutes, losing himself in the memories that were being shared with him. His hand laid gently upon one of the flowers, as this person’s last moments flashed out before him. A sound like rolling thunder interrupting their work, a massive boulder crashing through one of the walls of their commune, the sound of screams as more stone began to fall. Their lover rushing towards them only to fall victim to the crumbling of the nether. They still had their whole life ahead of them, until they didn’t. 

These were the souls of the people killed when the nether roof fell. 

His breathing ragged, and face streaked with tears, Pyro gritted his teeth together and picked himself back up off the ground. 

He made his way, one foot after the other, into the fields, running his hands along the flower stalks on either side of him. 

“This way! It’s safer over here!” They told him.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry,” came the voice of a father. 

“Our home…” another cried.

Their dying moments, their final wishes, their final words. All spoken to him without the knowledge that he was the one that had put them here. He had caused this. It was up to him to remember them all; he was Atlas, and this was his new burden to bear. 

The fields seemed to stretch on forever, Pyro attempting to snap himself back to attention every time the cries started to blend into each other, becoming a tapestry of sound, an elegy to what could have been. 

“Watch out!” came a desperate voice. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” a young soldier mumbled under their breath, an unwilling soldier in Clown’s army.

“Katie! Katie, where are you!” called a mother. 

A wave of exhaustion set over Pyro as he heard story after story, soaked in their grief, their anger, their despair. All while the sickly sweet scent of the flowers floated through the air. He needed to keep going though, to push through and atone to these people for his actions. Despite how the wither had managed to cloud his judgement, it was still his hands to blame. 

He paused for a second, and looked behind him. The path that he had traveled was indistinguishable from any other direction. He was dwarfed by the sheer scale of the fields of flowers before him. Funny, how a man who had spent his last moments regarding himself as greater than those around him was reduced to nothing more than the ant that he had envisioned the others to be. 

He would keep walking, keep listening. As long as it took to get through the field, he would do it. 

The white flowers rustled in the breeze, as if acknowledging that vow. Breathing in, he finally placed that sweet smell that pervaded the air around him. 

Asphodel. That’s what the flowers were. Maybe one day he would be allowed to join them, too, to finally be able to rest. He was a Wastewalker, he was Pyroscythe. And for once, he needed to bring honor to that name. 

[lemomix]

i honestly feel like i did henry so dirty w/ his first appearence ×_×

also he kindaaa looked bald so thats why he has a hair thing now lol

hope you like him better now >:33

[brandwhorestarscream]

alright let’s hear you horrendous D-16 torture idea

Oh I am SO GLAD YOU ASKED-

SO! This takes place within the idea of "D-16 and Orion never make it to the surface, and the quintessons eventually invade Iacon" idea. The two of them are separated during the invasion, Orion ending up on the run with a group of stragglers, and D-16 is taken back to the quintesson ship.

Aboard the ship, he and all of the other cybertronians they've caught are immediately sent in for processing: sanitized and vaccinated, branded and collared and chipped, those that still possess transformation cogs forced to undergo surgery to have them removed. Then, they're split into groups for conditioning, to have them broken in and gentled, preparing them to be molded into good little quintesson slaves.

I could wax poetic about the horrors of the conditioning + brainwashing, but that's more in line with worldbuilding (and also I don't have all the details ironed out yet. If you have any ideas about how the quints treat their trainees, hmu! I'd love to hear lol). We're not here for worldbuilding on this post, we're here for D-16 angst!

For awhile, Dee keeps his helm down. He's not yet had the spark of rebellion lit in him. He has no information to work with, no hope for escape, and no faith in his own abilities. Getting away from the quintessons is impossible: there's no way to defend themselves, they'll never be able to outrun them, and they're given the bare minimum of fuel to keep them from dropping into stasis lock, nothing more. With gauges constantly in the red and on the brink of starvation, he barely has enough energy to do the work they demand of him. For awhile, he's helpless, and it does a great job whittling away at his spirit.

He works hard to avoid punishment and hopefully to earn extra energon, and the overseers take notice. Its not long before Dee is dragged out of the physical labor stocks and instead thrown into the entertainment stock: bloodsport is a favorite of the quintessons. He has no formal training but has good reflexes and decently athletic body. Putting him up against some cosmic beast or other in the quintessons' gladiator arena is sure to be entertaining. Oh yeah, we're doing gladiator D-16 up in this bitch

Days turn to weeks turn to months, he has no idea how long he's in there or how many dead bodies he has to climb over, but he refuses to die and give them the satisfaction. It feels like an eternity, time passing in a blur, before he's officially named their unofficial champion. His matches are always extremely well attended and he's very popular. The quintessons love watching him disembowel their various beasts and even his fellow mecha.

Here's where we finally get to the fucked up angst. D-16 is considered a wild cybertronian, but wild bots suggest the existence of domesticated mecha. The cybertronians bred in captivity are considered much higher quality, living longer with more mellow temperaments and much easier to train. And as great as Dee is, he'll never be as good as a cybertronian bred in captivity

They drag him in to the reproductive facilities, and through a very robotic procedure, have him artificially inseminated. That's not the horrible part though

For the first several decacycles, Dee is left alone. They don't make him do any fights, they give him enough energon to keep his topped up and full. They actually let him recharge as much as he wants, even give him a comfy little room with a cushioned berth. They want this sparkling to be born healthy, after all, and a healthy carrier is tantamount to that end.

During his unexpected break, Dee tries so hard not to get attached. He knows he can't keep them. Knows that, once they're born and their wee little spark can stabilize, they'll be taken away. As soon as they can survive without him, he'll lose his newspark, and never be able to see them again. They'll be carted off to a designated wetnurse, then start their conditioning just as soon as they're weaned. He can't keep them, so he cannot get attached to them. Surely his spark couldn't bear the suffering

That all goes out the window the first time he feels their little spark fluttering against his, feels the very first blip of their consciousness. Nothing but a bare, ghostly imprint, the faintest hint of "warm-content-nice" nestled close against his soul. And the second that sensation leaks through, love swells in his spark, more intense than anything he's ever felt. He pushes back what he can through the fragile bond, trying to tell them that he's there and he loves them.

It happens after the bitty's spark descends. Once it separates from his spark chamber and transfers to the protoform growing in his belly. With their body and soul merged, the baby kicks for the first time, and Dee is once again overwhelmed. He loves them so much it hurts.

The day after the sparkling starts kicking, he's suddenly brought into the medical wing. The quintessons sedate him with no warning, and when he wakes up there's a fresh incision on his belly. Precisely done welds under his fingers, already cold to the touch as he sleeps his hands over the expanse of his abdomen.

He feels lighter. He's so sore and stuff but he feels lighter. The sparkling is frightfully still inside of him. He can still feel their carrier-creation sparkbond, distantly, and when he reaches out for them he gets a flicker of "cold-afraid-wrong".

He pats and rubs at his belly, trying to get them to respond. To kick back, to squirm around the way they always did when their sparks connected.

Unfortunately, he's never going to get to feel his sparkling kick again 😌 he's the quintessons champion pitfighter, after all. They can't have him out of commission just to bear a single sparkling to term. So they've taken measures to expedite his recovery, performing very premature cesarean and putting the sparkling protoform into an external incubator to continue it's growth. Dee can go back to work and they'll still reap all the benefits of his bloodline, and he's forever scarred, knowing that they knocked him unconscious, slit open his belly, and stole his precious sparkling before they could even be born >:)

...

Hi this is unbeta'd so please forgive my fuck ups lmao. Press F for poor Dee. You want more of this fucked up jaunt? Want this AU to ever see the light of day and not die as a half-baked brain baby? You know what to do aksjskaka-