#but there's still guilt and horror at it. the lost of control. that's why he's in silent hill

[bbybhr]

Edging with old man logan

Mainly a one-shot just to bust my confidence into publishing my fiction

Old man Logan had become a shell of himself, his mind consumed by the horrors he had witnessed and caused throughout his long, bloody history. The memories of the people he had lost and the things he had done had become a constant torment, an endless barrage of guilt and pain that haunted him every moment of every day. He had become a man of solitude, pushing away anyone who dared to get close,but still afraid of the darkness that followed him nonetheless.

And than you came around. A ray of hope in his never-ending torment. A light in his path he didn't thought he deserved. A chance to truly live, away from the shadows of death.

You were the last shred of control that he had left, the only thing that tethered him to his humanity. He was a man plagued by demons, haunted by a monstrous alter ego that threatened to consume him. In your presence, however, he found a sense of peace, a sense of control. And he had no intention of losing that.

That's why he kisses you with a passion that is nothing short of primal, a raw and unbridled desire that leaves you breathless. He would unleash the beast you tamed upon yourself, and You would fist his white shirt like it's the last thing that keeps you grounded while he tear up your dress in one move.

"Logan..."

You would call him with a desperate tune as you hear his claws, he hooks them under your bra tearing it apart. His claws millimetres away from your skin, moving down to your panties. His eyes devour you after he freed you from every piece of clothing. His claws retracting slowly to his knuckles as he stand on his knees between your legs. Standing there in his full clothing he didn't even unbutton his shirt, too impatient to have you this helpless under him.

"Fucking beautiful"

He whispered and leaned on you again. One hand steading his weight over you, the other kneading your breast, caressing your sensitive nipple here and there. Making your breath hitche.your hands come up, trying to grab his wrist hut he warns you.

"I don't want to see your hands on me tonight princess...do you understand?"

You nod as you grab the sheets with your fingers while you feel his thigh coming up slowly in between your legs, urging you to grind against it and get off as he was too busy working his tongue over your nipple.when you didn't move your hips (not as noticeable as he wanted to)he looked up,moving his head from your breast to your throat.

"Com'on...Don't keep me waiting sweetheart..."

He voiced in hoarse way,making you shiver.

"Hear, let me help you"

He moved his hand down to your core, leaving your poor nipple alone. He dragged his finger over your clit making you jump and squirm.

"Stay still"

He said with an unmoved expression, wanting way more than that. He moved his position, more on his knees now but still hovering over you. The hand he was leaning on to came and grabbed your jaw, forcing your lips open. He put his hand over your parted lips, the ulnar fleshy side of his palm under your teeth.

"Bite"

And as soon as you questioned what he said you got your answer, he pushed two of his fingers inside of you. Stretching your tight hole. You bite at his hand and mewl, feeling his finger pummelin inside you. You could hear the wet sound they made while moving in and out so clearly.

The knot in your stomach pulled tighter and tighter, but as the feeling of the familiar satisfaction approached, he stopped,suddenly pulling out his fingers leaving your hole empty.

Your eyes got widened. Looking up to him with tears in your eyes and his hand still on your mouth.

"Hmm... I don't think so"

He said nonchalantly, his hand over your cunt, fingertips traveling through your foldes, over your pulsing hole. Making you fist the sheets with so much force that beside your shaking legs they trembled too.

"I think you're in for a surprise darlin, too bad you can't beg for it now huh?"

You closed your eyes in the feeling of his fingers filling you again, but now instead of the cruel pace, they scissored inside you. His thumb came up, finding your clit, caressing it lightly at a circular motion.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, you were lost in the sensation of his fingers working on you. Your body begging for a release, your mind focused on getting the orgasm that it missed.

He moved his hands from your mouth without looking away from how your hole swallowed his thik fingers, coating them with your wetness.

"Breath"

He reminded you, making you take a deep breath you didn't know you needed until now

But before you could exhale he put his hand back on. Making you sob as you pushed your head on the pillow in frustration.

"Look at you darlin...I would feel pity for you,princess ,if I didn't know how much you fucking love this"

Everything became so much, you swear you could feel Everything ten times better. But as that feelings build up, he again leaves you on edge. Taking his finger out and leaving your puffy nub alone. You hit your head on the pillow with frustration, overwhelmed by Everything.

"Imma give you ten seconds...cum or your gonna spend the whole night like this"

You quickly nod and he shoved his finger inside of you again picking up a relentless pace, his hand slamming against your cunt...ten seconds?you only needed five till you feel that mind blowing release, it snapped something inside you. And before you realise you gushed all over his hand

"There we go...my good fucking girl"

He moves his hand from your mouth but his fingers still inside of you, riding you down your high. But even after that he goes on.

"Please...logan"

You beg for it to stop only for him to smirk, taking your state in.

"We're not done even forplaying sugar"

He leans and whispers on your lips.

[my-fancy-hat]

[spoilers] willfully choosing to ignore one or another facet of james' complex relationship with mary is to simply missing half of the experience the story offers. it's clear as water why james is in silent hill, if he didn't loved mary he wouldn't be here in the first place, it's the tragedy that his love got tained with hatred (or rather say, frustration and powerlessness) and per se, guilt and shame for having these negative thoughts toward his wife, that brought him here (aside from... the obvious one, he's a murderer, and all that comes afterwards). silent hill has no barriers in navigating the grey area, but the horror about it it's how familiar and close it feels: it's the psychological torture of a caretaker running and clashing and suffocating at the imminent death of a beloved one without a net-support to contain him. as for mary, it's usually common for chronic patients to have this shift of erratic emotions from depression to straight-up hostility, and due to the closeness they have with their caretaker they pour everything onto them, because her effords to beat the illness are futile againt her inminent death, either james' sacrifices did anything, so these feelings of frustration and resentment are completely valid at that point to exists. we know james spend three long years nursing mary, activately watching her body "rotting in life", any form of intimacy was unthinkable, and this is where shame and guilt reappears as he tries to repress his needs, both for returning to normalcy and his sex drive. none of them is there to blame for what happened to their marriage, and no one wants to feel impotent as you see how you can't save the person you love most. but at the end james still killed mary, he wanted his life back because he wasn't capable of continue being the husband of the unavailable wife, the lost cause, and have endured and sacrificed so much for nothing. I won't argue james is good or bad person, but you may consider he carries on the darkest yet realistic thoughts and emotions one may live through a situation like that, and guilt is one of the essencial components of making a human; he's a deeply disturbed man with a fragile mind. and recognizing that isn't an apology, he deserves to suffer for what he did too (not what he felt prior to the murder because those sentiments were expected and understandable), it's about grasping the entire display of the text. james came to silent hill to commit suicide, and this story exists because he wants to get tortured and punished for what he did. there's few stories that treat heavy twisted themes and real trauma with such care and respect.

I LOVE SILENT HILL 2 I LOVE THE PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR OF CONFRONTING YOUR TRAUMA AND MISTAKES

[cursedonyx]

I read the post about students reacting to mc dying in their arms. You should do the professors (including Black)

Thank you for the ask! 💚

Hogwarts Legacy Professors React to MC Dying in Their Arms

Link to student reactions here

⚠️Content warning for Death and Body Horror Below the Cut⚠️

Professor Hecat

Dina Hecat had rarely found herself as impressed with a student as she was with you. Your tenacity, your aptitude for magic, your ability to pick up new and complex defensive magic was unmatched, though Sebastian made a valiant effort to maintain a solid second place behind you. Such was your prowess that Dina thought you might make an excellent Auror, and determined to tutor you privately once you expressed an interest. It was a thrill to begin with, to teach you all the tips and tricks an Auror might need in their arsenal, you picking them all up as if it was as easy as breathing, to the point that Dina grew complacent.

She’d heard tales of your exploits during your fifth year, of course, and fought beside you during the Battle for the Repository. She was confident that you could handle anything thrown at you, and you impressed her over and over and over. But all it took was one tiny misstep, one foot wrong, and all her Ministry training and the reason behind it was thrown into sharp relief.

The troll was supposed to be an easy dispatch. You’d defeated one when you were brand new to magic, after all. Dina had taught you an advanced form of confringo, or at least, she’d taught you the theory. It was a powerful spell, a short step below feindfyre, and she was eager to see it in practice. But the troll had flung its club just as you began the incantation, and everything went wrong. You were distracted as it flew towards Dina, and you lost control of the spell.

The resulting inferno was too much for mere aguamenti, and there was nothing Dina could do but wait for the flames to die down, listening to you scream as you blundered about in the middle of the fire, unable to find a way out. When the smoke cleared, all that was left of you was a charred skeleton, your clawed hand leaving sooty streaks on her skin as she took it, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare, some kind of illusion or hallucination, anything but brutal, cold reality.

There was an investigation, of course. Why was a seventh-year student out fighting trolls? Why was this student doing so under the instruction of a faculty member that should have known better? Why had this professor allowed things to get so out of control?

Dina avoided Azkaban for her neglect by a narrow margin, but she had to give up her teaching post. She passed a little over a year later, having drunk herself to death, unable to cope with the guilt.

Professor Ronen

Abraham Ronen had always had such a love of fun and games, determined to make each of his classes a joy for his students. Yes, he recycled ideas through the terms, a large timetable in his office holding large lists of games he could incorporate that was appropriate for each year of Charms classes. But even so, after several years in his position, he found these games began to grow repetitive, and he wanted to liven things up.

That’s where you came in. Your ingenuity was famous throughout Hogwarts for a reason, and so he called on you one day after class, requesting your assistance in thinking up new games to play. He gave you a list of the spells he was to teach his seventh-year students, promising to waive your homework for a month if you helped out. You took to the task like a kappa to water, assailing Abraham with a variety of ‘games’ that would help the other students learn. The problem was, most of your games involved far too much risk for his liking, including trying to steal a dragon egg. Despite your protestations that you knew where to find one, Abraham wasn’t having it. But he’d promised, and you’d promised, and a deal was a deal.

So extreme were your ideas that when you proposed the still dangerous but comparatively tame idea of delayed-action bombarda combined with glacius, Abraham thought the idea of students running through a booby-trapped field, freezing the latent explosive spells, was a positively marvellous idea.

The students were less keen. They, unexposed to your particular brand of fun, saw the folly in such a practice. But you, determined that everyone should have fun, decided to be the first across the field. Abraham realised far too late just how foolish this game was, and had barely raised his wand as you danced across the minefield before disaster struck, and you were blown apart.

He tried his best to gather the pieces of you that rained down. A severed foot here, a shattered forearm there, holding his robes like an apron and gathering you up. It was futile, of course, for once a witch or wizard’s head is detached from their body, even the very best healers only have a few seconds to make it right.

He could never get that image out of his mind. One moment you were smiling, laughing, joking, teasing the others for their hesitancy, and the next you were in bits, everything that you were tumbling from the sky in slow motion. Every student in that class was scarred for life, set to fail their Charms NEWTs, fifty promising careers suddenly thrown down the toilet. Abraham resigned in shame, and did not go home to his wife. He wandered until he became lost, and lost himself until he found a cliff. Only by shattering himself on the rocks below could he find some form of atonement for his sins.

Professor Sharp

Aesop Sharp had always preferred to be somewhat gruff and stern. It kept his pupils in line, and his firm but fair approach ensured that everyone that took his classes passed with good marks, even if they had a tendency to blow things up, a practice he’d secretly taken to calling “doing a Garreth.” You, on the other hand, slipped past his guard. Maybe it was your incredible aptitude for offensive and defensive magic, or perhaps it was your endearing wit and charm. It could have been your happy-go-lucky nature, your ability to smile no matter how dire things seemed to be, always poking fun at yourself before anyone else. He found himself growing fond of you, thinking of you as some kind of wayward nibling.

He still had to give you detentions on occasion, of course, because even you couldn’t cheek the Potions Master and get away with it, no matter how well-intentioned your words had been. He found such hours to be more of a delight than a chore, happy to talk to you about anything and everything, even laughing a little as you revealed some of the mischief you’d gotten up to, things he’d normally give more detentions for.

One evening in the dungeons, you were cheerfully scrubbing out the cauldrons, and you asked him about is days as an Auror. You told him about an Ashwinder camp you’d caught wind of, and how you wished you could eradicate them. Aesop knew he should report it to Officer Singer and keep you out of it, but hell, he’d seen you fight, and there was something in him that yearned for that spark of excitement that came with defeating his enemies. He suggested travelling with you to wipe them out, considering it worth at least three detentions. You joked that this meant you had two free passes to be cheeky in class, and he told you not to push your luck.

If only he’d known. If only he’d taken a moment to think. If only he’d listened to his Auror instincts that told him this was a bad idea.

You’d both crept up on the camp, wands at the ready. There weren’t many of them, but enough to pose a bit of a challenge. Aesop had every confidence in you, he knew your skills after all, but unfortunately, the Ashwinders did as well. The moment they saw you, they didn’t bother with their typical hexes. They knew enough about you to know they couldn’t waste a second if they wanted to live. Three Killing Curses were sent your way, and one found its mark.

Aesop thought he knew loss when his partner was killed in Scarborough, but this was something else. Watching the light go out of your eyes, the ghost of your last, confident smile on your face, broke him like nothing had broken him before. He didn’t even try to resist when the Ashwinders took him, snatching his wand and throwing him in a cage along with the kneazles they’d poached. He couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind, your still body lying amid the debris of the Forbidden Forest, already ignored and forgotten by your foes, left for whatever scavengers crept through the night to feast. He refused food and water as he was dragged from one end of the country to the other, kept prisoner by those that had killed you. It took weeks to kill him, but one morning, lying on the floor of that cold, hard cage, he just didn’t wake up.

Professor Black

Phineus Nigellus Black preferred to let the students of Hogwarts think he was a cold-hearted, pompous bastard. It was much easier to work this way, easier to make the tough decisions a Headmaster of Hogwarts needed to make. Budget cuts, cancelling quidditch, extending exam season and banning Hogsmeade visits to ensure student safety was easier to weather if his heart was already hardened to the complaints and cries of woe, the bitter mutters, the whispered insults, the playground songs made up to poke fun at him. Yes, it hurt, but he was better than that. Stronger. Prouder. He had a job to do, after all, and Merlin only knew the previous Headmaster had left a hellish mess for him to set right. He had to be hard to be kind. He preferred not to pay attention to those around him, erecting a hard wall around his heart.

You, however… you were different. He heard about what you did in your fifth year, and though he found it hard to believe at first, he paid a bit more attention to you as time went by, and found the tales of your prowess were, if anything, undersold. Phineas made an effort in your final year to take you under his wing, seeing a potential candidate for the position of Minister for Magic in your future. He wanted to teach you the finer points of politics and bootlicking, introduce you to the right people, like the Gaunts, the Blacks, the Malfoys and more to give you the boost you needed to clamber up that slippery ladder. The only gifts he knew how to give.

You were resistant, of course. What kind of firecracker would you be if you weren’t? Phineas relished the challenge, demanding more and more of your free time until you began to understand just what kind of privileges came along with knowing the right people and scratching the right backs. Ominis knew it and used it to his advantage perhaps less than he should have done, but this seemed to tip the scales in Phineas' favour, and you finally began to listen and learn from his wise tutelage. He found himself swelling with pride as you whipped about your newfound allegiances, terrifying students and teachers alike, reining you in when you frightened Hobhouse so much he wet himself, his scolding gentle and warm. He might have had five children, but you showed promise.

Unfortunately, even the shrewd and clever Phineas couldn’t have foreseen the simple dangers of existing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He’d taken you to the trophy room, waxing lyrical about the famous witches and wizards that had come through Hogwarts, pointing out their accolades with relish, his hand on your shoulder, a rare and affectionate gesture of genuine pride. He told you that you could achieve just as much, perhaps more, if you applied all your skills and knowledge in the right ways. He even smiled at you, and his eyes were warm.

You asked to see a particularly bright medal on a high shelf, and Phineas, taking a leaf out of your muggleborn book, decided to give the other life a try, just for once. If a muggleborn could be as impressive as you, perhaps he didn’t have to use magic for everything. He tried to reach the medal by hand, even climbing on the shelf to do so, smiling as it made you laugh. He climbed down, medal in hands, his brow furrowing as your face grew ashen. The next moment, you had barrelled into him, throwing him out of the way of the falling shelf.

By the time he picked himself up, scolding you for your behaviour, it was too late. The falling shelves and shattered glass had crushed you, slashing your neck. By the time Phineas realised you weren’t just pratting about like you usually did, you’d bled out, your skin pale, your eyes wide and unseeing. Phineas sat on the floor beside your corpse, holding your fingers closed over the medal that read:

Most Impressive Display of Honour.

Professor Garlick

Mirabel Garlick had endured her share of enamoured students, villagers, and even fellow professors in her time. She dealt with it all with the grace and decorum that was expected of such a sunny personality, treating all and sundry with the same level of ardent attention and big, bright smiles. She had a soft spot for you though, someone who appreciated magical plants for the marvels they were. She didn’t mind when you stayed after class to quiz her on the less known properties of pufferpods or the right way to tamp down earth around a mandrake to ensure maximum comfort. She’d heard all about your little adventure to see the giant venomous tentacula, and had been curious about your knowledge ever since.

She was more than happy to help you grow your plants bigger and better than what the school board advised. She even cleared out Greenhouse Four for your personal use, encouraging you to grow things most students would only ever see if they were extremely unlucky. But she trusted you. She believed you knew what you were doing, swept up by your enthusiasm, tempted by her own curiosity to see just how far you could push your skills.

So it was that the pair of you ended up breeding a new kind of Devil’s Snare, one that was resistant to light and heat. It took time, and though you both occasionally wondered what the purpose of such a plant would be, you were too excited by the prospect of your experiments bearing fruit to worry about consequences. Mirabel should have known better. The only defence against a Devil’s Snare is light and heat, and both of you pushed away thoughts of protection against such a thing. It seemed playful, intelligent, happy.

It was early on a Saturday morning when Mirabel decided to look in on Greenhouse Four. It was only by chance that she had decided to do so, and she would spend the rest of her life wishing she had been five minutes sooner. She saw the Devil’s snare distract you with dancing tendrils as it had so many times before, only this time, you were too close. It wrapped you up faster than a spider wraps a fly, crushing the life from you. No matter how many incendios she cast, no matter how much she shouted and beat at it, even conjuring a torch to hold against the vines, all it did was hurt you more as it crushed the life from you, each snap of your ribs loud above your gasping breaths, the crunch of your spine grinding in her ears, the blood from your nose splattering on the floor as your lungs punctured, your eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even still you fought to draw breath until there was no more room in your chest.

Mirabel had never felt so helpless. She sank to her knees, waiting as the Devil’s Snare took you into its core to feed upon your corpse. She didn’t resist when the vines caressed her face, then wrapped around her throat, her wand lying forgotten on the floor of Greenhouse Four.

Professor Fig

Eleazar Fig had always had a soft spot for you. He’d watched you grow from a novice to a master in the space of a year, popular and clever, beloved by your peers and professors alike. He always made sure to make time for you in his office, sharing a cup of tea as you discussed your past adventures, gossiped about the students, or just had a jolly good chinwag. You both shared a love of adventure, and made time at least once a month to get up to mischief, whether it was investigating old ruins, clearing out mongrel dens, or just running the occasional errand for those in need. You delighted in having your mentor along for the ride, and he adored helping you where he could.

Unfortunately for you, your exploits over the years made you enemies. Though you helped a good many people and made plenty of friends, there were those that were hard done by when you stole from them or caused them trouble on behalf of someone else. Eleazar knew this, and made sure to continually warn you to watch your back, clucking like a mother hen. Perhaps he warned you too much, his words of caution becoming background noise as you continually avoided retribution for your misdeeds. Eleazar did his best to keep you safe all the same, ardently researching your enemies and eliminating plots before they came to fruition.

But after almost a year of no schemes against you, he dared to relax. He invited you out to lunch at Steepley and Sons, intending to enjoy a quiet cup of tea, some nice sandwiches, and perhaps even a slice of cake, his treat, of course. He wanted to catch up properly, to make sure you were happy, on top of your homework, getting on with your friends. You wanted to know how he was coping after Miriam’s passing, if he was back on the scene, how his work as a teacher was going, and can he please get you out of detention with Professor Sharp?

Neither of you expected after all this time there were still those that held a grudge. The young wizard helping Mrs Steepley was actually an Ashwinder, and they poisoned your cup of tea. It took a moment to take effect, but once it did, the only way to save you was locked away in Hogwarts Castle. Even accio couldn’t have got the antidote to you in time.

Eleazar watched as your face went ashen, seemingly sinking in on itself as you clawed at your throat. He caught you as you listed sideways, his eyes locked on yours, trying to comfort you, soothe you as you struggled to draw breath, not even a pin able to pass through the tightness of your throat. Your nails left bloody furrows on your neck, your feet kicking feebly even as someone ran for J Pippin’s, hoping he’d be able to help. Eleazar knew better. He just held you as your body jerked, the last of your life sliding through his fingers as he tried oh so hard to hold on to it, begging you silently to just hold on a little longer. You were all he had, the last spark of joy in his cold, dark life. Once you were gone, there was nothing left for him. A swift unforgivable curse delivered to his temple as he lay in his chamber was enough to ensure he could see you and Miriam again.

witchdoctorpirate ~💚

[kisses-for-you]

Preference: They accidentally hurt you

Titans Characters X Fem!Reader

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Gar Logan, Conner Kent, Kory Anders, Donna Troy & Hank Hall.

Dick Grayson:

You and Dick had gotten into an argument and it was getting heated. He was risking the team's life by making stupid and reckless decisions, or at least that's what they were in your opinion.

Without thinking, you yell, "You don't have to risk everyone's lives just because Jason died and you think it's your fault!"

SLAP!

Dick's hand makes contact with your face as he slaps you in a fit of rage. The room seems to freeze as Dick's eyes widen with horror at the realisation of what he's just done. Your hand instinctively reaches to your cheek, the hurt in your eyes making your boyfriend feel even more guilty.

Dick immediately recoils, his expression shifting from anger to deep regret. "Fuck. Y/N, I... I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice filled with remorse. He takes a step back, grappling with the weight of his actions. His eyes search yours, pleading for forgiveness, but the pain in your gaze is palpable.

Dick takes a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs, regret etched across his face. He reaches out to cup your cheek, however, fear grips you, and you instinctively shrink back, avoiding his touch.

"I need some space," you finally manage to say, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and sadness. He nods solemnly, understanding he fucked up badly.

-

Jason Todd:

You and Jason were training and since you were still fairly new to the team, you thought it'd be nice to train with Jason as you're the closest with him.

You're meant to block his hits but as the bo staff heads your way, you hesitate for some reason and react too late, resulting in Jason accidentally hurting you as the staff strikes you. It's just a small mistake and it doesn't hurt too badly but he immediately rushes to your side.

"Shit. Babe, are you okay?" His concerned expression mirrors his regret. You give him a small, reassuring smile, saying, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just a small bruise anyway. Let's just get back to training."

He shakes his head, still looking guilty even though it wasn't his fault. "No, let's just finish here. You shouldn't keep training if you're hurt. We can always train tomorrow," Jason insists, genuine concern in his eyes. You know there's no point in arguing with him, so you just sigh and nod.

-

Gar Logan:

You and Gar were alone in the Titans Tower, where Gar was struggling to stay in his human form. He was incredibly upset (you didn't know why) and his intense emotions were causing him to shapeshift into an animal, which he was trying to prevent.

"Y/N.. You need to.. go," he whispers, his voice strained as he tries to fight against the transformation. Concern etched across your face, you refuse to leave his side. You assure him, "Gar, I'm not leaving you alone like this."

You try to reach out to touch his trembling hand, but before you can make contact, Gar involuntarily shifts into a green tiger. In his tiger form, Gar loses control and accidentally swipes at you with his claws. The scratch isn't too deep, but it's enough to draw blood and sting, causing you to step back in shock. Gar, now more distressed, manages to regain control, turning back into his human form as he apologizes frantically.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I- I lost control. I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammered, rushing to your side, panic etched across his face.

You assess the scratch on your arm, trying to downplay the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "Gar, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it doesn't even hurt that bad."

Gar, tormented by guilt, searches for a first aid kit in the Tower. As he tends to your wound, you insist that it wasn't his fault, attempting to calm him in his distressed state. While Gar is patching up your wound, you notice a mixture of guilt and fear in his eyes. You gently take his hand and reassure him, "Gar, accidents happen. Don't blame yourself." Despite your comforting words, Gar remains visibly distraught, haunted by the fear of potentially causing you harm again.

-

Conner Kent:

Conner had just returned from a mission with the Titans. He looked exhausted but relieved as he walked through the door. You greeted him with a warm smile, knowing how tiring his superhero responsibilities could be.

As Conner hugged you, his thoughts wandered to what happened during the mission. He started to get lost in his thoughts, and his strength momentarily slipped out of his control. He squeezed you too tightly, causing you to wince as the force of the hug became too much. You were left in a little pain, and probably with a bruise. Conner looked concerned as you pulled away, realising what he had just done.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I don't know what happened. I started thinking about the mission and then I just..." Conner rambled, trying to explain and apologize to you. But you interrupted him and said, "Conner, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to. Don't worry about it." No matter how much you try to reassure Conner, however, he still feels guilty and blames himself for hurting you, even if it was accidental.

For the next couple of weeks, he's extra careful around you and way more gentle. He also tries to find ways to make it up to you; he doesn't need to though because you know he didn't mean to do what he did.

-

Hank Hall:

You and Hank had been watching a football match on TV together, enjoying the rare day off. As Hank headed to the kitchen to grab you both a drink and some snacks, an idea sparked in your mind. You decided you were going to scare him; it was a fairly innocent idea.

Within a couple of seconds, you start to tiptoe after him, planning to playfully surprise him. You just wanted to see his reaction so you could make fun of him if he screamed like a girl (you never know, he might). As you reach the kitchen door, you take a deep breath, preparing to unleash your surprise.

However, as you sneak up behind him and scream, Hank's reflexes kick in. In an instant, he spins around, his combat instincts taking over. Before either of you can even realise what's happening, his hand shoots out and strikes you right in the face. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the sudden impact.

Time seems to freeze for a moment as you both register what just happened. Hank's eyes widen in shock and horror as he sees you wince from the unintentional blow. Concern fills Hank's eyes as he drops whatever he is holding in his hands, rushing to your side. "Oh fuck, babe, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he blurts out, panic evident in his voice.

You hold your nose, pretty sure you have a nosebleed. "I'm... okay." As the initial shock wears off, you can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "At least now we know that your instincts are top-notch," you quip, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain you're feeling. You move your hand away from your face, revealing a trickle of blood from your nose. Hank winces, guilt written all over his face.

He quickly grabs a tissue from the nearby counter, handing it to you with a mix of concern and remorse in his eyes. "I didn't mean to... I just thought..." Hank stammers, struggling to find the right words to express his regret. You take the tissue and give him a reassuring smile, realizing it was just an unfortunate accident.

"It's okay, Hank. It was my idea to scare you like that so if anything, it's my fault," you say, dabbing at your nose. Despite the pain, you can't help but appreciate the genuine worry in his eyes.

-

Kory Anders:

You and the Titans were preparing for another battle against an intimidating villain who was threatening the city of San Francisco. You were standing by Kory's side, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Tonight, the stakes were higher than ever before. The villain, known as Mother Mayhem, was ready to unleash chaos upon the city. Kory's eyes were glowing with determination as she walked towards the impending threat. You followed closely, aware of the danger that awaited you.

As the confrontation continues, Mother Mayhem launches a devastating attack that catches both you and Kory off guard. In a moment of panic, Kory's powers surge uncontrollably, and a burst of energy erupts from her, unintentionally striking you. The impact sends you flying to the ground and pain radiates through your body.

Kory's eyes widen in horror as she realises what just happened. She rushes to your side, leaving the rest of the Titans to deal with the threat. Her concern is evident in every step. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, kneeling beside you. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Despite the pain, you manage a weak smile, reaching out to reassure her. "It's okay, Kory. Accidents happen. Besides, we have a more important matter at hand," you say, referring to the villain you're currently fighting.

"I promise, I'll control my powers better next time," she vows, gently cradling you in her arms. She then stops to think, unsure of whether you should get back to the fight in your condition. "Are you sure you want to fight? I don't think that's the best idea for you right now, Y/N."

You nod, determination flickering in your eyes despite the pain. "I'll be fine, Kory. Just a little shaken, but I can still help. We need to stop her before things get worse." Reluctantly, Kory lets you go, her worry etched across her face. She stands up, taking a moment to make sure you're stable before rejoining the battle. 

-

Donna Troy:

You and Donna were strolling through through the dimly lit alleyways of the city. As you turned a corner, a group of menacing thugs emerged from the shadows, surrounding you both. Donna's grip on your hand tightened instinctively as she stepped forward, ready to defend you from the impending threat.

Donna's eyes narrow, her instincts kicking in. She swiftly reaches for her lasso, the golden glow illuminating the dark alley. But you find yourself in the line of fire without even noticing. A sudden movement from one of the thugs causes you to stumble, and in an attempt to protect you, Donna swings her lasso with lightning speed. However, the unexpected jolt of the situation results in her accidentally striking you instead of the intended target.

Time seems to slow as the golden rope wraps around you, the energy coursing through your body. A surge of pain shoots through your veins, and you gasp as the unexpected impact takes you by surprise. Donna's eyes widen in horror as she realises her mistake, immediately releasing the lasso. The thugs seem to take this as a chance to run and escape. Stunned and in pain, you stagger backwards, clutching the area where the lasso struck you. Donna rushes to your side, her concern evident in her eyes. "Fuck. Y/N, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, her voice filled with regret.

As Donna checks on you, you assure her that you're okay, though the pain still lingers. The two of you decide to go back to her apartment to assess the situation and tend to your injuries. Donna's guilt is palpable, but you understand it was an accident in the heat of the moment. Together, you make your way back, Donna keeping a protective arm around you.

-

[thebaronsilver]

First of the bat, let me say this as a disclaimer. I love the og Percy Jackson series. Secondly, my fav character is Nico and then the Percy from the og series.

Do you know why I make this distinction? Because, Heroes of Olympus ruined Percy's basic characteristics.

Just think, this is the percy who was bullied in almost every school he attended (except, maybe, Goode). Even, camp half blood,till he came back from the first quest. This is the guy with so strong a sense of loyalty that he was willing to get into trouble with the teachers for Grover when they studied together, was willingly an outcast because he would rather be friends with the one guy everyone picked on and thus be bullied himself. He was pretty excited to have a brother once he got over the whole Cyclops thing, too. This is the same guy who spent all his free time looking for a runaway kid who said he hated him. Maybe it was out of misplaced guilt. Maybe it was due to the fact this guy big brothered everyone he could get away with. (Atleast, I felt like that.)

While we're on that issue. Was Nico right to blame Percy for Bianca's death? Absolutely, not. But he was also a grieving ten year old who just lost his only family (even though she had, in a way, already left him behind. But that's an entirely different rant on the Hunters as an institutions. Bianca was also a child, remember.). And considering that Nico changed his tune once he found the truth out and even helped Percy and the camp willingly afterwards, I like to think he more than made up for that mistake.

There's even a part where Percy refuses to burden Nico with the prophesy and claims it for himself. Considering that till then he was trying not to even think about it, I believe we can easily claim that Nico was in some ways important to Percy. Maybe not in the same way his Mom, Annabeth Or Grover was to him, but still an important person.

Then we have in the last Olympian, Percy using Nico as an example why Children of Hades shouldn't be treated as Pariahs. Because if not for him and the reinforcements his powers brought (not even counting the three whole deities he brought along) the casualties would have been higher. (It was Hades who locked Percy up. He even confirms that Nico hadn't had a clue. Nico in turn broke him out and got himself in trouble. Then in a turn of events, Percy starts to blame Nico for something that wasn't in his control. A reversal of roles so to speak. I had thought that it had been momentary anger on Percy's part, but apparently considering all the references to how Nico betrayed him in the HoO, it wasn't. He'd pushed it aside momentarily, it seems.)

Percy was not to blame for what happened to Nico in the original series. Life isn't fair and it just happened to be extra unfair to Nico. Even then Percy went out of his way to look after the kid, to make sure he had a safe space.

This is the Percy who I liked. The Son of Neptune only emphasised this. Even without his memories, he took Hazel and to a lesser extent Frank under his wings. He actually recognised Nico in a vague way. Not just Annabeth (which is something else I have beef with. What about his mother? Why didn't he remember Sally till a lot later and even then he didn't let her know he was safe till a lot later?)

Then comes the Mark of Athena. He apparently told so many horror stories to the 7 that there was a debate on whether or not they should save a 13 year old demigod, the brother to one of them, from a preventable death. This wasn't like the Titan war were demigods could be the enemy. Then why was there even a debate? It's like all that loyalty disappeared. This is the guy that was once bullied at every school he's attended. Doesn't he know the impact of telling tales when people aren't there to defend themselves? To tell the whole story? Then House of Hades. Every single person in that ship thought that Nico was spooky, creepy whatever and all that poor kid was doing was exist. He made himself scarce, barely spoke unless necessary and even then they were like ew, creepy. It's like Percy's personal loyalty became loyalty to just Annabeth. Fuck whatever happens to anyone else. It upsets me.

The later books ruined Percy as a character. And I will stand by this.

[neversetyoufree]

GOD I just realized.

When Jeanne goes to Gévaudan in the present day, she's dead set on killing Chloé. And that sense of obligation isn't just due to her sense of duty as a bourreau; she very clearly feels personal guilt about failing to kill Chloé the previous time. Why?

Jeanne goes into Gévaudan thinking that Chloé really is the Beast. And that means she thinks Chloé's been killing the people of Gévaudan, which she must know Chloé in her right mind would rather die than do. Hell, Chloé even asked Jeanne to kill her when they met on the cliff as beast and bourreau, as she really was laden down with the guilt of "causing" the deaths of her family and the horror of the true nature of the "beast." Jeanne has every reason to think that Chloé has been killing her people and is suicidally miserable about it.

And it's not just that Chloé wants to die and Jeanne failed to kill her. As far as Jeanne can tell when she comes back to Gévaudan, Chloé is still alive and living Jeanne's personal worst nightmare. When Jeanne cries to Vanitas about the fear of losing herself in the atelier, she's not just scared of a loss of identity or control. She's terrified that her violent impulses and loss of self will one day bring her to hurt Luca—the person she loves and most wants to protect.

Chloé is absolutely devoted to the people of Gévaudan. Jeanne knows that, and when she thinks Chloé is the beast, she thinks she's been killing them. She thinks that Chloé has lost herself to her violent impulses and is hurting the people she most wants to protect. So of course Chloé has to die! Jeanne herself also desperately wants to die rather than risk hurting a loved one. It's why Vanitas's promise is a comfort to her.

Jeanne is haunted by the thought that she failed Chloé by not killing her, and that guilt is informed by a bone-deep understanding. Jeanne wants to kill Chloé because she sees herself in the horror of what she thinks Chloé's situation is, and she cannot allow Chloé to keep living their shared worst nightmare. Chloé has to die because she cannot exist in a world where she's hurt her people, and Jeanne can relate to that better than anyone.

That's why Vanitas has to emphasize that Chloé never hurt the people of Gévaudan when he finally talks Jeanne into saving her. Jeanne's guilt may not be the only reason she tries so hard to kill Chloé. There's also her job as a bourreau and her sense that she's simply bound to carry out orders, but I don't think she initially enters Gévaudan with the blank mindset of a thoughtless drone.

Jeanne goes to Gévaudan to kill Chloé because she knows that Chloé would rather die than live having hurt her beloved people. There is no saving her once she's crossed that line. And Jeanne understands that because she's terrified of the exact same thing.

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[hanayori89]

IN TANDEM

*Temple of Time*

Link wasn't surprised to see the vagrant's hood still draped over Zelda's face.

He approached her without so much as a single word, knowing from his encounter with Ilia that Zelda did the right thing by placating her. Still, he couldn't help but continue to fault her for her implication.

"It seems you made it here without any trouble." She pulled her hood down, revealing a stolid expression scribbled on her face. A grunt caught Link off guard as it escaped his nostrils instead of his lips.

"Do you still incriminate me with the shadow?" Zelda questioned.

He let out a sigh of surrender. "No, Zelda. I never incriminated you. I saw the horror of it with my own eyes. I understand why you did it. I just wish you wouldn't leave me in the dark all the time. Am I not your knight? Do we not have to join forces, lifetime after lifetime, to continue the same mission? Why do you mistrust me so much? Why couldn't you have warned me about Ilia?"

"What about my behavior leads you to believe I mistrust you? Did you ever stop to think I did it to protect you? That perhaps, I too, feel guilt that you must be the holder of the Triforce of Courage?"

"You wield that which is wisdom; you do not go without your cross to bear."

"Yes, I will forever rule Hyrule because of the goddesses' dictum. However, you will forever be the one to fight for it. And in fighting for it, you are not only protecting it against the wicked, but you will also continue to correct the mistakes made on my behalf. For wisdom only comes from mistakes." She pressed her lips into a firm line that emphasized the crestfallen gaze of her eyes.

"Tell me...why do you think Hero Shade has disintegrated into the background of time? Who do you truly think is responsible? How do you think Ganondorf got into the Sacred Realm?" Zelda let out a bone-chilling laugh. "Evil will always exert its dominion, whether it possesses the Triforce or not. It knows only one way. But the one who is wise should know better than to give it an open door. To welcome it forth. As I did then."

Link shuffled his feet, unsure of an appropriate response. He was torn between his duty to protect Zelda and the fragility of her emotions or to protect a man whom he exalted more than himself.

A man that was more of a hero than he would ever be.

"What happened to him is not your fault, Zelda!"

"Don't you understand, Link?" Her voice was dissonant from her usual placid exterior as she began to scream. "It is my fault! It will always be my fault, just as you will always be the honorable knight lost within the cogs of time! We will never be free, even should time end! So, do not adjudicate what you do not understand. I bear many responsibilities, but my greatest one is to never let another soul fight on behalf of my negligence." Zelda ripped a shard from her neck, dangling it before Link. Her voice eased into a calmer tempo.

"I cannot control the fused shadow that remains in our realm, but by my tear's decree, I will make sure nothing ever breaks through it again."

"Wait a second, that isn't part of the Mirror of Twilight?"

Zelda shook her head. "You knew it wasn't. Midna destroyed it. This is my tear from that day, when I watched Midna go. I may never see her again in this life, but with this, I can control inter-realm travel. It seems Y/N hasn't told you. I will presume she hasn't mentioned the fused shadow within her or its origin."

Link knew this should all be piecing together, but he still wasn't comprehending Zelda's words. He stood there, stupefied. 

"Link, there is a shadow within all of us. As I mentioned earlier, evil only knows one way. But good can go two ways. Do you know what dictates good to go towards evil? Why do we smile at the light of the sun but frown at the darkness of the moon?"

Link's lips parted; the answer caught in his throat. A glint from the Rod of Dominion caught Link's eye. His Master Sword, which had felt impossibly heavy amongst his weary muscles, now felt like a caress of air against his back. He unsheathed it, his Triforce incinerated as if it wanted to meld his flesh into the very steel that was his blade.

That's when he caught a reflection in his sword. A reflection that was not this own.

The familiar thirst of eyes steeped in the color of blood peered back at him. The recognized color of ashen bangs hung down and poked against his eyelids, the sight forcing him to attempt to swat them away.

But no matter how many times he smoothed them to the side, they remained untouched in his reflection.

Links's fingers trembled as he slid them down his cheek, the tips hovering above his lips and the depraved grin that was now present.

Only his lips weren't smiling.

With nothing left to ponder, Link spun swiftly on his heels, only to feel his blade being hampered down by the weight of his shadow.

"Hi, Link." Dark Link stood atop his blade. A rogue fang protruding from his smirk drew blood from his lower lip.

Shit.

The Rod of Dominion glistened once more, begging Link to notice it. Only when he paid attention did he see Zelda holding it in her hands. She thrust it in Link's direction.

"The Rod of Dominion can be quite useful at commanding the attention of statues. It has one other function, which, regrettably, you did not need during Ganondorf's invasion." Zelda's eyes glimmered in synchronicity with the chiseled metal of the rod's shaft.

Link swung the rod down. Within an instant, Dark Link was off his sword and positioned next to him. Zelda's voice was a faint tickle in his ear behind him.

"It can collaborate with shadows."

Link slowly turned his head over to his shadow.

Dark mimicked him, slowly turning his head towards Link, his cocky snarl still intact.

"Ready, partner?"

Dark Link's laugh was a jarring wrecking ball to what remained of the already demolished Temple of Time.

Edited:12/8/24

Who would have guessed this is what the sages had in mind? The Rod of the Dominion, the mover of stone, is also an influencer of shadow. While Link considers himself forsaken by Hylia, he is claimed by his darker half. With a reluctant partner by his side, Link can't help but wonder: Which shadow should he worry about more?

The beast within Ilia or the beast of his darker self?

The beast known as Dark Link.

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[gravelsong]

I call this the "what if I overanalyzed the HELL out of the Arcee and Carly interaction" post because this scene was really good

Before this, the ONLY time we've really seen them interact is when Arcee saved Carly from falling. They're still on unfamiliar terms, probably only knowing each other through name. Arcee's come over to see Carly, being curious about her, wondering what she's doing, or both. Carly clearly doesn't give a shit though, responding in a very short, and clipped answer.

Okay, so she doesn't seem to be that thrilled about Arcee being over there. That's okay, Arcee will simply ask what Carly's doing instead of beating around the bush, which Carly ALSO responds to with a short, sarcastic answer. Her answer doesn't really help Arcee work out what's going on all that much, so she asks for further elaboration, both wanting to know more and also learn something new about Earth.

Carly gives another vague answer ("gotta start somewhere") so Arcee offers to join her in her activity, maybe hoping that they can connect more and she can learn further about what's on Carly's mind. However, Arcee's blaster causes a solid amount of damage, but it seems to catch Carly's attention and even makes her smile, impressed with the sight.

With Carly seeming more open, Arcee talks a bit about her own skills, her own history with weaponry. She IS a very impressive shot, as vouched by Optimus, but with her time spent fighting in the war, she's mournful over this, as her skill with a blaster adds to the carnage and horror she's seen (the flames in the background serving as a reflection of her memories, what she's witnessed through her talent).

Carly, who just recently lost her father to Starscream, is baffled by this statement, saying that Arcee's skill would REALLY help with killing decepticons (as she seems to have missed the point with what Arcee was trying to say). Carly even specifies Starscream, which makes it clear that she's practicing specifically for revenge purposes against Starscream (great news Carly, Soundwave already took care of that problem). Arcee recognizes this desire for revenge, and states her thoughts clearer: that she can see how Carly's falling to her rage, that her hurt is driving her to future pain (with Arcee probably reflecting on her familiarity with her own hatred).

Unfortunately, Carly is no longer open to listening, switching back into being angry and annoyed. She knows that Arcee's analyzing her, thinking that she knows better than her (also Carly is a teenager, and hurt teenagers tend to shut themselves off to focus on what they think is best for them). The remains of Arcee's shot also look like a burning inferno behind Carly, used as symbolism for her own feelings, her own rage.

("I apologize. It's just... you remind me of myself, when my gears were beginning to turn. I had a teacher then.")

Arcee isn't using subtle dialogue or small talk anymore, she's outright telling Carly of her own history, of how she was the same way. Of how she had someone she loved and trusted so dearly, but he died (ALSO MAGNUS IS DEAD AUGHH) because she allowed her hatred to control her. She was so focused on revenge, she lost another loved one. Even now, Arcee's reflection on her journey of healing is that her hate costed her far more than helped her. It's a painful memory for her, and she doesn't want to see someone else go down the same path she did.

But she's too caught up in her desire for revenge to really hear what Arcee's telling her.

Hell, even in the scene afterward, Cliffjumper is berating himself for not killing Starscream, and that Carly isn't even speaking to him anymore because he couldn't kill Starscream. Jazz tells him that there's no shame in pulling the trigger, but if that was true, then why does he feel so awful (he feels awful because he feels like he hurt Carly right there and then. Also, Starscream immediately grabbed her, and would've killed her if he hadn't been crushed. Cliffjumper is feeling guilty over not taking the shot because it could've killed Carly, and even though she survived, a part of her was still killed in that moment.)

[only-lonely-stars]

Splintered Ice

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

For all intents and purposes, the Ice Emperor is dead. However, his ghost remains, in icy joints and frosted eyes. How can Zane trust himself not to become him again? How can he heal? How could anyone begin to forgive him?

Ice cracks. It splinters. It shatters. Zane shivered; every movement, punctuated by the sound of fractures. What was it like to move freely- to not be frozen to his seat? To feel human, instead of frozen? To feel alive…

Crack, crack, crack, snap. The cold anthem of his existence. An orchestra of fractured glass. Horrible, beautiful.

Everything was white and gray. What did color look like, again? His mind was sluggish. No matter where he looked, the world was hidden by a panel of frosted glass, shielded from his tyranny. Maybe it was better that way.

The door creaked open, and Zane's frosted eyes slowly panned to it. He started, edging away as Pixal approached him with a plate of hot food and a sympathetic smile. Whatever she was saying was lost to his ears; he backed away, trying to tell her to flee. What if she froze? What if there was no way for Kai to thaw her? What if he controlled her?

No sound escaped his throat; only the sound of cracking ice. Pixal smiled gently and nodded; she gave him space but stayed in the room. How foolish. Zane shivered violently, snowflakes falling from his hair. Why wouldn't she leave? Didn't she value her safety?

Logically, Zane already knew the answer. She was a nindroid, like him. She believed he wasn't a threat. But what if he was? What if she was wrong?

Something clinked loudly on the ground; an icicle, falling from his hand and joining the pile below.

Was it just Zane, or did it feel like the world was tilting off its axis? He leaned on his hands, trying to support himself as the world spun out of order. What was happening to him? The warmth of the sun streaming through the window felt far-away, glinting off his metal in a painful glare on the permafrost.

Pixal shielded her eyes, and Zane felt pure, unadulterated guilt. It swelled up in his stomach, hot and painful and unnatural. He hated it. How could he let this happen?

Zane hugged himself tightly, attention turning inward. Maybe he deserved this, as punishment for freezing the Never Realm and all its people. Because he believed Vex. Maybe he deserved this for so blindly thinking he could safely reboot that accursed mech. It- it was all his fault, anyway! If he hadn't dragged it into that cave, or hadn't tried to fix it, or had looked around before he interfaced with it, or had backed up his memories again, or had just thought twice about what Vex said, this wouldn't be happening!

He heard a muffled voice, murmuring comforting words, but he knew he didn't deserve them. Pixal was always so compassionate. Too compassionate for a slow, outdated droid like him. An old operating system in a new body- a relic, whose only value was his power source.

Was he always like this? Maybe the veil had just been lifted away, showing the true horror of his nature– his inhumanity, finally on display for an entire world to see. It was all he could do to afford himself the mercy of gratitude that it wasn't Ninjago that saw his awful nature. They used to know him as a beacon of justice, light, and truth. What was he now? A tyrant? His memory banks were empty of decades of information. What had he done for the past twenty years? Thirty, perhaps? Maybe even forty? All of it was blank, wiped from his mind by the very staff that corrupted him.

Where was that accursed staff, anyway? Had he truly broken it? Even now, he could remember the feeling of it in his grip, heavy and slick. It released hidden power– did it also release hidden intentions? Maybe he had always wanted to rule. He still felt its heavy weight in his hand, cold and cruel.

Zane shivered again, and more snowflakes fell into the food before him. The world had stopped spinning, leaving him feeling numb. The plate of food in front of him was no longer steaming, having its heat sapped by his ice.

The frost over his eyes was thicker, but he saw Pixal, edging closer to him. She put her hand on his, and Zane felt even more numb. She had to know he was going to freeze her, right? Did she really trust him enough not to be afraid? He frowned, unmotivated to correct her mistaken trust. She would see eventually. He remembered so little about her anymore, but he remembered that she would never budge when she chose to do something. She was grounded. He didn't remember being like that, even though he knew he was once. Didn't someone once tell him that time erodes memory and mind alike?

Maybe it would be okay to submit to her affections, just once. Surely it wouldn't hurt her, right? Slowly, he knitted his fingers together with hers, as small chunks of ice splintered from his joints. She held his hand tightly, and murmured in his ear. Zane shook his head, clearing the frozen fog for a moment. He needed to eat; as one of the perks of being Borg's most advanced machine, he ran almost like a person would. Including digestion.

Pixal raised a piece of warm bread to his mouth, and he ate without tasting. The warmth radiated through him, gone too quickly. He ate more, giving her a faint, frostbitten smile. She was too good for him. How did he deserve her care?

The food was gone before Zane realized. When was the last time he had eaten? Either way, the room felt less cold. Stable. Almost like home. With Pixal, anywhere felt like that, he was remembering. He felt safe.

He blinked slowly, watching the frost on his eyes break off as ice and fall. His ears were ringing- weird. Pixal took the dishes and kissed him on the cheek, but he was unable to look at her; as he tried to turn his neck, the sound of ice breaking heralded his effort. Instead, he focused on clearing his mind. A few deep breaths brought a sense of calm, and Zane relaxed a little. He hadn't hurt Pixal. She was safe from him.

A few more bits of ice fell out of his hair, looking akin to diamonds. Zane smiled for a fleeting moment. He would be okay, right?

He sighed. "Okay" was a relative term at best, after all. For now, for his own safety (and more importantly, for everyone else), he would stay isolated. He laid down, looking at the ceiling as tendrils of frost again invaded his vision. Just for now, he would wait…

It wasn't hiding, right?

No, it wasn't. It couldn't be. It was really self-preservation.

Zane smiled faintly, closing his eyes. It was a good idea to stay away, just for a little longer. Even if it meant locked, icy joints. Even if it meant an inability to sit up. Even if it meant disappearing. It was in everyone's best interests. It was a good thing.

[songsofbat]

but hey, hey what can you do

i would give anything to not give a shit about-

or,

Corus-Corvus-Corvid reflects.

(It's an easy thing, really. Not like there's anything else to do.)

It's dark here, wandering. This vast plain of guilt that digs into their ankles as they wallow in misery. They don't mean to, maybe.

A loop, running on for stars knows how long. Self-hatred into hatred. Weren't they supposed to be good at avoiding feedback loops?

They're lost. Hopelessly lost. They're not sure how long they've been asleep. (Nobody's looking for you, anyway.)

But they've been awake, haven't they? Moving over rooftops. Eating. Tracking down criminals with perfect precision and their eyes empty behind their mask.

Autopilot. Moving their body, without being there. Taking down criminals, while telling the collective unconsciousness to forget them.

It's so easy.

No more Corus-Corvus-Corvid getting in the way. Just... the useful parts. Everything else strained away, locked away, forgotten.

(Who did this to you? Yourself, of course.)

Because they weren't needed. Just look for criminals. Stop entangling into people's lives and making a mess.

Worthless. Miserable.

This was better.

They could just exist. Eat enough to fuel their body, and go back into fighting.

No worries about relationships with anybody. No worries about saying the wrong thing and having their tongue twist in their mouth.

Nobody had to worry about them.

Nobody is worried about them, anyway. Drove away their friend and they still don't know how.

They remember stumbling. They remember being so, so- they don't know, actually.

They think they remember scribbles. Something, figments? No, glint of metal. Morgan. Pathetic, pathetic. You're so pathetic. Stay away. Never come back? No, yes, she asked, my friend, my best friend, liar liar liar we weren't best friends are we can we be I just wanted to be a friend-

They wonder if she's fine.

But checking would mean going back to- being human. Being as human as they can get. Stumbling over words and making everything wrong again.

They don't need their eyes anymore. They don't need to see. The third eye is all they'll ever need.

(Look with your third eye.)

But what would the point be?

She doesn't want them around anymore.

Vice?

He has Morgan. ...and Jacyn.

Morgan can take care of him. ( Why are you skirting your responsibilities? )

Those other crow-corvid-based people.

...

Corus-Corvus-Corvid isn't exactly a friend. Those people won't need them.

( Your family wouldn't want you to treat yourself like this. )

Stars, they miss them.

"Well," they find it within themselves to snap. "They're not exactly HERE, are they?!"

Do it for them.

But they don't want to.

They're useful this way. They prefer this- no more messing up. Just seeing what the future so needs, requires- and just...doing it.

Corus-Calla-whatever they were. Whoever they were. They weren't needed. That much was clear.

( You aren't helping criminals to reform. You aren't helping to comfort anybody. You're just fighting. A machine. You're not inspiring hope or being kind. Isn't that what you wanted? To be good? )

But they never were good. That's the point. If they can't be kind or caring or good, they can, at very least, be useful.

( What if you face Carnival, while like this? Are you going to fight them? )

She would want to fight, anyway.

( But you don't want to harm her. )

Who said anything about harming her?

( You're not controlling your own body properly anymore. )

They wouldn't harm a friend.

( Didn't you already? You're not even friends. )

They don't want to think about this anymore.

It's difficult, not thinking.

There's nothing here but their thoughts. Just no way for it to reach the outside world and make everything worse. No way for electricity to arc, for spoons to bend. For red to trickle across the sterile floor and disgust disgust fear horror disgust please please please i didn't mean to

So it doesn't matter if they're not good.

They can't harm anybody anymore.

( What makes you not good? )

Can't help anybody. Bad at friends. Can't- can't talk to people. Drive people away. Hurt people. Keep hurting people. Can't save people. Powers unreliable. Keep hurting and hurting and hurting. Can't save not smart not good not useful not useful not matter how much trying my trying I cannot-

( Carnival stole a switch from a child. )

But-

( Criminals main and kill and hurt. )

It's not the same.

( Why don't you deserve what you believe they do? )

Normal criminals can't arc lightning with their anger. Normal criminals can't warp people's minds. Carnival can't send-

Another loop. On and on. An argument, repeated against the darkness of their mindscape.

When'd they leave the conservatory?

It doesn't matter, in the end.

How long has their body been on autopilot?

It doesn't matter.

How's Morgan?

She doesn't- no. Morgan matters. They just- shouldn't. get involved.

( What do you want? )

It doesn't matter.

( You want

warmth again a reason to live beyond saving others

to hold your family's hands on a rainy day

your friends, your friend, you think, mabe, that you miss Morgan

to be good

to be kind

to be useful

to rest

to know that you won't have to be alone. )

What they want doesn't matter.

( You want to be allowed to exist. )

Stop it.

Just because they are selfish in nature does not mean they have to act on it.

( Is it selfish to want to be happy? Would it be selfish if you friends felt like this?)

( If your third eye is all you need, then look. )

Why.

( Look. )

Oh.

...oh.

My friend. Hospital. Thoughts. Loud. Whose? Not hers never hers she is. Impossible?

My best friend? No.

Friend.

My impossible friend.

Impossible, impossible, wonderfully impossible.

Almost gone. Gone. He. I should have you should have.. no? Superboy. Ah. I don't know.

(Do it for her.)

Tired of everything.

( You miss- )

Feeling like I am loved.

( That's alright. )

Is it?

( You'll get through it. One step at a time. )

It doesn't feel that way. Still more useful on autopilot.

( Check on Morgan, at least. And Vice, later. People. Everyone. )

...okay.

i would give anything to not give a shit-.

They're tired, maybe.

Very much so.

Corvid drops the last criminal in front of the police station, movements robotic until they aren't.

It's a stumble, at first. They don't remember walking being so hard.

Their mind is blurry. Stone? Void? Stone. Oh. Gotham. Not mindscape. Yes? Yes.

They're scared.

They miss the nothing. It was just them with their thoughts, yes, but at least they didn't...mess up. They didn't have to pretend they were good at emotions. That they had humanity in them.

It seems- it seems so completely illogical, really.

...

One step at a time. One step at a time.

-but i do.

[pinkestmenace]

🥀 for whichever oc you want! :D

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

*Sweats nervously* Oh, my dear, dear anon. Beware! You have hit the jackpot of DOOM! /jk

This subject is very spoiler heavy for 'Broken Hato' and its sequel fics in my Hatoful Dreams series, so I have to tread carefully.

Does Olympea have a Soul form? Well, her future soul is certainly in a form. It may even retain some awareness. Where it is and why, how long it has been there or will continue to be there, I cannot tell you.

...Have you ever heard anyone say people die twice? First when their body goes and finally when everyone who knew them has forgotten them and passed on themselves? The Ancients are dead. The Heroes of Yore are long lost and cursed to be forgotten. Only Galacta Knight remains and his memory is not only fading after his endless imprisonment, it's also affected by the curse. But he is still alive. Wisps of his friends still linger in his memory. As long as he holds on, some of their presence may linger. Is this a blessing or a curse? And for whom? Will they go with him...or will he go with them? Where are they going?

But let's ignore all of that for a moment and think about what a Soul form normally means. A character is driven to the extreme, to the threshold of death, but their determination prevents them from giving in just yet. Their body warps and keeps fighting in a last ditch effort while their mind is already degrading. You don't come back from this. Not unscathed. Maybe you just straight up turn into paint and die (Drawcia). Maybe you return, but you're undead and keep some eldritch traits (Marx). Maybe you go to superhell, gain catholic guilt and fight the personification of your sins before becoming a questionably trustworthy salesman in another world (Magolor). Maybe you go insane and wither, with your last remaining essence joining a giant plant (Sectonia). Maybe, if you're very lucky, you finally get purified and your reincarnated form gets another chance at a better life (Void). Maybe you're even assimilated by a reaper butterfly, hold on to your will to live and steal its power for yourself, before finally letting your last remnant reunite with your counterpart (Fecto Elfilis).

Let's say some catastrophe like that happens to her, hypothetically.

[CW: loss of sentience, amalgamation, body horror, death. Features some headcanons about the physical makeup of Astrals/Puffballs and how Soul Matter affects that.]

If she had to push it beyond the limit to keep fighting it would be to save her friends. It was always her greatest Dream to be a hero and she is very determined to achieve that! ...But ironically, as her body is so stable and uniform in its makeup, it never had to make Soul Matter to glue itself back together to keep from collapsing before. Being flooded with too much of it at once means she has little control over it. It would corrupt her.

As she keeps fighting and her mind deteriorates she'd slowly be reduced to nothing but a fighting machine, mowing down her foes left and right without a care about collateral damage. Soon she wouldn't be able to distinguish between friend and foe anymore. Anything that stands against her is getting crushed. When she reaches the tipping point and only Soul is keeping her hollow shell going, her now jelly-like body would meld with her weapons and armour. What little magic her unholy cyborg body contains would only serve to make the impact of her attacks greater. Every hit of her club shakes the earth, shatters dreams and breaks the resolve of anyone nearby with its shockwave. Her previously modest finger gun morphs into a devastating laser cannon. She swings and stabs her glaive with such speed the gusts of wind and concentrated energy shoot out as cutters and slice all around.

I doubt she could be fully saved from this form, since there won't be much left to salvage of her organic body as most of it has melded with her metal armour. She would be unrecognisably, irrevocably altered. Yay? (-Ŏ⌒Ŏ- )

Oh! Why not make a little blurb while we're having fun? :)

Soul of Olympea: Shatterer of Dreams

Once a brave hero protecting the people, now corrupted, this amalgam of determination and automation has lost all reason. No longer able to distinguish friend from foe, she lashes out at everything that moves. Stop her rampage before there's nothing left to protect!

Good thing this is all just a hypothetical, right?

(I really wish I could say that I don't enjoy putting her through the wringer, but that's more of a retroactive "NOOO! What have I done to you, my girl?!" after getting attached to what was supposed to be a tragically doomed background character. Oops?)

Masterpost

[tulipanthousa]

tell us about the unwritten au 👀

okay, full disclosure, this will never be written. i have no intention of ever doing so. if someone else is willing to take a crack at it be my guest but this would be too much for me to handle

so, here it is

Content Warnings: angst, RAPE (<- read this. the dove is dead. do not pass go do not collect $200. youve been warned) both directly and via proxy, and other kinds of sexual coercion

LAOFT RELAMP but at what cost

In main story laoft, durant does not see roman and remy's dalliances as important or a threat to him/his control over roman.

in this story. he does

in an agonizing display of cruelty, he kidnaps remy and presents him to night roman as a gift.

its a terrible position - roman cant reject the gift and risk durants anger, which will end in disaster for both him and remy... but niether can he accept it and walk back into his day life with the knowledge that remy will remain here, trapped, alone with durant, and impossibly far away from anything roman can do to protect him

Roman takes the only path he can find - feign gratefulness so deep that he no longer had need of his day left, and giving it up. because at least if theyre both trapped remy's not alone.

Remy and Roman disappear the same night, stolen from their beds without a sound or a trace left behind.

In wickhills, Logan is incandescent with fury and patton cries so miserably the woods and hills around his house are bone-dead silent. not even the birds want to sing in his presence.

May sits alone in her house, the door locked, refusing to answer for anyone.

The Adams' put up posters across all of southeast ohio knowing nobody is going to call

And emile watches them all and churns with guilt because he didnt know remy, not really, so why does he think he has a right to be this sad?

Back in faerieland, things escalate in a bad way very quickly. Durant coerces Roman and Remy into increasingly intense sexual scenarios for his entertainment.

in the midst of this, having only one other person you can rely on or trust can, coupled with the rapid increase in intimacy, cross the wires a bit, and wwhoops, Remy and roman are in love now

Remy: or whatever passes for love in this shitshow Roman: you dont get to tell me i dont really love you Remy, crying: ok

and tbh, all of this is more of just context for what im ACTUALLY interested which is

they get out. now what?

Because in the meantime, Emile has reached out to patton, we still have LAMP and remile, and now we have pair-of-cats-that-cant-be-separated creativisleep

Logan: you thought canon logan had anger issues? ha. ha i say. this logan would kill a man sooner than let them make roman or remy even slightly uncomfortable. he'll snarled at his own mother if she gets too close. he'll snarl at thomas, though he'll feel bad about both. this is actually! not great! because logan tried to guard from the outside looks a lot like Guards Keeping Us Inside to remy and roman, so they have to figure out how to navigate logans nuclear reactor protectiveness vs it wigging roman and remy out.

Virgil: Virgil waking up is the catalyst for them getting free, and in the midst of his horror falls in QP love at first sight with remy, who was so brave and so strong and kept roman safe when virgil couldnt.

Remy: i dont know if 'safe' is even slihtly accurate Virgil: the safety of his heart and mind are of equal importance to me as his body. you have cherished both, and you can have anything you ask for as long as i live Remy: [gay fluster noises]

Patton keeps determinedly dragging emile to mays house (where they are holed up for close access to dizzy and jax) even though Emile feels like he's intruding

Patton, constantly on the verge of tears: I almost lost Roman and i've decided im in love with all of you and i CATEGORICALLY refuse to lose anyone else Emile: um Patton: RE. FUSE.

so pattons HOPE is that they all wind up in a big polycule pile, and its doesnt... not do that, but its not quite as clearcut as all that.

Theres stumbling blocks at the beginning withboth remy and roman wavering on whether or not their romantic feelings are genuine, and subsequently wondering if the fact that theeyre still in love with Emile and LAM respectively means that they arent.

this would go through some oscillations of both of them trying to deny those feelings to "prove" their love for each other, vs trying to push the other away so they can go be with p[eople they "really love"

do! not! separate them!

in my head this ends with romantic LAMP, Romantic Remile, Romantic Patmile, and QPR losleep and sleepxiety - everybody else is friends and cuddle buddies

Remy is actually super comforted by the fact that Patton is in love with him/attracted to him but never asks for more than friendship because he knows remy isnt. Metamour besties.

Dizzy suffers a lot from this ordeal (she hid from durant and subsequently roman, knowing if he found her as romans familiar it would be catastrophic) so their bond is.... stretched, lets say. overtaxed. she's a little sicklier. a little smaller, a little more timid. hides in remy or virgils jackets frequently

All of which is to say that this is a fraught extended metaphor that sometimes trauma changes you, and it changes your relationships, and it changes the way you feel attraction, and all of that is okay. it doesnt make those feelings or relationships less real or loving or valid.

anyway this is my monster. im not going to write it (please dont ask) but some people have expressed that they were glad i still shared it, so have some bite sized angst

[clownnotes-png]

Freminet AgeRe Drabble

This one’s angsty, CW: Crying , mental breakdown, throwing up, metaphorical body horror(? use of word "rip"/"tear"/"claw")

Silk bedsheets crumpled under Freminet's hands, carefully the fabric was pulled up and shoved into the boys face. Tears soaked into the sheet and muffled the soft sniffles and sobs that Freminet let out. The world was suffocating; it clawed and tore at the shreds of himself that Freminet still had.

It was interesting how the smallest things could wear and tear at the blonde's heart strings. All it took was something he could so easily write off. Freminet had simply asked Lynette and Lyney if they wanted to come with him to a secret spot he had found while exploring the Elton Trench seas. The twins response; they are busy.

Freminet knew it was so silly to be getting distressed to the point of crying 'til he hunched over vomiting. It was just that something in the back of his mind screamed that they were trying to avoid him. He knew, knew, knew, they weren't.

Why can't he accept that?

So, of course he is sobbing into his bedsheets at the dead of night, of course he is feeling his mind rip itself apart in a frantic tug of war. Logic and Emotion frantically tried to take control, to comfort him via different means.

Logic wanted him to understand, to talk it out with his bubba 'n sissy , with his brother and sister. He wanted to hug them and apologize for feeling so distraught over this. Emotion though? Emotion wants him to scream and sob, it wanted him to rip his hair out and chew all his nails down. Emotion wanted his destruction.

Instead of falling to either, Freminet sunk. His head warped reality and comforted him through shrinking his mentality down. Suddenly, already big feelings for a teenager were a nightmare for a toddler. Guilt toppled and crushed the boy.

So Freminet sobbed, he sobbed into his silk bedsheets that suddenly felt unfamiliar as all he wanted was his bubba's laced corset scratching his plush cheek. He wanted his sissy's coffin nails to scratch at his scalp as she murmured comforting words. Freminet loved how his sibby's comforted, it healed part of his heart that still yearned for affection - a part that he thought he lost long ago.

[its-tricky-to-save-baldurs-gate]

Reunion

A fan fic where Tav is Astarion's younger sibling/brother/sister keeping it GN so anyone can imagine Tav however they want (well Tav is wearing a hood and mask and an high elf so sort of but still lol) Spoiler alerts for the game! Read at your own risk.

"Over here!" Tav froze as they heard a familar voice -- one they hadn't heard in centuries. Tav looks over to Shadowheart who is puzzled and concern, their eyes began to tear up. "I think someone I know is also captured and still alive."

Shadowheart's eyes soften, judging her high-elven ally's reaction. Had they lost this person? "Then what are we waiting for? I'm sure this person would be pleased to see you." Shadowheart responded. Tav and Shadowheart run for the cliff then they found the source: form a distance a pale high elf.

The Shar Cleric tugs Tav's sleeve. Who's that?" she whispered. Tav gives her a look. "My brother..." Tav replied in a hushed tone.

The pale elf sees Tav and Shadowheart, seemly relieved. "Hurry, I got one of those brain things cornered." Tav looks over shocked, dropping their weapon, the pale elf respond with a bewildered expression. Shadowheart watches with concern. "Why are you looking at me like that? The brain thing!" He points at the direction of the cliff side. Tav slowly walks over to him. "Astarion?" Tav replied.

The pale elf grow shocked and pulls out his dagger but Tav wasn't stirred by it. "Get back, how did you know my name?!" Shadowheart looks at Tav, it was starting to worry as she prepares her weapon. "What are you doing? I don't think he wants to talk." Tav removes their hood and mask, the pale elf's eyes went from hostile to shock.

(Astarion's pov third person) Memories of a distant past before Cazador resurfaced. At sixteen, he hold his baby sibling for the first time. At twenty-one, he bites his lip as five year old Tav talks his ear off. Another time that same year, he saves Tav from drowning. At thirty-one, Astarion listens to Tav vent about their parents expectations and Tav wanted something different. Last memory is pushing Tav to save them. Cazador swoop in and the next two hundred years was hell.

(Now back to Tav)

Astarion stands there in a trance then looks at his sibling; he puts away his dagger cautiously. "Are you really Tav? Or am I speaking to a thrall?" Tav shook their head. "Its me, I'm not a thrall," Then the mind worm connected their minds. Revealing each others memories to an extent. Astarion shakes his head as the memories faded. Tav rubs their temples, the pain and sensation from inside their skull was irritating. "It's the mind flayer worm, It connected us," Tav respond.

Astarion's eyes soften with realization. "The worm of course. That explain things. Somewhat..." And to think he was going to decorate the ground with his sibling's inwards. Guilt and exhaustion was running through him like a punch in a face. He should be happy to see someone from his past life let alone a family member but he felt numb instead. He didn't started really bonding with Tav till they became an adult. No one was at fault the siblings had a large age gap.

"Um, did you said about a mind flayer cornered?" Tav asked. Astarion started chuckled awkardly. "That was a lie to question you. Uh...apologies." he replied.

Tav sighed, they ain't getting mad for this, their too tired physically and mentally. "Apology accepted, I can understand why. I might've done something like that if I was in your shoes." Astarion smiles somewhat, a rare softness shows as he places his hands on his hips. "I'm glad you understand then. So Gwing, do you know anything about these worms?"

Astarion can sense that Tav had developed a wisdom from the passage of time and experience since that fateful night. Tav looks down with fear written on their face. "Yes unfortunately, they'll turn us into mind flayers." Tav replied.

Shit this is worse than he thought. The horror sets in, Astarion realizes once again, he'll be controlled by a different being. "Turn us into..." Astarion starts laughing he didn't want to believe, but reality is cruel. "Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What did I expect?" Then he started to think. "Although it hasn't yet. If we can find an expert -- someone that can control these things. There might still be time." Tav looks at him scared it reminded him of when Tav was little hiding behind him when he talks to someone.

"Control it? We need to get rid of it." Tav replies.

Tav can't deny they are frustrated. Where were you? I thought you were dead. What about its good to see you again? Alias the younger high elf bites their lip. Astarion nods in response to Tav's statement.

"Yes of course, but first things first. Tav I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd, with familar company isn't such a bad idea." said Astarion.

Tav relaxes they had a feeling this is Astarion's way of assuring them he's glad to see them again. To be fair Astarion didn't believe his own sibling was there in front of him.

Shadowheart who was quietly listening to all of this was relieved there was no fights. "I'm glad no one is hurt, I think we should get going." said Shadowheart.

The three nodded and head out. Astarion felt happiness for the first time. But there is a new fear manifesting, Cazador will know soon and his relationship with his sibling will be put to the test. Lets hope they don't come out dead or worst twisted and broken. And he owes an explanation Tav needs, and answers he can provide...soon.

[melishade]

Oh my God, that deleted scene makes me think of how Pixis would react to Elita-1.

Previous Episode of the Beloved Timeline

Pixis would be so jealous, and so proud that Optimus managed to bag a woman like that. So proud.

So after Optimus and Elita have a really good cry session and hug at the fact that both of them are alive, they begin to talk about what exactly happened with each other and how they ended up here on this planet. Elita explains how the crew saved her life after she went into stasis lock, but the Decepticons attacked the ship with scraplets, causing the ship to crash land. But the ship fell apart and flung her into the water, sparing her the fate of getting eaten alive. But instead of going back to save the people on the neutral ship, she ran, and she had been running and surviving on this world for twenty years.

Optimus is absolutely devastated at the fact that Elita was all alone, and it's very apparent the horror and guilt is etched in his face. Elita has to prompt him to tell his side of the story, and Optimus explained what happened during the war, how he got the Matrix, fleeing the planet and ending up on Earth where the war continued. He tells her how the Autobots did win the war and how he had to sacrifice himself in order to ensure that the Well could create new life.

"So, I could very well be talking to a spirit right now?" Elita tried to tease, but Optimus could see the guilt and shame in her optics, trying to cover up her pain.

And both end up apologizing at the same time, which startles them both. They explain why they're apologizing. Optimus is apologizing for letting his anger get the better of him in that moment. For not realizing that she was in stasis lock and going into a fit of rage instead of grabbing her and taking her to safety. She wouldn't have been left alone, and it was his fault. Elita retorts by saying that he was grieving in that moment, and to know that she was loved like that made her spark happy. But Elita still has to apologize for not coming back. Not finding a way back to the war and back to Optimus. She had been scraping by to survive instead of putting her life on the line for the Autobot cause. Now to know that the war was over and that she didn't really do anything to stop it, on top of that, somehow managing to survive while so many more noble had fallen? Oh, it fills her with such shame and grief. Optimus has to tell her 'no'. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't have been able to control what had happened and how. She did what she had to do to survive. It happens in war. Maybe it was the part of him that was so happy to see her, but Elita is not feeling any better. 20 years of guilt doesn't go away.

"Optimus...I...I'm not the same person I was when we last saw each other," Elita proclaimed.

Optimus was stunned at the statement, but Elita merely chuckled at his confusion.

"I mean, look at me." Elita gestured to her faded armor, "I look like scrap. I haven't been able to talk to someone in 20 orbital periods. I'm...damaged."

"...I am not the same mech you once knew either," Optimus proclaimed, "The war has taken its toll on me. To lead and to guide has been...mentally draining."

Elita couldn't help but smile bitterly at that, the survivor's guilt eating at her.

"But...I cannot wait to learn about you all over again," Optimus declared with a small smile.

Elita stared at Optimus in surprise before she began to laugh, and her laughing caused Optimus to chuckle. Somehow them laughing together, ease the pain in their sparks just a little.

Meanwhile, the Survey Corps are still freaking the fuck out. Because WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S OPTIMUS' GIRLFRIEND?! Hanji demands to know why in the fuck Levi knew about this shit! And Levi explains that he knew after Levi's squad died because Optimus wanted to empathize with him. Also, how the fuck does Mikasa know?!

"Bonding?" Mikasa guessed, wiping her mouth of the water she choked on.

"So Optimus tells the two of you about his long lost love, but not me?!" Hanji exclaimed, "I am insulted!"

"Hanji, that's not even the point right now!" Levi reminded.

"It is very much so!" Hanji declared.

"Optimus has a girlfriend," Jean could only mutter, "I never expected someone like him to get...anyone. He just seems so quiet?"

"So does that mean that Optimus has had sex?" Sasha raised her hand.

"Sasha, what the fuck?!" Eren yelled, "That's not something I need to hear right now!"

"It's a simple question!" Sasha retorted.

"It's a gross question!" Eren declared.

"It is a valid question!" Hanji agreed, "Did Optimus get laid and how does it work?!"

Eren could only scream and cover his ears, trying to block out the mental image that was trying to form.

Everyone is just going through it, and it is something that takes up hours of conversation. The military heads do get wind of this because of the commotion it initially caused, but they don't know that Elita is Optimus' love. Out of respect, the Survey Corps will keep that under wraps, but they are certain someone heard it with all the commotion they created.

Optimus eventually does have to leave Elita for the time being to allow her to recover and to explain his absence. He tells the military that Elita is a high ranking Autobot that was considered deceased during the war and that the neutral ship that they found was the one that she was on before she got stranded on the island. He omits the fact that the two are in a relationship, which the Survey Corps are relieved about because they made the right call about keeping their mouths shut. When they hear the fact that she's been on this world for 20 years, they are understandably frustrated because she could've help, but Optimus says that she tried to come to the walls and was immediately met with cannon fire. So they all come the the conclusion that Rod must've covered it up. Optimus explains that for now, she needs to rest and recover and she will be caught up to speed about what their current situation is.

The military accepts this. The Survey Corps do not. Once the meeting is over, Optimus is immediately pulled aside in a makeshift classroom and the Survey Corps immediately sit down in anticipation for a god damn explanation.

Optimus took a deep breath. "You are allowed to ask questions."

Everyone's hand immediately shot up.

"None of which are inappropriate," Optimus declared.

Half of the hands went down. Optimus stared at Hanji as she kept her hand raised with a tight expression, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Hanji-,"

"Dear Optimus Prime," Hanji began with an innocent smile, "It's me. C'mon. You know my shit's gonna be inappropriate."

Honestly, Optimus should've expected this reaction.

Ymir and Historia kind of come into the middle of this, ready to give their own demands, but the bomb is dropped on them that Optimus has a significant other that's alive and is here right now. The two decide to politely sit and listen in, trying to process what the hell is going on.

(So it's gonna be just a little bit more before Elita is introduced to the Survey Corps because she just needs a moment of rest right now. And the Survey Corps are trying so hard to comprehend. But it's gonna be a while before other people find out too.)