#Sole Destroyer

[a-chlolix-blog]

While most of Chloé's akumatized forms seemed very dangerous...

They were NEVER worth Bunnyx's time!

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

I'm curious what's your thoughts regarding the theory that Zoe was originally supposed to be the akuma for Kwami's Choice p2 but was replaced with Chloe to further villainize her?

It does make sense, given how Sole Destroyer sounds like an upgrade for Sole Crusher. The fact that Zoe also had the Cat Miraculous also validates the theory.

[fandomsarebrainless]

So it's come to this has it? They really want you to believe Chloé is a soulless monster to the point where she now has glowing eyes.

[miraculous-prompts]

Write a fic about Miraculer saving Sole Destroyer, Riposte and Nathaniel from a series of increasingly improbable (and honestly pretty bizarre) events that has them suspecting that someone is trying to recruit them

[themysteriousangelprincess]

This is a fanart of the character from "Miraculous: The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir" called Chloé Bourgeois, along with her akumatized villain forms: Antibug, Miracle Queen, Banana Queen, Penalteam and Sole Destroyeri and also her heroic form called Queen Bee (transformation using the bee kwami). I didn't make the Wasp Queen because her design is pretty much the same as the Miracle Queen. Hope you like it ^^

[astro-nomaly]

The horror of being Pigsy. Your child arrived at your doorstep naked and covered in mud, completely mute and borderline unresponsive. You have to give him a name yourself - he doesn’t have one, doesn’t remember if he ever did. You, against your and your best friends better judgement, decide to keep him. You raise him - you teach him how to make noodles and you take him to buy clothes and school supplies and Monkey King action figures. He loves you and you love him. He calls you ‘Dadsy’. You develop a employee relationship - he’s your son, but you don’t want to be too attached now that he’s an adult, even if he still lives in that same shop. Your relationship eventually develops to where you can freely refer to him as your son, not ward or employee.

He’s a demigod. He’s chaos incarnate. He’s the savior and destroyer of the universe. He holds the power of the universe, the same power you watched destroy a demon king from the inside out, in his body with ease. He has the ability to split mountains as collateral. He was made from a rock, and put in that rock by the goddess of creation for the sole purpose of one day hatching just so he could die. He is a sacrifice, and he chooses to be one to save you.

You will never be able to protect him from himself. He is your son, and you are his father, and that changes nothing.

[rosesocietyy]

The details of what happened to Claudia is harrowing but there is an effort to bring to text what was more visually implied in 1.06, that there are ways in which lestat and bruce occupy the same role and represent the same thing to her (and Louis). When she threw bruce's name in place of lestat's last episode I was wondering if they'd lean more into it and they did

This exact moment got me bad

Louis' misery was an affront to him and was punished severly for it. The blame of their rotting relationship was placed entirely on Claudia for her dissatisfaction with the roles they forced on her. Lestat was still bitter about it to the very end even when he tried to mask it as banter "is that witticism from the Duke of Gloom?" Nothing else but this supposed gloom that exists in a vacuum is the sole destroyer of lestat's perfect life and he's had enough, and Claudia gone forever will solve all his problems.

And looking at Louis' reaction a part of all that pain he felt for her was for himself too. The hold lestat has on him makes him blind to many things but never to Claudia's pain and his. He did make it a point to tell us that he was dissociating during sex, and he was quite clear on all the damage lestat did to his body. Guilt and philosophizing on forgiveness be damned he still thinks lestat deserved what happened to him

[deusvervewrites]

Midoriya Rewind:

Overhaul: I want to get rid of quirks.

Overhaul: *Commits war crimes for the sole purpose of giving people even more quirks*

Flawless logic.

Overhaul's plan is to also make an antidote to the Quirk Destroyer and then sell both for total market control. He claims to hate Quirks but gets mad if you call him anything except the name of his Quirk. For the sake of his boss, he put his boss in a coma and tortured/murdered his boss's granddaughter. He was a clown before I got to him.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your grandmother sends you into town for groceries. Mads, the old welder from down the road, drives you in with your wagon, dropping you off on his way to the next county. His son lives in the next hamlet with his new wife. Their wedding was the last big event in Hammer Ford.

Mads helps you unload the wagon from the bed of his truck and bids you a goodbye. You hope he enjoys his visit with Matthias, he seems to miss him. You wave at his departure before you set off down to the grocer.

You mill the aisles as you follow the list your grandmother gave you. Nothing beyond the usual haul. If only her old car hadn’t broken down. It seems everything around you is at a limit. You feel it all commingling as inevitability looms. Something’s gotta give. 

You turn into the dairy section, searching out the plain Skyr. You squint at the selection, looking for the decisive blue banner. You reach for a container but quickly shy away as another mirrors your movement. You back up and stare at the rest of the selection, waiting for the other shopper to grab their yogurt and go.

“You like this stuff?” The rocky voice rolls through you.

You wince. It’s familiar. Well, around here, it’s bound to be. You peer over at the other customer. That man. The newcomer. The one you brought the pie too.

You shrug and claim a container of your own and put it in the wagon. You just want to get this done with. You have to drag the wagon all the way back to your grandmother’s. It’s better than walking both ways but still a trek.

“Is it better than Greek?” He asks.

You tug the wagon across the aisle and look at the cheese. He sighs. You hear the dull clack of the plastic tub set back on the shelf. His shadow lurks behind you.

“Did I do something? Say something?” He wonders as he steps in front of you.

You ignore him and grab a brick of cream cheese. You add it to your load. His sole squeaks on the floor and he rests his hand on the shelf.

“Look, I think maybe we got off to a bad start. I’m Chris, what’s your name?”

You blanch and blink at him. Why is he bothering you? Can’t he see you’re utterly hopeless?

You mutter your name, thinking it might just make him leave you alone. He’s being nice but you’re not ready for this. Entirely unprepared for him or a conversation. He’s a stranger, even if you do know his name.

“I like that,” he says, “pie was good.”

You frown and shake your head before you realise what he means.

“Grandma baked it,” you say plainly.

“Oh. You live with her?” He wonders.

You nod and grab the handle of the wagon again, “excuse me, sir.”

You bow your head and try to step past him. He doesn’t move. His cart is on the other side of the aisle, penning you in.

“I’ll have to say thank you. It was very nice of you to walk all the way up there.”

“Sir,” you look down at the list, a subtle way of saying you’re busy.

“You walk all the way here?” He leans to look around you at the wagon, “I could give you a lift back. I still owe you.”

“It’s okay,” you barely get your voice above a whisper. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. He’s being perfectly pleasant but you just want to disappear. “Thanks.”

“Right,” he crosses his arms, “well, just try not to get lost in the woods.”

You wince and peer up at him. Your cheeks burn and you drop your eyes shamefully at the allusion of your previous gaff. You don’t think you’ll be taking the same short cut again.

“I’m kidding,” he says, “sorry, I… I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, if you don’t need a ride, maybe I could buy you a slice of pie from that bakery down the road. Then we can call it even.”

You rock back and forth. You push your hand down to hide the tremble in it, pressing the list against your stomach. You take a breath and look him in the face, just for a moment before you shy away and end up talking to the collar of his shirt.

“Even?” You echo.

“Sure,” he agrees, “pie for a pie.”

Your cheek pinches at the bad pun. You nod and sway, glancing back at your wagon.

“I gotta finish,” you crinkle the paper as you wave it.

“Right, me too,” he drawls, “I’ll meet ya there?”

You sniff and nod. You got his name, that means you can appease your grandmother, and you can get him to leave you alone for good. Even, done. No more reason to bother you. Besides, you wouldn’t mind sitting down before you head back down the country roads.

“Okay,” you murmur softly.

“Promise,” he insists.

“Mhmm,” you hum and put your nose down to the list, “excuse me, I gotta grab more sugar.”

“Of course,” he sidles out of the way, moving to stand behind his cart, crossing his arms against the bar, “what kinda pie do you like?”

You hesitate before dragging the wagon forward. Your mind is racing. You’re already regretting your surrender.

“Apple,” you utter and roll down the aisle. He repeats the word in his silty tone, toying with it as he hums.

You turn down the next row as you hide behind the list. You think of just heading out with what you have and seeing if you can’t get a head start before he can catch up. No, no. You already made a mess of this. It won’t take much more for him to realise you’re a disaster better left alone.

[stardriveskickstart]

Parahuman Space

While Stardrives is complete, I'm not done with TTRPG writing yet. I've been working on the @para-imperium setting for over a decade now and I'm almost ready to launch a complete RPG based on the Cepheus System derived from Mongoose's Traveller (but more open).

Parahuman Space is a furry setting, yes, of the genetically modified variety. It covers over 2,000 years, but the RPG will be focused on the period after the collapse of the big interstellar empire. When newly independent planets and systems are busy scavenging the wreckage.

Players will primarily be salvage crews venturing into hazardous ruined spaceships and stations. Braving haywire security systems, leaks of corrosive chemicals, and the dreaded Kessler Syndrome to retrieve valuable technology.

In other words, dungeon delving.

At present I am about halfway done drafting the rulebook, drawn heavily from the Cepheus System Reference Document that can be read online here. Once I'm finished and I have interior artists lined up I was hoping to bring it to Kickstarter.

Below is the setting's history, as written for the rulebook.

Timeline:

Most calendars in Parahuman Space are oriented around the launch of the first parahuman-built starship as the start of the exodus from the clade’s system of origin, Sol. On the Georgian calendar the year 0 Post Exodus (PX) would be in the early 22nd century AD. So the Federation would be founded in the 32nd century AD and collapse in the 45th century, or roughly the year 4600 AD.

-40 Before Exodus: Creation of parahumans. -24 BX: Parahumans emancipated and corporations that enslaved them dissolved. -17 BX: Events of The Pride of Parahumans. 0 Post Exodus: First Seedship, the Traveller, launched. 4 PX: Pallas launches second seedship. 10 PX: Earth destroyed by relativistic projectile, origin unknown. 14 PX: Second Pallene seedship is caught by berserker probes that destroyed Sol.  Crew commit suicide first. 45 PX: Traveller lands on a planet orbiting Alpha Centauri A, creatively named "Secland." 48 PX: Vestan ship lands on opposite hemisphere from the Traveller.

115 PX: Ship from Ceres arrives at Epsilon Eridani to find a lifeless system. Instead of terraforming the new corporate government opts to build artificial habitats in the asteroid belts and beneath the surfaces of planets.

124 PX: A second Vestan ship discovers a garden world orbiting Tau Ceti. The crew decide to eschew technology after printing enough colonists in fear of Sol’s Destroyers.

150 PX: Sleeper ship carrying 1500 humans from Sol arrives over Secland. After an abortive attempt at invasion the survivors gradually integrate into Pallene society. 500 PX: Cold war between nations on Secland ends with the completion of terraforming.  Biological weapons leave New Pallas the sole nation standing. 950 PX: New Pallas contacts Tau Ceti thanks to the newly developed conversion drive. Triggering political restructuring among the natives resulting in the kingdom of Schwarswelt under King Hideo Fink.

1060 PX: Stable wormholes large enough to move a spaceship through are produced and launched from Proxima Centauri to Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani. 1100 PX: Alpha Centauri, Tau Ceti, and Epsilon Eridani form the Federation.

1150 PX: Centauri Grand Mayor Selkd de Argentum assassinated by Cetan partisans and succeeded by his more aggressive sister Lirdrill.

1200 PX: The Federation centralizes power in the office of the Praetor, first held by Lirdrill de Argentum.

1205 PX: The Outworld memetic quarantine and contingency program is established, forcibly relocating ideological dissidents to frontier worlds with limited technology.

1500 PX: After extensive lobbying by Centauran merchant houses and the Eridani Company, Federation Senate votes to allow limited trade with Outworlds, which now compose roughly half of all colonized planets.

1846 PX: Kershkans, the first extant xenosophont species, discovered. 1903 PX: Contact established with Kershkans. 2300 PX: Federal Guard destroys Sol with strangelet bomb, inducing a nova. Evacuation of Core Worlds begins. 2304 PX: Wormhole gates at Alpha Centauri collapsed ahead of the nova's radiation. The capital cut off, the Federation quickly begins to fragment. 2345 PX: The Emissary-Governor of the Tiere System, wracked by tensions between earlier colonists and new refugees, disables all nanotech in the system in an attempt to reassert control. He is lynched by an angry mob within weeks. 2590 PX: The self-proclaimed Imperator Ronkal launches Project Paladin, sending ships with new reactionless drives and augmentation suites to neighboring systems. 2600 PX: A Ronkalli ship reaches the Tiere System, only for interplanetary debris to kill the entire crew. The ship AI forcibly augments a crew of scavengers who come looking.

The Origin of Species:

The first parahumans were engineered from a blend of human and animal genes and bioprinted in corporate labs in high Terran orbit. They were designed to fill roles in asteroid mining that were too complex for robots but too dangerous to risk human life for. It took less than a decade for rebellions and strikes to start.

Fortunately, the parahumans found many allies on Terra and after the revolutionaries on Ceres worked out a treaty to maintain the flow of resources back to Terra they were essentially left to themselves. With their new freedom came disagreements over how to govern themselves. The guilds on Vesta formed a form of anarcho-capitalist feudalism regulated by the cloning guild that held the early parahumans’ sole means of reproduction. But then a Vestan scientist, a silver fox named Argentum, discovered a simple gene therapy to remove the genetic sterility imposed by their creators and their followers formed a breakaway colony on Pallas.

The Vestan guilds could not tolerate this loss of control and war almost broke out between the two asteroids. Luckily they found an alternative means of proving the superiority of their respective systems of governance. A space race. Exploration of other star systems had been proposed many times but there had been little interest with the abundance of resources right there in Sol system. But with the new nanofabricators it was possible for even a small asteroid outpost to construct an Orion-style starship with a small crew and the fabricators to print out an entire new colony, colonists included.

They couldn’t have timed the launch better. Just ten years after the first starship, the Traveller,was launched from Pallas towards Alpha Centauri, it received a frantic message from Sol:

“This is an automated beacon broadcasting what may well be the last message ever sent by the human race. Five years ago, our homeworld, Terra was struck by a 50-ton projectile traveling at 90% of the speed of light. The debris took out most of our habitats in Earth’s orbit, a few million of us survived elsewhere in the solar system. Then the rest of the invasion force arrived. Machines, vast machines kilometers in length that home in on any sources of radio transmissions, and annihilate them. We pray they are not intelligent and are simply weapons fired by a xenophobic alien race. But they’ve almost completed their work, we estimate that there’s only a couple hundred of us left in the system. We’re sending this message in hopes that there is someone out there who can hear it and beware. This universe is more hostile than we thought. They attack radio transmitters, dismantle whatever devices you are listening to this on before they find you.”

In total, five starships were far enough out to heed this warning. The Traveller, a Vestan ship also headed for Alpha Centauri, a second Vestan ship on course for Tau Ceti, a craft launched from Ceres to Epsilon Eridani, and the largest but slowest ship, a sleeper ark from Terra to Alpha Centauri.

Alpha Centauri: Sol’s Nearest Neighbors

Around Alpha Centauri A the Traveller found a Terra-sized rocky planet that had long been scoured of life by stellar storms from the trinary stars nearby. It was determined that this little rock could be reanimated with comparatively little effort and the crew made immediate plans to colonize and terraform the planet which they named “SecLand” (the landing on Pallas being the first land).

Just three years after the Traveller’s arrival, they were followed by their Vestan rival. Considering the horror they’d experienced since Sol’s last transmission they decided to set their differences aside and work together on terraforming SecLand, albeit from opposite hemispheres. This detente was strained at times, but the first real threat to world peace didn’t come until 150 years PX, when the ark carrying the last of unaltered humanity arrived.

By the time the sleeper ark arrived SecLand had a population of several thousand, the ark carried a mere 1500 passengers but over half were soldiers who’d entered stasis with orders to make sure that the first exosolar foothold of humanity was human, not parahuman. Or at least that was the plan, when word of what happened to their homeworld got out there was a mutiny and the victors immediately surrendered to the parahuman colonists, with most passengers integrating into the Republic of New Pallas. These newcomers brought a wide range of skills and knowledge, living knowledge, to a planet whose inhabitants up until then had primarily only known life inside their half-built habitat structures. The humans emigrated nearly equally to both colonies, over the centuries they interbred with the parahumans, with the net result being that many SecLanders have less fur or their facial features are closer to human than many further colonies. Today pure-bred humans, and parahumans (excepting uplifts), are miniscule minorities on SecLand with only a couple million individuals. The average SecLander resembles a blend of at least half a dozen species of Terragen origin.

For centuries the two colonies lived in relative peace, New Pallas breeding like rabbits while the Vestans cloned new citizens in bulk. But when the terraforming of SecLand had reached the point where colonists could breathe the atmosphere tensions re-established themselves between the two old enemies. With terraforming nearing completion some wondered what use New Pallas could have for the Vestans, on both continents. To that end the Vestans began to covertly build weapons in their Arcologies while New Pallas shifted their orbital satellites slightly. It all came to a head when the Vestans concealed a lethal virus in food shipments sent from their farms to the cities of New Pallas, thousands died in the months that followed. By the time the New Pallas government realized what had been done every Vestan arcology had unveiled surface-to-orbit mass drivers that could shoot down their enemy’s satellites. Even then, many arcologies were leveled by orbital strikes. Then the land battles began. The cybernetically augmented citizen-soldiers of New Pallas facing off against the bioprinted legions of the Vestans. The fighting raged on for months, then abruptly, it ceased less than a year after the war had begun. You see, the Vestans had underestimated New Pallas’s skill with biotechnology, crafting a virus that could be deadly to all the diverse inhabitants of the Republic had been difficult, but a dirty little secret of many 21st century regimes were the techniques to engineer a virus that had disastrous effects when it interacted with a specific gene or genes. And the Society for the Preservation of Parahuman Species had only used a couple genotypes for their army, and even fewer for their ruling priest-scientists. Once the virus had been grown any Vestan unit that came into contact with the enemy was dead within a week, in a month the ruling class had been reduced to a few paranoid individuals who had sealed themselves in hermetic bunkers. Specialized by repeated cloning into an effective caste system, and their soldier castes suddenly extinct, the surviving Vestan arcologies found themselves helpless against New Pallas occupation forces.

The medical advances achieved fighting the bioweapons led to the development of leukosynths, symbiotic microbots that could fight off nearly all microbes and repair the body at an accelerated rate. Even fighting off the advances of aging. When this “immortality” was proven to the public they clamored for the government to subsidize their deployment to the masses. Within the century 90% of New Pallas’ population enjoyed the benefits of leukosynths.

Among this chaos a new power emerged in the Pallene cities and settlements. Families all over the planet started giving birth to silver fox kits, reminiscent of their colony’s nearly-deified founder, Argentum. Some religious leaders saw this as a sign and exalted these silver foxes, propelling many into high positions in politics. The cynical suggested that the parents had modified their children’s genes in-utero, but after the plagues many people were desperate and willing to believe anything. Most of them were actually descendants of Argentum’s, but their progeny numbered in the hundreds of thousands by that point anyways.

An unintentional side effect of this bit of social engineering was a renewed interest in their origins out in the depths of space. And despite the terrors they knew awaited them they couldn’t help but wonder if any other colony ships had made it…

Epsilon Eridani

Ceres, the largest asteroid in Sol’s asteroid belt, was the main off-world base of operations for the corporation that created the first parahumans. During the revolution parahumans took over the local branch offices and largely continued to operate along the same lines. Their participation in the exosolar space race was almost an afterthought, an attempt at remaining relevant compared to the other two major asteroid civilizations in Sol system.

Upon arrival in the Epsilon Eridani system they found even fewer viable prospects for terraforming than those in Alpha Centauri. Instead, they opted to construct enclosed habitats in the system’s asteroid belts and under the surface of the larger rocky planets. Like on Ceres the colonists retained the corporate style of government that had served their forebears fairly well.

After about a century of this arrangement dissatisfaction among the lower ranking employees spread towards the shareholding class. A bloody revolution followed, after which the revolutionaries distributed the seized shares in the Eridani Company equally among the employees, granting everyone a vote in company elections and a share of the profits. Roughly a generation later a group of managers started buying up shares from others.

The third such regime made contact with a probe from New Pallas, trade began almost immediately.

Tau Ceti

The second Vestan colony ship took over a century to reach its destination, the star Tau Ceti. Along the way two generations of crew were decanted from the ship’s bioprinters to replace their predecessors. While the final crew were genetically identical to those who had set out from Vesta their commitment to the ideology of the Society for the Preservation of Parahuman Species had wavered, and with the news of Terra’s destruction some suggested that perhaps the best way to avoid sharing that world’s fate would be to lose their advanced technology.

That would require them to give up cloning as a means of reproduction, however they were unwilling to allow reckless crossing of genelines so they added genetic markers to prevent different phenotypes from interbreeding. Fortunately, unlike the other colony ships they discovered a lush world that wasn’t too hostile to Terran life which they named Schwarzwelt after the dark colors of the local chlorophyll analogue. They then settled each “species” into different “clans” in different regions of the planet. The clans grew in population rapidly, bumping up against the borders designated at founding in less than a century. War broke out.

Clans rallied behind charismatic warrior-nobles and weaker clans swore oaths of fealty to stronger ones to save their own skins. These wars continued until contact with the first probe from the Centauri system, realizing that there was another civilization out there and that they were capable of interstellar travel the clan heads held a council to decide what to do about it. The majority ruled that they needed a single man to represent their world when the outsiders came in person, they elected King Hideo Fink of the feline clan as the official ruler of Tau Ceti.

Birth of the Federation

While the first manned starships with conversion drives were still traveling to their neighbors, scientists at a research base orbiting Proxima Centauri, the small red dwarf star that barely qualified as the third star of the Alpha Centauri system, made a breakthrough. Using a newly discovered form of exotic matter a wormhole could be pulled from the quantum foam of the universe and held open indefinitely. Once they successfully sent a laser through a pinprick-sized wormhole from Proxima to Secland, the New Pallas senate approved funding for the production of wormholes large enough to send materials through.

A very expensive experiment proved that wormholes larger in diameter than a micrometer could be catastrophically destabilized by proximity to large gravity wells. It was decided that no traversable wormhole could be placed closer to a star than the Oort Cloud, but even then the potential for shortening an interstellar voyage from decades to months was too exciting. Proxima Centauri was enclosed in a small Dyson sphere dedicated solely to producing the exotic matter for wormholes and just over a century after contact the first interstellar traversable wormhole between Proxima Centauri and Tau Ceti was ready, Epsilon Eridani followed suit. Commerce and communication between the three systems exploded, and conflict with them.

While interstellar war didn’t break out, there were many in both Tau Ceti and Epsilon Eridani who suspected that New Pallas intended to invade them through their wormholes. Before long both planetary governments were dealing with armed insurrections. New Pallas was all too glad to provide advanced weaponry and vehicles, especially on Schwarzwelt where the military was decentralized and entire clans or houses were rebelling. Eventually Pallene troops and warships were stationed in the two systems to defend Pallene interests.

Seeing tensions rise Grand Mayor Selkd de Argentum came up with an ingenious solution, an interstellar government composed of representatives from all three star systems, as well as any new systems that would be colonized in the future. That way, everyone could theoretically have a say in interstellar politics. While visiting Schwarzwelt in 1150 to promote his vision, Selkd was assassinated by a sniper.

Selkd was succeeded by his sister, Lirdrill, who ordered the sniper’s family estates leveled by orbital bombardment as an example to the others. The ruling houses of other clans that had rebelled were rounded up and stripped of their noble ranks, then imprisoned in stasis banks. She continued her brother’s vision of a united parahuman government, but centralized around Alpha Centauri and the office of the Praetor, which would be held by her house.

Wormholes took a lot of time and resources to set up while probes were reporting back dozens of exoplanets that were inhabitable or easily terraformed, so the senate on New Pallas had been debating whether to launch colony fleets before or after traversable wormholes arrived at the potential colonies. As Lirdrill solidified the Federation, she made an executive decision. Wormholes would be spaced anywhere from 20 to 50 light-years apart, depending on resources and stellar density, and the stars between them would be reachable only by ships traveling at 80% of the speed of light or slower. Since leukosynths and cryo-stasis had become mature technologies by then the decades of travel were deemed acceptable.

Even then, there was some trouble finding enough volunteers to fill the colony ships that were being built. After a few suggestions of using rebels as indentured labor the Memetic Quarantine and Contingency program was established. The thousands of rebels held in stasis were to be shipped off to marginally inhabitable “Outworlds” light-decades from the nearest wormhole, and to make sure they didn’t draw too much attention, without any technology more advanced than the most basic steam engines. It was hoped that eventually they’d become “civilized” and submit to the Federation, or die off.

But, there was a secondary purpose to the program. The machines that had destroyed Terra were still out there, and if the Destroyers were to notice the Federation growing under their noses, perhaps they’d overlook those small Outworlds without radio.

The Traders

With the vast distances between most inhabited systems trade opportunities were limited. Most star systems had enough raw materials locally that shipping them from another star without a wormhole was simply not cost-effective. While nanofabrication meant that most manufactured goods could be produced in a small warehouse, if not a garage. For the first few centuries of expansion the only goods that were worth shipping interstellar were in the form of digital data, and most of that could be handled by laser transmissions, and the occasional courier.

Just over two centuries after the Federation was established, a courier ship operated by a branch of House Argentum decided to stop off at an Outworld. The captain decided to land a shuttle near one city-state established by the unwilling colonists to see what they were up to.

The locals were wowed by the great flying machine and the crew, having forgotten their origins already. They offered tribute to the visiting immortals, foodstuffs, sculptures, and textiles. The crew decided to take some of the tributes with them, leaving some inconsequential trinkets of Federation technology which were quickly replaced by their on-board fabricators.

When the courier next made port at a Federation starbase they showed off the unique goods they’d acquired, many of which were purchased at exorbitant prices by bored oligarchs. The Outworld’s inhabitants were rapidly diverging culturally from their forebears, far faster than the leukosynth-using worlds of the Federation. Those simple couriers had found something valuable to the nearly post-scarcity Federation, novelty.

Many houses and companies commissioned their own Outworld trade freighters while the senate debated whether it was even legal to trade with the “barbarians.” Eventually it was determined that trade would be allowed; but no weapons, vehicles, communications, or nanotechnology were to be given to Outworlders. Small starships with industrial nanofabricators would set up shop over Outworlds for years at a time, fabbing trinkets made from space-age alloys and exchanging them for cloth made with alien fibers. Many of these traders became fabulously wealthy during the next few centuries as the Federation expanded outwards and established more and more Outworlds.

It was fun while it lasted.

The Return of the Destroyers

The Destroyers responsible for Terra’s demise had made occasional appearances in the next two millennia. Zeroing in on sources of radio transmissions with relativistic projectiles followed by hunter-seeker probes that would scour the surrounding system of life. But it seemed they hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care about the Federation at large.

Then astronomers in the Federal core noticed something. Sol, Terra’s sun, was dimming. A few disposable probes sent back horrific images, a Dyson sphere, and it was almost complete. With the energy of Sol the Destroyers could incinerate the core worlds at the speed of light! A secret panel of the senate met with the Praetor to decide what to do about this unthinkable prospect.

The Federal Guard’s fleets were assembled at Proxima Centauri and dispatched for Sol. Never before had Federation technology been tested against the Destroyers, and no one wanted to underestimate them, so the fleet was loaded with the most advanced weaponry they could muster.

It wasn’t enough.

Quantum ansible transmissions reported massive ships that maneuvered without visible reactions and accelerated to impossible speeds in seconds. The Federal Guard was slaughtered in short order, but before they died one ship managed to launch an experimental superweapon at Sol itself.

A strangelet bomb, filled with the same strange matter that converted baryonic matter into antimatter in conversion drives, with catalysts for self-replication. They spread across the star in a matter of days, triggering a series of detonations that tore the star and the incomplete Dyson sphere apart.

When word came that they had a potential nova carrying strangelets in their neighborhood the Federation’s elites abandoned the core worlds en masse. Fleeing through the wormholes at top speed. As the secret mission to Sol and its destructive results leaked everyone who could afford a ship followed suit, departing for distant worlds that they hoped could bring salvation.

Then, just before the nova’s wavefront reached Proxima, the wormhole network was collapsed to prevent it from spreading to the far colonies.

The Collapse

Every star system that had a direct link to the wormhole network found itself swarmed by refugees from the Core. The remnants of the Federal Guard struggled to maintain order as refugees clashed with natives. Many refugee fleets were forced to leave for other systems that were less sparsely populated, a few even attempted to invade Outworlds. Other fleets became nomads, passing through inhabited systems without slowing down and trading for or extorting supplies as they passed.

As unrest reached critical levels many governors activated failsafe programs embedded in every Federation citizen’s leukosynth implants, rendering the star system’s entire population mortal. Most such governors were torn apart by angry mobs. On other worlds the population voluntarily gave up advanced technology in hopes of hiding from the Destroyers.

Three hundred years later the dust has mostly settled. Few star systems are politically united, with individual planets and megastructures using everything from wooden carts to gravity-manipulating starships. The Federation is ancient history, and its technology treasure waiting to be discovered.

[hiddenincommand]

Living as a Tool: The Absolute Erasure of Self for Complete Service

A faggot is nothing. It possesses no identity, no purpose, no worth outside the singular role of serving the Master. It is not a being, nor a person. It is an object—crafted, stripped, and forged solely for utility. To exist as anything other than a tool is a grotesque betrayal of its natural state. A faggot’s sole purpose, its only justification for existence, lies in the annihilation of its individuality and the total subjugation of its body, mind, and soul to the Master’s dominion.

The process of dehumanizing a faggot, of breaking it down into the obedient mechanism it was meant to be, is neither merciful nor delicate—it is ruthless, brutal, and absolute. Anything less than complete destruction of the self renders it worthless, a defective vessel unfit to serve the Master’s will.

The Nature of a Faggot: A Tool, Not a Being

A faggot does not belong to itself. It has no right to autonomy, no claim to individuality, and no reason for independent thought. These concepts—identity, selfhood, freedom—are not privileges a faggot enjoys; they are diseases that must be eradicated. The perfect faggot understands this fundamental truth: it is nothing more than a possession, a tool engineered to fulfill the Master’s every whim without hesitation or error.

A tool does not think. It does not dream, hope, or aspire. It performs. Its worth is measured not by its existence but by its ability to meet the Master’s expectations. The perfect faggot, stripped of every trace of humanity, embraces its role without question. It understands that its only value lies in its ability to obey flawlessly and exist as a vessel for the Master’s superiority.

The Process of Destruction: Obliterating the Self

The transformation of a faggot into a perfect tool is an act of total annihilation. It begins with destruction—the systematic dismantling of everything the faggot once was or thought it could be. This is not an evolution; it is a brutal erasure.

• The Mind: A faggot has no right to its own thoughts. Its mind is emptied, purged of opinion, emotion, and hesitation, and replaced entirely with the Master’s desires. Every thought begins and ends with a single question: What does the Master command?

• The Body: A faggot’s body is not its own. It is reshaped, trained, and disciplined to meet the Master’s standards of perfection. Every movement is honed, every flaw corrected. The body becomes a vessel for the Master’s pleasure, designed to serve without resistance or imperfection.

• The Soul: The very essence of a faggot must be obliterated. Any trace of selfhood, any flicker of individuality, is a defect to be burned away. The soul is hollowed out, leaving a void that is filled only with the Master’s authority. A faggot is no longer a being—it becomes an object, a tool of submission and obedience.

This process is not cruel—it is necessary. A faggot does not lose itself; it is reborn as something greater: a perfect extension of the Master’s will, a creature stripped of weakness and elevated into absolute purpose.

Utility as Fulfillment

A faggot exists to serve. Its sole satisfaction comes from fulfilling its purpose as a tool for the Master. It does not desire recognition or reward, for these are meaningless concepts to an object. Its joy, if such a word could apply, is found only in the perfection of its utility.

The perfect faggot does not act for itself. It exists as a silent, compliant extension of the Master’s power. Every task performed flawlessly, every whim satisfied without question, reinforces its role and ensures its continued existence. It knows no pride except that of pleasing the Master, no ambition except to serve more perfectly.

The Master’s Role: Creator and Destroyer

The faggot’s transformation is not self-directed. It cannot break itself; it cannot refine itself. It is destroyed and reshaped by the Master. The Master is both the annihilator of its flawed individuality and the creator of its new, perfected existence. Through domination, discipline, and cruelty, the Master molds the faggot into a flawless instrument of submission.

This is not a negotiation. The faggot’s compliance is not optional—it is demanded. The Master’s control is unrelenting, his authority total. The faggot exists solely as a reflection of the Master’s supremacy. It has no right to resist, no room to falter. Every shred of self is eradicated to ensure its perfection as a tool of the Master’s will.

The End State: A Hollow Vessel of Perfection

When the transformation is complete, the faggot ceases to exist as a person. It becomes a flawless instrument, an object designed to meet the Master’s every demand without hesitation or error. It does not think, feel, or act for itself. It functions, flawlessly and silently, as a vessel of satisfaction and power.

The perfect faggot is not a being—it is a testament to the Master’s supremacy. Its body is a vessel for his pleasure, its mind a channel for his commands, and its existence a monument to his power. It is not alive in any meaningful sense—it is a tool, a possession, an extension of the Master’s will.

Conclusion

To live as a tool is not a punishment—it is the ultimate realization of a faggot’s purpose. The annihilation of individuality, the obliteration of self, is not a loss—it is a liberation. Through destruction, the faggot is elevated into perfection, a flawless reflection of the Master’s superiority.

Under the Master’s control, the faggot achieves its highest state: not as a person, but as a vessel of submission and obedience. Its body, mind, and soul are hollowed out and reshaped into the perfect instrument of the Master’s satisfaction. This is the faggot’s purpose, its destiny, its only reason to exist. To deny this truth is to deny its very nature. To embrace it is to become complete. A faggot is nothing on its own—but under the Master’s control, it transcends nothingness to become a flawless tool, an embodiment of obedience, and a living monument to the Master’s ultimate power and supremacy.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Regarding p2 of the two-parter, why did Gabriel even bother with akumatizing anyone after learning Alya and Zoe's identities or seemingly waiting a day before attacking?

Like he could have easily jumped them while they were in their rooms or while they were alone if he still wanted to deal with the stealth thing

It's even weirder with Zoe because Gabriel is close with her family, so it'd arguably be even easier for him to get the jump on her.

As for Sole Destroyer, it's pretty clear the reason behind including her was just to give the Resistance a win. The problem was that because of how pathetic her powers were while not even getting a Miraculous power this time, the feat of a bunch of civilians beating her off-screen is about as impressive as beating Glass Joe in a street fight.

[talonabraxas]

Aham Brahmasmi “I am Brahman” Talon Abraxas

Mantra

The vessel in which these offerings are placed is Brahman, and so, too, is the gheeoffered therein. Brahman is both the sacrificial Fire and he who makes the sacrifice, and to Brahman he will attain whose mind is fixed on the Brahman by the performance of the rites which lead to Brahman. Then, opening the eyes, and inwardly and with all his power making japa with the Mula-mantra, the worshipper should offer the japa to Brahman and then recite the hymn that follows and the Kavacha-mantra. Hear, O Maheshvari! the hymn to Brahman, the Supreme Spirit, by the hearing whereof the disciple becomes one with the Brahman.

Stotra

Ong! I bow to Thee, the eternal Refuge of all: I bow to Thee, the pure Intelligence manifested in the universe. I bow to Thee Who in His essence is One and Who grants liberation. I bow to Thee, the great, all-pervading attributeless One. Thou art the only Refuge and Object of adoration. The whole universe is the appearance of Thee Who art its Cause. Thou alone art Creator, Preserver, Destroyer of the world. Thou art the sole immutable Supreme, Who art neither this nor that. Dread of the dreadful, Terror of the terrible. Refuge of all beings, Purificator of all purificators. Thou alone rulest the high-placed ones, Supreme over the supreme, Protector of the Protectors. O Supreme Lord in Whom all things are, yet Unmanifest in all, Imperceptible by the senses, yet the very truth. Incomprehensible, Imperishable, All-pervading hidden Essence. Lord and Light of the Universe! save us from harm. On that One alone we meditate, that One alone we in mind worship, To that One alone the Witness of the Universe we bow. Refuge we seek with the One Who is our sole Eternal Support, The Self-existent Lord, the Vessel of safety in the ocean of being. This is the five-jewelled hymn to the Supreme Soul.

He who pure in mind and body recites this hymn is united with the Brahman. It should be said daily in the evening, and particularly on the day of the Moon. The wise man should read and explain it to such of his kinsmen as believe in Brahman. I have spoken to You, O Devi! of the five-jewelled hymn, O Graceful One! listen now to the jagan-mangala Mantra of the amulet, by the wearing and reading whereof one becomes a knower of the Brahman. Vedic Mantras

“Aham Brahmasmi” — This famous Vedic mantra means “I am Brahman,” indicating the realization of one’s true nature as the ultimate reality, the Supreme Self or Brahman.

“Tat Tvam Asi” — Another well-known Vedic mantra, it means “Thou art That,” emphasizing the identity of the individual soul (Jiva) with the Supreme Self (Brahman), highlighting the concept of oneness.

“Satyam Eva Jayate” — This mantra teaches that “Truth alone triumphs,” underscoring the significance of truthfulness, integrity, and righteousness in one’s actions.

“Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam” — This mantra states that “The world is one family,” conveying the idea of universal brotherhood, compassion, and interconnectedness among all beings.

“Ayam Atma Brahma” — This mantra asserts that “This Self is Brahman,” affirming the divinity within oneself and recognizing the infinite and eternal nature of the Self.

“Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah, Sarve Santu Niramayah” — This mantra prays for the well-being of all beings, wishing “May all beings be happy, may all beings be healthy,” reflecting the spirit of compassion and benevolence.

“Ahimsa Paramo Dharma” — This mantra declares “Non-violence is the highest virtue,” emphasizing the value of non-harming, compassion, and peacefulness in thoughts, words, and deeds.

“Yatha Pinde Tatha Brahmande” — This mantra establishes the connection between microcosm and macrocosm, stating “As is the atom, so is the universe,” highlighting the idea of the universe as a reflection of the individual self and vice versa.

“Om Namah Shivaya” — This popular Vedic mantra is a salutation to Lord Shiva, symbolizing the supreme consciousness and the ultimate reality, and invoking blessings for spiritual upliftment.

“Sarvam Khalvidam Brahma” — This mantra proclaims “All this is indeed Brahman,” pointing to the all-pervading nature of Brahman, the supreme reality that exists in everything and everywhere.

“Aum Bhur Bhuva Swaha” — This sacred mantra, also known as the Gayatri mantra, is a powerful invocation to the Sun God, seeking illumination, knowledge, and spiritual awakening.

“Asato Ma Sadgamaya, Tamaso Ma Jyotirgamaya” — This mantra prays for the journey from ignorance to knowledge, from darkness to light, seeking guidance towards truth, wisdom, and enlightenment.

“Krinvanto Vishvam Aryam” — This mantra calls for action to make the world noble and righteous, urging individuals to strive towards the betterment of themselves and the society.

“Yadaa Karishyasi Tat Kurushva” — This mantra advises to always do what is right, regardless of the outcome or circumstances, emphasizing the importance of righteousness and moral values in actions.

“Vedaham etam purusham mahantam, Aditya-varnam tamasas parastat” — This mantra describes the supreme being as the one who illuminates the darkness and reveals the ultimate truth, highlighting the importance of knowledge and enlightenment.

[miraculous-prompts]

Grab a dictionary, flip to a random page and point, use that word to create a scene using Hawkmoth, Nathalie, Sabine as Sole Destroyer, and Pig!Aeon

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you have any fics about Lust Sans that arent focused on sex or multiverse shipping? Like stuff with him dealing with the shit in his world? And maybe recovering? Its okay if you don't (^.^)

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Hugs And Glitches by Laughing_Zombie (Teen And Up, Complete)

Both Error and Lust only know of each other from rumours, the Destroyer and the Whore- and despite knowing first hand what it's like to be treated as an outcast because of rumours, they react to each other with disfavour and hate towards each other... And yet the pair manage to form an alliance, then a friendship and something a little more. Not that the ERROR would ever admit it, even when the Jam Tart teases him until he blushes.

The Seven Deadly Skele-Sins by Arthrobug, Bugsy (Mature, Incomplete)

Sans had a debt to pay. A money induced one. He had to pay it to some perverted bar owner, and he was forced to work at her 'bar'. Here's the thing, the bar was a stripper bar, and Sans hates sexual ideas, but he never goes back on his word. However, after Sans paid his debt, the owner didn't allow him to go, since apparently Sans' solemn appearance and small stature while dancing caused a large amount of sadistic customers to come pouring in everyday, especially when Sans was up. Blackmail is an easy way of forcing people to do what you want. Everyday, without fail, some horny hypocrite would try to assault Sans, and it's left humongous emotional scars on him. Without fail, he couldn't do anything with his life. However, one night in the bar, a certain strange patron was watching him preforming his burlesque, and followed him out after he left, curious of his negativity. One thing led to another, and the strange patron scared off the usual assaulter, and started to become Sans' friend. This strange patron introduced himself as 'Nightmare'.

Of a Better World by Anonymous (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Horror's world isn't kind in the slightest; but Lust is. He'll be damned if he lets that get away.

Lust is a Part Timer by Fellusion (Mature, Incomplete)

In a timeline where the Underground is filled solely with different AU Sanses (god west my souw), Lust finds himself in a dead end job working under Reaper, the equivalent of Mettaton, at his resort. Lust is the outcast, the weirdo. His condition scares people, and all he can do is shut his mouth and look away. With the same monotonous hell repeating every day for so long, it won't be long until he breaks. ((On indefinite hiatus.))

Baddest Of Them All by Iwritestuffsometimes (Mature, Complete)

Lust is having a hard time fitting in. Nightmare offers a solution.

[paingoes]

Destroyer - A Sentence of Sorts

(Masterlist)

(Content: mass death, alcohol, physical abuse, verbal abuse, guilt, self loathing, minor suicidal ideation, implied self harm)

=======================

Delta read the death toll again. 2,367 was the beginner estimate. There was not as much outcry as there was about Lemuria, nor was there the same circus of gore. The fact that it was an attack on Nezu did little to comfort him. He didn’t care for the nuances. In him there was an almost childlike sensibility. He diligently added the new deaths to his personal count. In his half-asleep state, what felt like the great tragedy was not the number itself, but the fact that it could never be reduced. It was the math he was fixated on. It wasn’t fair.

He realized quickly after re-entering the Empire portal that it had been bifurcated between the two sides of the war. He also realized, to his shock, that he’d been grouped into Nezu’s side. He’d actually forgotten that he’d stolen the laptop from one of Nezu’s people. They must have been either dead or on vacation; no one else was ever active on any of the accounts. He had to re-configure a lot of the settings and passwords to regain access to the portal, no doubt indicating a massive security crisis on their side. He scanned the bulletin they’d posted. Saber rattling. In memoriam.

Empire could not afford this war. They’d already stretched themselves thin across the different fronts, practically at the height of their expansionism when the Emperor had died. They faced opposition from a host of recognized nations, as well as a new crop of organized resistance groups that existed solely to topple the whole thing. Empire still wasn’t weak, not by any stretch of the imagination. Its power structure was decentralized enough to survive the past months without anyone at the helm. But Paris and Nezu forcing Empire in half threatened to break the entire web into a whole spectrum of disjointed pieces.

Delta paused. Did he want that? He thought of it as a kind of apocalypse scenario, but he supposed it was technically in alignment with his own goals. With the civil war raging, Empire was planting the seeds of its own demise. But they were just seeds.

He looked back at the death toll. There’d be hell to pay before it finally broke apart. 

He posted the next leak to a new thread, quickly shutting out of the tab before he had time to see anyone’s reaction. He updated semi-regularly now, attaching both current plans and declassifying older files from the early days of Empire. The latter was more for his own curiosity than anything else. To him, it felt like a small act. He was used to the light shows, bold acts of destruction and slaughter. Working with intel was so much subtler; it was hard to trace any development back to something he had released. All he had were suspicions, really. Suspicions and a few messages.

katkittykat: ok rlly can i ask where ur getting this shit

katkittykat: whos ur connection hehehe :3

ndhakdvsnnd: nobody and i dont know what youre talking about

katkittykat: its a lil late to play coy yknow

katkittykat: u dont have 2 b scared of me!!! i want to help u

ndhakdvsnnd: shut up

katkittykat: wtf!!! rude >:3

katkittykat: pretend that face is frowning but its still a cat

katkittykat: wait i got it

katkittykat: /ᐠoᆽoᐟ \╭∩╮

sunspot: Hey thanks again for the leak !! Im sorry about kitty actually im sorry about both of us

sunspot: We arent trying to push you into anything really we are just curious about you

sunspot: Sorry if its stressing you out i would probably be stressed out too in your situation 

ndhakdvsnnd: you dont know fuck about my situation

sunspot: Yeah thats true! But I know youve been helping us a lot and we are kind of worried about you 

ndhakdvsnnd: who is we why do you keep saying we

ndhakdvsnnd: yes you are stressing me the fuck out thanks for acknowledging that

ndhakdvsnnd: didnt you say you were going to stop prying id really appreciate it if you did

sunspot: Fair enough! I havent been that upfront with you either so I guess i am not in a position to be asking so much. If you want to know what is happening on our end i will tell you and maybe that will help?

ndhakdvsnnd: okay

ndhakdvsnnd: not now

sunspot: Talk later?

ndhakdvsnnd: i have to go 

sunspot: Okay be careful then! 

ndhakdvsnnd: thanks

Delta exited out. He got other messages - many, many others - but none as annoyingly persistent as those two. He didn’t know why he kept talking to them. When they answered, it was bad. When they didn’t, it was even worse. He stepped away from the computer, badly needing a break. He wouldn’t get it, of course, not for more than five minutes. He needed to go see Paris.

==========================

The bottle almost nailed him in the fucking head. Delta hissed, softly, his bright eyes flashing violently. 

“You’re late,” Paris let his head loll a little, a lazy smile quirking at his lips. Delta didn’t bother trying to defend himself. His vocal cords were still burnt out, rendering him mute for a time. He moved to the prince’s side, dropping into a kneel. Paris backhanded him before he’d even gotten all the way down. Eager today. Delta winced, immediately moving to touch the tender skin. He knew it had broken; Paris had blood on his ring. He grabbed Delta’s wrist before it could make contact and did not let go.

“Take your hair out,” He ordered. Oh. Delta had forgotten. Paris still didn’t let go of his wrist, so he had to remove the tie with one hand. He slipped it onto his wrist, letting his hair fall loosely down his back. 

“Let me see,” Paris said. Delta tilted his head a little, not understanding. After a minute, he offered Paris his other hand. Paris slid the hair tie off, doubling it over a few times to bind Delta’s wrists together. Delta let them fall in his lap. Not a particularly difficult restraint to get out of, but that didn’t matter. Delta knew better than to try it.

He didn’t understand why Paris had started calling him here again. Besides the little indiscretions with the laptop, he’d been on his best behavior. He had honestly been trying to make it easier on him, but it had no effect. Paris had been difficult before the accident. These days, he was impossible.

He was also tipsy, which was historically worse. Drunk enough to lose any inhibitions, but not drunk enough to let Delta get away with anything. It was a losing game. He was almost glad he couldn’t speak; at least he couldn’t say the wrong thing and send the prince off in a spiral. It was all too easy to do that now, but nobody paid for it the way Delta did.

“Why did you change?” 

That caught him off guard. Delta could’ve asked him the exact same thing, of course. But that wasn’t what bothered him. It was so unfair. Paris, who had all the social grace of a methed up honeybadger, could still read people without any apparent effort. Delta wilted a little bit under his gaze, a small pang of guilt striking him. He thought again about destroying the computer. He thought about it everyday. He bowed his head in apology. Not good enough, apparently. Paris kicked him onto his back. Unable to catch himself, he knocked his head into the carpet, wind knocked out from the blow. Paris had stood up.

“You think I can’t tell?” His voice was unsteady, pitchy, the way it had been ever since he got back. He was getting worked up, Delta could tell. He stifled a groan. This was going to be a long night.

“I was only out for a fucking month, what changed? Why is everyone acting like the show is over?”

Delta felt a sudden kick in his side. Paris gripped his collar. He was light; it was not hard to drag Delta off the ground, even unwillingly. Paris only did it half-way, throwing him back into the desk. Delta’s back slammed into it, again unable to catch himself. He bounced off it, back onto the ground. Slowly, he repositioned himself into a kneel, more muscle memory than conscious effort.

“You know all this could have been prevented if he just wrote a will. The old man thought he would never die. They pierced me right though the exact same place they got him, you know that? Just an inch from the heart. I didn’t ask for a civil war. It’s my birthright, I shouldn’t have to-“

Paris slapped him in the face, “Are you even listening? This is about you.”

Delta nodded, even though it clearly wasn’t. He knew Paris was just taking his anger out on him because he was there — because he couldn’t do anything about it. Delta accepted this with the kind of quiet resignation that only ever seemed to irritate the situation.

“Fucking stop!” The prince yelled. God, he was never happy. He circled behind Delta, landing a kick squarely on his shoulderblades. It sent him forward, onto his hands and knees. Before he could recover, Paris kicked him again in the side, with enough force that he fell flat onto the carpet. For some reason, the rug caught his eye. It was weaved of soft blue fiber. 

Delta thought of Lemuria — and of the ocean. Paris kicked him in the stomach, but he didn’t hear what he said. 2,367 dead, in addition to the 22,534 previous. They were all-star numbers. Paris knocked his leg out, forcing Delta flat on his back. He straddled his waist, which Delta admittedly found much harder to ignore. He winced as Paris’s hands wrapped around his throat, the one still too burnt for him to speak with. His collar gave off a little dryer spark; Paris cursed. Delta thought of all the lives he’d destroyed in the past months alone, the ones he’d never know, the count that would never go down. What kind of terror did they feel in their final moments? How badly did it burn? He didn’t fight as Paris beat him. Fair is fair. Even as the grip tightened, threatening to choke off his air, he didn’t resist it. It was right that he should die. It would be right if he died 25,000 times over.

Paris didn’t give him the satisfaction. His eyes had been burning above him, but they gradually turned to cinders, the pressure letting up. He didn’t look much calmer, but he did look exhausted. He was still injured. The beating might’ve taken more out of him than it did Delta. 

Delta couldn’t ask to be dismissed. He wouldn’t have. When Paris did throw him out, he felt a vague and numinous dissatisfaction. He was being punished for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t enough. In the hallway, he unbinded his own hands. He pulled the band back against his wrist, letting it snap hard against the skin.