#bionicle fanfic

[legend-as-old-as-time]

(Had to delete the former version of the post because I posted too early and I couldn't edit anymore.)

Mini-scene out of a fic concept:

Pohatu was looking between Kopaka and Tahu, the latter still resting in his arms, asleep.

"I don't like what I used to be like." His eyes met Kopaka's again. "What we as a group used to be like."

Had they been a team back then, when it all started in Karda Nui? Or were they just warriors forced into one group and made to go along with what was expected of them?

A white hand pressed against one of Pohatu's own, resting on their brother's back. Tahu was still running too hot. Kopaka gently renewed the frigid bubble around them, so that the excess heat could bleed off. He exhaled shakily.

An equally important question: What had they lost when they forgot?

"I don't like it, either."

----

I love how the Karda Nui flashback - short as it was - to the Toa Mata reconceptualizes their current team dynamics. It's so wild that Pohatu used to resent all of the others, and Kopaka and Tahu were closest to each other. Even confidants.

After the amnesia and waking up on Mata Nui, Pohatu was the first to befriend Kopaka. Meanwhile, Kopaka and Tahu had to work a lot to establish respect and a bond between them. Even later they struggle being vulnerable with each other, which doesn't change the depths of care they hold for each other and their siblings.

And Tahu later remembers, which implies the others will, too. It would be such an uncanny feeling.

The idea just compels me.

@randomwriteronline You mused about that topic before, so I thought you might like this post.

[catsafari25]

A/N: Hello, hello, I am back! This time with an au inspired by @bionicle-ramblings post here, specifically about what might have happened had Matau not been able to talk Vakama down from his Hordika side. This turned into 3K words, so heads up for that. (Apologies in advance for the angst!)

x

Too far above the ground, Matau waits for the killing blow that never comes.

His claws are weak-numb, dug into the ledge of the coliseum balcony, and in the bowels of the area below the battle still rages. From all the way up here, it's almost muted, like the backfiring of a hundred small exhaust pipes.

If he falls, he won't have to worry about the battle. Or anything else. Not for long enough to matter, anyway.

And still, Vakama doesn't come to finish him off.

Matau's grip slips further towards the edge, the ground beckons him a little bolder, and he doesn't have time to play it safe. He swings his fang blade up, and his claws lose their hold but the blade hits true. It slices into the stone, snagging him in place. He slams into the coliseum wall – but it's better than the ground. Still, he mutters a few ungainly curses and doesn't move immediately. He tries not to think about the long fall below. Tries not to think about the crazed brother above. Fails on both counts.

Only one is going to definitely kill him though.

The other... well. He's still working on that.

He hauls himself up the rest of the way. It's an ungainly process, his fang blade is attached to the stone – and he's attached to his fang blade, so...

It's also a quiet affair. There comes no bloodthirsty snarl, no flare of blazer claws going for his face. Nothing – save for his near fall and the scorch marks in the floor – to indicate Matau had been fighting for his life only seconds before.

It's nice, not dying. Matau's not going to deny that.

Odd, though.

The Vakama he had known would never have walked away before he was sure the job (the job being murdering a brother, but Matau tries not to dwell on that) was done. It's something to do with the mask-maker's perfectionism. You can't make mistakes with a mask; even a single crack will render it unusable. (Not like test-driving. If a lone dent could put a vehicle out of commission, none of the drives Matau had taken would have passed.)

He had at least expected some gloat-threat. Some rubbing it in Matau's face that he had lost and Vakama had won. Is that in Vakama's nature? Gloating?

One thing is for sure: taking it as read that a job is done without checking? That certainly isn't in Vakama's nature.

Which leaves Matau wondering...

What has been left in its stead?

x

Missing maniacal brother or not, Matau has his other brothers and sister to also worry about. And they are not winning this battle.

As he descends – no sign of Vakama – he sees the remains of Keetongu. Alive, but in no state to fight. Beside it is the ittier-bittier remains of who Matau can only assume is (or was, he supposes) Sidorak. Fragments of cracked red armour are scattered across the battle field. An arm – still with the blade attached – lies clear of the damage, whole but unmoving.

Matau skirts round that particular scene. Even the Visorak give the shattered ground a wide berth, steering clear of the corpse of their king and his killer.

The cacophony of spinners and blasts settles. There comes a ringing in Matau's ears, like the auditory equivalent of looking from from a bright light and blinking away the negative image. There's still the gnash and skitter of the Visorak, but it is nothing compared to the chaos of before.

And then he sees the cause of the quietening.

In the centre of the arena, the other Toa and Rahaga are surrounded. Their weapons are lowered, their spinners still, and the battle is over. It had been a reckless last-charge anyway. Maybe if they had been Toa, not Hordika... Maybe if they had had more time to plan... Maybe if Vakama had been with them–

Something – no, someone slams into Matau. He hadn't even realise he'd frozen until suddenly he isn't anymore. He slams into the ground, mask-first. There are claws digging into his left shoulder. An unlit blazer claw into his right.

His rhotuka spinner flares into life instinctively. It rises to attack and smacks into his attacker's face. The claws – both kinds – loosen enough for Matau to shake free and spin to face the culprit.

Vakama snarls at him.

There's something different about the once-Toa – he's hunched further, weight distributed evenly between all four limbs, the eyes dulled – but then the blazer claw is coming for Matau again and he has other things to think about. Namely, not getting barbecued. Matau skips back. The attack was clumsy. Unplanned.

"Come on, firespitter, you can do better than that," Matau goads before common sense can intervene. "You really think a swipe like that's gonna get me?"

Vakama growls and leaps at Matau – further than Matau thinks possible, like a muaka – and Matau drops down, kicking with his feet to deflect the blazer claw. Heat skims the side of his mask.

Too close.

He catches sight of his friends, still surrounded, still surrendered, and now with a newcomer – a tall (ridiculously tall, really; who needed that much height?) grey figure parading before them. A leader? Important, surely.

Dangerous, certainly.

He sees Vakama's rhotuka spinner light up, and stumbles back before the blast can hit its mark.

"We don't have time for this, Vakama," Matau stresses, and desperation edges his voice with a growl. "If we don't do something soon – if you don't snap out of this – the other Toa are gonna be history!"

Another spinner flies past. This one close enough to sear the corner of his shoulder. And still that tall figure looms before his friends, paying little heed to the fight ongoing at the far side of the arena.

Vakama takes advantage of Matau's distraction and closes the gap between them. The blazer claw swipes down. Matau only just grabs Vakama's arm in time, and the fused weapon flares, the flames close enough for Matau to feel the heat.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, "for doubting you! We all make mistakes, Vakama; that's what happens when you're brave enough to make decisions! I understand that now."

The only reply Matau receives is the fire inching steadily closer and another wordless growl. His feet scuff in the dust, and he feels himself slide back.

"You're our leader, Vakama! You're my leader! The others are depending on you – dammit, Vakama, say something!"

Vakama roars, and Matau's grip finally gives. He tries to duck out of the way as the flame bears down on him – but is too slow. The blaze brushes past his cheek and red-hot pain blossoms in its wake.

Matau staggers back and presses his hand against the burn. It's not gone deep enough to crack the mask, but he can feel the protodermis is rough, a thin melted mark across his cheek. Nausea rises through him. He blinks, and looks back to Vakama – expecting, hoping to see his horror mirrored back at him – after all, he was a mask-maker, surely he realises, surely he knows what he could have done – and the blazer claw is coming for him again.

A small, pathetic sound struggles in the back of Matau's throat, but he reels back just in time. His hand is still against his mask, while his eyes...

His eyes are trained on Vakama's.

There is something wrong with Vakama's eyes. Something more than just the rage or the adrenaline. Something, even, more than the venom-green colour. The irises are too full, too wide; they eclipse the eye entirely.

Like an ash bear's.

He realises it's been an awfully long time since he heard his brother speak.

Another blow comes slamming towards him, and Matau responds on instinct, releasing an air spinner that strikes into Vakama. The Toa Hordika is torn off his feet and smacks into the wall of the arena. He collapses to the ground. Still conscious but slow to regain his footing.

"Say something, Vakama," Matau says, softer than before. Toa don't beg, but maybe... maybe Hordika do. "Please."

A venom-green eye glares at Matau. There is blind rage and wordless aggression in those depths. But no intelligence. Matau's seen those eyes before, on rahi, on monsters.

They don't belong on a Toa.

Vakama pushes himself back to his feet – all four of them – and Matau braces himself for the fresh slew of attacks. Is this their destiny? To war like this until one brother destroys the other? Can Matau even bring himself to fight – to not only defend, but fight with the aim to win?

He flinches at the sound of a spinner firing, but Vakama's rhotuka spinner is still idle. There comes another whirr, and Matau glances back to the source.

The other Toa have fired on the tall figure. A last-ditch attempt? He hears the stranger's cackle, their form crackling with energy. Four elemental attacks, and they shrug it off with a laugh? The Toa's combined powers had taken down the Makuta; was this being really as powerful as him?

A spinner fires up, closer to home, and he ducks as the blast goes wide over his head. A reckless, probably getting-self-killed plan fits into place – but it's not as if he's swimming in options.

He starts a sprint towards his friends. Vakama is hot on his tail – too hot – and Matau drops onto all four limbs in an attempt to keep ahead. He zig-zags, hoping that's enough to keep him from being fried-burnt.

Le-Matoran are quick thinkers. They aren't necessarily forward-thinkers, but in the spur of the moment they can react in a flash. That's fine. Matau doesn't need to think that far ahead; his lifespan is probably a matter of minutes anyway. He just needs to survive at least those few minutes.

A blast flies a hand's breadth from his head.

Okay, seconds. He just needs to survive the next few seconds. Realistic goals.

He's close enough to hear the stranger's gloating now – Roodaka, that's her name – her voice crackling in a manner that might be her natural voice or the elemental energy racing across her armour. He hears Vakama's spinner powering up again, and he straightens his course.

All the better to aim at.

Le-Matoran are quick-thinkers. That's why they so often take the role of test-drivers. And Matau was one of their best.

He hears the shift in the rhotuka as it releases the spinner – and swerves at the last second. The heat burnishes his arm, but the full force slams into Roodaka. She staggers back. The crackling energy takes on a frantic pace, flooding her eyes and her heartlight, and still she does not fall.

Well, Matau's going to see if he can change that.

Distantly, he hears a shout – one of the Rahaga? – but he's already releasing an air spinner that buckles Roodaka. The light fades from her, and when she hits the ground – already lifeless – that energy bursts free from her like an earthquake. It rises up and forms a hand Matau only remembers in brief flashes of horror, a hand of darkness and shadow that engulfs Roodaka's body and leaves only a hollow heartstone in its place.

Belatedly, Matau recalls his pursuer, but he needn't have worried. Vakama has frozen, his rhotuka spinner still whirring but not firing up. He stands apart from the other Toa, and at this proximity the changes are undeniable. His eyes are lost, confused; how much of what he's just seen even makes sense to him anymore?

Nokama is the first to step forward. Her hands are raised as if trying to calm a wild rahi. Does she even realise she's doing it, Matau wonders. "Vakama," she says, and there's a shake in her voice that betrays maybe she does know. "It's alright, it's over–"

Vakama's gaze snaps to Nokama and she freezes. She sees it now too: the lack of recognition. The senselessness. A sound catches at the back of her throat. It sounds like heartbreak. It's that heartbreak that leaves her too slow to register Vakama's spinner starting up, that leaves her not wanting to comprehend what her own brother means to do, until a black blast slams into Vakama. Its energy crackles over him, paralysing him and the light dulls from those altered, rahi eyes.

"It's only temporary," Bomonga says, when eyes turn to him and his powering-down rhotuka. "Not a long-term solution. But it'll keep him from hurting anyone. For now."

The Visorak around them rumble. And then, with both king and viceroy dead, and their commander nothing more than a beast, they abandon what is left of their crumbling hierarchy.

Norik's saying something, something about the Makuta and released and danger, but Matau can only stare at the paralysed, inanimate form of Vakama. "We defeated the hordes, right?" he says suddenly, cutting off Norik. "We did what Keetongu said we needed our Hordika sides to do, so now it's time to return us to our old selves, isn't it?"

Norik falters. He looks to where Keetongu lies. Onewa and Whenua are already helping the rahi to its feet, and it emits that strange, multi-toned speech in reply.

"Keetongu says that he can turn you back, if you so wish," Norik translates.

"And... Vakama?" Nokama asks.

Even to Matau, Keetongu's reply sounds... stinted.

"Keetongu says," and Norik hesitates. The Rahaga suddenly looks tired. Spent. "He says the Hordika venom runs too deep in Vakama. There is nothing Keetongu can do for him now."

"There must be something!" Matau demands. "He wouldn't give up on us – not if he was still himself – so we can't give up on him!" The other Toa are staring at him – no, not just at him, he realises, at his mask. He claps one hand defensively to the burn streak. "I'm okay!" he snaps. "It's Vakama we should be worried about!"

Nokama reaches out. Her fingers falter, as if afraid of what she might find. "Did... Did Vakama do that to you?" she asks.

Matau recoils back. "It's nothing. I told you, I'm okay. I'm fine. What are we going to do about Vakama?"

The other Toa exchange glances.

"Anyone?" Matau asks.

Onewa and Whenua look away.

"Nokama?" Matau appeals to the Toa who's always preached the virtue of unity, who had been the only one to refuse to believe Vakama could have kidnapped the other Rahaga, even when all the evidence said otherwise.

She doesn't meet his gaze.

If they had seen what Matau had seen, how the conflict had raged in Vakama... but maybe that's the problem. Nokama had seen the shift in Vakama's eyes, the rahi look...

"We can't leave him to run wild," Nuju says, eventually. "Who knows the damage he'll do in this state."

"Maybe one day..." Nokama begins. "Maybe we'll find a way to reverse this."

"And until then?" Nuju asks. "You know things cannot stay as they are."

"Maybe they don't have to," Whenua says. The others look to him, and his face is wretched. "In the Archives, we have a... a way of dealing with rahi without killing them."

Nuju is the first to realise Whenua's meaning. He doesn't flinch, but – if it's somehow possible for the usually immovable Toa – he freezes. "The stasis tubes."

Whenua nods.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," Matau says. "Are you suggest-saying we should put him into one of your display cases?"

"It only sends them to sleep," Onewa says. "Right?"

Whenua's mouth thins, like there is a world of distinction between what the stasis tubes do and sleep. "Close enough," he concedes. "His life functions will be slowed down to the point that he won't need either food or air. He won't be conscious enough to know what's happening."

Nokama places a hand on Matau's shoulder. "This will give us time to find a solution," she says softly. Reasonably, as if trapping a fellow Toa – a brother – like a museum exhibit is a natural thing to suggest. Yet, beneath the grip, Matau can feel a tremor in Nokama's fingers.

"Fine," he spits.

No one moves. No one wants to be the one to place Vakama into a stasis chamber.

Then Onewa steps hesitantly forward and slings an arm beneath Vakama's shoulders and hoists him up. Matau knows he should help, but by the time he has found the courage to move, Nokama is already supporting Vakama's other side.

x

Stasis tubes really doesn't do the devices justice. Tubes sounds like something small, compact. Round, now Matau thinks about it. But the machines that Whenua leads them to are more like glass cages. There aren't many intact ones left, not after the cataclysm, but he finds a few unused ones in storage and connects it up to a canister of diluted stun gas. Nokama and Onewa gently deposit Vakama's unconscious form onto the tube's base.

No one says anything.

The double-shell rises up and about its captive specimen resident and there comes the hiss of the stun gas filling the tube.

And Vakama's eyes begin to flicker back to life.

"Can't you speed the process up?" Onewa asks.

"It's gas," Whenua shoots back. "I can't pour it out any quicker. What do you want me to do, change the law of physics?"

Vakama reels. He lurches to his feet, but enough of the stun gas has already entered his system to send him off-kilter. He slams into the inner shell, a growl tearing from his throat, and miniscule hairline fractures scatter across the shell. He raises his right arm, blazer claw flaring into flames, and the Toa wait for the freeing blow that never comes.

Instead, Vakama sways.

The blazer claw dips against the inner shell of the tube, extinguished, and his hand – clawed, jointed in the wrong places – rests beside it. His shoulders hunch, but in the way of one overcome with exhaustion, and his breathing slows. His hand uncurls and, if only in passing, nearly looks like it once had.

And he looks to the Toa.

Really looks.

Before the light fades from his eyes, Matau almost thinks he sees the ghost of a smile, small and sad, flicker across Vakama's face. Almost enough to make Matau believe his brother falls into oblivion with relief.

And then the light – and everything that was once Vakama – vanishes.

"Do rahi in stasis chambers..." Matau falters. He stares at the motionless form of their leader, their brother. Vakama is not like Matau; he wasn't always in motion – not physically, anyway. But his mind had always been racing. Too much, sometimes. Thoughts and visions and fears crowding round in a single head, and now...

It feels almost unnatural that he should be so still.

Matau tries again.

"Are they aware?"

"I think they sometimes dream," Whenua replies.

[toa-kohutti]

It's Just Paint

A drabble about a Le-Matoran and his jar of paint. Also available on Archive of Our Own.

It’s just paint. 

Aylun tried to convince himself that this was ridiculous, a waste of his time. Objectively, it was. There was no reason to be spending his quiet time doing this. If the other Matoran knew, they’d rightfully make fun and criticize him for his wastefulness. Why paint yourself, especially if it’s not even something you’re going to keep on, instead just wiping it away moments later? 

At least he would just wipe it away. There’d be nary a trace on his armor, and nobody would know and judge him. They couldn’t know he was doing such stupid things. They could label him defective and send him off to Karzahni… and Aylun never knew anyone who came back from Karzahni. 

In his little corner of Le-Metru, a small carving out of the city to call a tiny home, with little more than a bed, a few storage containers, and a mirror turned to the other side, nobody else could see him.  He didn’t have anything to be afraid of. So why, when he held the jar of color, were his fingers trembling?

It’s just paint. 

His stomach was tied up into a knot. He was defective for doing this, he had to be. But something deep in him, deeper than the feelings of shame, pushed him forward, and it told him to listen louder than that shame or even the reverence for the Three Virtues. So he did. 

He picked up an old, dry brush in his quivering grip. He took a deep breath, swallowed his fear, pride, and something else entirely, and dipped it into the jar. It was something that terrified him, and yet, as soon as he began, all of the trembling, the pit in his stomach, all the indecisiveness, evaporated. He drew the brush out, now saturated with the sticky color, and began to paint.

He started with his mask - thankfully, the style of Metru Nui masks made it so he only had to paint two-thirds of his mask, with half melting into a silver he had no problem with. Silver was a color anyone could have, but the rest of him was green. He wasn’t sure if he hated green sometimes. Some days, he bristled against the flood of it that is his Metru. Others were… fine. But he knew he hated the green on him. 

It’s just paint. 

His shoulders were next - thankfully, the green on his armor barely wrapped around to where he couldn’t reach. A little stretch and holding the brush at an awkward angle, and the green disappeared. Then his chest, his stomach, the rest of his torso. He wasn’t sure if it was going fast, or if he was just lost in it. But moments later, he was finished. He stood up, and turned the mirror over. 

In the mirror, he saw a Ga-Matoran. A girl wearing a vibrant blue mask and blue armor, not a Le-Matoran in a pallid green. And he was happy. He turned around and around, watching himself in the mirror, a looking glass to another world where he was another Matoran. His heart leapt with joy, and every movement was full of sureness. 

The paint… it made him happy. He reached out to his reflection, red eyes peering back at him behind a beautiful blue mask, and for a moment, it almost spoke to him. Her - no, his arm, was held out, as if it was urging him to step through the mirror and come with her. The girl in the mirror’s eyes were filled with a longing, as if she yearned to be real. But “she” was just Aylun, just him, wearing a color. 

It’s just paint.

“Aylun!” His daydream was cut short as his friend banged on his door. “Come on, it’s now-time for hard-work!!” He panicked. His stomach dropped again, and he rushed for the rag, ready to scrub off all of this paint before it dried. 

“I’m coming!” He called. “I’ll be there in a….” It pained him for a second to use Chutespeak, but he did it anyway. “Quick-second!” It was forced, and if they looked for it, they could tell something was up.  But it was enough, he prayed to the Great Spirit, that it would keep them from finding his secrets. 

He scrubbed the paint away, and soon, there was no trace of it he could find on his body. In the mirror he saw, now, nothing more than Aylun, his boring, defective old self. That same mirror that gave him elation moments before reminded him, painfully, like a Rahi’s claw dug into his gut and twisted, that the happiness moments before…

It’s just paint.

[bioniclecaughtbetweenworlds]

THE NEXT ROW OF CHARACTER DESIGNS ARE DONE!

WWWWOOO also what Is basically the main cast opinions and feelings on each other!!

Also I nearly forgot to show ozi design!

[siren-darkocean]

I'm constantly having to remind myself I'm the only one who writes X Readers of Bionicle characters

Somehow my most popular ones are my Toa Mata Nui X Reader's and my Roodaka X Reader's

With the exception of the one X Reader for Ackar (despite I have like three I think) where the reader is Plus sized (man would not care about a body size you can't tell me otherwise)

I'm a little sad about the fact I'm the only one

But that means I'm the QUEEN of Bionicle X Readers

All of them on Wattpad

[legend-as-old-as-time]

Eeeehhh, this is still so fun and bittersweet to read. <3

"Come with me," Gali said suddenly, and took her hand: "Come with me, I want to see something."

Kiina was so stunned by the feeling of her hand (the cuts in the protodermis so deep and plastic, like wounds stuck in time never to be healed fully, and the smoothness of a metal that wasn't that cold to the touch, just like most organic things) that when the saltwater lapped at her knees it was like snapping awake from a dream.

The Toa had surprised her as she was looking out into the ocean. She'd missed it so much, she had joked nervously, and now that she had it back she wasn't even sure she remembered how to swim!

Gali had laughed with her: she would have been glad to teach her, she'd said in the same easy tone.

"Right now?" Kiina almost hollered in her face, trying to pull back.

The gentle hold on her palm did not budge: "It's an experiment," Gali replied - they were talking about completely different things, but she couldn't know the Glatorian was still dwelling on her offer - as she guided her deeper into the waters like a female Nokken: "I want to see something. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you."

She struggled to babble something, and by the time the faint idea of a sentence had formed in her mind she was tiptoeing on the sand to keep her head above the waves.

"Wait," she sputtered at last, "Wait, hold on, it's- I told you, it's been a while since I was back in--"

"It's alright, I've got you," Gali reassured her. She was warm, her touch having the same consistency of ocean water if ever so slightly more forceful: her fingers were interlaced with Kiina's in a strange, playful manner, like a kid sharing a secret. "I won't let anything happen to you. Now just take a deep breath, come down with me, and when you see my mask glow try to breathe normally."

Come down with me, she said.

And breathe normally.

"Under the water?"

The Toa only smiled and sank into the waves, her mask melting completely beneath them.

Kiina waited for a moment more as she searched for her to no avail, trying to tell her apart from the vibrant blues surrounding them; at last she turned her eyes to the vibrant aventurine sky, inhaled as hard and as loud as she could until her lungs felt about to burst, pursed her lips tighter than she could, and sank.

The weightlessness enveloped her like an old blanket.

Tajun's waters were sweet and thin, made for satiating thirst and washing away sand, but they had never managed to sustain her in their hold like the heavier currents of the ocean she had waded through when she was only a girl could.

Hadn't she had this exact dream before? Again and again, comfortable and warm and safe, hoping to awaken to something other than an endless beach with no end in sight.

When she opened her eyes the salinity burnt them, making her blink hastily to ease them.

Through her blurry vision she stared right at Gali.

She smiled at her through her bright mask.

Her voice was magnificently clear when she spoke: "Try to breathe."

Kiina exhaled without thinking. She watched her breath disappear upwards in ugly bubbles a little dumbly; at least, she reasoned momentarily, in one of those bursts of lucidity that comes at the most inopportune times, she had the good sense of breathing with her mouth instead of her nose. At least she would just get a disgusting gulp of saltwater instead of clogging her nose with it.

But the water flowed in and out of her lungs without hurting, clear and easy - just like air.

She inhaled again, and again through her nose, this time, first deeper and then faster each time, looking down at her chest: rise, fall, rise, fall, no pain, no tingling no effort, as naturally and as easily as though everything was just normal, as though she were still on land.

She looked up to meet glowing eyes radiating a smile.

"What?" she asked.

Her voice turned garbled for a moment in the water, but smoothed out quickly as the sounds left her.

Gali simply laughed. She leaped through the water like fish, a mermaid, swirling around Kiina in a mesmerizingly fluid spiral motion out of herself with joy.

The Glatorian struggled to find her gaze again in the whirlpool of her happiness, finding herself overwhelmed by her speed and ending up spinning in place like a top; when both of them finally stopped she pointed at her throat, flabbergasted: "Are you doing this?"

The Toa nodded giddily.

"But I - how? Is it, is it your powers?"

"Of course!"

"You can do this?"

"I can!"

"With your powers?"

"Yes! Yes, with my--"

"You - I didn't know! I didn't even imagine you could- you can just - make water breatheable? With your elemental power?"

At that, Gali stilled. She cocked her head slightly, for only a second, and then she laughed again - a transparent laugh, crackling and tingling with mirth, crashing out of her chest and into Kiina's: "Oh, no! No, no, I can't do that, it's my mask!" she explained as she kept laughing heartily.

It was a powerful sound, befitting an ancient and seasoned warrior such as herself; it was a stumbling, excited sound, like that of a kid having too much fun to stop despite her stomach cramping.

Kiina felt faint.

"Your mask?" she repeated.

"Kaukau," the Toa nodded, "Mask of Water Breathing."

"What would you need it for?"

"We have lungs too, don't you know?"

She blushed furiously: "Well, I - we assumed, since you're- the- you lot don't really look like you would have them, what with all the - the metal- protodermis bones, and - and - don't laugh!"

Gali did not answer: she merely raised her shoulders defensively, innocently, hiding her quiet chuckles within them.

Her demeanor reminded Kiina of someone, a young aunt of hers - the daughter of a man who'd been like a grandparent to her ages ago; she had the same sweet air of mischief about her, the same sort of glint in her eye, the same playful tension as though she was about to dash away at any moment to lose herself in a crowd, hiding in plain sight. The last time she'd seen something like it again after the Shattering had been in a rookie who hadn't survived the first night through the desert and whose armor she had sold off after finding her bones picked clean.

She had been pretty.

Maybe.

A hand grabbing onto hers stirred her from her musings.

"Stay close," Gali told her, and that was all the warning she was allowed to have; in a second she was being dragged further down, down, to the faraway sands of deeper submerged beaches.

The light formed strange columns above her head, moving much like graceful silken curtains; the waves muddled the sky's view, allowing only momentary holes through which vibrant blue canvases could peek down at the two beings sprinting towards the reefs.

"Wait-" Kiina gasped "-Wait, wait - you'll pull out my arm like this!"

Before she even realized it her arms were wrapped around a metal neck in a tight hug.

"Better?" Gali asked. Her voice smiled.

"Better," she wheezed back, barely audible.

She could feel every twitch of her exposed muscle against her skin, how the smooth protodermis pressed onto her biceps. When the Toa resumed her fluid rush downwards Kiina was pulled back by inertia, and the mechanical throat pulsed against her wrists.

There was so much she had almost forgotten. The fish, for one; so many, of so many colors, in so many shapes, alone or in swarms, each with their own swimming pattern - and the angry clacks of clams and molluscs as they passed them by, the scuttling beasts squirming beneath the sand or those retreating in their little caves along the rocky formations growing taller the deeper they sank. A few curious shrimps kept them in check with their bulbous eyes before hurrying away, little legs scurrying across the waters while they waves their long whiskers at them as if crossed - in a way that reminded one of Whenua, and one of Strakk. They both laughed about it quietly, each to herself.

Corals crept towards the surface in honeycomb formations, red hues pulsing warmly as the light hit them, and large leaved kelps caressed the reefs in ondulating movements as the tides swept over them gently. Thinner algae covered rocks in a sort of fuzz the color of petroleum: sea sheep and other slugs treaded through them at a surprising pace compared to their land-dwelling cousins.

Would they have tasted the same?

She shook her head, nuzzling Gali's nape. This wasn't the time to think of food.

Her attention was turned to the side by a gentle tug at her elbow to look at a large creature, a being whose name she did not know, that blindly flew past them whilst carrying a small school of tinier fish beneath its vast belly: she watched them struggle to flutter their little transparent fins in an attempt to match its speed as it barely moved a muscle, gliding through the currents with enviable ease.

Suddenly the Toa turned, twirling on herself horizontally with a vibrant sound similar to a whale song; Kiina fumbled for a moment, letting go after only a couple rounds of spinning as she struggled to get her bearings again. When her brain settled still once again in her skull, she was laying on nothing, looking upwards, and had to blink quickly before she was blinded by what at first she thought were fallen stars - because the sunlight filtering through the waves turned Gali's yellow eyes into glowing plasma, clear and hot and glowing stronger than anything.

She realized, numbly, that the Toa was floating right above her.

"I missed this," she confided in her, mask close to her face, with a crystalline voice full of excitement.

Kiina stared into the lack of pupils: "Me too," she grinned, breathless.

They laughed quietly.

"Ah - you must have missed this much more than me," Gali mused; her body floated upwards until it was perpendicular to the ground, holding onto the Glatorian by the hand, fingers interlaced with hers. "I forget it's been so little since I last was in these waters... And yet it feels like ten thousand years."

"Only ten thousand?" Kiina chuckled.

"It's a lot for me! I've been awake for so little!" the other whined. What a strange sound to hear come out of her mouth. The unusual nature of her own reaction made her shake with an electric giggle.

The Glatorian allowed herself to snicker with her: "You talk just like a kid," she teased.

"You're the first to accuse me of such a thing."

"Who else could have? Your elders - the Turaga? What are they, twenty years older than you? Thirty?"

"I am older than them!"

"By what, two weeks?"

A rogue tide swept her head up in itself, tussling what little hair she had that wasn't buzzed exactly like an annoyed kid would; despite the commotion she cracked open an eye to see Gali squinting at her in the spit image of a pout, and she laughed harder.

It didn't take long for the Toa to join her.

She looked just like that rookie. All bright eyes and broad shoulders, warm voice and slender hands. Power and grace, levity and strength. A certain impatience that made her muscles leap excitedly.

Armor that would have rusted in the desert, sanded down by the dunes, abandoned beneat the sun.

Memories of a beloved ocean.

"Let's elope," Kiina said. Then again, louder, smiling wider as anxiety stirred in her chest painfully: "Let's elope, you and I!"

"You and I?"

"Just us! Across the ocean!" and she kicked at the water, pulling herself over the Gali, interlacing their fingers tighter: "Breathing won't be an issue, and neither will food or sleep - we can swim through the whole ocean, just us! Visiting reefs and following schools of fish and-"

"And pods of whales!" Gali interrupted her.

"Yes!" Kiina cried out: "And we can find islands! We can find islands, or sunken cities, and explore the depths, and, and chart new shores! We can swim all the way to the other end of the planet!"

They were caught in a small cyclone now, swimming in a circle that trapped them within its vortex as they spun more and more, feeding one another's excitement more and more as their excitement grew, louder, louder, promising the moon and the stars and the sun and imagining a life without strife - just water, water, water, colorful fish swimming around them, an endless world to discover, endless, covered in anemones and algae and corals and kelp upon reefs and sands, scuttling with claws and thin legs and curious eyes, shimmering with scales and thin slivers of light above them...

She went limpand allowed the water to move her, heaving breathlessly as she grinned hard enough to make her face hurt.

Yellow eyes gleamed at her.

She held tighter onto the protodermis hands.

Gali laughed louder; the top of her mask, scratched and weathered, pressed against the Glatorian's forehead.

Her heartlight was beautifully bright.

Kiina felt like she might have died.

"I should tell my brothers first," Gali said, grinning, still elated. "They would tear me a new mask if I disappeared so suddenly."

Water flowed in her lungs.

For a moment, she was drowning.

"Yes," Kiina agreed finally, still smiling, body slack, "Yes, Ackar would never let me hear the end of it. And for all he might say otherwise Berix would bawl his eyes out so hard he'd end up shriveled up like a dried sand plum."

The Toa giggled: "Ah, of course, of course," she nodded. "And Hahli would never forgive me, either - off to the sea? Without her?"

Her tone ripped a laugh from her companion: "How dare you."

"Exactly," she continued, so amused. The tint of sadness in the voice speaking to her was lost on her. "And Macku too - oh, no, no, I'd have to bring along all of Ga-Koro. They would be capable of following us the whole way on the worst raft you've ever seen just to chew me out for not inviting them all to come with. Oh no, no - oh, it would have to be a whole expedition!"

Her laugh was warm and sunny, so genuine, so entertained.

She understood the bindings of family, like she understood the call of the sea, the longing for its weightlessness, its colors, its terrible taste that left a throat parched and rough.

She understood love so perfectly, deeply, powerfully well.

But not like this.

Not like this.

Maybe just not yet.

But not like this.

Not now.

Kiina tried to move her legs idly and found them turned to lead.

She understood love so well.

But not like this.

"We'd have to get a ship," she mused. Her hands sank into Gali's. "A real one with sails and motors and a beautiful lady on the front. Haven't been on one in a while. Could be fun."

"A lady on the front?"

"Of course."

"What for?"

"For decoration."

The Toa blinked, baffled: "Why would you want that?"

"That's how it was on old vessels."

"But why?"

"Why not? Can't a ship have a beautiful lady on the front?"

Her thigh had floated upward like a piece of lifeless wood. It brushed again the other's armor, and the contact stung like a sand bat's bite.

"You make a fair point," Gali chuckled.

Kiina smiled at her.

Hopefully he didn't look too sad.

"Here, here," the Toa said suddenly, collecting her in her arms with a newfound hurry: "Let's go back now. I've kept you here long enough, your family might be worried."

"It's fine," the Glatorian fought weakly, though only with words. She watched, passive, as her limbs were placed around the mechanical body once more, as her frame was molded to embrace the beautiful being again. "It's fine, there's still time. I like it here with you."

Gali smiled at her - so, so sweetly: "I like it too. But it's better to go back now."

Not answering, Kiina wrapped herself tighter around the mass of muscle and protodermis. Her face nuzzled against the metallic nape again, eyes shut, as they left behind the world of her childhood, of her momentary fantasy, to reach the surface again.

She did not see the heartlight stutter confusedly at her contact; but after all, Gali did not either.

[bioniclechicken]

Surprise, was doing a comic this whole time

Reached the halfway point of the story so might as well reveal its in-progress existence

Read it here

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

A Great Being's Mind

What kind of Great Being allows himself to be "fixed" by Karzahni?

The descriptions of Velika in the Saga of Ignition are clear: he was an odd, broken, clumsily-rebuilt Po-Matoran, as were all the Matoran of Voya Nui. If Velika had not been like those around him, the great surprise of his unveiling after the reformation of Spherus Magna might not have been so surprising, but a surprise it was. So a broken Matoran rebuilt by Karzahni he must have been--but why?

He was not always this way, we have learned. In all the records salvaged from the Great Spirit Robot there were still traces, for those who went looking, of the original Po-Matoran Velika. There was no longer anyone who remembered him, or any record of his assigned duties in the village where he had lived in the Northern Continent: only a single copper scrap that had survived the destruction of Karzahni's realm: the tag with which he had been sent there, only partially legible:

Velika - Po-Mato-- broken arm, uppe-- return to: East Po-Koro, Inner Po-Wahi, Nor-- Signed: Roc-

A broken arm was a minor repair, compared with most of those sent to Karzahni--at least in the later years. Once Turaga across the isles began to wonder why their Matoran never returned from their repairs, they went to greater efforts to repair their broken Matoran, sending only the most irreparably damaged to Karzahni, the realm of no return. In those later years, a broken arm alone would never have been enough. Were there more damages, unable to be read on what remains of the tag? Or was he sent there so early in Karzahni's history that no one had yet become suspicious that none had returned?

The script used on the tag argues for the possibility of the latter option. The square-printed letters include a ligature that was lost in the great time-skip, an early Artakhan script that fell out of fashion everywhere but the Western Arm. While is possible that Velika was not quite the first Matoran sent to Karzahni, it seems he was an early one.

The discovery that, in early years, Karzahni had, in fact, competently fixed and returned Matoran sent a historiographic shockwave through the Bionicle community. Their Agori neighbours understood well enough that it was a surprising unveiling of mysteries when the earliest records of the Order of Mata Nui were unsealed, but they did not understand the smaller therein that, in the first few hundred years or so, every Matoran sent to Karzahni had returned, in perfect functioning order.

What kind of Great Being would allow himself to be fixed by Karzahni?

Why did Karzahni cease to competently perform the role for which he was made?

The fools, they would never know, Velika thought, nor understand, but just has he had given them thought, so too was he able to break it. His own broken arm had been a trivial wound, but he had become bored with East Po-Koro and had relished the opportunity to travel "by chance" to realm of repair. The Matoran Universe was no longer new, exactly, but the remnants of Spherus Magna were now far enough behind that he was willing to venture about and see what his changes to the Matoran had wrought--and where better to meet Matoran from all over the universe than where they were all repaired?

Karzahni had had him prepped genially, the bound-up arm unwound and laid beside him on the sterile surface, and the gentle titan started to knit him together carefully. Velika had smirked to himself, delighted at the fullness of his deception, when something--some tiny, trivial, unknowable, unpredictable instinct had made the titan pause.

"You're a strange one, aren't you?" he mused. Sedated, Velika didn't think he should answer, and maybe the sedation had even worked on him, a little, and he did not think to stop Karzahni as the titan tapped at his head, and the casing that should have housed a melding of silicate tissues and fine circuitry opened to reveal a wrinkled, grey lump of pulsating matter.

Even if he were a half-second slow under the sedation, that half-second had now passed, and Velika was indignant at being discovered. Even as Karzahni stepped back, baffled and a bit horrified at the un-Matoran brain he had discovered, Velika's eyes lit as he "woke" fully, and his good hand clutched at Karzahni's massive hand, and the titan could not break the grip.

"I look the same, don't I?" asked the apparent Po-Matoran, "but I am not--let me show you." And, with a wrench, his grip on Karzahni linked the titan's nervous system to his own, and Velika's thoughts coursed from his brain, through the apparently-Matoran body he inhabited, and into the Karzahni's nerves, leaping to his brain in less than an instant.

The visions Velika showed him awed the titan: visions of raw elemental power, of a knowledge of energised protodermis behind that of Artakha himself, of all that had come before, and of much that had happened since, and even as Karzahni struggled to comprehend the enormity of what he had just learned, Velika reached in and erased the memory of it--and then some.

Karzahni, now and forever more thereafter the Mad Titan, stumbled about, his eyes blinking furiously, and when he had calmed himself, though the world seemed to stop spinning, he saw the half-assembled Matoran on the operating table.

"Where was I…?"

"You were just about to improve me," said Velika. "To restore me."

And Karzahni did: alone of all the Matoran that had come to him yet, he sent Velika away changed from what he had been, and alone of all the Matoran that would come thereafter, he sent Velika away with no defect, though to the eyes of one accustomed to a standard Matoran, he was no longer that. All the Matoran that Karzahni fixed thereafter would resemble him in some form, but covering defects he could no longer repair. Only, in Velika, there was no defect: this was his chosen form.

[wjbs-bonkle-au]

I have a really fun idea for a slightly-silly Bionicle crossover fanfic but I can't write and I don't know much about the other half of the crossover, but basically Brutaka uses the Olmak to travel to Heartlake, the city from Lego Friends, and gets into all kinds of shenanigans.

[legend-as-old-as-time]

This is lovely and powerful. The Great Beings, who casually break physics with the help of protodermis, only think it’s theoretically possible to create the Vahi. This section is so powerful:

“Metatemporal intelligence”. Ridiculous. How could they even create one? The plan was doomed from the start.

Because it continues with the message: And yet. And yet.

I adore stories that suggest the Vahi’s existence is a paradox in itself that both creates and unmakes itself, never existing while existing through all of time. 

I adore your spin that its existence itself is only discussed in the GSR universe. Nobody has concrete proof, but so many stories exist of a person who did it. That the stories and interest rise in times of great upheaval. That it might have appeared at different points.

You led to one of my favorite sections of your fic:

It is unknown, unknowable, how many times the Vahi has been forged, how many times it had been weilded, how many times the clock has turned back. It is unknown, unknowable, how many times Vakama has forged the Vahi, how many times he weilded it, and how many times he turned back the clock.

Because this implies, but only implies, that Vakama might be part of the matatemporal intelligence the Great Beings proposed. That he might undoes himself after he turned back time to change events. Or he is said intelligence and uses the mask as a channel. Or he’s an incarnation of the Vahi. So many possible interpretations.

And I’m intrigued by the mystery that you’ve built up: The GSR crashed, but the destruction was lesser. But even as the Vahi did its work, the GSR still crashed.

The remaining Great Beings might get a bigger shock when they realize how he’s tied to the Vahi and that he, too, is still physically present on the planet.

Strictly speaking, the Vahi should have never existed. While drafting safeguards for the Great Spirit Robot, a small group of Great Beings proposed a ridiculous idea. At this point, manipulating physical space was trivial. Why not try their hands at altering time? A conditional, localized chronal knot, a way to turn back the clock, for the absolute worst case scenarios.

Just ridiculous, really. Crafting the mask for the Ignition failsafe already pushed the boundaries of the Great Being's abilities, and resulted in the loss of one of their own. The actual forging of the mask could theoretically- theoretically- be done by a construct within the GSR, but it would still require a metatemporal intelligence which could detect critical threats to the GSR, and then somehow bring about its own creation and subsequent non-creation. "Metatemporal intelligence". Ridiculous. How could they even create one? The plan was doomed from the start.

Unless, they found one that already existed.

Unless, they found one that always existed.

They said it was Destiny. Though, the more apt term would be Predestination.

Within the Matoran universe, great importance was placed on the study and recording of history. Matoran long term memories only extend a few hundred years back, and stress or trauma can induce amnesia. Ways of recording history were vital to communities, such as archives, libraries, and of course, Chroniclers. History was even considered sacred; Destiny was said to be history that hasn't happened yet. It is no wonder that Time was named a legendary element.

The Mask of Time was a common myth amongst mask makers, a white whale. Ambitious upstarts and experienced masters have all tried their hand at it, though few ever go further than a few sketched drafts. But, everyone seemed to know a guy who knew a guy who got really really close, they promise.

Chroniclers have noted that stories about the Mask of Time and attempts to make it seem to coincide with periods of upheaval, such as the conquest of the Six Kingdoms, or the Metru Civil War and Great Disruption. An interesting coincidence. Some point to political and socioeconomic factors, others to Destiny.

Though, the more apt term would be Predestination.

It is unknown, unknowable, how many times the Vahi has been forged, how many times it had been weilded, how many times the clock has turned back. It is unknown, unknowable, how many times Vakama has forged the Vahi, how many times he weilded it, and how many times he turned back the clock.

What is known is that, strictly speaking, the Vahi should not exist. The Great Cataclysm should have never happened. However, the fact that the GSR did not burn in Aqua Magna's atmosphere, nor destroy the planetoid itself, nor lead to a total extinction event within the GSR points to the Vahi working as intended.

The team who initially proposed the Vahi are... unavailable to be consulted. The remaining Great Beings on post-reformstion Spherus Magna are left wondering. Why did the GSR still crash? Why has the timeline not been rewritten? Why is the Vahi still physically on the planet?

What do you mean the Vahi is still physically on the planet?

[tiredspacedragon]

Kulbok sat in his hut, rubbing his still-aching head. It had been almost two days since the Toa Inika had freed him and his fellow Matoran from the effects of the Piraka's Zamor Spheres, and though he felt mostly recovered, his head still sometimes pounded with fleeting traces of strange, dark thoughts. He recalled little from his time enslaved, only a ringing blankness, broken occasionally by flashes of a universe in ruin, dark ocean depths, and a pair of lidless, red eyes hanging in the night sky.

A knock at the doorway drew the Bo-Matoran from his reverie, and he looked up to see a white mask peeking through the entrance.

"Widget for your thoughts," said Kvoleni, hovering on the threshold. Normally she wouldn't bother waiting for an invitation to make herself at home, but recent events had left all the Matoran of Voya Nui uncertain. Kulbok motioned for her to come in, and the Vo-Matoran joined him on his cot. They sat there saying nothing for a long moment.

"How are you feeling?" Kvoleni tried again. This time, Kulbok sighed.

"My head's still kinda funny, but I'm managing," he finally answered. "You?"

"Better," she said. "Not great, but better."

"Yeah. I think that's pretty much everyone right now." The way he said it, it was clear Kulbok had intended the words to be light, but the strain in his voice, and the truth of the statement, undermined his attempt at levity. Still, Kvoleni graced him with a chuckle.

"We've certainly been worse!" she said.

The two Matoran allowed silence to settle over them again. Even on happier days, their conversations often had a similar rhythm. One would speak, then the other, then a pause. To laugh, or think over each other's words, or simply to allow the quiet its turn. It had been a habit of theirs for several hundred years now.

Eventually, Kvoleni spoke again. "I heard some of the others say the Toa have returned from underground. They were headed to the bay, from what I can tell."

Kulbok's head shot up. "The bay? What would they want there?" He hesitated a moment. "You don't think...?"

Kvoleni shook her head. "No. They were chasing something, I think."

"Right. Of course," Kulbok said. "They're Toa. They surely have more important things to do than..."

"Chase ghosts?"

"Yeah."

The two Matoran were silent again.

"I mean," Kvoleni started, "we could try asking them to look. I heard--"

"No," Kulbok cut her off. "We shouldn't bother them. Besides, what would there even be to find?"

Kvoleni started to say something in response, but seemed to think better of it, and said nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside suddenly drew the Matoran's attention. They glanced at each other before hurrying out into the village square. A small crowd had gathered there, whispering and murmuring amongst themselves as they watched a huge being, clad in thick red-and-silver armour, tread slowly towards them.

That must be Axonn, Kulbok thought. He had heard Balta, one of the only Matoran to have evaded the Piraka's clutches, mention the armoured titan. Supposedly, he was an ally, but the grim look in his eyes brought Kulbok no comfort as Axonn entered the village.

The tall figure stood before the Matoran, towering above them. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a strangled shout rang out from the back of the crowd.

Kulbok jumped back in surprise at Kvoleni's cry. She darted forward, pushing through the crowd towards Axonn with a desperate urgency. Kulbok followed, confused. What had possessed her to run straight for this powerful-looking stranger? As Kulbok approached, he was able to see the armoured warrior more clearly, and noticed that he appeared to be carrying something, cradled in one of his massive arms.

Breaking through the crowd, the Bo-Matoran saw Axonn kneel to meet Kvoleni as she reached him. He held out his burden to her, and finally Kulbok saw

* * *

The Ta-Matoran's name was Ranta.

Long ago, an injury had resulted in him being sent to the realm of Karzahni for repairs, where, like many others before and after him, the ruler of that land attempted to rebuild him into a stronger form, and failed. Though his injury was healed, Ranta's new body was smaller and weaker than his original form, hunched and misshapen. Disgusted with his work, and unable to bear being reminded of his failure, Karzahni had given Ranta and his fellow "repaired" Matoran weapons to defend themselves, and shipped them away, far from his isolated kingdom. Eventually, they had settled in the center of the Southern Continent, in a barren region around the volcano known as Mount Valmai. The Matoran called the region "Voya Nui," meaning "Great Voyage," after the long journey it had taken them to reach this place where they could live in relative peace.

It was there that Ranta had become close with two of his companions, the Bo-Matoran Kulbok, and the Vo-Matoran Kvoleni. Ranta was a quiet sort, but unflinchingly courageous, and his subtle brand of intensity had balanced out Kvoleni's more impetuous energy, while also letting the more reserved Kulbok feel comfortable enough to come out of his shell. Though the three of them were all originally from different lands, they quickly became all but inseparable. They lived, worked, and laughed together, and comforted each other when memories of their old homes and lives overwhelmed them. Even when the Great Cataclysm had struck, sending Voya Nui crashing upwards, killing dozens and leaving the new island adrift in the endless ocean above, the three Matoran stuck together.

But then came the city of Mahri Nui. Runoff from Mount Valmai had cooled into rock, resulting in the formation of a new landmass protruding out into Voya Nui Bay. The Matoran saw the new land as an opportunity to expand their settlement, and constructed many new dwellings there, where they lived for many years. All was well, but Ranta was uneasy. He was not a volcanologist by trade, but he had taken an amateur interest in the volcano, and over time became familiar with its workings and the makeup of its lava. Though he, Kulbok, and Kvoleni had remained in the Matoran Village on Voya Nui, in no small part due to Ranta's urging, the Ta-Matoran came to spend much of his time in and around Mahri Nui. He was convinced the cooled lava was unstable and unsafe, and regularly scoured the area for signs of faults or fractures. Most ignored or laughed at his concerns, and indeed for 700 years, Mahri Nui prospered.

It was on one of these scouting trips, that he was finally proven right.

The deafening sound of cracking stone echoed all across the island. The first split was small, but more quickly followed. Gaping crevices and yawning chasms spanned the length of the bay. Ranta ran screaming through the city streets, calling out for everyone to evacuate before the entire city was lost to the sea. Indeed, some heard his warnings in time, and safely made it back to the shores of Voya Nui, but most, including Ranta himself, did not. The rock heaved and broke, and Mahri Nui sank beneath the waves, down, down, to depths unimaginable, far below where any light could reach.

Since that day, the Matoran of Voya Nui would gather twice a year to throw offerings into the bay, in memory of their lost friends. For some, this brought comfort, though others, like Kulbok, never truly found closure. They knew there was no hope that Mahri Nui had survived its descent, but the loss of hundreds of lives in only a matter of minutes was too much to accept. It felt unreal, like a dream from which they'd never quite managed to awaken.

For the Matoran of Mahri Nui, the gifts from above were also like something out of a dream.

Against all odds, the city had survived, landing on an underwater cliff and disturbing a field of Airweed, which released massive air bubbles that surrounded the settlement, saving the inhabitants from drowning. The shock of the catastrophe damaged the Matoran's fragile memory, and while many had vague recollections of where they had originally come from, none could recall their lives on Voya Nui, or how they came to reside in the Black Water.

Ranta was bothered by this gap in his memory more than most. All the Matoran of Mahri Nui knew they were missing something, but Ranta felt compelled to seek it out, that there was something he had to return to, but he could not remember what. He lived a mostly innocuous life in the underwater city, never joining the Mahri Nui Council and preferring the less public work of a sentry. He made a few friends, but none of them seemed to share his drive, and he often spent his free time exploring the caves at the base of the Cord on his own.

The Cord was Mahri Nui's only link to the surface world, a narrow, hollow tube made of cooled lava from Mount Valmai that connected the sunken city to Voya Nui, though neither Matoran population knew this. The Matoran of Voya Nui were not aware of its existence at all, and the Matoran of Mahri Nui could not see how far up it went, and did not dare leave the safety of their air bubbles long enough to find out. If the threat of drowning when their personal air bubbles ran out was not enough to deter most, the Black Water was infested with deadly sea creatures, bizarre, twisted Rahi and other beasts the Matoran did not recognize.

Ranta, however, was not so easily cowed. He did not enter the Cord itself; enough Matoran more foolhardy than he had tried, and none had returned; but he did swim alongside it, up and up, further with each trip. But he always turned back. He knew that past a certain point, he would not have enough air to make it back to Mahri Nui, and he still had no idea how far away the surface may be. So he would turn back, and tell his friends that maybe he'd make it to the surface next time. They teased him each time he did, feigning disappointment at his failed "surface runs," but in truth, they thanked the Great Spirit each time he returned.

He was missed the day he did not.

As the waters around Mahri Nui grew more dangerous with each passing year, with unseen threats pressing in from all sides, Ranta risked fewer and fewer trips along the Cord. He spent more time on guard duty, keeping watch on the city borders for whatever monsters may slink out of the darkness. But he still felt the pull, the compulsion to seek out what he was missing, and one day, he made his final trip.

As always, he pushed a little farther than he had before, but this time, before he turned back, he caught sight of a glinting object falling through the water, illuminating the gloom around it. He watched it for a moment, entranced, before he noticed a tall figure swimming down after it. For a moment, Ranta was elated. He had seen a Toa before, many many years ago, and recognized the figure as one immediately. Perhaps with her help, his city could be saved. And, if she was here, than he must be near the surface, closer than he had dared hope. But his hope quickly vanished as the Toa began to thrash.

Her name was Toa Inika Hahli, and she was drowning.

Just as he had 300 years before, Ranta spared no thought for his own safety, and charged forward. He grabbed the Toa around the waist and kicked upward with all his might, fighting his way up towards the steadily growing light, until at last he broke the surface, and felt the light of the setting sun on his armour for the first time in centuries. And for the last time.

Had he run out of air lower down, Ranta would not have perished as he had always thought he would. The mutagenic effects of the Black Water would have transformed him into a water-breather, and he would have become a creature of the sea, able to swim wherever he wished. But the Matoran had forgotten how the water had begun to change them when Mahri Nui first sank, how it had undone the work of Karzahni and restored them to stronger, fitter forms, and Ranta's air ran out well above the level the mutagen reached. The seawater that filled his lungs would do nothing to save him. And while the body of the Toa of Water he carried was more durable, and naturally more suited to rapid changes in pressure, his was not. Combined with exhaustion from carrying the weight of a being nearly twice his size, and Ranta never stood a chance. He collapsed on the beach, barely managing to beg the other Toa who received him there to help his city before his heartlight faded to black, and he was gone.

The mighty warrior Axonn, agent of the Order of Mata Nui, carried Ranta's body back to the Matoran Village after sending the Toa Inika on their way down the Cord to Mahri Nui. No sooner had he set foot in the village square than Kvoleni and Kulbok were at their friend's side. His armour and body were different, but they recognized him immediately, and wept at the impossibility. Ranta had come home to them, and they would never see him again.

* * *

Grief, the being noted as he watched the memorial service. Burial and associated ceremonies had never been programmed into the Matoran, but those who dwelt on Voya Nui had developed them independently after the crash once it became clear the bodies of the deceased would no longer simply disappear as they had before. The being made a point of observing them whenever they occurred. He found the ways in which the Matoran behaved after the loss of another whom they "cared" about to be fascinating. Such an accurate facsimile of mourning.

As the crowd dispersed, the being turned his gaze to the two specimens who had led the rite. A Bo-Matoran, designation Kulbok, and a Vo-Matoran, designation Kvoleni. They stood huddled close together before the grave of the deceased, a Ta-Matoran, designation Ranta. Exactly how the Ta-Matoran had survived for this long after the sinking of Mahri Nui, and how he had attained his stronger form were mysteries to the being, though he suspected they would not remain so for long.

The two Matoran stood together for a long time before they finally turned to leave and saw the being watching them.

"Velika, right?" the Vo-Matoran asked with surprise. "We're sorry, we didn't notice you there. Did...did you know him too?"

The being cocked his head. The two were clearly uncomfortable with his presence; the Vo-Matoran's motions and words were hesitant, and the expression the Bo-Matoran wore was a marvellous reproduction of anger. Perhaps they saw him as intruding on a private moment.

So he turned and left. He would allow them their privacy. There would be time enough to study them later, and there was still much else to do.

[legend-as-old-as-time]

A oneshot of an AU @mothnem and I have been brainstorming on. We've created a lot of fun twists plus divergences starting from the basic premise. This is a snippet of a possible plot thread:

“Did you have any luck in the Coliseum?”

Nuparu shook his head. “It’s too big and has several locations with holding cells. I checked those around the Ta-Metru entrance. Nidhiki and Krekka could have taken Lhikan straight from there. But I couldn’t finish searching everything.”

“It was worth trying.” Jaller glanced over where the others still had the Toa Metru engaged in conversation. Mostly Whenua, it seemed, as he gestured intensely towards the Great Temple.

“We have to try later again. His presence could help guide the Toa Metru, and he knows the city as it is now much better than we do. We might also find other prisoners.”

“And Lhikan’s presence might bring the matoran to our side.”

“And Lhikan’s presence might bring the matoran to our side. If they believe it’s him.”

A shrug. “We’ll see if that works once we’ve freed him. If two Dark Hunters snuck as well-known person like Lhikan inside, you should be able to find a way in, too. Your heightened hearing and sonar would help.” Nuparu’s hand patted his belt where had his watertight packs clipped to. “I’ve still got my maps of the Coliseum from before. We’ll find our way.”

Good. His shoulders relaxed. It was less information than Jaller would’ve liked, but more than he had hoped.

“You’re amazing, Nuparu. And yes, we’ll try with my powers next should we have the time.”

----

One of the divergences: Please imagine Nuparu, after having snuck out of the Coliseum again, dives from the island's cliffs into the Silver Sea. He books it to Ga-Metru - staying under the surface all the time because he can breathe underwater - and to the Great Temple where the Toa Mahri agreed on to meet after the rest found the Toa Metru.

Later, Jaller jumps out of a canal and jumpscares the Toa Metru.

[donot-lose-your-head]

Hey guys! There are some brand new story releases on Myths and Legacy, celebrating the site's 3rd anniversary! You can check out the new stories here: https://mythsandlegacy.com/read/?id=mnl&v=1&lang=eng

First up is "Among the Ruins", an Adventures novel telling the story of the Toa Hordika and their search for Turaga Dume and the Kanohi Avohkii

Next, there's an expanded edition of Web of Shadows, incorporating scenes from the comics and a brand new scene featuring Turaga Dume!

Last but not least, an updated version of my first Bionicle fanfic, Call to Arms!

Hope you all enjoy the new stories!

[toa-kohutti]

A Moment of Eternity (Toa Dysphoria)

The Matoran Aegide becomes a Toa, but immediately finds he's not happy with his form. Is he so different to his brothers and sisters, or is he not alone? And what will the Turaga think when they find out that your destiny feels like a mistake?

A (sort of) Pride Month special - a short little story about the necessity of change, inspired by my dear friend KDNX's work.

Also available on AO3.

This was a moment often overlooked. To others, it was nothing more than the briefest period of time. Only a few seconds between two states of being, it wasn't worthy of the history tablets. But to the Matoran Aegide, it was an eternity. The moment swallowed his world whole, submerging him in it, drawing him in alone and forcing him to feel its totality. It ought to be a moment of honor, yet it was a moment of fear and doubt for Aegide. As it dissipated, permanence ready to catch him, he wished it could be undone. 

A minute before, Aegide stood in the modest, almost cramped, stone temple that stood atop Mount Norik, surrounded by familiar Matoran and his three Turaga. The elders of the small island whispered to one another as the six Matoran around them each held a Toa Stone. To try and calm his nerves, Aegide looked around to each would-be hero, wondering why they were chosen. First he saw Dekani, a Matoran of Sonics, no doubt chosen for her renowned athletics, then Fatala, probably for the raw power of her Magnetism element and not her timidness, and Kohutti, for her leadership skill and, soon, Gravity powers. Next to him on either side were Pomak, the kindest Matoran of Stone he’d ever met, and Fetoki, the Iron crafter who repaired everything on the island with her mechanical skill. Fetoki’s eyes met his, and they shared a silent moment of doubt that they belonged. Turaga Cemaka said she’d chosen him for his bravery, but others saw him as foolhardy. As he turned to the glowing red Toa Stone placed in his hand, he didn’t feel very brave. 

He turned the stone over in his hand, considering it one last time. It was physical proof that he’d been chosen, that he was due to become a hero. Aegide wanted renown, he knew this much about himself, but to take the step of actually accepting what the stone would do to him felt strange. He wasn’t smart like Fetoki, kind like Pomak, or full of potential like Fatala. He was a daredevil, not a protector. But… maybe he could be one. Resolve began to build in his chest, his weak-feeling fingers balling into a braver fist. He didn’t know what he would be like when the transformation was complete, but he knew that he would be greater. So with a deep breath, he accepted the destiny laid out before him.

He reached out with his very being to the Toa Stone within his loose grasp, and it in turn reached back out to him. His entire perception was drawn into a bright light, the crimson from the stone fading to an all-consuming whiteness that surrounded him completely, leaving him all alone inside it. Time seemed to halt for a moment in familiar fashion, like he was mid-dive off a cliff. But the daredevil Matoran was not plummeting towards danger as a show, he was alone, and now at the mercy of the stone in his hand. His eyes shot around, confirming a void of white light around him everywhere. He couldn't move any of his other muscles - his body was frozen in the position of contemplating the stone. Normally, this moment of helplessness was a thrill. But this was something unknown to him, something new and utterly terrifying.

He panicked. He took a breath - or rather, his body tried, but his frozen muscles followed no command. He thought to his Turaga, Cemaka - and his memory of her as a Toa. How did she survive this moment? How did she feel when she was transforming, changing into a Toa? Was she brave? Or was she scared like he was? He felt strange not knowing where he was going. He could take a real danger with ease, but this? He called on the memory of her rescuing him from the explosion at sea, a proud, strong warrior who lifted the wreckage that trapped him with her mind to carry him to a new home, and felt a small comfort. 

As if a reaction to his memory, his imagination, the Toa Stone’s glow shone brighter. He let his eyelids close and flutter open, and he saw the memory of Cemaka’s form as a Toa, and her silhouette around his body, enveloping him. The imagined vision of her was a reprieve for a moment. He could handle it like she did. He breathed out - and this time, his body listened, letting the air out of his lungs.

But when he breathed in again, he was met with a new sensation entirely. His breath was quick, short, and shallow. His lungs weren't filled, as if they were resisting him. The terror began to claw back to the surface, wrapping its wretched talons around his warm heartlight. What was happening to him? It was as if his physical form was barely there at all, and the reflection of Cemaka was what was truly real. He couldn't feel his body, but he could see another's - and it slowly sunk into his mind what was happening. His shallow breath suddenly tasted sour as a strange fear shuddered through him. The image of a Toa... was him now.

It started with his feet. The panels of armor began to painlessly break apart and reshape themselves, the Protodermis reforming into a new shape unlike his old one, more flexible, stronger and broad. He felt his flesh go with it, muscles weaving themselves into new joints that he didn't have before. He saw his hands break apart, fingers separating to meet the fingers of the Toa's silhouette, that imagined form now becoming his reality. The Toa Stone slowly broke him apart and reformed him into a new body, one broader, stronger, more ready to protect.

But in this transitory stasis, a fracture of time that should fill him with pure elation and reverence, he was instead filled with a strange emotion. He silently cursed that it didn't have a name to him. Unfamiliarity? Doubt? Confusion? Fear? It was all of those, but none of them at the same time. He wanted to cry out, to be rescued from this moment, to not change. But it was too late. His muscles had knit themselves into a new form, and there was no going back.

The light began to dissipate. Aegide shut his eyes, hard, and his jaw quivered. His... jaw quivered. He could move his body again! He took a breath again, and felt more air pushing deeper into him than ever before. It felt good in a way, but at the same time, it meant that it was over. Destiny had decided.

He opened his eyes to see a dull stone, now deprived of power. As he looked around, he saw his friends, now teammates and comrades, astonished at themselves. Kohutti, now a Toa of Gravity, marveled at her own hands, while Dekani stretched and Pomak flexed to feel his new strength. Fatala seemed nervous but not regretful, only anxious because she wasn't covered in pink paint like she preferred to be. But one of them was different.

Fetoki locked eyes with Aegide, and an instant understanding passed between the Toa. She was terrified, as terrified as he was. They looked so much the same, like Cemaka did. But neither of them was happy about it. His mind was flooded with questions for her. He wanted to know if he truly wasn't alone, if she felt the same strange doubts and fears he did. Their forms didn't suit them, he knew that. But before he could speak, their Turaga broke the silence.

"You are all Toa now," Turaga Gorrf’s time-carved, creaky voice practically boomed in the small stone-walled room, "and you all must serve the Matoran of Carana. It is an oath you all swore when you took these stones, and the Great Spirit expects great things from you."

"Show us our faith is well placed, heroes." Cemaka's smoother voice calmed him for a moment, but it also filled him with an instant shame. He was like she was. So why did he reject it? He should be proud to be like her, to be a hero. But he wasn't. And from looking at Fetoki, he could tell behind her gruff mask that she wasn't either. The Great Spirit, faith... it all felt like a weight on his conscience.

"Now go, my friends." Turaga Lumuka, the third and youngest Turaga of the island, smiled behind her noble Rau. "Go, and learn what it means to be a Toa."

Aegide swallowed and nodded as a murmur swept across the six of them, before they all began to walk out of the modest, ancient temple that they had transformed within. The sunset's light shimmered across the mountain, and Aegide, a Matoran - no, Toa - of Fire, shivered in the cold atop it. The six stopped before they split off towards their respective Koros, looking to one another, a strange silence underscored by the whistling of the wind. Kohutti finally broke it, fitting as she was the designated leader of their brand-new team.

"So we're all Toa now." She turned her hands over in her own view, cocking her head to look at them like a confused Rahi. "It's... surreal, isn't it?"

"It's incredible, is what it is!" Dekani beamed behind her mask as she swung her arms out in a sudden twirl. "I feel amazing! I'm going to be so fast!"

"Just remember that you're not going to be in any races anymore." Pomak's deep, smooth voice was underscored by a chuckle. "It's not fair to the Matoran now that you're twice their height and can use that mask of yours."

"My mask! I nearly forgot! Gotta go!" Elation filled Dekani's eyes as she whipped around and bolted, activating her Kanohi Kakama - the Mask of Speed - and carving a trail down the mountain in a sudden blur. The snow she kicked up gently fell to the ground in a cloud that obscured her, leaving only the sound of the wind reacting to her and the footprints she left.

"Well, on that note..." Kohutti said, folding her arms in disapproval at her teammate's disappearance. "I suppose we'd better all get to our Koros too."

"Wait, I have a question!" Fatala's hand nervously shot up, waiting for permission to speak.

"And that is?" Pomak said.

"Why do we look different? I thought Toa Teams all looked the same." She asked, before realizing how silly she sounded to herself and shrinking, drawing her shoulders together in anxiety.

"Well, what happened when you became a Toa?" Pomak asked. "I was reminded of Gorrf when he rescued me all those centuries ago. Did you think of Lumuka, since you were brought to Carana later?"

"Well, I did." Kohutti shrugged, looking towards the group. "I can only assume Fatala and Assane did too." Fatala simply nodded, not wanting to speak up again.

"I thought of Cemaka." Aegide finally spoke, but as if it were an admission of guilt. "I know you hadn't met her so... this is what she looked like as a Toa, I guess." He presented himself, looking down at his form without much joy. He saw a barrel chest, broad and thick, with shoulders and arms to match. He was only outmatched in bulk by Pomak, and it felt so wrong to him. He was lithe as a Matoran, and now he felt as if he were a brick with a Kanohi on top.

"Well, I think you look wonderful." Kohutti smiled behind her mask. "You too, Fetoki. Even if you don't want to hear it right now."

"You're right, I don't." The Toa of Iron finally broke her silence with a slight snarl. "You look lanky and vulnerable."

"I agree." Kohutti said, inspecting her own armor and finding it lacking. "If I bring you some scrap, will you help me make it into Toa Tools and armor? I feel almost maskless in this armor alone."

"You'd better bring me something interesting." Fetoki muttered. Kohutti shot a glance at Aegide about her attitude, and he met her with a shrug. "But I'll do it. For all of you, if you like."

"Thank you." Kohutti smiled. "Now, I've got places to be. I'll see you all later." She started down the mountaintop, taking a different path, towards Leba-Koro - a much longer journey than the others, which was probably why she wanted to leave so soon. Pomak wordlessly nodded and started towards his own Wahi, with Fatala nervously scrambling towards hers in tow.

Aegide turned back to see Fetoki, who started to drag herself through the snow towards the entrance of the mountain's innards. He had so many questions for her, he couldn't just let her go back to her Koro alone.

"Wait!" he called out to her, and when she didn't respond, he started to run towards her. He was so much faster than he was used to being that he nearly tripped over his own large, floppy feet, and let out a little noise of astonishment as he made it to her. "I-I want to talk to you!"

"I don't." Fetoki stopped and turned before muttering dryly. "Go away."

"No, I think you actually do, because -"

"Because what?" Fetoki growled at him. "Because I'm tall and thick now like you? Are you sure you didn't get thicker in the head?"

"Because we're both... like this." He said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She immediately threw it off with a jerk of her arm, but he continued to speak even after a quick snap of "don't touch me" escaped her mouth. "Because you feel wrong too." 

"What do you think you're doing?" She barked at him, balling her fists and taking a broad stance. "Are you trying to sweet-talk me into something because you feel bad for me? Or are you just dumb enough to think you're better than me?"

"Fine, I'll say it straight if you want me to." He said, folding his arms and becoming aware of his large chest once again, causing him to shudder. "I... need your help."

"Everybody needs my help. But nobody's ever considering me as a damn Oropi instead of a diligent worker, and now they’re gonna just consider me some kind of hero." She turned away from him with a huff, and started to walk back again.

"Wait! I think we can help each other!" He pleaded with as desperate a voice as he had. "You're not alone! I don't want to be like this!"

"This is our lot." She muttered. "The Great Spirit decided it for us. We don't have any choice but to use what we have. Destiny, and all that."

"I... I don't care." Aegide said. "I don't care what the Great Spirit wants for me right now. I don't want this. And-and you don't either, and maybe we can figure something out! You're smart, maybe you can-"

"Toa aren't masks or pieces of scrap!" Fetoki snapped. "What do you expect me to do? Weld some garbage on to you like I'm going to do to Kohutti and magically fix you?"

"No, I-" He stammered, before being cut off by Fetoki in a rage.

"No, you just want to stop feeling like a poor confused little child, and you're making it my problem!" She jabbed a finger into his broad chest, twisting it to underscore her point. The attention to his body made his heartlight dim and his mouth dry, and all he could do is stammer uselessly. "This is our destiny, like it or not, and we have to deal with it. I'm not happy, you're not happy, and as far as the Great Spirit is concerned, we can both go to Karzahni about it!"

"I..." Aegide's head sunk. "Y-you're... right. I'm sorry." He flopped down onto the ground, his knees' impact cushioned by the soft snow.

"So go to Karzahni for all I care." Fetoki said. "I'm going to swallow this and be a hero like I'm supposed to."

A third voice traveled through the chill air and cut through their argument. "Is that any way you should speak to your brother?" The two looked up to see Cemaka on the hill, spinning her jeweled staff and watching it scatter light across the snow. "Come now."

"T-turaga..." Fetoki also dropped to her knees in shame, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"You should be apologizing to Aegide," her smooth voice echoed atop the mountain, "and to yourself."

"M-myself?" The Toa asked. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Cemaka hummed to herself as she waddled over to sit next to the two Toa in the snow. "I think there's something you two ought to know about my past."

Fetoki bristled. She never cared much for stories, Aegide knew, but he hoped she would hear the Turaga out for this one. "What is it we need to know?"

"You two imagined me as a hero when you became Toa, that much I can see." She said, placing a hand on each of the Toa as she flopped into the ground. "But I wasn't always like that."

"What do you mean?" Aegide said, confused. "You were..."

"Yes." Cemaka nodded to him. "I was rebuilt. I was rebuilt by my," She halted on the word, cringing a little as if it were painful for her to mention, "superior, multiple times. I used to look a lot more like Lumuka than I did either of you."

"But..." Fetoki's voice creaked. "This is what the Great Spirit decided for us. Would it not be wrong for us to be rebuilt?"

"Oh, please." Fetoki gave a dismissive wave. "If we can rebuild Matoran, why can't we rebuild Toa?" She leaned in closer to the two Toa, looking between them before she spoke again. "Don't tell the others, but I think we ought not to worry this much about destiny. It's coming for us no matter what, and if it's not meant to be, it won't be. But I don't think destiny says that you need to stay the way you are forever."

"Turaga," Aegide struggled to speak, "I don't understand. Isn't it an insult to you that we'd change away from your image? I wouldn't want to offend my Turaga."

"No." The elder's voice was plain as day. "In fact, I'd be very happy if I never had to see you two looking like that again."

"...Really?" Fetoki broke the silence with a furrowed brow and tilted head. "How can that be?"

"It's simple, my friends." Cemaka placed a hand on each of the Toa’s shoulders. "Seeing that form reminds me of a, well, poor time in my life." She admitted. "My... my superior was not someone to be proud of in many ways. And a reminder of that is a little unwelcome." She gently shook her head.

"Then, what about the others?" Aegide asked. "Are they, too, reminded of a poor time?"

"From what I've spoken to them... those were the glory days." She shrugged. "I think they're proud. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of you too. But I also can see that you're not happy. You wear it on your armor clearer than air."

"So... neither you nor the Great Spirit will mind us changing?" He said, a kernel of hope starting to grow inside his chest.

"I can't speak for the Great Spirit," the Turaga said, "But for myself, I don't mind at all." She stood up on her rickety legs and turned from them, nodding gently. "Now go on, go. I think you two have some work to do. I'll see you again when you're ready."

Aegide looked to Fetoki, who seemed somehow less nervous after the Turaga’s guidance.. "Well... if I bring you some quality scrap..."

"I'll build you just about anything." She met his gaze with a tiny smile, and a rare sense of sincerity. “I promise.” 

"D-do you think you could make me a jetpack?" He asked, as he shot up to follow her. "I mean, I can fly with my Miru, but what if-"

"I made a mistake making a promise to you, didn't I?" She grumbled. The moment of sincerity passed, her gruffness having returned as the pair started to walk down the snowy hill towards an entrance of the dormant volcano they trod upon.

The Turaga simply smiled to herself as the two started back towards Fetoki's home, hoping that the two would find their happiness - and knowing they'd be some of the strangest Toa she'd ever meet.

[bioniclecaughtbetweenworlds]

Ello there!

My name is borgby and this my bionicle au called bionicle caught between worlds. My official blog is theantivoid-3

Here's some of the characters! I'm currently working on the villains rn

Plus and one of my characters for another characters background!!

I hope yall enjoy the art and writing!!

[siren-darkocean]

Hi! Big fan of your Bionicle fanfics on Wattpad here. Just wanted to let you know that I support your incredible work.

Awe thank you so much!

Honestly Bionicle is one of those huge Hyperfixations that never leave me (like with NiGHTS, Hero Factory and Creepypasta)

So it's nice seeing people enjoy the fics I make

I make them for fun yes but I enjoy seeing people loving the fics as well

Just curious tho, if you had to pick which one is your number one favorite?