#but it has the potential so be warned

[hebuiltfive]

Oblivion: A NCS Story

Chapter One: Waiting Captain Scarlet was used to dying. Everyone around him was used to his retro-metabolism. But that didn't make it any easier to watch, nor did it mean his indestructibility came without a cost.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Character Death, descriptions of injuries, mentions of plane crash, dark themes, Mentions of the afterlife, or the Mysteron Version at least, even in death scarlet cannot escape black

Notes: This idea came to me when I was reading Captain Scarlet and the Silent Saboteur, where Doctor Fawn asks Scarlet if he dreams in death. That simple question opened up a whole world of possibility and I chose to run with it. I will just preface this by saying there is no concrete plan for this story. I'm just seeing where the writing takes me. For that reason, I have no idea how long it will be either.

Disclaimers to say I don't own the Captain Scarlet franchise or the characters. The only thing I own is the words to this story.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

Waiting.

The waiting was the worst part. 

It never got easier.

Waiting.

Nothing to do, watching as the seconds ticked by on their watches.

Waiting.

Destiny always tried to be present. 

She always tried to be there for him when he woke up. Unless she was out on a mission, it didn’t matter where she was or what she had been doing. She was there. At his bedside. In the medical bay.

Waiting. 

It was torture having to wait, but it was important for Paul to have people he knew, loved and trusted around him when he came back from the land of the dead. At least, that’s what Doctor Gold had said.

Adam often waited with Destiny for that reason. 

Together, they sat patiently.

Waiting.

The seconds would turn into minutes and, more often than not, the minutes turned into hours. 

Once, they had both experienced the close call of truly losing Paul, despite his retrometabolism. It was a harrowing day, but it was the day both Adam and Destiny had decided to be present together, not only for Paul’s sake but for each other. 

Because the waiting was always the worst part.

Everyone on Skybase knew Captain Scarlet was indestructible. He’d become Spectrum’s most valuable asset against their war against the Mysterons.

Captain Scarlet was indestructible, but Destiny still found herself worrying.

Would that luck of his eventually run out?

A cat only has nine lives and, given the fact they new little about how the Mysterons’ retrometabolism worked, would Paul eventually succumb to the Great Sleep before they were ready to say goodbye to him? 

Destiny didn’t want to imagine having to say goodbye to him permanently. Again. The memories from the first time still haunted her. So many people had been the victim of the Mysterons war against them. Paul couldn’t be one. Not again.

She knew Adam probably held the same concerns too.

Shared those same worries.

They were unspoken, but Destiny could feel it. They both shared those thoughts as they sat there.

Waiting.

The worries were always quickly ousted from Destiny’s mind, however. They were thoughts she couldn’t bear to think about when she sat at Paul’s quiet bedside. 

It was always quiet in the medical rooms.

A small blessing.

Doctor Gold appeared every now and then to check in on his patient, and to give the two sitting vigil the updates they so badly needed on Paul’s condition.

Those updates never got easier.

The updates usually ended with Doctor Gold repeating the same two sentences he always did.

“You both should get some rest. He won’t be awake for a few hours yet.”  

Neither Destiny nor Adam ever moved from those seats though, even when Gold ended his shift and turned in for the night. They always remained, flanking the unconscious Paul, with Destiny sitting on one side of the bed and Adam on the other.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

The time it took for Paul to reawaken varied. Usually it was six hours. Sometimes it was twelve. They had found it depended on the severity of his injuries. 

The bruises and cuts rarely remained, but occasionally Paul could be left paralysed for a few days.

Seeing their indestructible friend confined to a wheelchair was always a sight.

Indestructible he may have been, but it was a stark reminder that he could still be hurt. 

Wounded.

A reminder that, although he may have woken up, Paul had still been dead.

Destiny often found herself wondering what went on in Paul’s mind during those hours of infinite slumber. Did he dream? Was he aware of anything?

She wasn’t sure if knowing the answers would have made her feel more easy with the situation.

She doubted it.

When Doctor Gold had finished his shift for the night and Doctor Fawn had taken over, Adam filled Destiny in.

On the mission. 

The Mysteron agent. 

The plane crash.

Paul had ejected from the doomed craft just a second too late.

Today’s death came from being caught up in the tail end of the explosion.

He had been torn to shreds.

Adam had pulled him from the wreckage. It hadn’t been a pretty sight.

It rarely was.

The internal damage Paul had sustained was extensive, according to Doctor Gold’s initial scans. He estimated Paul wouldn’t be awake until at least the morning.

Possibly early afternoon.

Destiny didn’t care. 

By the look of it, neither did Adam. 

They’d wait for as long as it took. 

Paul continuously put himself in so many situations, he made sacrifice after sacrifice so that the world — so they, his friends — could continue living.

Waiting half a day for him to wake up was the least they could do for him.

No matter how much the waiting hurt.

Neither Destiny or Adam slept that night.

Sometimes they sat in silence, the only sound coming from the beeping machines that were hooked up to Paul. 

Sometimes they shared stories about their day. 

Sometimes they made jokes in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. 

It never worked. The solemn feelings remained hanging over their heads.

Those feelings wouldn’t lift until they knew Paul was home.

Just after dawn had broken over the landscape 60,000 feet below Skybase, Paul’s eyes slowly flickered open.

Their waiting was over.

Destiny was the first to notice.

She was the first to jump to her feet. 

Adam followed her lead once he’d noticed. 

He called back to the Medical Office. “Doc, he’s awake!”

Paul tried to sit himself up, grunting as he did. He still looked like death.

Destiny pushed past the uneasy churning of her stomach. “How do you feel?” 

He stopped his attempt at sitting, hand rising to rest against his forehead. 

“Woozy.” Paul admitted whilst lying himself back down again. His voice was weak. Hoarse. “How long was I out?”

Adam flicked his wrist to check his watch face. “Almost thirteen hours.” 

He sounded relieved. His friend was okay. He was awake. 

He was alive.

Destiny understood that feeling.

Had felt it wash over her only moments ago too.

“Take it easy.” Adam gently held Paul by his shoulder as he tried to sit himself up again. “Gold said you took quite the beating in that explosion.”

Doctor Gold appeared as if on cue.

He was followed by two more medical officers.

With a scanner in his hand, Doctor Gold shooed Adam and Destiny away from the bedside.

“Why don’t you two go and grab some coffees, or something?”

They’d heard those words before too. They knew it was Doctor Gold’s code for ‘get out, let us work and catch up later’.

Adam offered Paul a wave, Destiny a quick kiss to his cheek, and they finally left the MediBay.

Once they had freshened up and changed their clothes, they met in the canteen.

Gold’s suggestion of a coffee had been too tempting to ignore.

Their vigil was over.

Until the next time.

But they’d be there.

They’d always be there.

At his side.

Waiting.

[lorelxlz]

tw // eye pulling and mild body horror

not quite human anymore

[cipheramnesia]

The "movie about a movie that kills you" is a surprisingly robust genre of horror. There's a wide range of approaches, but one key factor is the question of how good the deadly film in a film is, on its own. Some approaches are keeping the faux film entirely unseen, use brief clips, or make it real short.

Antrum: The Deadliest Film Ever Made goes in for a high risk approach and delivers a complete finished film, ostensibly made in the 70s and never released, framed by brief opening and closing info bites to set the stage of it.

Somehow this thing was completely off my radar, which means I was taken fully off guard as an ominous warning about the content in white text on black appeared on screen, giving a thirty second count down to leave if I wanted.

Wonderful showmanship and canny filmmaking that got me right in the mood to enjoy what followed. While I wouldn't call it a scary movie, I found it almost delightful in the atmospheric dread and devotion to its aesthetic of low budget 70s films. Nothing in it feels like a curse on its own, but it does feel like the sort of movie that could easily prompt psychological distress for anyone under psychotropic influences, pre-existing emotional vulnerability, or prone to delusional states. Not through anything supernatural, more because it works hard to keep the viewer in constant doubt over what is and is not real for the characters in the film. Combined with the framing device of it being a movie somehow able to influence the real world of the viewer, and the use of fractionally visible flashes of occult symbols on the screen, it generates an intense feeling of unreality which for me was an almost drug-like high and an immersive pleasure.

The premise of Antrum is simply a brother and sister decide to dig a hole to hell, and the movie plays out around this event by surrounding it with disturbing sounds and imagery, as well as real world dangers that weave the protagonists between the supernatural and mundane while keeping them in a state of terror and madness that grows until it becomes unrelenting.

In a certain sense it also feels cursed, like the kind of film where there are elements that feel very transgressive - in particular the opening scene which to my mind evoked Un Chien Andalou - not the infamous eyeball slicing scene, but the use of rotting animals. The few and very basic visual effects remind me as well of the early Survival Research Laboratory devices engineered by Mark Pauline.

However, the core question for me is also always what is the movie about besides the plot. If I had to identify some rough themes, I would say it's trying to explore the idea of understanding death and violence through the eyes of children who do not yet have the psychological tools for processing such matters, but who have been left on their own to do so regardless.

Many of the unusual elements in the movie can relate to death rituals poorly understood, starting from the very premise of digging a hole into the earth. And the same act is surrounded by strange rituals unclear in their origin, ideas which might be logical drawn from watching words recited over a grave without having a connection of purpose. Their encounters with other people are fully without possibility of communication as none of them speak the same language, and these mundane threats feel at times akin to a satanic Alice in Wonderland, rituals and violence whose meaning cannot be understood by the protagonists.

Likewise the supernatural is full of unprocessed images of death. Demons with black skin who look like mummified corpses. River crossings and empty chains dragging through leaves. It's as if death itself has manifested through the ambient world, surrounding the two children and refusing to let them leave its circle.

In combination with the intriguing use of sigils inscribed throughout, it creates a movie that is for me a joy to watch. An absolutely perfect Halloween spook for next year, but your mileage may vary between finding it full of pretentious nonsense or maybe the scariest film you'll ever watch. It can really come off either way, and I'm honestly not quite sure why my reaction was actual joy in the watching. Not to undercut the severity of the subject matter, but I just can't stop thinking about how happy I was to watch the movie at work mechanically, to enjoy the well oiled pieces fitting together, and then all topped off with the delicious extra treat of the framing device. Surely worth 90 minutes of your life.

[aangarchy]

My little cousin (almost 16 now 🥲) watched season 1 of the legend of korra. Here's her opinions of the characters.

Korra: "beefy mommy"

Mako: "he's like zuko but somehow even worse"

Bolin: "every show needs a comic relief, and bolin is doing a horrible job at it"

Asami: "say what you want but irl she would NOT be attracted to mako in the slightest that guy has pointy eyebrows"

Tenzin: "i was expecting Aang's son to have a better sense of humor"

The airbender kids: "BABIES."

Lin Beifong: "now that's my kind of woman"

Pema: "boring i'm sorry"

Tarrlock: "he's like a slimy salesman so perfect for politics"

Amon: "i was genuinely hoping he'd be some cool spirit villain but he was just a dude who did everything bc he's angry. What's with this universe's villains and them just being random dudes all the time"

Iroh II: "he's like zuko but cooler in every way" Me: "he's voiced by the same guy too" Her: "yea no shit that VA doesn't even try to alter his voice i could tell right away."

Avatar Aang: "not him showing up late starbucks in hand to give Korra the Avatar State AFTER the fight"

[vaguely-concerned]

illario was so right... this one traumatized crow boy really can contain such a universe of pure and childlike wonder at the mere existence -- the concept! -- of wyverns. even through the horrors

[puhpandas]

I love ggy so much how did they accidentally make the most intriguing hypothetical gay romance ever

[crimescrimson]

The Main House in Resident Evil 7 (2017)

[moominmanoneandonly]

Soo some time ago i started writing my first ever fanfic. It's an Transformers au, basically the retelling of how Orion and Megatron meet focused on gladiator lifestyle + all that class diffrence and Cybertron drama with some Megasound love. Haven't touched it in a while but I believe it's not a lost couse yet.

That said english is not my first language and I have Dyslexia so forgive me for all mistakes that I know are there and any type of opinion about the work would be both a great help and big motivation to continue it.

Ships: Megop, Megasound, KOBD, BulkJack, Dratchet, Megastar(but not really)

Warnings: sugestive topics, mentions of prostitution, very bad fights descriptions,

Title in works

Celling lights were flickering once again. Technically they should've been fixed by staff some time ago but no one really cared about better quality of living or honestly anything concerning gladiators in the Pits that didn't involved fighting.

Megatronus wasn't exactly bothered by a such small think like flickering lights, however he did belive that one day they're gonna give him a seizure.. not today trought.

With a loud clank bigger mech get up from his berth trying to mentally prepere for the upcoming cycle. From what he remembered he only had one big fight today, some meanigless browl with a "Kalis Champion" that was supose to "finally break his wining streak."

Megatron seen recordings of the bot fighting before so he could tell that it was just another marketing attempt and not an actual challenge, he will be able to deal with that scrap easily.. of course making sure that the audience is entertained.

The thing that actually bothered him was what's gonna happend right after the fight. The arena workers were going crazy for last few chords, non stop beeping about upcoming gala that was going to happen on this day. He heard them talking about some big names showing up, even something about "Prince of Vos" if gladiator's memory was right.

Technically those events were supose to be good, they gave a chance to taste some better quality energon and assured a free day right after, since all superiors would be to out of it to care about organizing fights.

But then comes the bad part. The "quality time with sponsors" as his superiors liked to call it. Megatron was honestly quite lucky since his frame was pretty big and his overall build not that arousing to the most of cybertonian sociaty, he rarely get more that one client at those types of events. Soundwave for example had it far worse, with his smaller frame and considerably attractive features. Which was exactly why Megatron made sure to send his dear friend to emergency room just last cycle.

It sounds brutal for an outsider but considering that basically none of his matches tended to stay alive it was obliviously a staged gesture. That said it still did quite some damage to his companians body for those he promised himself to get as much high value emergon as he can today to give his poor friend, maybe also steal some spare parts for cassetes if he's lucky.

For some reason Soundwave seemed to get more and more iritated lately anytime Megatron went to those events without him. He even witnessed him sulking at some point which gladiator didn't even know the cassete player was capable off.

Yeah he really needs to repay Soundwave for all that time in recovery room.

- - -

Walking trought the many corridors of Keons arena he tried to plan his cycle accordingly, he still need to train in the morning otherwise Tarn will get his ass and that mech did not had ANY prefrences in terms of size or build, so yeah he is not letting his "not yet violated by Tarn" achivement disapear today. Otherwise till the fight he still had some free time, maybe he could write down some of the poems or get to finish that data-pad that he stole the last time there was a gala.

After the fight he would have to go to Knockout to make sure he "look his best for the party". Those visits really were something. Mainly tiresome but sometimes it was genuinly funny to see the red mech lose his mind over all those ways he tried to make Megatron apealing, he would said stuff like "I swear to Primus if you wear those black heels again I'm going to cut off your pedes!" and stuff like that.

It was quite exhousting lot of the time but i was also suprisingly educating the rest.

Somehow Knockout with his limited medical knowledge and beautifying talent was able to offer a better information sources than even Soundwave himself. The amount of gossip coming out of the race car could fill in an entire archive on it's one. Sure only 10% of it was usefull but with that amount of given informations it was still a lot.

"Maybe he will know something about the politics this time," Megatron trought.

The last few visits at the salon he spend listening to Knockout ranting about some poor blue mech that he chose to be his future conjux altrought the bot is suposely in some comitted relationship.

Talking to the red race car about morality of his action was like trying to teach an insecticon how to read, those Megatron had to sit still for arks while medic was gushing over his moraly questionable crush.

Now he kinda prayed that the bots ended up together becouse otherwise he's probably going to shot himself today and his dream political carrer will end even before it properly started.

" Attention everybody todays main fights will start in 7 arcs, be prepered for the ring at least an arc beforehand!"

A loud screeching voice came out from the old speakers hanging from a nearby wall. "Perfect" trought Megatron "that's enought time for him to finish his workout read the old datapad and perhaps even mentaly preper for the night. Who knows maybe he will be lucky enough to not fit to any of the guest tastes." With a new hope for this cycle Megatron fully concentrated on his training, quietly counting tics until his next break.

....

Did Orion ever mentioned that he doesn't like gladiators fights? Becouse he really doesn't. They are messy, unnecessarly cruel and honestly world would be better without them in clarks modest opinion. That said Orion never actually seen one nor was ever intrested enought to learn about them.. until now.

For once in his life he really regretted his ignorance

Just last chord he find out that his favorite author was no one else but one of the gladiators from the Pit itself. What even more shocking, he didn't just write those amazing works that Orion had laying on his bearth and any free desk in his romm, but he publicaly talked about them in the middle of his fights.

"Megatronus" A name he first assumed was an peculiar aposthrope to the great Prime turned out to be a much more fitting stage name for a fighter. While the reason why the materials were so limited wasn't becouse of high demand but simple couse the works weren't oficially published.

"How could I not realise it earlier? I work in archives for Primus sake!"

Coming back to the present moment.

-NO, I'm not taking you to that gala!- Ratchet answered him once again while trying to read some important medical research.

-But Ratchet, You need to! This is a chance one in a million! - Orion tried to stand his ground while before mentioned research flew stright at his face.

-NO, I said it already! First Wheeljack and now you. I never espected any decency from that maniac, but from you Orion?! What in Primus name made you want to get involved with such a place. Those parties are a complete debouchery! In fact the only reason why I'm attending such a ridiculous event is becouse it was a demand from work. You shouldn't want to participate in such a thing.-Young doctor didn't at all hide his disgust when he was speaking about the gala.

-Ratchet, I'm telling you this is not about that, I do not care about the event i just.. want to see the person that wrote all those amazing poems and articles. You read them too right? These are works of a genius!!

- And how exactly are you even suppose to recognize them? You don't know how they look like. And most importantantly they're a gladiator!! There's little to no chance for them to even be there and if they will I don't think they be allowed to just talk politics with some random guest!- larger mech exclaimed.

Ratchet looked exhousted. He hasn't slept in a while thanks to one lovely bomber, the gala somehow was supose to waight 1/3 of his final grade and his conjunx was out on some unspecified expediction for Primus knows how long.

- You know what? Let it be, I allow you to go with me, on one condition! For the next 3 chords you leave me alone. No questions about reproduction of insectocons. No covering for your crazy ideas. And absolutely no mentions about this evening to anyone! Got it?!

-Thank you Ratchet!! I promise I won't bother you anymore. You're trully amazing.- Orion was ready to hug his friend if it wasn't for his clear discomfort.

-Why do I feel like this conditon won't keep for long- Ratched mumbled feeling defeated while the archivist celebrated his small victory.

-See you at 8. Do NOT be late! My job depends on it.

...

The stadium was full, there wasn't a single sit that wasn't taken by some fancy mech.

It wasn't completely unusual however Megatron had to admit that it never stoped impressing him in all those years he spend fighting. The idea that so many bots gathered to watch him felt sureal, kinda wished they gathered to hear his speches rather that watch him rip someone spark out but well you can't be picky in those type of situations.

"Dear Femms and Mechs we gathered here today to watch an exhilarating battle between two of Cybertron greatest Champions , Megatronus of Kaon and Victory of Kalis. Who of those two will earn the glory and fame and who will end up in pieces? Only time can tell! Remember it's the last chance to make your bets.~"

The crowd was going wild. Megatron in a meatime looked at the stadium trying to pinpoint any important faces to worry about in the near future.

One that for sure stud out was a red and black mech sitting in it's own loge(/lodge) . They had a small frame, cunning eyes that looked down on him in every possible meaning of the word and probably the most punchable face he has ever seen. They looked pathetic on their own but the amount of guards made them unable to ignore. Luckily this type of mechs rarely were a problem in terms of "sponsoring", always wanting to boost their ego by making sure they the strongest in the room they would always leave him alone, maybe talk some scrap about the greatness of slavery but that was it. That said just in case his flying friend, and to that regard anyone else in the audience might get any wrong ideas Megatron decided to give them his most gruesome and repulsive act. After all this is what they came to Keon for.

Finally after few kliks he was able to face his oponent plate to plate on the big arena of the pits.

As expected based on Megatron research his oponent wasn't anything impressive. His body was covered in all kinds of luxurious gadgets and accesories. Clearly a higher cast. Fighting for fame not survival, winning only becouse of better equipment not skills. That type of mech was what Megatron hated the most.

The moment the match started he made sure to immobilize one of his oponent servos by ripping it off with extreme precision. This type of attack was only possible when the opponent had his guard down does gladiator know he won't be able to redo it no matter how much he tried.

Obliviously the act made the shinier mech furious, rampaging stright at Megatron, almost crushing him in the process if it wasn't for his fast reflexes. Before he had a chance to prepere himself for a next move he was shot with a cannon between his servos.

It was good to know his opponent had at least a bit of combat knowledge, knowing where to shot to entertain the crowd.

Megatron quickly moved from his position avoiding another blow and louding his own cannon. With few moves he was once again helm to helm with the other gladiator, throwing a punch right into his face. ...

_____________________

The fight took quite some time. Mainly to satisfy the audience but also couse Megatron really wanted to ensure nobody in the crowd gets any stupid ideas. He made sure to make himself as unapealing as he can, getting his whole body dirty with energon and diffrent oils spilling out of the other mech while also showing of his big frame to remaind people he was a miner not some classy thing.

The rest of ch 1 doesn't exist

Ch. 2 aka Megasound crumbs

Their lodging was small a and cluttered, diffrent spare parts, garbage finds and data pads scaterred all around leaving little to no space to move. From actually functioning furniture there was a big berth, a boxing bag and a barely working fridge. It was really a lucky find.

-Yo Big M is back! We seen you on the bilboard! It was so cool!!-Rumble and Frienzy as always were runing around and cousing mayhem, destroying anything that they touch.

One of them tried to climb on the gladiator while the other were shaking Ravage awake so she can share their excitment.

-Calm down you two! I got you something- he handed them two cubes of energon.

-Just make sure to absorb all that energy somewhere alse, otherwise this room might not survive.- Two bots stopped listening to him the moment they seen the food but luckily they still know what to do, they greedily took the cubes and sprinted outside with the speed that would made profesional racers jealous.

Without twins the room felt much more spacious, walking trought it he also gave a cube each to Ravage and Laserbeak, petting them lightly as he passed them by.

In the berth laid the owner of the room himself, as always calm looking Soundwave. His wounds seemed to repair pretty well trought he clearly still couldn't move an arm. His smaller frame was curled while the blue mech hold one of the datapads.

He was mad. Megatron know the moment he came into the room. Soundwave might not be expressive but they know each other for so long that it didn't matter. When he was mad he would speak only when it's expected of him and his power field would radiate disatisfaction.

-Listen, I understand you're mad. Fair enough, I would be to if I got beaten like that, I know you wanted to go together this time but this is to much of a risk! - Soundwave was a trully special mech. Where Megatron was nothing more than a miner capable of withstanding bad sytuations, Soundwave was a "Carrier", a bot designed specifically to make and take care of sparklings.

Those type of mechs knew nothing about fighting, they shouldn't have to. Yet here they were. Some stupid high rank wanted a Carrier for his unrealistic sparklings expectations, didn't like the results those threw all of them out. Megatron wasn't really sure how Soundwave was able to survive before coming to Kaon, he don't think he wants to. That said the moment he showed up on the arena was something revolutionary.

Soundwave wasn't just a good fighter, he was a strategic genius! When they first meet the gladiator was starstruck. The carrier was the proof that Megatron needed, that the mechs can be more than what they were made for.

They get along well, trought it took some time to earn Soundwave trust. Only after that Megatron could meet the cassetes, one by one and he enjoyed spending time with all of them. It was something surreal. In a place such brutal and cold as Pits, to have a genuine good relations with other mechs.

The ability to actually have deep political conversation without the other mech looking at you with contempt or pity. Soundwave never judged him, but always had an intresting opinion that let him to improve his thesis. He would always inform him on any mistakes and inaccuracies he made and prized him for any small success. The Carrier especially loved his poetry, something Megatron never expected to be able to share. The blue mech would listen to him for hours and look at him as if the words he spoke were some kind of gospel and not some simple poems.

The only problem Soundwave had was that he was a little bit to.. carefull. He would never let Megatron work on his own acount, always making sure he knows everything that's going on. It was never really suffocating in fact Megatron feel some comfort in knowing someone got his back but for some reason it always got worse when it came to Galas.

The carrier would flip out even at the mention of those events. Gladiator fully understood his disgust especially considering his upbringing however what he did't understand was the fact that the blue mech didn't aply his worries to himself. The only worry he showed in those moments was towards Megatron. Illogical considering that the gray mech was handling it just fine, with little amount of customers and a sturdy build compared to the always cornered Carrier. ..

-We were supose to go together.- The monotone voice of his friend somehow still expressed more emotion than the loudest scream. - Megatron was supose to stay out of trouble. Megatron shouldn't have to dirty himself like that. - the gray mech could see his reflection in the visors of the other.

-I'm sorry.-gladiator wondered for a moment. -I know how stupid it was. You're the only person in here capable enought to stand next to me

That's all i got for now. If it doesnt make sense that's couse none of the scenes are in proper order. Please give opinions it means a lot to me.

[shady-tavern]

Perfect Nemesis Part One

As usual with all my hero and villain stories, this one has a warning for blood and injury, though nothing too graphic will be described.

***

You tasted sweat and dust on your tongue, the ground beneath you cracked and half crumbled and your ears rang. You couldn’t make yourself move, your limbs too heavy and hurt radiated in a big, cresting wave through your body.

You couldn’t breathe as someone loomed over you, scuffed boots with white laces appearing in your vision. The hand that gripped you and dragged you to your feet, your costume torn and blood seeping past to stain the colorful material, was icy. The touch felt searing with how cold it was and you were terrified.

You were dragged up until you met burning red eyes and you tried to fight, but your body wouldn’t move. A second hand rose, magic winding around the villain’s fingers and their grin was mean and terrible and full of ugly, righteous glee.

You didn’t want them to touch you, you tried to pull away, but their fingers pressed against your chest and you were going to die it hurt so much -

You woke with a desperate gasp, as though you had held your breath in your sleep. You fought free of your blankets, arms trembling and you sat up, pressing a hand over your chest. Your heart was pounding.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

You sagged back against your pillows, wiping sweat from your brow with trembling fingers. Just a dream. You stared up at the ceiling, the slowly rising sun outside just barely casting it’s first light past your windows.

You managed to slow your breathing, going through your grounding techniques until you no longer felt the phantom press of pebbles, until your tongue stopped tasting like dust and sweat. Until you no longer felt that terrible, cold hand press against your chest, about to rip everything you were and held dear away from you.

As got out of bed, you still felt uneasy down to your bones, nervous in a way you knew would last for hours. A sort of anxiety that haunted your bones like ghosts haunted old, abandoned houses.

Today would not be a good day.

Your hand fell to the ring you always wore, gripping it and the surrounding fingers tightly. It was made of simple, plain iron, scratched up and a little dinged in one or two spots after years of accompanying you through battles.

People had called it ugly in the past. Your last boyfriend had even tried to convince you to take it off for good, offering you a prettier ring in exchange. You hadn’t been able to tell him that you needed this ring.

You would never forget the villain who had attacked you back when you had been a sidekick, while the Hero Society had approved of your rise in rank to become a full fledged hero soon. 

Your mentor had been so proud, had helped you with the paperwork to apply for the promotion. She had even made sure you’d get to live and work somewhere you wanted instead of getting a random, open position.

The villain, on your last day as a sidekick, had utterly wiped the floor with you. He had sneered down at you when you had lain on the ground before him in that half-finished parking lot, construction equipment everywhere. 

You’d never forget the dark look in his eyes. The hatred in his voice as he had cursed you, his magic so thick it had choked you nearly unconscious.

Your mentor had shown up back then before he had been able to complete the spell, so he had quickly adjusted, cursing you to lose something vital instead of leaving you crippled inside and out for life.

Your mentor had stopped you when you had gone unhinged after the curse had taken hold. Pain and a sudden lack, an absence inside of you had had you howling with something that would have been grief had you still been capable of feeling such things.

Your mentor had restrained you, had kept you safe and comfortable and contained as others had come in to help. No one had been able to break the curse, but they had been able to do something else instead.

The moment the ring had been slipped on it had felt like you had been whole again after having been split in two, wandering around with only one eye and one ear and one half of a working tongue and mouth. Without the ring, everything had been wrong, you had seen and perceived the world in a warped, half-alive at best manner.

Because it wasn’t just simply empathy that the villain had taken away from you. That was only what other people called it, what you even called it to make it easier for others to understand. The villain had taken away everything good, everything warm and soft and capable of kindness and care within you. Kindness towards others and yourself.

Only after empathy had gotten ripped out of you had you understood just how intricately it had been tied to who you were as a person. How much it had driven you and your desire to do good, even if you didn’t always like people or felt up to the task.

Your empathy had made you hand-craft gifts for loved ones, had made sure you gave pep-talks to yourself and went to therapy. It made sure you got bubble baths and bought your favorite chocolate and took the time to make a good meal on your days off. It made sunrises bright and hopeful and made you dance and sing to music, no matter how silly you might otherwise feel.

Your empathy had made you feel alive.

You had never once taken the ring off after receiving it, vividly remembering the days without it. You had spent all that time not caring for other lives or for big and small wonders and pleasures.

How the people you loved and cared about had been less than strangers. They had felt like dust, like something you could and would carelessly wipe aside. Wipe out even should you consider it necessary. Everything within you had been dead and barren, salted earth after a war had left everything razed to the ground.

The moment the ring was considered a success and you had returned home safely, your mentor had gone on a hunt, capturing the villain who had done this to you. He had gotten dragged in front of a jury and sentenced to prison for life.

He had refused to remove the curse, no matter the threats and bargains people offered. He had said that the Society was welcome to torture and kill him, he would never let go of this final victory over them all.

'Besides, even if I wanted to, I could not remove it,' he had said with a haughty, victorious tilt of his head. 'It would take something quite awful indeed to even get a hold of the curse and something else entirely to remove it. I won’t say more on the matter.'

And he hadn’t.

'Why?' your mentor had snarled, standing half in front of you. And while she had always been on the slim and short side, right now she was bristling and tense like a lion in front of her cub and you had felt unexpectedly safe.

The villain had looked at you and all those sparks of safety had died as surely as stars in the night sky.

'Because you are good,’ he had told you, dark and bitter. 'Because you save people and no one saved me when I needed a hero.'

Even after six years and a lot of therapy you still remembered that moment vividly. You still had nightmares. You had never stopped being terrified of losing the ring one day. It was a constant fear that lived under your skin and made you paranoid. You checked if the ring was there multiple times throughout the day, making sure it hadn’t come lose or started to slip.

So no, today would not be a good day, but the world didn’t care about that. You dragged yourself out of bed to get ready, staring at your hero costume as you brushed your teeth. After getting cursed you had bothered the Society to get you a new costume, your mentor supporting you every step of the way.

It had felt wrong to go with the bright colors and a metallic H on your back you had chosen previously. You had wanted to call yourself Hopeful as a hero. Corny, yes and absolutely a little bit kitschy, but you had liked the idea of giving people hope.

You hadn’t been able to go through with it after the words the villain had spat at you, after knowing how close you now were to losing everything that made you you. A small band of iron was all that stood between you and walking through the world torn apart inside.

Imagination you called yourself these days, after your powers. It was, ironically, rather unimaginative, but when you had to re-do your paperwork, you hadn’t been able to come up with something better. You still weren’t able to think of a better hero name and by now you didn’t care to. People knew you as Imagination and that worked just fine.

You bagged your costume and gear in a nondescript sport’s bag and went to a hidden office of the Society. This one masqueraded as a travel agency and you got dressed in your separate dressing room, before you set foot into the backroom. 

You weren’t the only one ready to clock in to work and you exchanged a friendly greeting with your colleague and friend, your partner in this part of the city.

Peony was a hero capable of growing all kinds of plants and flowers at will and he had an innate kindness to him that made him very pleasant company indeed. 

He always decorated his hair with a crown of peonies and his costume with whatever flower he liked that day. He gave flowers to anyone sad or upset when he worked in order to cheer them up. Alongside with you he had a high track record of turning villains around and ending fights peacefully.

Or rather, you turned new villains around, for the older or well established ones would have only laughed and spat at your efforts before trying to tear you to shreds. Not everyone wanted to change. Not everyone wanted to be saved.

It had been hard at first to make yourself soft towards young, inexperienced villains, but you hadn’t wanted to become bitter and cynic after getting hurt. After getting cursed forever.

Countless hours of therapy and hard training had ensured you could take the chance of talking villains down if they seemed receptive. Of course some had tried to backstab you, but there were enough people who were just desperate or hurt and often enough they just needed someone to offer a helping hand. They just needed a little bit of kindness.

'No one saved me when I needed a hero'. Sometimes that accusation bounced around your head restlessly, no matter how much good you did. Those hate filled eyes followed you into your dreams.

"Are you alright?" Peony asked, carefully feeling along his glued down mask, making sure it had dried well. The last thing any of you wanted was to have your masks torn off by villains or overly invasive paparazzi. Those existed too, irritatingly enough. "You look tired."

"I’m fine," you lied. Today was a bad day and it would pass, you reminded yourself. You’d be more careful and you’d truck through your work hours and tonight you’d go and call your therapist and try to get back on track in time for work tomorrow.

"Hm." Peony hummed softly and a moment later he held out his hands, a flower crown woven out of small, magenta lilacs and dark blue cornflowers rested on his palms. Like the colors of your suit, only less muted. "For a little bit of good luck," he said with a warm, kind smile.

You felt yourself soften, smiling back at him and bowing forward a bit so he could put it on your head. "Thank you."

"Of course, I know we don’t get to hang out outside of work, because of secret identities and all, but you’re my friend," he said with a warm smile. "And we have each other’s back, always. Radio me in if you need some company or assistance today, alright?"

"Alright," you said and you knew that Peony would never judge you for needing a bit of help. You had helped him out a couple of times when he had had bad days and he understood what it felt like to have the past snap at your heels like hungry hounds.

There was hardly a hero who didn’t carry around some shadow, some memory of terror and defeat. Some had it worse than others, but sooner or later everyone met a villain that crushed them under their heel.

Some heroes had managed to rise to the occasion and had defeated the villain at long last, others had needed help and backup to take down the one who had tried to break them. Some never again returned to active duty.

You made sure your gloves were secure so your ring could never, ever slip off during a fight. It was, at this point, the single most important thing about your outfit, aside from it’s protective properties.

Your sleeves were even designed to make sure your gloves stayed in place by you pulling the cuffs over the gloves, keeping the hem in place with thumb holes. You could not risk losing the ring. You would not ever risk it. Besides, gloves were almost expected in your field of work, no matter if one was a villain or hero.

Your work day started out quietly enough. People waved at you, you posed for a few pictures, making sure to paste your signature smile onto your face. Just because you wanted to go crawl under a blanket and watch TV the rest of the day didn’t mean you had to let others know.

You helped a lost girl find her fathers and carried the groceries of an elderly couple up the stairs to their front door. Simple, little things that actually made you happy. This was what you wished being a hero could be all about more often. Just walking through the streets, helping anyone who needed a hand.

Right before your lunch break - because of course villains had to have awful timing - you heard the sound of something splintering. It didn’t quite sound like the sharp, high-pitched sound of glass, nor the gravelly crack of asphalt and stone or the screech and snap of metal.

Jolting around, you stilled when you saw cracks spidering through the air itself, as though part of the world had turned into a mirror someone had punched. You had just half a second to recognize those powers, before you saw him.

Endless.

A villain with reality manipulating and altering powers who should not be here. This was not his city. You hadn’t heard of him losing a territory battle or handing his territory over to someone else either.

You had just a moment to feel utter confusion mingled in alarm, before those eyes found you. Ones that held an intense glow of magic and a grin curled across his face. It wasn’t hard for you two to recognize each other as enemies, not with the masks and armored costumes.

Your muted magenta and dark blue, his black with gleaming, metallic blue accents, mirroring the shine of his eyes easily visible through his half-face mask. He shifted to face you, his body tensing up the only warning you got before he lunged into action.

Showtime.

You had heard about Endless’s powers, of how he cracked the world around himself open like an egg, as though he was pulling the stitches of reality apart at the seams to poke his fingers between. To pull forth whatever laid beyond.

You had heard, but not understood what it meant. How it felt to meet that star speckled void that he pulled forth from the cracks, easily manipulating the matter as he saw fit. Something primal in your hindbrain was alarmed and then swiftly terrified when you felt that void skim past your skin, just barely missing your face.

The very foundation of your existence wanted to run and suddenly you understood why Endless was so feared even though he had never killed or crippled anyone, be they hero or civilian. Anyone would want to run from the thing that could unmake them.

But for the first time in your life, your own powers were the perfect counter. You had been born with the ability to summon things you could create within your own mind. Your own version of manipulating reality.

You watched Endless’s eyes widen as the air around you shimmered in a crystalline manner and you pulled forth two sleek panthers. Your favorite weapon fell into the hand you kept hidden at your side by shifting your stance, waiting for your moment to strike.

"Oh my," Endless breathed and you only heard him because he had come close enough that he could almost touch you if he stretched out his hand. "How very lovely."

The beasts leaped forward to distract him, while you ducked beneath another swipe of his void-wrapped fist, striking at his unguarded flank.

The blow struck, but Endless hadn’t climbed the ranks without being able to tank a few hits.

The fight was fast and harsh and, in a way, exhilarating. You hadn’t ever fought like this before, where it took every ounce of your concentration, pulling creations into existence while dodging the very power that made the feral part of your hindbrain gibber in fear.

You almost thought it would end in a true draw, the two of you getting tired, movements slower, blows and dodges getting sloppier. The world around you was a mixture of splintered cracks and that crystalline shimmer of your powers.

Right up until you managed to conjure a snake in Endless’s blind spot and when the summoned animal wrapped around his foot, just as he wanted to kick out at you, it ended in him getting yanked back instead.

Your hit connected with his shoulder and he fell to the ground, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his chin, but as he stared up at you, a grin was on his face. It had something wild around the edges and was so delighted it gave you pause.

"Beautiful," he said, his eyes glowing brighter. The tone of his voice caught you off guard, impressed and delighted and something else. Something that was just slightly breathless, just slightly…almost soft with reverence. "I’m so sorry to cut this short, I wish we could have finished this."

Before you could do more than feel bewildered, the ground beneath him cracked apart, that void surging up to swallow him. You jerked forward, only to immediately flinch back. You knew you could not reach into that void, could not follow him without being unmade.

As the void smoothed back over like waves calming after a big splash, the cracks around you faded away, returning the world to how it was meant to be. The sound of distant traffic and shouting civilians filtered through and it was only then that you realized how quiet it had been previously.

How far away the world had been, how nothing had been able to reach you with so much shattered reality everywhere around you.

"Imagination!" Peony’s voice made you jolt and a moment later he landed beside you, clapping you on the shoulder. His press smile was on his face, while his eyes were impressed. "Good fight, my friend!"

It…had been. You realized that you had been the first person in nearly five years to make Endless back out of a fight. You hadn’t won the battle, but when you glanced up at the clapping and cheering crowd, you realized that you had won in the eyes of the public.

Peony swiftly whisked you away to avoid the excited crowd and paparazzi that had been rushing towards you, cameras and microphones at the ready.

"Are you alright?" Peony asked as the two of you sat high up on a skyscraper, wedged in behind an old, big gargoyle. Your shoulders pressed together and you tipped your head back to stare up at the sky.

"Yeah, you said with a smile, then you frowned. "I thought Endless called Imperia home, not our city."

Imperia, the capital city, was a veritable cesspit of villains and underground crime. That Endless had made a name for himself in a place that ruthlessly chewed up and spat out anyone who faltered, who misstepped only the slightest bit, meant something.

You doubted that anyone but you truly had a good defense against him and these void powers. Powers that could destroy anything that was real near immediately - but your creations were only half real. They existed because you wanted them to, not because they were actually a part of reality. That made them harder to break.

"I don’t know," Peony answered after a moment of silence. "Maybe the Society knows what’s up."

*.*.*

The Society, in fact, had no idea why Endless had given up his bitterly fought for territory in Imperia. In fact, no one was able to find out anything as the weeks turned to months and instead of answers, you only got more questions.

And you gained a nemesis. 

You had never had one before and you could have entirely done without ever getting one. Endless however had decided that you were ’the shit’ as an impressed teen had once said and he just had to take you down.

Endless didn’t always seek you out when you were on patrol, especially since he had plenty of things to do himself, but whenever you spotted him, you knew he had come for you. After that first fight, you had never again managed to get the upper hand against him. Until now, everything had ended in a draw where the two of you had been forced to retreat.

He was dangerous and cunning and you really had no idea why he bothered fighting with you as much as he did. There was no need for Endless to go up against you or to seek you out for battles.

He was powerful enough that he could have just slipped past you to cause destruction elsewhere. To go pick off the younger or weaker heroes and sidekicks, the ones he could kick around like squeaky toys. 

He could have even gone straight for the official Society headquarters, since he had once let slip that he knew where it was. You didn’t know for sure if he actually did know, but the threat had been big enough that the Society was currently busy relocating, having closed down the headquarters for the time being.

He could have…well, he could have done a lot more damage, was what you were trying to say. You were glad that he didn’t though, that he didn’t kill people and never involved civilians if it could be avoided.

Endless had even stopped attacking a fellow hero the time your colleague had gotten knocked out in a fight against him, just as you had arrived. Rather than hit your fellow hero again to kill him or to inflict career ending injuries, Endless had just stepped aside.

He had allowed you to carry the woman to safety, though he had done so with running commentary. Everything had been said, from compliments to teasing remarks until you couldn’t help but snap back. And then he had grinned, achieving what he had wanted: that you spoke with him.

That you looked at him, bantering back before you knew it.

It was simultaneously the most fun and the most intense time whenever you fought him.

And recently he had gotten into the very distracting, very flustering habit of murmuring those compliments and teasing remarks at you whenever your fight caused the two of you to end up close to each other.

It was so easy to forget the world when he made the noise disappear, when everything was so far away with the way he cracked the world apart.

And yet, he never locked you in, he never put you into a cage you couldn’t escape, for wherever those cracks were, it was impossible to reach past them. But there were always spots to slip through for you and you just knew that was on purpose.

It was unexpected to look at a villain and realize that a part of you trusted him. Trusted him to not hit below the belt, to pull his punches before something truly awful happened. When you fought him, you could forget about the ring on your finger and how you could never, ever allow those gloves to come off.

"Why me?" you found yourself asking at your next clash, the fight between you no longer a harsh meeting of two blunt forces, but something refined and sharp. Almost like a fierce dance.

"Pardon?" Endless asked, elegantly ducking beneath your weapon and kicking the two-headed hound out of the way that you had summoned today. "Your beautiful lethality distracted me for a moment."

"Why fight me?" you asked, ignoring his compliments. He was just trying to make you trip up, you were certain he’d stop once he realized it wasn’t going to work, no matter what he said.

Endless blinked, looking taken aback for just a split second, before he stepped in close with a quick maneuver, close enough to almost touch you.

His voice was quiet and almost soft as he said, "If it’s not obvious, I am doing a worse job than I thought."

When you looked as confused as you felt, he made a low noise and the next second you smoothly slid back a step, head jerking to the side to avoid getting touched by the void he drew forth.

"I’ll figure out how to make my intent clear," he said in that tone that never failed to send a small shiver down your spine in the best of ways. His gaze flickered past you and his smile got a regretful little quirk. "For now, I fear our time is almost up."

To your surprise, he leaned in again, close enough that your noses were almost touching. You realized that you had stopped moving a second later, that the hounds stood still, waiting for your next command. 

"I don’t believe you find me quite so despicable," he murmured, his fingertips brushing your hand.

The one with the ring. Cold reality crashed over you, a sudden stab of alarmed fear that had nothing to do with Endless himself and his powers and you found yourself flinching back, hand tucked against your chest before you could stop yourself.

No other villain would have gotten that reaction, would have seen that moment of vulnerability. Plenty of villains had grabbed your wrist or hand before, especially if they had matter or mind manipulating powers. It was hardly the first time.

But something about Endless made it feel as though your barriers were paper thin. You had gotten careless.

His eyes widened at your reaction. "Apologies," he said, gaze flicking between you and your hand. Then his gaze snapped past you and he muttered an unflattering curse at the people you knew were about to join you.

With a last, thoughtful and apologetic glance your way, he folded into the cracks, disappearing into the void.

The world smoothed out, but your heart kept racing and you forced yourself to lower your hand back to your side and look normal and unaffected.

You were deeply relieved that Peony showed up moments later, whisking you away with an excuse to save you from the people. When you sat crouched behind the same gargoyle as last time, he said nothing when you curled up tight, hand clutched against your chest and forehead pressed against your knees.

He knew about the ring, about what had happened to you. It wasn’t hard to find out, not with how public both the fight and trial had been. Peony had slowly, over time, asked you more questions about it. Always carefully and gently and you had recently told him the rest of the story. How you didn’t remember what curse you had been afflicted with, only how it had felt to receive it.

And what happened if you ever took your ring off.

Peony was a solid line of warmth against your side and sometimes you felt a light tickling against your shoulder or head. By the time you looked up, uncurling a little, you blinked when you realized he had almost entirely covered you in flowers.

"Why is Endless bothering with me?" you found yourself asking as he carefully set down a handful of daisies in your now revealed lap.

"I think he’s flirting with you," Peony said and when you stared at him, wide eyed, he laughed. "Oh, he is. Couldn’t you tell?"

You grumbled beneath your breath, looking away and feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed and…aw, shit. You also felt flattered and touched and gooey warm. You liked Endless's attention and his words and how he fought you and how close the two of you could get to each other.

"I think you should ask yourself why you indulge him so," Peony continued, creating some tiny roses he put in your palm when he motioned for your hand. They were a pretty pink. 

"But he’s a villain," you found yourself saying and he snorted and started to tick off his fingers.

"Thunder and Goldstar, Justice and the Furious Two, Deadend and Dawn and of course, we can’t forget the most iconic and notorious romance between Dragon and Nightmare," he said. "They are villains and heroes who are more than enemies, if you catch my drift."

"Nothing was ever confirmed," you muttered and he shot you a look.

His voice was softer as he said, "Not officially, no. But I know you saw at least some of their fights. In all honesty, it even looked like Nightmare recently proposed to Dragon in the middle of their battle."

"Wait, what?" You sat up straight at that, sending a shower of flowers to tumble off of you. Peony just simply made a few more and tossed them straight at your face, petals silk-soft and sweet smelling.

"Endless isn’t awful," he said. "Arrogant, yes. Highly dangerous? Oh abso-fucking-lutely, but he’s no killer. He fucks with the government and some institutions and companies over for fun. No one knows what he really wants most of the time. His moral compass is probably so firmly in the gray zone he might as well rename himself into Raincloud, but you have my blessings."

"Thanks, Mom," you joked back and he smiled, nudging your shoulders together.

"I’m glad you’re doing better," he said, which made all the sarcastic mirth smooth out into something softer and genuine. "Want me to patrol with you the rest of the day?"

You were quiet for a long moment, staring down at the flowers littered all around you. All your favorite flowers and some of his.

"Yeah," you said at last. "Thanks."

"That’s what friends are for." He made a flower crown and gently set it upon your head. "Now come on, before someone yells at us for slacking off."

*.*.*.*

If you had expected Endless to back up, you were sorely mistaken. Not that you…not that you wanted him to. Still, you had no idea if you should reciprocate, if he really was flirting with you like Peony said, or how to go about it.

Endless certainly had stepped up his game after last time. Now every fight it seemed less and less like he wanted to get close to you in order to trade blows, quick strikes and just as quick parries, but to slip around your defenses like water and say more and more things in a low voice only you could hear.

If your battles had looked like dancing before, now your fights really were just a steady back and forth, a push and pull that had left all attempts at actual hitting behind ages ago.

Endless never again touched your hand, but now his fingertips brushed your elbow, your shoulders, your lower arm. He tugged at your utility belt instead of destroying it like another villain would have and you found yourself reaching back.

But he did glance down at your hand every time the two of you fought. The outline of the ring wasn’t easily visible beneath the gloves, but it felt like he had figured out exactly where the ring was.

You ignored it, you much rather focused on the bantering, on the way the words he said in that utterly pleasant and very flustering voice made you feel. You much rather bantered back, the world with all its troubles and realities locked away beyond those cracks he formed around you without ever locking you in.

You should not have ignored it.

It was Peony who called you just as you were about to finish patrol a couple of days later. It was getting quite late and you had volunteered for an evening shift to clear your head after you kept thinking about Endless. 

You had even found yourself watching some of his old fights online. It was…pleasant, possibly even alluringly impressive, to see him in action. His competence, his skills, his cunning and adaptability.

"Can you meet me at the old warehouse district?" Peony asked, voice tense and lowered over the phone in a way that told you something was wrong and he didn’t want to be spotted. "At the barrel intersection? There is a group of villains and far too fucking many explosives."

"On my way," you said, already changing tracks and hurrying towards the district. "Wait until I’m there."

"Hurry," he hissed and ended the call.

You arrived in record time, finding Peony hiding behind the barrels that lined the intersection on one side. It wasn't officially named Barrel Intersection, but that was what the two of you called it.

The old warehouse district was a quiet neighborhood, a mixture of storefronts and still used warehouses and industrial apartments on the more expensive side.

It also offered a lot of backrooms for villains to meet in and plot. Weirdly enough, you couldn’t see anything. The windows of the apartments were all dark and the storefronts lit, showing that no one was inside.

Actually, it was impossible to see much at all from the spot where Peony crouched.

"Where are they?" you asked in a whisper, as you ducked down beside him. "Did they leave already?"

"Alley," he whispered back and slipped into the shadows, face and shoulders tense in a way you hadn’t seen in quite a while. Or ever, possibly. It must be worse than you had thought.

You followed, only to notice that the flowers he usually decorated his outfit with were different. 

That wasn’t too strange in and of itself, Peony picked a new flower for his outfit every week, but it was always something cute and sweet, something that delighted the kids he saved and made crying people smile when he offered them a sunflower or cherry blossoms or tulips. And he always wore peonies around his head.

You weren’t well versed in flowers, but even you recognized the ones you could see now. Belladonna and nettles and a crawling of moss down his shoulders.

"Peony?" you whispered, confused. A low warning tingle spread through your limbs. You warily glanced around. Something was off.

"This is going to be horrible," Peony said so softly you barely heard him and something in his voice was different. It took you a second to realize it was sadness, laced with pain and grim determination.

A second you shouldn't have wasted with puzzling over his tone.

Vines stronger than anything Peony had created before snapped forward to wrap around your limbs, dragging you to the ground with a power and strength you hadn’t been able to fight.

In a split second, your mind ran through all the things an enemy could have done to Peony. Possession, mind control, mind manipulation, blackmail and a plethora of spells. Right up until cracks spidered along the wall and Endless oozed out of the void.

Both of their faces were solemn and grim, something you weren’t used to seeing. You fought the vines, shifting your hands and focusing on your powers when Peony took a step forward, a very familiar item in his hand, gas filling the alley with a sharp hiss.

The hero society had gas canisters that allowed heroes to nullify the powers of their partners in case of aforementioned mind control and other trouble. Those measures worked only short-term, a few moments at most, just long enough for either the afflicted hero or the responsible villain to be taken out.

You felt your powers hit a block, the shimmer around you vanishing in an instant. That was when a first creeping of fear and betrayal set in.

"What do you want?" you hissed as Endless stepped forward and Peony kept you pinned to the ground, the vines keeping your limbs still no matter how hard you fought.

"I’m very sorry about this," Endless murmured and reached for your hand. The one with the ring.

Panic immediately slammed into you and you found yourself saying, "No." even as he forced your fist open to pull your thumb through the hole in the sleeve and push the sleeve back. 

The moment he pulled your glove off, betrayal hit you fully like a hit to the gut, like a vile stench that threatened to make you gag and dizzy.

"Don’t," it came out like a pleading croak and you were only distantly aware of the fact that panicked tears were starting to gather in your eyes. You had thought he’d cared about you. You had been…had been fool enough to start to fall in love with him.

Endless said nothing, wrestling with your hand until more vines appeared, pinning your fingers into place. All but one. You looked at Peony, who stood back, silent and watching.

"I thought you were my friend," you rasped out just as Endless slipped the ring off your finger.

Your world shattered into something cold and warped, your breaths feeling crisp and clear in your lungs. Tears stopped gathering and your hammering heart slowed immediately, all those conflicting and painful feelings dying away, leaving only a yawning absence. A gnarly, ripped open wound across your soul that could easily be torn wider.

Your fingers twitched as you felt the effects of the gas wear off and you gathered your powers close, your mind already conjuring up something. Something unexpected that would give you the wriggle room to get free.

"Gloves off, huh?" you said, your voice coming out flat and cool. "Very well."

People thought that a lack of empathy meant that only rage and violence were left behind. That only something vile existed now, as if everything about human emotions could be neatly divided into 'good' and 'bad' at all times.

A lack of empathy meant there was also a lack of rage, of betrayed hurt, of the desolate realization that you had gotten played by two people you had grown to trust so very much. That you cared for so very much.

It felt different compared to when you had first gotten cursed. Back then the cosmos-bright wrongness within you had utterly consumed your mind. But now that wasn't the case.

You knew this curse. Your body knew it. Had lived years like this, even if the ring had been a neat little temporary loophole.

You had known you’d always end up like this again. The absence was still there, the torn open wound where something had been ripped away from you, but it did not consume your mind.

Your gaze snapped to the two threats in front of you as Endless dropped the ring and reached out again.

The advantage of having pulled your punches previously, of having had morals, was that they did not expect what you would do. They would not count on you summoning creatures that resembled nightmares.

Startling them was the advantage you needed and the monsters that tore out of the shimmering air moved fast like spiders, leapt like predators and had a maw of teeth like sharks.

The vines around you slackened and you ripped free, smoothly rolling to your feet and backing away behind the protective press of nightmare bodies. Two of the creatures had skittered up and along the wall, dropping down from above.

You took the moment of distraction, of hurried fighting, to focus on your biggest creation yet.

You hadn’t made things too big before, always aware of the civilians and the buildings around you as well as your own health. The damage you could cause not only to human life but also to people’s livelihood and possessions.

That didn’t matter anymore. Other people and their problems did no longer concern you. It felt as though the air behind you grew solid for a moment, no longer just wavering and shimmering, but a hard crystal surface, flat and shiny like a mirror, stretching to cover the space behind you from wall to wall.

The ground trembled faintly as the hydra stepped out, three heads swiveling to pin on the two men who had just defeated your skittering critters. One maw dripped acid, the other had smoke curling up and the last snapped its teeth, lightning arching.

"Please tell me you have another canister," Endless said, body tense and ready, as Peony stepped up to his side with a nod. "Cover my back?"

"Always," Peony answered, hands lifting and vines, thick and thorny, breaking out of the walls of the alley, writhing and destructive.

The hydra lunged with a screech, only for the lightning head to suddenly turn into chopped up, bleeding pieces, courtesy of Endless cracking it apart. You had always wondered if he could break flesh as easily as air. Your answer, evidently, was yes.

What a good thing that Hydra heads grew back in double their number. Acid sizzled, fire caught on wood and scorched stone and lightning from the new head lit up the area with quick flashes, while the fourth head lunged forward in a poison filled bite.

With the hydra blocking their path and obscuring their view of you, you had a comparatively easy time avoiding the vines, even as head after head got decimated. You took a second to create your usual weapon, only instead of the blunt hammer, it came out more deadly. Sharper.

That moment, your hydra got wrapped in vines, the heads getting pinned together, mouths forced shut. You watched the broken cobblestone and bricks, vines crawling from below and a new idea found you.

You hadn’t attempted to mix your imagination with the world around you before. You had only just summoned. You closed your eyes for a moment, heart beat steady and calm. You were not harried or frenzied or afraid, all you felt was…hollowed out. Empty. Like a yawning abyss had opened inside you that kept it’s frayed, torn mouth wide open at all times.

It took a second, the hydra growling and writhing, the smell of blood and smoke and something sharp and stinging thick in the air. Some of the heads must have fought free, for you saw a chain of lightning bursts flicker past even with your eyes closed and the golden, bright flare of fire.

When you opened your eyes, the crystalline matter of your summoning was woven into the alley around you, shimmering between walls and ground, layered over and sunk into stone and glass and metal.

You tugged, then realized it would take far, far more power than that. So you yanked and pulled, sweat starting to drip down your face and your heart beating faster with effort and just as your hydra got hacked into so many pieces all at once that it disintegrated, the alley around you heaved like it had come alive.

Because it had. You heard an alarmed shout as the entire alley reassembled itself, your stance shifting to keep your balance on the dragon head that raised itself out of earth and stone, built out of the material around you and held together by the matter of your imagination. 

It was easily the most powerful thing you had ever made and it made your legs tremble with how thoroughly it had drained you. Now you no longer only felt empty but exhausted down to your bones as well. You just barely kept your grip on the dragon, realizing that you had to finish this fast before your powers failed you.

It seemed you had overdone it. It would be worth it, if you won.

You met Endless’s eyes, the man who was your perfect nemesis, your perfect opponent. Peony was nowhere to be seen, aside from a splatter of blood on the ground and there were no hiding spots he could have been in without betting crushed when you had torn the alley apart. He had gotten eaten by the hydra.

Almost distantly, as though detached, you wondered what Endless was capable off if he, too, stopped pulling his punches.

You weighed the weapon in your hands as the dragon roared, wings sweeping out like giant sails, crushing the top of a nearby building to rubble. You weighted your powers against Endless’s. His intent and willingness to harm you against your ability to avoid being sliced apart like your hydra. 

Your legs trembled again, nearly buckling. You did not have the strength to draw this fight out any longer, nor would you be able to negotiate properly like this should it become necessary. You’d need to rest before making a decision, unless you managed to kill him.

It was worth a try.

"I knew you were holding back on me," Endless shouted up at you, but his usual smile was nowhere to be seen and he was out of breath. "I think it’s only fair if I do the same, isn’t it?"

You had seen the world crack like a mirror before and you expected to see much of the same again. And you did, for just a moment.

Before the cracks that spidered from his touch met in the air and then the world broke away in big pieces, the void devouring the edges of your dragon, forcing you to make it curl in tighter as it swiped and stomped and spat fire at Endless, who dipped in and out of the void too quickly to be caught.

You were about to take flight to gain the upper hand when Endless did smile, grim and triumphant. That was the only warning you got, as a crack appeared above you and Peony came tumbling out of the void, looking vaguely ill. His mask and half his outfit were gone, the void slipping off the edges where it had started to devour him.

For just a second you met his eyes, then you saw the canister he held in his hands and when you tried to dodge, your legs buckled at last, sending you tumbling onto the dragon’s hard head.

Peony landed at your side just as the canister hissed and you felt that wall slam up against your powers once more. The dragon collapsed in an avalanche of hard material and the only reason you didn’t get buried in a massive pile of rubble was Peony. He grabbed you and hauled the two of you away with vines.

Vines that tied you to the ground the second he landed and Endless took one big step forward to stand over you. They were both bleeding, Peony wrapping an arm around ribs that were most likely broken, while a gash down Endless’s shoulder made blood soak into his outfit and drip to the ground from his fingertips.

You stared up at them, fingers flexing and exhaustion making them tremble faintly. It seemed you had miscalculated. Not that it would matter for long, they’d finish taking you out any moment now.

"Careful," Peony whispered, looking tense and worried.

"I know," Endless said and it made no sense to you. They had blocked your powers for now and they could finish you off without worry. And even if you did manage to survive and wriggle free, you were too tired to summon anything else. Probably even too tired to run.

You distantly remembered your mentor saying that a lack of empathy made you reckless and careless with yourself to a frightening degree, that any sort of worry and concerns got wiped away.

Endless moved to kneel over you, knees bracketing your ribs.

He took a deep breath and held out his hands without touching you. "Here goes nothing. If you have some prayers left to say, say them now."

You had never felt his powers used on you. You had felt the void, had known it would try to pull you apart like bad stitching, but he had never cracked you.

There was a split second of something wrong registering, before everything just went utterly numb and detached. You stared up at Endless as he reached into the cracks that had just pulled apart cloth and skin and tissue, bone and organs to reach something else.

You would have called it your soul had you cared to and he reached right for the ripped open wound where everything that made you human, that made you feel like a person, had gotten torn out in a sloppy, brutal manner.

Peony hovered close by worriedly and you found yourself looking at him, his face turning into an apologetic grimace. Why? Had he not intended for you to die when he had betrayed you?

Endless’s fingertips touched the edges of the wound the curse had ripped into you, took a deep breath and exhaled slow. The glow of his eyes brightened and you felt a second crack, a shattering within the shattering.

For a moment the world around you seemed to exist only in bits and pieces that came and went without feeling connected to each other. Cracked stone beneath you, one hand gloved the other not, the smell of ozone and fire, the dark, smog filled sky above, your inhale, a heart beat.

A soul-bound wound shattering.

The second Endless pulled back, you saw that he held something writhing and vile between his fingers, tendrils of void wrapped around it. Then he curled his fingers around the curse, letting it be swallowed by the void.

You felt the second the curse was unmade, the world rushing back in all the details it had lacked as it vanished. The taste of exhaustion on your tongue, the heavy pain in your limbs from overextending yourself so brutally, the ache of your heart and your great confusion.

The last thing you noticed before blacking out was Endless carefully smoothing away the cracks he had made on your chest, still without touching you, looking exhausted and grimly victorious.

.

Part Two

[coriander-candlesticks]

I was pouring a promised libation out to Hermes, Apollo, Aphrodite, and Dionysus this afternoon (I'd asked them for help with a personal matter involving a sibling) and as I was looking up at the sky talking about the situation I saw three hawks start to circle something a little ways in the distance. Hawks aren't exactly uncommon here but it had been a while since I'd seen any, let alone three at once, so it caught my attention.

And while I was trying to figure out what type of bird they were (not an eagle, too short a neck to be a vulture, etc) one of them swooped down into a neighbor's backyard and back up along the tree in my backyard, close enough that, if a branch weren't in the way, I would have been able to see its feather markings. While hawks were somewhat usual, experiencing that certainly was not. So, of course, when I got inside I looked up if any Greek gods are associated with hawks.

And, of course, Apollo is.

I've been thinking a lot about the difference between "this is just a Thing That Happens" and a sign so it was nice to see a direct example of how something differs when it's coming from a god.

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[moonworshippinglesbiandotcom]

if kamala harris wins and she continues to send money to israel, will liberals soothe and satisfy themselves with the belief that trump would’ve sent more, and therefore it’s okay that they did not push for better?

[silverwhittlingknife]

did nobody ask you for red letter day? absurd! *I* wanna know about red letter day!

hello captain and friend anon!!! I KNOW I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS IN SIX MILLION YEARS SO THANK YOU FOR THESE ASKS <333

okay SO the first thing is, you have to understand, my list of documents for this fic looks like this:

anyway i do love this fic even though it FIGHTS ME; it's supposed to have both Fights and Mysteries and both are hard to write 😅

anyway hmmm i'm going to cheat by including a Dick POV section that I am probably gonna end up cutting, because i like it but i also worry that it slows down the dialogue?

excerpt below the cut! the only context that you need is that Dick and Tim have been having the "should Tim call if there's danger in Gotham" argument again (Tim's position is "no"), partly because they both have genuine positions on this argument, but also because it enables them to sublimate an emotional conflict into a work conflict and thus avoid talking or thinking about their feelings, which is a shared pathology goal:

Dick would bet Tim never mouthed off to Bruce like this.  One of the many things that suck about being the knock-off Batman is that none of Dick’s orders really stick.  All of the responsibility without the authority to back it up.  At least when Dick was leading the Titans, they did what he freaking told them. …Mostly. …Okay, sometimes. The awful truth is—and he tries not to dwell on it because it’s pointless and doesn’t achieve anything, but—everything with Tim, sometimes it reminds him of the worst times with the Titans.  The same uneasy feeling of dread, like he’s grabbing for someone who’s slipping through his fingers.  Roy’s crossed arms.  The clock creeping toward midnight, staring at the champagne, knowing in his heart that Kory wasn’t coming.  After Tartarus: watching Roy walk out of the room, watching Donna follow him, staring at Vic’s back, Kory’s back, all of them walking out, and no one left but the newcomers.  When the personal is so fucked up that all you can do is double-down on the professional, and even that doesn’t help, and then— (Get a grip, Grayson.) And anyway, this isn’t like the Titans, is it?  Dick was out-of-line, there, in retrospect. He’s never been good at losing people gracefully.  Pushing Kory for marriage when she was already pulling away, trying to cling to her instead of letting her go.  Giving ultimatums after Tartarus, when he knew the team already resented his orders.  Making decisions behind Vic’s back, trying to force him to stay.  It’s an ugly bad habit, picked up from Bruce: things are slipping, and your people are mad at you, so you get scared, and then you get authoritative and controlling so you can hang onto them, except you can’t control them, so then they get even angrier and you lose them anyway.   It’s easy to see in Bruce, hard to see in himself, but he knows it’s there.  He barely managed to catch himself in time, with the Titans.   Is he doing the same thing to Tim?  Does he need to back off? But Gotham is risky.  Tim’s always been capable, obviously, but…it’s okay to be a bit authoritative, isn’t it?  Tim should call if there’s someone who looks unusually dangerous.  That’s just common sense.  Dick’s not asking for miracles, here.

[rainofcolours]

let me taste the honey of your gold in the burn of my amber (4476 words)

[ (5/? hierarchy of collapse) | Kaijou/Puppyshipping | @hurtcember 2024 Day 5: Faint ]

Summary: If only Seto could redefine the burn of his amber into the taste of Katsuya's wild honeys and warm golds. (Drinking in the den of your enemies when you are in denial about desperately missing someone is a bad idea.) (Potential triggers in ao3 link)

Click below for a few preview paragraphs!

Seto cracked his neck, vision sparking. Fire, the singular noun that looped on repeat, burning just under his skin like an itch he could not quite reach – tongue smouldering with whisky; nose and throat calcified from smoke; blood flowing with his repressed magma of emotions; skin flaring from agitation, alcohol, allergens and all that sat between. A kindled flame sat somewhere in his chest, burning, always burning, casting within its wavering light elongated shadows from the faint memory of a provenance – what he believed (had to believe) was the bottomless fount from which he fuelled the ivory tower of his convictions.

Was that white the righteousness of his knight, resplendent in opposition against the exploitation of black corporations? Or was that white the bleach that saturated his hands, until the blood of his sins were undyed? Or was that white the chalk of a future erased, one that tasted like wild honeys and warm golds?

The room felt claustrophobic – all literal smoke and mirrors, invoking phantoms he did not need to answer to; diffused by a tasteless disco ball that dangled annoyingly close whenever he stood up, scattering in its listless rotations a lurid mosaic of colours from the wayward spotlights onto the lukewarm food.

What did he eat, if at all? Not that it really mattered when everything he touched tasted of ash.

(Read the rest of the fic here!)

[deus-ex-mona]

i’d like to apologise to appare☆manten and appare⭐︎manten alone