#him not being able to erase the events shows up with the after effects that still linger on will supernaturally

[madwheelerz]

I think I figured out what's going on with the manifestations so like bare with me-

Mike can't delete reality. He turned back the clock, but he can't completely stop the events coming instead what he can do is alter the events. Instead of Lonnie, it's the demogorgon.

The demogorgon is a monster that the party can fight, unlike Lonnie, who's an adult, plus they are now playing under game rules. Mike's game rules specifically, and he wants them to win. So when Will gets taken, an NPC shows up in his place. She knows everything, has the necessary powers, and the backstory to help them get Will back.

[misslisamiray]

Something I've been thinking about that I never see brought up: We all know Morty saw Rick's whole crybaby backstory in the S5 finale... but Jerry has seen as much, if not more, of Rick's memory. Of what he's seen, how much does he remember?

The two have been merged in some way twice now, first in S3 ep 5, "The Whirly-Dirly Conspiracy", and more recently in S7 ep 2, "The Jerrick Trap". There have to be some lingering effects from that, right?

More below the cut, and I warn you, this gets LONG.

Maybe Jerry wouldn't necessarily remember anything from that first encounter where his consciousness, Rick's, and that of the large alien trying to kill them were all intertwined - the "I just spent an eternity merged with your essence and I'm already back to thinking you're an asshole" line implies the effects of said merging wear off quickly. So, any memories/knowledge gained then might also fade away fast. But even if he forgot almost instantly, Jerry has to have seen Rick's past (a full two seasons before Morty did!)

Now... The Jerrick Trap is where this gets interesting. Rick and Jerry spent days - maybe weeks - with their minds shuffled as Burger and Fries. Followed by at least a full day as Jerricky. While it's questionable, even unlikely, the events in Whirly-Dirly had lasting effects, there is no way, after all that, these two don't know EVERYTHING about each other.

Of course, there's, I'd say, a 50/50 chance Rick erased Jerry's memories of the entire incident, specifically because of that. He let Morty see the crybaby backstory, and Summer & the Beths have at least some vague knowledge of Prime. But I can see him drawing the line at Jerry just... being able to see all those memories as clearly as Rick himself can.

Which brings us to: Memory Rick! (and something else I never see brought up). Even if Jerry doesn't share Rick's memories for any other reason, would he automatically have them through Memory Rick being marooned in his brain? I'm thinking yes, but since Memory Rick is sentient, he *might* be able to block Jerry from accessing them.

Anyway, if Jerry has retained any of Rick's memories, I really hope the show addresses it at some point. It's actually one of my most-hoped-for-in-the-remaining-seasons things.

In the meantime, I'd love to hear others' thoughts on this. I am sorry this post got so long, and if you are seeing this, thank you for reading my essay. 😅

[kafus]

there is a LOT i could say about HZ044 but since i'm biased i'm going to talk about something to do with dot again for right now

now obviously dot kicked ass this episode and that's awesome but i'm emotional because she finally got to take on spinel (or well, something he made anyway) head-on and succeed.

in HZ015, when liko gets her memories wiped, her desire to find and save liko is what gets her out of her room for the first major time in the show, which is great! but while the gurumin & iono collab livestream is what causes the domino effect that leads to liko gaining her memories back, ultimately liko recovers her memories on her own. and then in HZ016, dot gets cornered by spinel and her only option to save herself is to shoot off an SOS signal with quaxly's water gun and hope that liko and roy see it. once they're there, they fight together, but dot is definitely not strong enough to take that on by herself yet. she walks away from the events of those episodes feeling awful about falling for the targeted misinformation and putting liko in even more danger, and this follows her for a long time, too:

not only is she incredibly angry with herself at the time, but 12 episodes later in HZ027 she once again self-deprecates and expresses anger towards herself for messing up - interestingly she mentions that she put liko in danger before despite the events of HZ027 not really being all that serious, and it's pretty obvious that HZ015/016 are Haunting Her and a source of insecurity (they're surrounded by the rest of the RVT and she was just supposedly meeting up with someone for information about rayquaza)

of course at the end of HZ027 she has that gay peptalk with liko where liko reassures her she's doing a good job,

and that seems to help quite a bit with her confidence moving forward! but even so she never really got to "settle the score" in any way. you can tell from how dot talks about spinel being mentioned that she still holds a lot of resentment towards him for endangering liko - she talks about him with a sense of bitterness that isn't present for the rest of the crew

HZ015, after finding out that spinel probably erased liko's memories with his beheeyem:

and HZ044, after getting the opportunity to maybe assist with stopping spinel's plans:

the insults and the sentiment of never forgiving - even now after all her growth she fucking hates this guy and what he did to liko, and now she's determined to make up for it. and unlike before when she was getting aimlessly mad at herself and needed liko to pick her up and reassure her, now she was actually able to make a plan and follow through and it works out - she succeeded at doing what she set out to do and wasn't led astray.

murdock is in tears and worried but he recognizes his niece's confidence and chooses to trust her (something i'm still really emotional about after all of dot's growth in recent episodes)

and again, she fucking does it! she destroys the machine that spinel made to call and weaken rayquaza by her own hand with software she wrote herself

and at the end of it all she gets a moment to see liko's face and hear her voice approving her after she succeeds, and uh. well

yeah suffice to say she's happy about it but flustered about showing it. this is not how you look at a girl you don't have a crush on lmfao

anyway shit hits the fan shortly after but that's not her fault and she did successfully stop rayquaza from being captured by the explorers and potentially causing more mayhem or damage to the RVT and liko. and she gets that recognition from liko herself at the end. iconic of her it's crazy how far she has come

[chickenstrangers]

Time and Grief in Eternal Yesterday

Eternal Yesterday (Eien no Kinou) is an astonishing show. It is one of the most visceral explorations of grief, letting the audience sit with the feeling of it, that I have seen on screen for a long time. I especially loved how it explored the experience of time while grieving.

Grief alters time. It changes your internal sense of time. It takes you out of equilibrium with everyone who is not experiencing grief with you. The world moves on. People move on. People forget. The clocks don't stop despite our pleas. Grief bisects time; events become labeled Before and After. Everything reorients around it.

This disorientation of time is what Eternal Yesterday conveys so powerfully, both in its magical realism conceit and in its technical structure and pacing.

First, I would also like to talk about a poem. @bengiyo also shared a phenomenal poem by Shane Koyczan in this wonderful post about this show which I have been thinking about and listening to again and again (reading by the poet here, transcript here). While I was watching, I had another poem ringing in my head. I think there is something about grief that is often best captured in the sparseness of poetry for me personally, and in that way Eternal Yesterday feels a bit like a poem, and echoes these poems.

Recently, I have been reading Victoria Chang's poetry book Obit, which frames her grief over her mother's death and her father's illness as deconstructed obituaries.

The difference is called grieving. I think this is the space that Eternal Yesterday occupies. It uses magical realism to forcibly extend the period before reality and grief can fully set in. Mitsuru is desperately clinging to the moment of before, when Koichi hasn't actually died yet, because once he leaves that moment he can't go back.

In the moments before the truck driver comes and sees the body, Mitsuru is in a state of denial, an impossible version of events in which Koichi survived the impact and being thrown in the air for meters, even though all the evidence points to his death. He calls his name, expecting him to just wake up. The truck driver's reaction cements the truth of his death that Mitsuru could not even let himself imagine in those first few moments. There's a moment where we can see the flicker of horrific recognition on Mitsuru's face. But then Koichi starts moving again, and Mitsuru is once again in an impossible reality where Koichi can survive as the living dead, a miracle. Eternal Yesterday effectively resets the timeline to the moments before the death becomes real for Mitsuru.

The rest of the story takes place within that moment, but elongates the stage of denial. It takes place outside of time. Koichi's body has disregarded time, the doctor tells them. It is staving off all actual evidence of decay, but it doesn't erase the damage that has already been done and the bruises and cuts remain as a terrible reminder. This really effective element of body horror forces the audience and the characters to sit in a very specific moment in time; this is not a ghost who has cast earthly wounds aside, nor a zombie who continues to decay. Koichi and Mitsuru are trapped in the moment of death, the eternal yesterday. Mitsuru isn't ready to let go yet, and neither is Koichi.

The drawn out nature of this undeath contrasts with how suddenly Koichi dies. Instantaneous (I think again of Koyczan's poem). There is no way for the characters to anticipate this death. Compare this to Mitsuru's mother, who was chronically ill, dying in a hospital away from her son in an attempt to insulate him from grief. But despite her prolonged illness and her distance from Mitsuru, it doesn't seem like Mitsuru was really able to process his loss, just creating a wall around it to protect himself. With Koichi's undeath, they get that extra time together, and maybe that helps in some ways. As @waitmyturtles writes, they get to spend those final moments together, knowingly, intentionally, in a way that Mitsuru only got with his mom after her death when he saw her ghost. The magic gives them back these moments.

At the beginning, it seems as if time has stopped for everyone around them as well, but slowly people start to not be able to see Koichi. They begin to move on, and forget. Koichi seems to have reconciled with this fact: "If you die, you're slowly forgotten. It's normal. The living are busy thinking of other living people." Mitsuru is angry at the thought that anyone could forget about Koichi, and that the signs of their forgetfulness are proof that Koichi is getting closer and closer to disappearing.

This is such a beautiful metaphor for how it feels to grieve someone when the rest of the world keeps spinning. Time has stopped for Mitsuru, but not for all his classmates, even though they cared for Koichi too. It's a cruel truth. Time starts to speed up again as Koichi begins to disappear in front of others, but Mitsuru is still clinging to him.

Mitsuru holds onto Koichi with both fists. There's anger behind his denial of Koichi's death. He repeatedly tries to remind Koichi that he's still alive, gets angry when he's referred to as dead, and when people can't see Koichi any more.

But it is Mitsuru's love that sustains Koichi for this long, and his unwillingness to let go of his memory. It seems like love itself is what keeps Koichi here. Even when he disappears for most people, Mitsuru and Koichi's family still see him. Even after Koichi truly dies, when he stops being a living corpse, we see that his memory does live on in Mitsuru, and in the lives of the other people who loved him. The teacher who sent Mitsuru a photograph that shouldn't exist. Koichi's friends and family continuing to honor and remember him, and staying in contact with Mitsuru.

@gillianthecat writes beautifully about Japanese dramas and the use of place and space. There's a quietness and a stillness often. Eternal Yesterday echoes this, and in some ways turns time into a place, anchoring the drama to a liminal threshold, the pause that allows Mitsuru and Koichi to process what has happened.

Koichi and Mitsuru's story takes place outside of time. The editing and structure of the show also interrupts the linearity of time. Multiple times we are shown the end of a scene, and then shown its beginning scenes or even episodes later. The show revisits scenes, recontextualizes them, like when they get back from the hospital and Koichi admits he's scared that he's a corpse; the teachers in the stairwell we later learn were found in the aftermath of their breakup. Koichi is hit by the truck in the very opening of the show, but we don't see all of it until the end of the episode and the beginning of the next. Through this editing, the show destabilizes time, and calls into question our perception of events.

It also does this with the opening and closing credits. Each episode grounds the audience at the start in a joyful past that the characters can never return to, and at the end in an impossible future that they will never see ("If we were adults, would we be making a toast and drinking beer?"). The show oscillates between these two endpoints, and they put the viewer off balance for what to expect. But at the close of the show, we see the camping scene recontextualized. Mitsuru is alone, but he still has pieces of Koichi with him. The false insinuation of a happy ending is replaced with bittersweet reality.

How long does it take to grieve someone? Does it ever stop? Their teacher is still mourning his boyfriend's death 20 years later. Mitsuru is shown grieving 5 years after Koichi's death. He tells us his sadness never went away. The experience of grief is different with that distance, but it doesn't disappear. The show invites us to sit in a specific moment of that grief, but it shows us also how it continues afterwards.

Koichi's death is drawn out, the stage of denial extended, but eventually time catches up with both of them. Koichi knows it ("My time is almost up"). Mitsuru begins to understand it ("Isn't it just a matter of time?"). The day Mitsuru's home sick, "the time felt too long." The dissonance between this piece of time that they have carved out for themselves and the reality of time's continual passage becomes impossible to ignore.

Koichi lingering as a living corpse gives both him and Mitsuru a bit more time together. Even if it's just a few days, there's beauty in that. Because of that time, Koichi gets to hold his newborn sister. He gets to be a part of that moment with his family. Koichi and Mitsuru get to love each other for just a little longer. They get to say goodbye.

This is a sad show. But it's okay to be sad sometimes. It's okay to explore this sadness is art, in queer art. It can be healing to sit in these emotions for a little while, like Mitsuru and Koichi do in the show. To take the time to process it and connect with these stories.

Thank you to @bengiyo's post and the podcast for putting a new favorite show on my radar, and @lurkingshan and @waitmyturtles for sharing their thoughts and love for the show.

[screechthemighty]

No one asked but I’m stalling on going to bed so here’s the ideas I had for a God of War/PJO crossover. It’s really lengthy, apologies for that in advance, lol.

So basically most of the events of the Greece Era happen, like Kratos having beef with Ares, temporarily becoming the God of War, etc. etc. There are two big differences, though:

Ares and the handful of other gods/entities Kratos is able to kill don’t like DIE-die. As in PJO canon, they kind of stick around in Dumb Idiot Jail in Tartarus re-forming.

Kratos’s ultimate rebellion against the gods is unsuccessful, so he doesn’t end up murdering the entire pantheon. Like, he kicks the shit out of them, but at some point before things get TOO bad (probably early GoW3 timeline) he gets kicked into Hades and it sticks...for a little while.

The whole thing was viewed as a big cringe moment for the pantheon, who worked really hard to erase any mention of Kratos from the narrative, and re-instated Ares when he reformed fully. This experience did not humble him nearly as much as it should have.

Kratos, meanwhile, keeps making jailbreak after jailbreak out of Hades, never getting very far every time, each subsequent failure forcing him more and more to think about his life and his choices and realize that while the gods do suck and did screw him over, he also had some culpability. This existential crisis follows him on his last jailbreak, which almost went unnoticed purely because he didn’t actively go after the pantheon. Instead he just kind of wandered around for a while, trying to figure out how to live with himself.

Eventually his wanderings lead him to, of all places, rural Massachusetts, and a mysterious redheaded woman. You can see where this is going. Kratos eventually tries to start over with Faye, but being a demigod-turned-god means that he does still have the eyes of Olympus on him. Even though he keeps his nose clean and his head down and doesn’t cause trouble for years, he knows deep down that they could find him at any time.

Then Faye finds out she’s pregnant. Suddenly the whole I’m a fugitive in a big way thing becomes a lot more of a pressing issue. Kratos puts some feelers out, under the guise of listen I’m tired of hiding, can we just work this out, but pointedly not mentioning Faye or Atreus. Athena has had some time to think about how things went down, too. She’s leery of Kratos’s whole existence, but she’s also logical. He hasn’t caused trouble in decades, he’s reaching out for diplomacy instead of stabbing things/people, has zero (0) interest in joining the pantheon again, and honestly she didn’t exactly do right by him back in the day, so she owes him a favor. It takes a lot of convincing, arguing, so on, but fortunately, the rest of the pantheon has changed, too...or at least wised up to the fact that killing this dude has literally never worked out in their favor and trying again after all this time would probably have the same or a worse result. So, it’s option #2.

Parole, effectively. You say you’ve changed, prove it. Pass on all that wisdom you’ve learned and show that you don’t resent the gods anymore...at the camp for their kids.

This is how Kratos ends up the best/worst combat instructor at Camp Half-Blood. None of the campers know what his deal is, just that he’s kind of scary but usually fair. The Ares kids seem to have a gut instinct to both bully the shit out of him and avoid him at all costs, which leads to a...very interesting dynamic. He gets along best with the Athena kids and the Hermes cabin. He and Dionysius tolerate each other, barely. Shockingly, he and Chiron end up getting along fairly decently? It’s a similar flavor to his relationship with Mimir.

They make him wear the chains around the camp, as a reminder. He’s not actually allowed to handle weapons--just the wooden practice ones--but the Blades of Chaos are in his living space in The Big House. It’s mostly because he can’t get rid of them, but eventually he made a point of hanging them up above his desk, just to make a point. I’m playing nice for now, but we all know what happened the last time you pushed me too hard. Don’t test me with this.

He’s technically supposed to be at the camp most of the year. Technically. Kratos does sneak out to see his family whenever he can, which leads to the physical and emotional absence between him and Atreus. Atreus still doesn’t know about his godhood. Faye is still keeping secrets. They still try to make it work.

The Lightning Thief happens more or less as usual, with the addition of Kratos heavy sighing in the background. He starts laughing when Percy gets claimed by Posiden. It’s the first time anyone has heard him laugh and they’re kind of terrified by the sound. Wow, you mean Ares was up to some bullshit and isn’t going to be punished for it the same way Kratos was? What a shocker!!! Notably, he does not take this out on Percy, who he kind of pities moreso than even the other kids. He knows what it’s like, being the son of someone that important.

Percy finds out about Atreus towards the end of the summer when he follows Kratos off-grounds to where he’s meeting his family. Kratos has to bribe him to secrecy...Percy being Percy, he demands answers. It’s refreshing to get a straight answer for once, and he doesn’t say anything about it to anyone.

Unfortunately for Kratos, the gods find out anyway. Their solution is to also send Atreus to the camp to see what he’s made of. Faye is shockingly okay with this (unbeknownst to Kratos, things are heating up a bit with Asgard and she’s hopeful that surrounding Atreus with his Greek heritage will throw him off the scent). Atreus at age 12 rolls up to camp with a lot of unresolved questions and anger issues at having been lied to for so long. Camp is a miserable for him at first--he can’t be claimed by his divine parent because Kratos only barely counts as a god now and doesn’t want to put that kind of heat on the kid, he’s away from his mom, and surrounded by an unfamiliar culture on top of that. While I’m not sure how the plot of Sea of Monsters would work with this timeline, things do turn around for him a bit when he gets absorbed into Percy’s friend group. 

Anyways, yes I have thought about this too much, what of it -

[obislittleone]

Who Are You Really (7)

Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker x Reader

A/n: this is the last chapter of WAYR, but a sequel might be on the way if people want it enough, so... send requests for it ig

Playlist

Warnings: ⚠️major no way home spoilers⚠️ blood, kissing, touching of bare skin?? Idek

Dr. Strange made a mistake in his spell, and hadn't realized it until he was too late. The spell would remove the memory of everyone in this world of the Peter Parker that resided in it... the problem was, you weren't necassarily concerned with the memory of him, but the other Peter you'd met. You promised you wouldn't forget him. Dr. Strange couldn't do anything to remove him from your subconcious, and because of that, and the contradiction began to form a chain of events. Given that no one in this world was able to remember Peter Parker, you'd been separated from the rest of the human population. You just didn't know it yet.

You had just lost him, he slipped through your fingers like sand through a wide grain sieve. For years you doubted you'd ever find someone with so much shared trauma, with so much relatability. You thought for sure that it was going to be you on your own for the rest of your miserable life... but then he just happened to drop into the alleyway you were struggling in. He didn't know you, or what you had gone through.... it was just a coincidence.

Fate had a funny way of showing you how much control it had over your life... the way it played out based soley off of a ridiculously long timeline in your universe, and every other universe for that matter.

You sunk to your knees, beginning to feel the effects of Dr. Strange's spell come over you... but then it started wearing off. You didn't forget Peter, he was still fresh in your mind. His strong hands holding you close to him as you kissed him goodbye. The way he caught you after being so terrified that he would repeat history and fail again.

You were both angry and sad with this outcome. If you'd forgotten who he was then none of this would be happening. You wouldn't be bitter about fate's awful twist of cruelty. You'd be heading home to your apartment, preparing for a day of work in a place that no longer employed you. It was all too much to bear, and as the tears ran down your red cheeks, you felt a turning sensation in your stomach, making you drop to one knee. You were breathing hard, the stab in your side becoming more prominent as you inhaled deeper. It was painful, and felt like your body and soul was being physically ripped from the earth.

You looked at your hands, seeing the golden flame like lights traveling over your skin to make it disappear from this world. You wondered if somehow you'd tampered with the timelines and now you were being erased from all reality. It felt like it.

In no time, the spread took over your entire body, covering your eyes last. You were not prepared for the transition to be so instantaneous, but it was. You were in a different place than you'd been, but you weren't dead, just transported. It reminded you of the blip, and how everything around you changed in one blink of an eye, but you came out five years later.

You hoped that this wasn't the same location five years later, because if so, that meant they tore down the statue of liberty and put up a crappy apartment building.

You were in the living room of a small complex, barely bigger than a studio if you were to guess. The TV was turned on and you panicked, realizing someone was home. You were looking for a door to get out, but all you could see were bookcases along the walls. They were all filled with partical and genetic science books....

You didn't hear the entrance of the apartment's owner, but he acted on a whim to sieze the intruder, you.

You were pulled out of your daze when you felt a weightless force holding your hand to the bookcase. You looked down and saw the familiar webbing keeping you stuck in place. You used your claws to detatch your hand, rolling your eyes at the obnoxious gesture.

You turned around, not prepared to see him standing there. His mask was off, his hair was ruffled slightly, and he still had a slight bruise on his cheek. He'd gotten that earlier, though it looked far nastier now.

"You," you stood still, not believing what was right in front of you. You didn't know if he was here, or if your imagination was playing tricks on your already tortured mind.

He took a step closer, slowly, seeing your face in the same state he'd left it in after that kiss.

"You," he repeated. He closed his eyes and shook his head, reopening them to find you still there, in his living room. "How did you-"

"I don't know."

You moved your leg forward, stepping enough to close the distance between you. You wouldn't be able to know for sure until you coild feel him.

With one hand raised, you looked deeply into his eyes and barely laid a finger on his chest. The heat rushed through your hand as soon as your palm was laid flat over his rapidly beating heart.

"I'm not dreaming, am I?" He asked quietly, bringing his own hand to rest over the warmth of yours. It felt like lightning when he touched your hand.

"I hope not, because that means I am, too."

He chuckled, tilting his head as he looked over your features with great scrutiny.

"You're here... with me," he was so silenced by his shock that you could barely hear his tamed whisper.

"Where is here?"

You were sure it looked like an ordinary home in New York, but not the one you knew and resided in all your life.

"You're in my world," he said more excitedly, beginning to tear up as he came to terms with the reality of this situation.

Your eyes brightened as you heard the wonderful news. You'd made it through, you had followed him into his universe, hopefully to stay for good.

You couldn't contain your emotions, and pulled him in for another kiss, much like the one you had shared minutes ago. It was more meaningful, though, and wasn't as rushed or clumsy. It was slow, and gentle.

"Are you okay with all of this?" He pulled apart to ask, forgetting to be considerate enough to do so before he got all enthusiastic. "You don't have any way to get home do you?"

"I think this world is my home, now. I never had anything to leave behind there anyways."

As sad as the statement was, nothing could have made him happier. His smile was wide as he brought his arms around you, squeezing tightly to show his enthusiasm.

"Ow," you mumbled into his neck, realizing that you were still very much impaled.

He pulled away quickly, scared that he may have been the cause of your pain. He may have scaled it up, but he was not the initial reason you were hurt. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I just got this uh..." you trailed off, looking down at the small tear in your suit that had been spilling out blood for a while, now.

"Come with me," he was immediately concerned, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his bedroom. You sat down on his bed, feeling the weight your legs had been carrying sink tremendously. You watched the doorway to the bathroom, patiently awaiting his return.

When he came back, he had a med kit much like your own full of supplies for emergency medical needs.

You found it kind of Ironic, the way you'd helped patch him up the same way a few days ago for the exact same injury. It was even in the same place on your bodies.

"Can I take this off?" He gestured to the top part of your suit, hesitant with the words he had used.

"We've barely kissed, but sure," you joked and nodded, undoing the hook at the top and enabling him to reach the zipper on the back. It made the mood a little easier to work with... less awkward.

Once you felt the zipper come apart on the bottom, you shrugged off the top, leaving you in a sports bra you'd had since you were fourteen. It was a little juvenile, the black and red tie dye, but you hadn't really expected to be in this outcome.

He barely even noticed it, for the look of your soft skin was so inviting to him. He focused on his task at hand, being very self aware of how he placed his hands on your body.

He knelt down, coming face to face with the punture on your side, and seeing that red was still dripping from it.

It was silent as he wiped the blood from the surrounding areas, inspecting the deepness and severity of the injury as a whole. He sighed out when he realized he was going to have to inflict extra pain on you in order to help you be healed.

"It needs a stitch or two," he looked up at you, his eyes showed how much he cared, and didn't want to harm you. He didn't even want to stitch up your wound for crying out loud.

"Don't worry bug boy, I can take it."

He cracked a smile at your relaxed nature, happy that you were so comfortable in his presence. He moved the med kit to a corner of the bed, sitting next to it while he made room for you.

"Can you lay on your other side for me?" He asked, helping you get situated right after. Then came the alcohol wipe. In your opinion, the sting of the steril cleaning liquid was far worse than the actual stitch.

You had a saying since you started your vigilante work all those years ago. 'If you can take the cut, then you can take the stitch.' It was a good reminder to be safer when you were out. Having to patch up after a long night was just adding insult to injury... literally.

"Tell me if it hurts," he said, his hands shaking for his lack of experience on another human being. He was fine doing this to himself, because he knew his pain limits, which were insanely high. He was frightened to mess up, or make your pain worse.

He started in on the first stitch, going as quickly as he could while still being careful. It went through pretty decently, and as he tied it off, he became a little more confident. One more stitch was added after that and he was done. He packed everything back up before putting a gauze pad over the top to ensure the healing process.

He didn't know what came over him, but he felt the sudden urge to show his affections after what he'd just done. He leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss in the world upon the newly applied bandage, stroking the surrounding skin with his thumb a few times after that.

He helped you sit up, holding you against his side for support. You didn't mind, you enjoyed the wamrth. He was still in his suit, handsome as ever, but his body emanated three times more heat from within the spandex that it normally did.

"Can I ask you something?" He murmered sweetly, bringing your attention back to his eyes... those sparkling bastards.

"Anything."

"Do you believe in fate?"

You smiled and nodded. Of course you did. All of this was no coincidence. It was simply a matter of a miracle, being twisted into this timeline for both your sakes.

"That's good," he paused, summoning the words he needed to explain this in a way thst won't freak you out. "You know, since I met you, I've been getting this feeling that perhaps I'm supposed to have another shot. I feel like when I caught you, it was a sign of me starting over again. I'm afraid you probably think I'm crazy, but-"

"Don't be afraid, I feel it too."

He nodded, pressing one more kiss to your lips as gentle and soft as he can be. For the first time since he lost Gwen, he felt something optimistic arise in him... call it Hope. He was hopeful about his future, sitting next to you, his arms engulfing your form to keep you close.

You felt at home for the first time, in a universe that was completely foreign to you. It was him, he brought that feeling.

"You're my second chance."

.

.

This was a short ending but I'm taking requests and ideas for a possible sequel??? I don't have a fully formed plot or anything really so send in stuff you think might be good.

Tags can be found on the masterpost!! (Tags for this series are now closed)

[oro-e-diamanti]

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It's the day of the gig. But that doesn't mean the night is over once the band leaves the stage.

Content: Bit of smut, bit of angst, bit of comfort?

Word count: 3.1k

Lesson Thirteen: Safewords are made to be used.

You had spent the day on your own. Berlin was gorgeous and a perfect place to keep your mind off things - being around the band would have only made you go insane with nerves at the prospect of finally dressing Thomas in your blouse for the gig that night. So after an awkward stumble out of Ethan's room that morning you had waved goodbye to the four of them for the day and promised to meet back with them that night at the venue. Yet, you weren't able to completely forget about it. As you were sitting in a café, sipping on a hot drink involving way too much caffeine and people watching, everyone and everything seemed to remind you of the four people you had spent the last few weeks with. A head of hair that just looked like Thomas' tousled mane. A pair of trousers you knew would make Victoria's hips look amazing. A shade of red on someone's lips that you wanted to put on Damiano. A tall man with long dark hair who, upon turning around, couldn't even get close to the beauty that was Ethan.

You allowed yourself to let it all go into your drawings. There was no point trying to push their influence away as it was, so you decided to embrace it. You ended up sketching for hours, working and creating until your hand started hurting, not allowing yourself to think too much about any of the details, not erasing a single line, simply letting the inspiration of the city and your head full of thoughts guide you. Your feet carried you away from the cafe as it became too awkward to overstay your welcome there any longer, letting the streets of Berlin inspire and motivate you. You couldn't resist the temptation of the vintage clothing shops, ending up with more than a few purchases.

Dusk was on the verge of breaking when you finally left, rushing back to the hotel to get changed for the concert, gathering your things, and calling a cab to bring you back to the four people you had somehow managed to miss, even when the separation was only fleeting.

***

"Vic, I swear to God, if you steal my fucking Gucci butt plug one more time-"

Backstage was pure chaos. They hadn't played a show in a while so not only were everyone's nerves tense and their adrenaline spiking, but the usual order of events wasn't flowing quite so naturally as it did a few days into any sort of tour. It didn't help that Vic was in one of her moods, mischievous to the bone and on the right track to pissing absolutely everyone off. You knew it was her way of dealing with the nerves, but that didn't mean she wasn't annoying the whole team.

You left her to her own devices as you vanished into a room with Thomas instead. He was already wearing your blouse and if you were being honest, it looked even better than it had done in your imagination. In fact, he looked positively divine. The white material was flowing over his skin, natural and soft, sleeves wide enough to evoke a silk-like effect without restricting his guitar playing, chest and back on show.

"Do you like it?" You asked, insecurity still ringing in your voice. Just because you were in love with the piece didn't mean he was - and nothing was more important than him being comfortable during the concert.

Thomas turned towards you, surprise painting his face as he saw the doubt in yours. In a single, large stride he was in front of you, hands on your cheeks, angling your head upwards to force you to look at him.

"I love it." Bending down to your height, he put a small, soft kiss on your lips, leaving your heart racing and your worries erased. You couldn't help smiling back up at him, tender eyes pulling you in. You just about managed to leave another quick kiss on his mouth before the door burst open.

"Five minutes!" Victoria's voice was something between a shout and a melodic tune. You weren't sure if it was actually five minutes until stage time at all or if she simply needed to stir chaos and get attention, but Thomas let go of you, both of you exchanging smiles as he went after her to amuse her. You could only chuckle. They were a mess of a group, chaotic and confusing, but loving and caring and you were ecstatic to call them your friends. Or maybe something more.

***

The gig was small and sweaty and it was the first time you had seen the band play live in years, so it was little surprise that they ended up blowing your mind. Thomas held onto the blouse for as long as he could before it was positively drenched in sweat and then threw it right at your face as you watched from the side of the stage, laughing at the squeal you let out as the wet material hit your skin. All of them played their hearts out, the audience giving back just as much and you couldn't help having a little dance and a singalong by yourself, intermittently noticed by the band who would throw you smiles and in the case of Damiano the occasional kiss.

You would have thought they were out of energy when they finished their show after a rousing encore of Lividi Sui Gomiti, but apparently, the adrenaline was still running high and energy was still searching for an outlet. Before you knew it, you were back at the hotel in Vic's room, where everyone met back up again after their showers to get changed for a night out.

"Wait - is that the club you told us about?" Damiano questioned as he stared at the address Vic had sent to his phone. "You know, that one?"

The way Damiano had said it caught your attention.

"Wait, where are you planning on taking me?" You asked right as Vic was handing you a top to wear that looked more like a fancy bra than anything else. "That's too revealing, I'm not gonna go out like this."

"I think that will still be one of the least revealing outfits there," Ethan commented, thoughtfully, as he mustered your boots, shorts, and the top in your hand.

You looked around the room. You were easily the most dressed out of the five of you. You were used to the band dressing in extravagant ways, often not wearing much at all on stage, full of harnesses and chains and other bondage-inspired accessories, but it wasn't usually the look they went for when they went out by themselves afterward. Too much attention.

"Okay, honestly, guys, where the fuck are we going?"

Ethan and Damiano only smirked. Thomas wasn't meeting your eye - you felt like he wasn't too sold on the whole affair either, but who was he to turn down a party.

"It's a rock club," Victoria finally explained. "But the twist is..." You wanted to strangle her for long she paused for, just to push you over the edge of anticipation. "...you are allowed, and, in fact, encouraged to have sex there."

"I'm sorry, what now?"

"You don't have to, obviously. You don't have to do anything. It's just the fact that it's allowed so... you'll definitely see some things. And if you wanna join in, this is the time and place. No phones allowed either, they take them off you when you enter. But if you genuinely feel uncomfortable, we don't have to go, you know."

You looked between the four of them, studying their expressions one by one. This seemed to be way out of your league. It was a lot, and it was possibly too soon. But you trusted them with your life. They'd be there with you the whole time, they'd never push you to do anything you didn't agree to, and they wouldn't hesitate to leave if you asked for it. It was time to step out of your comfort zone.

"Vic? Give me that bra."

***

You weren't quite sure what you had been expecting, but the club, two floors with a number of different rooms, stuffed with people clad in next to nothing involved in heavy make-out sessions and - as far as you could tell - some slightly more intimate things in certain rooms - was overwhelming, to say the least. You didn't necessarily feel uncomfortable, there was no rush or pressure to participate in anything at all, or even pay attention, but there was a vibe in the air that you hadn't felt in any other club or party setting ever. You would lie if you said it didn't intrigue you a little.

You kept close to Thomas for now. Everyone had dispersed pretty quickly upon entering but you didn't quite want to explore on your own yet. Thomas didn't seem too interested in the shenanigans happening, so you followed him onto the middle of the dance floor where people's minds were occupied with the music playing and a lot of dancing. He fit right in, pulling all of his signature moves, no one even bothering to give it a second glance. It improved your mood immensely. He pulled you in easily, making you join and forget about the fact that you couldn't move to the beat if your life depended on it, and let go.

You couldn't tell how long you were there for, simply letting Thomas swing and twist you around until you were shaking with laughter and joy. You weren't paying much attention to the happening around you, but you figured the main action past some heavy make-out sessions wasn't bound to happen in the middle of the main dance floor anyway. But then Thomas needed the loo (you politely declined the offer to follow him there) and suddenly you were on your own. Feeling rather lost and a little self-conscious in the middle of a big room, you went searching for some other familiar faces.

You found Ethan at the bar, deep in conversation with a stranger. He gave you a smile as you passed by, a hand briefly wandering along your body, not even faltering in his talk. You did your best to stay calm and collected.

You found Victoria in one of the smaller rooms, leaning against a wall, drink in hand, intently watching two girls next to her. One of them had the other pressed against the wall, leaving wet kisses along her neck, her hand disappearing somewhere you couldn't see in the dark lighting. Vic seemed to be spurring them on, whispering into both of their ears interchangeably. You decided to leave them to it.

Damiano found you on your way to no place in particular. He pulled you into a different room, back into the blaring music, immediately drawing you close and wrapping his arms around you. You could tell he's had a drink, easily more intoxicated than you, by the way he moved and by the way he was clinging to you. You embraced it, letting him whisk you away. You let your arms fall around his neck, as his held your waist tightly, making dancing almost impossible, but neither of you minded as you kept trying. He kissed you, desperate and needy, not much technique left in his apparent search for more. His lips were warm and inviting against yours and you found your hands wandering to the back of his head, grabbing onto his hair. 

He couldn't seem to stay still. His hands were wandering up and down your body, searching for the abundance of naked skin you had on show, fingers trailing past your bum to dance over your thighs, before coming back up, over the small of your back, harshly grabbing at your hips, thumbs stroking you softly in contrast. Moving up, they grazed the underside of your top, almost touching your breasts. When he stopped, you looked up at him, trying to figure out what had gotten him so distracted. It wasn't difficult to find out.

Following his line of sight, you could spot a couple locked in a messy kiss, their dancing reduced to not much more than a way of rubbing against each other, his knee moving between her legs, pushing against her in ways that had her moaning and breaking the kiss. You couldn't hear her over the music, but the sight of it was enough. It was hot and sexy and it felt forbidden to watch even with the knowledge that they did this well aware of their audience.

Damiano's interest was obvious - not just in the way he stared, but in the way he pressed against you. His cock was hardening noticeably through the thin material of his shorts. He turned back towards you, eyes darkening in a way you could make out even in the low light. Grabbing onto your face, he pulled you back into a kiss, hard and bruising. He overpowered you easily, letting you fall and give him control. Your hands were still slung around his neck, but he tugged on one of your arms until he could take hold of your hand. He didn't pull back as he dragged your hand down between both of your bodies, clumsily moving it over his chest, only covered by a sheer top, lower and lower. He didn't stop when you reached the waistband of his shorts. You could feel his hard length clearly now, every single detail about it prominently bulging through the material and into your hand. 

As you applied some pressure, he wrecked his mouth away from yours, shamelessly throwing his head back in a moan. A head or two turned.

It felt like a thousand heads.

You could feel the eyes on you, watching you, staring, judging your every move, waiting for more, waiting for a scene.

The rational part of your brain tried to tell you it was all in your mind, that this was a club for exactly this sort of thing, no judgement, no one would care apart from for their own pleasure, there were no phones, no cameras, this was a safe space. It got drowned out too easily by the part of your brain that started to panic.

Not a safe place, not a safe place, not a safe place.

Damiano's eyes were closed and he was still moving your hand ever so slightly against himself as the panic rose up in you. A white-hot feeling seemed to travel through your whole body. Your mind went into overdrive. You didn't want this. It came out of nowhere. You weren't having fun. You weren't feeling comfortable. Your eyes were darting around the room, convinced you were the sole center of an unwanted type of attention, filling you up with shame and horror.

You have to stop, you have to stop, stop it now, tell him, let him know, use your safewords, tell him to slow down, tell him yellow yellow yellow-

"Red."

You weren't sure how Damiano heard over the music and the general noise of everything that happened around you, but it seemed like he'd been hit by lightning the second the word reached his ears. He was off you immediately, a welcomed distance as his hands let go of you completely, not a single part of him touching you anymore. You didn't dare meet his eye, staring everywhere but at his face. You felt embarrassed and uncomfortable, as if you had let him down and ruined a situation you should have been fine in but somehow weren't. You hated the feeling.

"What's going on?"

Victoria seemed to appear out of nowhere and she didn't miss the situation happening in front of her. She looked back and forth between you and Damiano, waiting for an answer, obviously unsure as to how to continue.

"We were making out and-" Damiano stammered for a moment, apparently just as overwhelmed as you. "I took it too far, I didn't check in with her, I was too distracted, and she said red."

Vic didn't hesitate, turning towards you. "Do you want to leave?"

You nodded.

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Another nod.

Her hand was gentle on the small of your back, a stark contrast to the touch you had felt from Damiano's hands before. You gathered the courage to look into her eyes, only just noticing the tears stinging in your own when you did. Her face was full of empathy as she returned your nod. You barely remembered the way out of the club or into the waiting taxi. Only when you sat down next to her in the backseat, immediately searching for her body and her comfort, did you feel like you were breathing again.

"You did the right thing, cucciola," Vic whispered as she wrapped her arm around you protectively. "There's no shame, okay? Safewords are made to be used. Our traffic light system is made to be used. That's why we taught you. You found a boundary of yours and you spoke up. I'm really proud of you."

You felt like crying, but in a good way now. Her words soothed your soul so perfectly, reassuring you and comforting you exactly the way you needed to be reassured and comforted. She was perfect. The way back to the hotel wasn't long, but she made sure to hold you and put little kisses on the top of your head all the way. She was safety.

Victoria held your hand as you left the taxi, she held it as you went up the elevator, and she held it as she led you to her room. You easily follower her lead, trusting her explicitly and the way she seemed to magically know what you needed. She jumped in the shower with you, washing your hair, scrubbing your body until you felt clean and whole again. Then she wrapped you into a towel and blowdried your hair. When she moved you into her cozy double bed you felt warm. She snuggled in next to you, making sure to always be close, always touch you in some way. You curled up like a cat, simply content to be in her arms.

"Sleep now," she whispered with another kiss, this time to your temple. "You did everything right. And we all love you. Always."

You sighed as sleep started to take over. You almost missed the last sentence she mumbled, but you couldn't bite back the grin when you heard.

"And tomorrow, if you feel like it, you'll let mommy take care of you."

After all, Vic was still Vic. Always.

***

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[pyreo]

Loreposting about Abaddon

Abaddon doesn’t get a lot of attention. As a deposed god he doesn’t seem relevant to the Guild Wars timeline after Nightfall. But I keep thinking about him because Abaddon is probably the most influential character Tyria ever had.

Let’s just go over where he appears in-game if you start off in GW2. Everyone knows the six human gods. They’re in statues, temples, personal shrines everywhere. The base game story makes you detour through a sunken temple dedicated to Abaddon, while the Orrian temples to the other five gods are still intact on the surface. This is not by chance. It’s also nudging you to notice that there are no Orrian temples to Kormir, because she replaced Abaddon only two centuries ago. This is reflected again later on in Siren’s Landing on the other side of Orr, where the Five, and Abaddon, each have a personal reliquary, and Abaddon’s is central, connected to all the others, and still intact.

Building on that refresher on human divinity, in Path of Fire you visit the actual place Abaddon was defeated by the other Five gods and pushed into a side dimension to keep him out of the world.

And when you visit the archives of the Durmand Priory, they have an imposing Abaddon statue towering over the stairs. Other than being reflected in three major environments, he doesn’t have a role in the plot. BUT.

As Kormir explains to you, the weakness of the human gods is that their excess of power keeps fucking up the world. The Desolation, a map that covers only a part of the sulfur desert, is completely uninhabitable because Abaddon was destroyed there. This happened because Abaddon, who was actually the most powerful of the Six and the leader of the group, wanted humans to share in the gift of magic. He was the god of knowledge, after all. This proved disastrous and the other gods reduced and compartmentalised the magic, and Abaddon went on a whole attempt to overthrow them and become one, single god of all.

The destruction of Abaddon’s temples and relics was intentional. He was wiped from memory. The pantheon was called The Five until Nightfall, wherein the existence of Abaddon was revealed as he tried to drag himself back into the mortal plane. As a god his spheres of power were water and knowledge. Erasing knowledge of him was what made him powerless. (Interestingly, the Priory’s special collections contains the Scroll of the Five True Gods, an ancient record of what the human gods knew about the Elder Dragons, but one dragon is missing - the water dragon, who like Abaddon, has a damaged and erased history. The six Elder Dragons and six human gods have many respective connections.)

When he lived, Abaddon’s followers were the Margonites, who believed him the only real god and worshipped him exclusively, unlike other humans who revere all the Six together. They were rewarded with transformation into etheral beings with an extremely long lifespan, and were imprisoned in Abaddon’s Realm, the Realm of Torment, when he was forced out of Tyria. As the god of knowledge he had a realm to himself, and when fallen, his sphere inversed. Knowledge became madness, the theme his realm embodies. Temples were sunk, records destroyed, because to remove all knowledge of the god of knowledge made him powerless.

I can’t remember where, but it’s implied that by Nightfall comes around a thousand years after his banishment, Abaddon is finally able to claw his way back into Tyria because people are starting to remember him. There’s one side quest that sticks out in my memory called The Search for Enlightenment about a scholar stealing scriptures from an Elonian library which leads to a massive raid by Margonites. The scholar was ‘babbling’ about a forgotten god. Proximity to knowledge about Abaddon seems to bestow insanity, the connection between Abaddon in his inverted realm and his hold over anyone who knows he exists. Though the Five Gods tried, they didn’t erase everything (hell, Trahearne and Sayeh al' Rajihd give you a guided tour of an Abaddon temple). Over a thousand years, relics popped up and people began to remember The Five was once The Six. As they did his influence returned until he was able to attempt to merge the Realm of Torment with Tyria and become a single, all powerful god in the absence of the others.

But wait how does that make a forgotten god the most influential character in both games?

Well.

Guild Wars lore is nothing if not completely linked together. Every single thing has cause and effect, every event is a domino. The story is consistent from Prophecies to this day. So let’s start with the first GW1 chapter, Prophecies.

It all starts at the Citadel of Flame.

It was built into the volcano Hrangmer. The charr had been displaced, pushed out of Ascalon by the successful expansion of humankind. 450 years before GW2 the Flame Legion found this volcano and, inside, Titans. You know how Mordremoth’s minions are Mordrem, Zhaitan’s minions are Risen, etc? Titans are Abaddon minions, left behind and hidden after his defeat. They change their appearance to suit their environment. In a jungle they’re vegetative, in mountains they’re made of ice, in the Realm of Torment they’re twisted constructs of flesh, in a volcano, they’re fire. The Flame Legion brings the Titans back to the charr, charr worship them, and in exchange, get immense fire powers. Flame Legion completely takes over charr society and makes it a theistic, misogynist nightmare with the Shamans at the top.

Abaddon has just restructured charr society.

Using their overpowered fire magic indirectly from a human god, charr, ironically, rally against the humans and nuke Ascalon to pieces. The few survivors escape to Kryta. Charr are now pretty much unstoppable and invade all the way to Orr. Vizier Khilbron used a powerful stolen scroll to repel the charr with magic, and it completely destroys Orr, collapsing the island into the ocean.

Abaddon has just wiped out two nations of the humans who used to worship him, with Orr as the final goal - to tear down the resplendent city of the Gods who betrayed him. This is referenced, if you know what you’re looking for, in GW2. You can scale the Vizier’s Tower, where he read the scroll that sank all of Orr, and on the wall...

A mural to the lost god, a testament to power that, a thousand years later, one who was expunged from history had a faithful likeness depicted.

Ascalon’s a burning hole and Orr is underwater. Now what? Those Ascalonian survivors in Kryta find the place is controlled by White Mantle. The White Mantle are committing mass murder via bloodstone sacrifice (bloodstones being the power curb the gods introduced after imbuing humans with magic) in order to halt the prophecy of a Chosen One opening the Door of Komalie. Vizier Khilbron turns up, shaking out some mysteriously wet boots don’t worry about that, and leads you against these genocidal cultists. Which, whoops, does lead to the Door of Komalie being opened - and it’s a doorway into Abbadon’s Realm of Torment, out of which Titans power through. This was the apocalypse planned for Kryta. Unlike the first two, this one is thwarted by the player. Kryta lives on. Vizier Khilbron is the final boss and turns out to have been a lich.

That’s 3 of the 5 human nations. What about Cantha and Elona?

GW: Factions is the Canthan chapter in which Shiro Tagachi, the emperor’s bodyguard, continually visits a fortune teller until she inflicts such paranoia on his mindset that he believes he needs to kill the emperor in self-defense. His defeat causes the Jade Wind that creates the Jade Sea. As a spirit, Shiro then engulfs Cantha in a plague that warps people into tumorous mutants. The fortune teller turns out to be an Abaddon minion whose task was the eventual destruction of Cantha. This one also is foiled by the player.

GW: Nightfall is the culmination chapter. Abaddon is now powerful enough, well known enough, to breach Tyria and try to come back. His agent is Varesh Ossa, who slowly transforms into a Margonite over the course of the game. The player confronts the breach between planes and finally enters the Realm of Torment, meeting the shades of Abaddon’s servants that came before, the lich form of Vizier Khilbron, and the spirit of Shiro Tagachi, before facing Abaddon himself.

And that’s the end of it. In Guild Wars magic cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred, so another god ascends in Abaddon’s place. They are once again The Six.

It’s Abaddon that ruined half the Elonian desert, Abaddon whose sinking of Orr gave Zhaitan the perfect mass grave to necromance, Abaddon who froze the Cantha sea into solid jade, and Abaddon whose final death and eruption of magic started waking Primordus, leading to the norn, dwarf and asuran alliance to stop it in 1078 AE-- introducing the norn and asura to the rest of Tyria, and making the dwarves extinct, cutting their entire race’s existence short. If it wasn’t for Abaddon, the charr wouldn’t have been taken over by their magic-toting shaman caste, only to come to their senses and rebel and ostracize the Flame Legion afterward. Hell, the current Flame Legion Imperators STILL style their horns in an homage to Abaddon, and probably don’t even remember why! To a human god, gone for over a thousand years, who used their race as pawns in a revenge attempt at wiping out every nation the humans had built!

And even after being thoroughly and completely destroyed, his magic STILL haunts Tyria enough for his statues to punish you for not showing the proper respect.

[chaozsilhouette]

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

[vampkomori]

the TMGB theory

i think theres a bit more to Shinjukus “destruction” if we shift our attention to its most iconic landmark, the tokyo metropolitan government building. 

Note: this theory is just for fun. but I think it has a good shot at estimating the future higher plane storyline

Before we get into the details of the TMGB, lets first establish something about the purification of Shinjuku

This dialogue from w2d4 is about much detail as we’ll get about what happened to Shinjuku, and what effect its “destruction” had on the RG. It was “wiped out” “erased” and “vanished”; nobody in the RG remembers it, except for the people that had been in the UG before.

Well “how can a whole city just vanish?” the answer is: it cant. But lets first bring this visual aid into play

Shinjuku used to be just north of Shibuya, but its not gone in the sense that it left a hole in reality and people just black out whenever they pass through. No, it seems like Shinjuku as an established district is gone, meaning its borders were never drawn, and all its space was instead given to all the other districts.

Basically, instead of “vanishing”, its more like memories and history were rewritten so that Shinjuku was just never a thing. Instead, the other districts just expanded their reach and parts of formerly-Shinjuku are now parts of other cities.

I believe this has to be the case because the alternative brings more trouble than its worth: If it was truly erased to a point where the space it formerly occupied is just empty, people would notice. But as we see with rindo and the others, they dont! rindo had no idea there was even a city up there. Itd also make no sense if people just blacked out and suddenly ended up on the other side of Tokyo, itd mess with measurements bc theres just a bunch of space unaccounted for. people with a 6th sense would also have picked up on the area being iffy, but none of this seems to be the case

Now we can get to the tokyo metropolitan government building! Its pretty important considering its uh. The government. And also shinjukus most iconic landmark. If the city had actually been destroyed, then thered be severe consequences in the RG because their government building is suddenly just gone. A simple memory wipe could not make up for it not existing, and it definitely couldnt just magically conjur up a new building within moments. (I mean, whose jurisdiction would this even fall under? The other Composers would fight over whod get to have the literal government in their city)

Suffice to say “Shinjuku” still exists in the RG. Its just broken up into pieces and those are considered part of the other cities now.

So, if Shinjukus RG is fine, what about its UG?

What we see in A New Day may actually just be Shinjukus UG slowly fading into another plane. 

To backtrack a little, theres a reason the Shibuya UG we’re in during neo doesnt include its newly gained parts of shinjuku, its because Shinjukus UG also still exists, and as neku says “it’s still there, but it’s been cut off from both the RG and the UG.” so its inaccessible. Also meaning, it cant be broken up and added to the expansion of the other UGs. if someone were to, theoretically, die in the RG of the areas that were formerly part of shinjuku, theyd simply go to the UG of whichever district claimed that area, and just wouldnt be able to access that other area in that UG

Now that thats out of the way we can go back to the actual star of the show: the tokyo metropolitan government building! Needless to say, whichever district has the literal government within its borders is bound to be incredibly influential.

And it just so happens

That the TMGB now falls into Shibuyas borders!

I believe this may be the key to the future relevance of Shibuya. The city is already extremely influential, as joshua himself said

Shibuyas influence is too strong.

So strong in fact, it could potentially “poison” the other districts. Now imagine how powerful Shibuya would be if you added the Government into the mix.

Additionally, Shibuya is already considered special by the Higher Plane due to the Shibuya River.

The Shibuya River is a particularly unique place, though we dont know which exact properties make it so unique, the fact that it started flowing into its own plane even after its source was destroyed already marks it as incredibly powerful.

So Shibuya as a place is impressively influential, so itd be no surprise if the Higher Plane kept an eye out for it, but if there was any doubt about this,

Due to the events of og twewy, the city is also considered to have reached its ideal state. Without a doubt this only adds to its already impressive level of power, and basically assures that the Angels keep an eye out for the city even after the Game between Joshua and Megumi was over.

But then why were they suddenly so insistent on seeing Shibuya purified in neo? Well, we dont know. Despite mentioning purification so often and the fact that Angels seem to encourage it, we dont actually know why the Higher Plane wants to see Shibuya purified. By all means, it should be an optimal parallel world now, so why would they suddenly want to see it gone?

The key may actually be Joshua himself. After all, he intended to stop Shinjukus purification. Though we dont know why he interfered, whether it was out of a newfound appreciation for humanity that went beyond his own city, or if he actually wanted to prevent the TMGB from falling into his borders, he was actively going against what the Higher Plane wanted, which would automatically mark him as a nuisance in their plans. Surely by purifying Shibuya, its entire area and also the area it claimed from Shinjuku, would once again fall into the borders of another district, and thus another Composer. 

Its difficult to say whether this is an overarching plan from the Higher Plan that has spanned across both games. If youve read my post about Composers, which is about how Hazuki may actually be a demoted Angel from the Higher Plane, it could be possible that his demotion was on purpose, and that they intended for Haz to purify Shinjuku, therefore making Shibuya more powerful due to the TMGB falling into its borders. He would be the ideal candidate for this, as hes considered unsympathetic and lacks knowledge about the lower planes (and thus doesnt know about the TMGB), making it extremely easy to influence him to erase his city. (though you could also claim he was in on it, but then later changed his mind about it and decided to intervene with Shibuya’s destruction, once again due to Joshua’s influence)

Either way, Shibuya was saved! (again!) and now its more influential and powerful than ever. No doubt even more people would want to come after Shibuya’s seat of Composer, just to govern this massively important city. 

And who else still desires this seat other than our favourite math guy

The fact that his plotline about still wanting to go after the Composer is tucked away in the Secret Ending of Another Day, means that this still has to be followed up on in a potential next game. 

And what better scenario to bring this up than Shibuya being highly sought after due to its recently acquired influence-boost in the form of the government

and to summarize everything once more for extra clarity

Shinjuku wasnt destroyed so much as history was just overwritten so that Shinjuku as a district was never established, causing its area to be split up amongst the other districts. the TMGB now falls into the borders of Shibuya, and with it comes even more power and influence. Shibuya as a city already had an intense amount of influence over tokyo, and even the Shibuya River is so unique that it catches the attention of the Higher Plane. Despite Shibuya having reached its ideal state of being an optimal parallel world, the Higher Plane still wants to see it purified for some reason. Though we dont know why yet, it may be because of Joshua, the fact that hes Shibuyas Composer, and that he willfully goes against the Higher Plane, most notably when he interfered to prevent Shinjukus Inversion. Whether Hazuki is aware of an overarching plan or not, Joshua still influenced him to a point where he also decided to go against the Higher Plane by saving Shibuya. With Minamimoto still wanting the Composer’s seat, it sets the tone of Shibuya’s throne being more sought-after than ever. And the Higher Plane may be more relevant than ever to make sure this influential district falls into the hands of one of their own

this concludes my case

[no--envies]

Nightless City – An analysis of Wei Wuxian’s accountability

I’ve come across several takes about the bloodbath of Nightless City that don’t really sit well with me. Some people say Wei Wuxian is totally to blame, others that he’s totally blameless, and I personally disagree with both. I think that, like in many other events in the novel, what really happened is more complex.

(All the translations are by Exiled Rebels Scanlations)

First of all, the text shows us that Wei Wuxian wasn’t completely clear-headed even before going to Nightless City, which is normal considering what he was going through. His whole world had crumbled in just a few hours. Everything he’d done until that moment – the sacrifices he had made for what he believed was right – appeared to be for nothing. He ended up hurting the people most dear to him, and he couldn’t even protect those he had wanted to protect. When he could move again after the three days he spent in the cave immobilized by Wen Qing’s needle, for a while he didn’t even know what to do or where to go.

After he got down the mountain, he stood amid the bushes, catching his breath. Bent down, he propped his hands against his knees for a long while before he stood up straight again. Yet, looking at the wild grasses that covered many of the mountain paths, he didn’t know where to go.

Burial Mound—he’d just gone down from there.

Lotus Pier—he hadn’t been back in over a year.

Koi Tower? Three days had passed already. If he went now, it was likely that Wen Qing’s corpse and Wen Ning’s ashes were the only things left.

He stood blankly. Suddenly, he felt that the world had no place for him, despite how large it was. He didn’t know what to do either.

(Chapter 77)

It’s rare to see Wei Wuxian so utterly lost and miserable. What happened was too much for even someone like him – who always tends to look at the bright side of any situation – to be able to deal with it. Since he doesn’t know where else to go, he decides to go to Koi Tower to retrieve the Wen siblings’ ashes, but he doesn’t manage to do anything before he’s discovered and forced to flee. He wanders without purpose for a long time until he arrives at a city gate where he hears a group of cultivators talking about him with contempt, which triggers his anger.

The longer Wei WuXian listened, the colder his expression grew.

He should’ve understood long ago. No matter what he did, not a single good word would come out of these people’s mouths. When he won, others feared; when he lost, others rejoiced.

He was cultivating the crooked path either way, so what exactly did the years of persistence mean? What exactly were they for?

However, the colder his eyes were, the brighter the raging fire within his heart burned.

(Chapter 77)

We see him come to a very bitter realization: no matter his noble intentions and moral integrity, everyone has already made up their mind about him, he would be made into a villain no matter what he does. Before what happened at Qiongqi Path he had managed to keep a positive mindset, since he was doing fine in the Burial Mounds with the Wen remnants. It wasn’t an easy life, but they were safe, they didn’t starve and Wei Wuxian was free to focus on his research and inventions in peace, creating the Compass of Evil and the Spirit-Attraction Flag. He missed his family, but he also found another one. He had people who loved him and valued him, and whom he loved and valued in turn. All in all, he was content. He thought that as long as he didn’t actively seek trouble, the world would leave him alone. But he was wrong. Jin Zixun ambushed him accusing him of something he didn’t do, and everything spiraled down so quickly he couldn’t do anything to prevent it, until he lost control of his demonic cultivation and killed Jin Zixuan.

In this moment, Wei Wuxian feels completely alone. The Wen siblings are gone, his beloved shijie might hate him for killing her husband and the cultivation world as a whole can’t wait to besiege him. If it had been another time, he wouldn’t have beaten up those random cultivators. It’s not like it was the first time he heard awful rumors about himself. The fact that he reacts so violently here says a lot about the state of mind he’s in. Wei Wuxian is clearly looking for a way to vent his anger, so he takes it out on the cultivators who are speaking ill of him. His rage is justified: not only were they saying malicious things about him without even knowing the full story, but they were doing it cowardly behind his back. However, his reaction is somewhat disproportionate to their offense: one of them gets kicked in the face until he passes out from the pain, while another gets his legs broken for daring to speak up. Although he doesn’t kill them, he does terrorize them and in the end he leaves them there immobilized by the spirits he had summoned (if Lan Wangji hadn’t been looking for Wei Wuxian, who knows how long they would have had to wait to be freed).

After this, Wei Wuxian sees the announcement of the pledge conference and goes to Nightless City. I’ve seen people argue that he was only trying to protect the Wen remnants and that the people who were there had already pledged to kill him, so it was self-defense. But is it really the case? Personally, I don’t think what he did was self-defense. Sure, he tried to discuss first and didn’t attack until he was attacked, but defending himself and the Wen remnants wasn’t the main reason he was there in the first place.

The crowd flung curses at him, but Wei WuXian accepted all of them.

Anger was the only thing that could suppress the other feelings within his heart.

(Chapter 78)

All of his pain, desperation and guilt were too much to handle at once, so he tried to suppress them all with anger, and directed that anger at the people who hated him. Wei Wuxian didn’t go to the pledge conference to try to prevent the siege from happening (since he thought it wouldn’t change anything anyway) or to weaken the Sects’ forces. He went there to vent his anger and frustration. Wei Wuxian is not clear-headed here, as highlighted by this passage:

Wei WuXian spun around to dodge the attack and laughed, “Fine, fine. I knew since the start that we’d have to fight a real fight like this one sooner or later. You’ve always found me disagreeable no matter what. Come on!”

Hearing this, Lan WangJi’s movements paused, “Wei Ying!”

Although he shouted the words, any sane person would be able to tell that Lan WangJi’s voice was clearly shaking. However, right now, Wei WuXian had already lost his judgement. He was already half-mad, half-unconscious. All evil was being augmented by him. He felt that everyone loathed him and he loathed everyone as well. He wouldn’t be scared no matter who came at him. It wouldn’t matter no matter who came at him. It was all the same anyway.

(Chapter 78)

In this moment Wei Wuxian believes everyone hates him and there’s no use trying to convince them otherwise – there’s no use trying to reason with them in a diplomatic way because no matter what he says or does, his words will be twisted to fit the opinions of the crowd. He almost welcomes the attack because this way he can attack them back and vent all his pent-up anger. Wei Wuxian is not behaving like his usual self here. He can’t see Lan Wangji isn’t trying to hurt him because his mind is not lucid. This is why he loses control of his demonic cultivation for the second time, injuring Jiang Yanli.

His shijie is the only one who manages to calm him down a little despite his chaotic state of mind. He manages to stop the corpses from attacking everyone and waits for her to tell him what she thinks of him, if she forgives him or not. However, she dies to save his life before being able to say anything, and the whole situation becomes simply too much for him to bear. All of his emotions crush him at once, so in his already half-unconscious state he activates the Tiger Seal, effectively erasing any chance he might have had to redeem himself in the eyes of society.

The point of this analysis isn’t to blame or absolve Wei Wuxian. It’s very easy to empathize with his anguish in these scenes. What he was going through was incredibly stressful and the root cause (the ambush at Qiongqi Path) wasn’t his fault. Even Lan Wangji says he can neither condemn nor justify his actions, but he’s willing to face all the consequences with him anyway.

I told [Wangji] when I went to see him, Young Master Wei had already made a grave mistake, there was no use augmenting it. But he said… that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong, but no matter what, he was willing to be responsible for all of the consequences alongside you.

(Chapter 99)

Wei Wuxian isn’t blameless for what happened at Nightless City. I don’t think he’s proud of what he did and all the people he killed, either. The fact that he destroyed the Tiger Seal after returning to the Burial Mounds is quite telling. He definitely didn’t act in the most rational and clear-headed way, which resulted in a lot of people – including his shijie – to lose their lives, but the point of all this is that Wei Wuxian is human. He makes mistakes because no one is infallible, no matter how heroic, selfless and virtuous. Not even he can be totally immune to all the criticism and accusasions, even though he often acts like he is. Wei Wuxian is a fundamentally positive person, so most of the time he can ignore the bad things that happen to him and focus on the good, but this time his situation was simply too extreme for anyone to be able to stand it.

[psychotakublabs]

Eda’s New Powers

Before delving into this theory I’d like to thank zasmit132 (reddit) for helping me with this theory and some of it coming from his own theory as well. (https://www.reddit.com/r/TheOwlHouse/comments/ordb0s/theory_of_the_day_12_edas_new_bard_magic_bile/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Check out his other theories they are great finds!

In “Eda’s Requien” we get to see a new power literally called Eda’s Requiem. When Eda plays the lute, she is using bard magic that has an effect on the surrounding areas. At first it seems like Eda is getting her powers back but then it stops. What was interesting is after playing for a bit, the curse combines with her bard magic and causes erosion on random objects. This new power, which will be called Eda’s Requiem, only activates when she plays the lute and the power activates a little bit after playing. The ability of this new power destroys objects and magic at random. This power is very new and unique to Eda but it will have great importance in the future.

How and Why

The curse affects Eda’s magic and makes her powerless most of the time. She can do a little bit of magic, but it doesn’t work right or at all. However, Eda is able to perform Bard magic when playing her lute. Although it is for a short time, she is able to levitate objects with her Bard magic in the surrounding area.. It seems that Bard magic is the only type of magic not depleted by the curse. At least not to the extent of her other magic. However, her gem starts to glow and her curse starts to combine with her Bard magic. Instead of depleting her magic, it causes certain objects to erode (it is still unknown if it’s depleting magic itself or it’s a special ability that causes decay). If the curse was affecting her Bard magic, it would deplete or cancel Eda’s magic, not the surrounding area affected by her Bard magic. Also the curse does not have this effect on other types of magic she can use, so it seems exclusive to Bard magic. The curse is combining it’s depletion properties with her Bard magic when she plays the lute, but it’s at random and still limited and uncontrollable on her own.

Now the question is why Bard magic? Eda’s curse depleted her magic, which means her Bard magic shouldn’t be possible. Yet she plays the lute and is able to levitate objects for a limited time in conjunction with her curse. The reason Bard magic is able to combine with the curse is because of her connection to Raine and her emotional state. When she plays the lute, it’s a distraction from her current negative emotions (Luz and King leaving and not being needed/important). She has a very strong connection to the lute because it brings her back to Raine, her old friend/crush. The new power does cause more destruction than good but that’s because of the curse. Her strong connection to Raine could be the reason her Bard magic is more powerful than her other magic and the curse is able to combine with it to create a new power. Hence why it’s called Eda’s requiem (the power/song, not the episode).

Importance

This power  can cause erosion to anybody, anything, and/or magic. Right now she does not have full control of this power and it randomly selects the target to be destroyed. However, if Eda can control this new power, she could manipulate what the power targets instead of being random. She could even upgrade her Bard magic to extend her range or extent of destruction. However she controls her power, it will be very important further in the series. Especially on “Day of Unity”. There are three ways she could stop “Day of Unity” with her new controlled powers. 1) She could erase the tattoos controlling the Coven witches and sealing magic. By freeing the Coven witches of their mark, she not only stops Belos from controlling them, but the witches gain their abilities back which could either stop Belos’s plan and/or strengthen witches to oppose him. 2) Eda could cure or stop Belos’s curse. How Belos was cursed is a mystery but we can tell it came from wild magic. From what we have witnessed in “Hunting Palisman” it seems to take over his entire body and is reduced to a muddish goop. He fights the curse but it seems painful and harder to control without Palisman. Eda’s new power could destroy Belos’s curse if it has the power to deplete magic and not destroy the object. She could erase the curse using her new powers and rid Belos his pain and suffering. Not sure if it will stop him from performing his plan but it’s a possibility she could rid him of his curse. 3) She could use it to destroy the portal gate (not the door). Belos is building a gate surrounding the portal door. This seems to be very important for “Day of Unity”. It could be a device along with the spell to merge the two realms together. Eda could use her power to destroy the gate instantly which would ruin Belos’s plan However this power is being used, it will be very important and possibly become a great asset to stop Belos’s “Day of Unity”.

Reappearance in “Knock, Knock, Knockin on Hooty’s Door”

Although the synopsis for this episode has been released, this section does contain spoilers related to the leaked(?) picture from the episode guide from Gracenote. If you do not want to be spoiled from the description of that picture please do not read past this as it is not important to the theory and more of a possibility of reappearance in the next episode. You have been warned.

The episode description for “Knock, Knock, Knocking on Hooty’s Door” is Hooty helping out with Luz, Eda, and King’s problems. For Eda, we thought it was related to her curse. It still very much is, but it’s related to her new powers, not just the curse itself. Again, her new powers are a combination of Bard magic and her curse. But it can only be activated when playing her lute, which is locked up in her chest. Eda may be hesitant to try this new power or even play the lute. 

After Raine sacrifices themselves to save Eda, Eda is going to be saddened and guilt ridden. Although she was able to stay strong in front of King and Luz, she may act differently when alone. She could also be frustrated when playing the lute (if she does play it)  because the new power isn’t working like before. It could be both. This is where Hooty notices this and wants to help Eda with controlling her new powers. Because the new powers are related to her curse, she has to confront the Owl Beast again.  In the Gracenotes episode guide, there was an image of Eda and the Owl Beast facing each other. Notice how the background is the same background as the hilltop as Eda’s flashback of her and Raine hanging out together, only it’s darker colors (dark blue, black, red). This flashback was supposed to be a happy memory of her time with Raine, but now will be a reminder of what she thinks will never happen again. The guilt in the beginning prevents her from playing the lute and/or activation of her new power.

However, Eda seems determined to confront the Owl Beast. Although not definitive, it could mean she is ready to take on the Owl Beast as well as her guilt. Eda may be strong, but she does show signs of vulnerability just not in front of others. That guilt either blocks her new powers from activating or prevents herself from playing the lute. Hooty helps Eda with her unresolved guilt of Raine’s sacrifice and Eda is able to face off against the Owl Beast again, determined. Instead of trying to gain control of her Owl Beast form, she will try grasping her new powers. By the end of the episode she won’t fully gain control. Eda’s loss of Raine and other issues (abandonment, familial tension, etc) won’t be resolved that easily. But she can start to move forward and gain an understanding of her new powers and control it someday. We may even find out more about this power beyond erosion/destruction. Again this is just pure conjecture on my part. This may not happen at all. There are two instances where we see the Owl Beast (the Gracenote promo picture and trailer clip) so it is possible it will be in “Knock, Knock, Knocking on Hooty’s Door”. How and why it happens is purely unknown. All we know is it will be related to Eda's recent events and issues and Hooty will be the one to help her out. This is just pure speculation based on images, descriptions and past episodes. What do you guys think? I'd love to hear your ideas on Eda’s new power known as Eda’s requiem.

[whispering-about-loki]

A Little theory regarding the Loki series

Warning! Image-heavy!

I am going to preface this by saying that this won’t happen. Well, maybe it won’t. Most of it won’t. Maybe some of it will. So SPOILER warning, in case it does. 

I’ll put some of my thought process in a note at the end.

---------

After Loki is arrested and brought before court to be charged for his part in certain time crimes, Mobius M. Mobius takes him “somewhere to talk”. He shows Loki snippets of how his life would have gone if he hadn’t skipped out with the Tesseract, then he tells him that he needs his help. Someone has been causing changes throughout history, making a myriad of variant timelines. Mobius believes that someone is taking advantage of their position in the TVA to cause this chaos; but his superiors refuse to believe that any of their ranks would behave in such a manner. So Mobius figures that if you want to handle chaos, you need to embrace chaos, and without consulting his superiors about it, he offers the God of Mischief a deal: help him find and bring back the rogue agent, and Loki will get his freedom. 

It is, of course, against the rules; but Mobius is willing to bend the rules a bit, if it means ending the time incidents. Loki agrees, thinking he will be able to use the situation to escape. But Mobius understands Loki’s thought process and warns him that if he strays from his assignment, he will be brought right back to the TVA. Loki being Loki, though, does try to skip out; but after he is zipped right back to the TVA a couple times, he doesn’t try it again.

Loki then does what he agreed to, slipping through time with Mobius and looking for the cause of the chaos. Disconcertingly, though, Loki’s power and strength begin to diminish, to the point where simple attacks he should have been able to easily counter are enough to take him down. Mobius says he doesn’t know why it is happening.

After a while Mobius's superiors suspect he is up to something, so he begins sending Loki out on his own, staying behind at the TVA to keep the others off his trail. Loki still doesn't like being in someone's "servant", and he resents being kept on such a tight temporal leash; but he continues reporting back to Mobius. While on assignments, Loki occasionally ends up preventing disasters that the “Agent of Chaos” had set in motion; though he also can’t help but make some “small” changes to the timeline, himself.

Mobius tells him to be more careful, or he might cause unforeseen effects. When Loki scoffs at this, Mobius asks him if he wants to see the world where he “won” the battle of New York. Mobius doesn’t wait for Loki’s answer, but immediately ships Loki off to an apocalyptic-looking New York City. When Loki gets there, the air is cold to the point where he can see his own breath, and it is utterly silent. A result, it appears, of not only the Chitauri attack, but of the bomb that the Humans used to try to wipe out the invading army. Apparently, the only ones that got wiped out were the Humans -- Avengers and all.

Loki wanders around the desolation for a while, until he is at last found by a roving group of ragged men. They seem to recognize him and he is brought to the leader of the city, who happens to be himself. Boss-Loki has gone a bit around the bend, though. He has been stuck in this place for years since the attack, and has carved himself out a little “kingdom” in the ruins, based in an old arcade. Our Loki is shocked and almost disgusted to see how far he has fallen. When Boss-Loki’s men turn on him because of this other Loki’s presence, though, our Loki gets caught up in the fighting. He calls out to Mobius that he has made his point, and to get him out of there.

Loki goes on doing his “job” then, being more careful with time. At long last, he finds a strange object at the scene of one of the chaotic events, and he brings it back to Mobius, who recognizes it as something he had taken from one of the young agent recruits, a girl named Sylvie. Mobius explains that some of the agents in the TVA are clones (like himself), but that some are recruited at a young age by the TVA because they show special abilities. Sometimes these recruitments occur from outside the main timeline, which is where they found Sylvie. Not only was she a gifted individual, but the TVA records showed that she should not have existed in the first place; so they took her in to train her, and also so that her presence would not disrupt the flow of time. 

Mobius and Loki go to confront her in her room, but she is gone. Mobius feels responsible because it was he that “recruited” Sylvie. Additionally, he knew that she had a habit of slipping through time on “joy rides” and coming back with souvenirs, which was strictly against the rules. She always seemed innocent, though, so he went easy on her about it. Hidden in a drawer in her room, they find other “souvenirs”, and Loki notes that some of them have Asgardian runes on them. Mobius says that Sylvie is human, according to her genetic code, so he doesn’t understand what she is doing with the runes. 

As they ponder the meaning of this, an alarm sounds in the TVA headquarters, and they know something terrible is happening in some variant timeline. They leave Sylvie’s room to try to get to the portals to take them to the time-incident; but on the way, some TVA agents try to stop them. They claim that Loki is the rogue element that has been causing all of the chaos, and that he needs to be “erased” as soon as possible. 

Mobius pretends to be on the agents' side, then sets them off-guard so Loki can get to the scene of chaos. After fighting his way through the Minutemen that are guarding the portals, Loki arrives when/where Sylvie is--at a quarry mine--the moon is shattered and the fragments are falling to the Earth. 

Loki runs to get to safety, and the ground opens up as the mine before him collapses, blocking him off from the now-adult Sylvie, who is staring up at the falling moon. She turns and looks at him just as the ground completely falls out from underneath him.

Suddenly the world around him stills and he lands hard on the ground. He struggles to his feet and looks up to see that everything has frozen around him. As he is standing there, gaping in disbelief, he turns and sees Sylvie standing beside him. She is wearing clothing very similar to his old Asgardian outfit, and she is smiling at the destruction and chaos before them.

“Hello, Father,” she says. “Have I made you proud?”

-------

-------

Notes: 

SPOILERS below.

My main thought was that since Cailey Fleming is listed as playing “Young Sylvie”, that would imply the presence of an older Sylvie. Otherwise, she would have been listed as “Sylvie”. Sylvie Lushton being the girl that Loki, in the comics, empowered and/or created, and who later became a version of Enchantress. 

That is who I think Sophia Di Martino is playing as an adult, rather than Lady Loki, like I used to think. Her hair is the wrong color to be Loki, for one thing; and she has been shown filming in the same location as Tom Hiddleston, who was wearing an Agent outfit at the time. I’m not gonna put the set photos here, but you know the ones... the pictures where she is wearing just about the same outfit as Loki has in the past. And we know that this character is the one that is causing the chaos, because in those set photos she is wearing a certain pair of boots and fingerless gloves, both of which are freeze-frame bonusses on the “mystery figure” in the trailer (when she drops the lantern and lifts her hands to her hood).

I’d also like to point out that she is wearing what appears to be a sword on her hip:

Anyway, I figure it goes something like this: 

Sylvie exists because another version of Loki had adopted her when he discovered that she had talents close to his own. He had begun training her how to use magic; but he was not so good a teacher as Frigga was, and the training was complicated by her wily and independent nature. Loki in that timeline died, though, leaving Sylvie alone. 

The TVA (specifically, Mobius) took her in, but because of her abilities, she was naturally able to slip through time, create illusions, age herself up and down, etc. Eventually, she decided she would “make her father proud” by sowing chaos. The thing is, she has grown stronger and more chaotic since Loki showed up at the TVA, because she has been inadvertently drawing his power and life force from him -- basically depowering him to charge herself up (c’mon... he gets laid out by a Roomba...). In fact, the draining of his life-force was what killed her “father” in her own timeline, though she didn’t know it.

Additionally (and on another note), the Loki series is said to be a “crime thriller” with sci-fi aspects; so while Loki tracking down a rogue time-agent seems to be a pretty straightforward idea, it could be given a nice twist at the end by having the rogue element not be an agent, but someone of Loki’s own making. And it would be one hell of a cliffhanger for the next season.

And... that’s all I got for now.

[magnetothehedgehog]

Dimension’s Ridge Announcement!

Hi everyone, With all the rise in Sonic media and the great releases coming up, such as The New sonic game in 2022,the sonic movie 2, sonic prime, and literally anything Idw has been releasing including their new side series “Imposter syndrome”, I am challenged to up my game and release information on my long running project in the works. Especially Since sonic prime and Idw is literally gonna blow out all the spoilers before I do if I don't start releasing stuff first. Since its been happening constantly, I gotta be a step ahead.

So, without further ado, I introduce you to the World of Dimension's Ridge.

Dimensions Ridge is My personal Alternate Universe that seeks to combine all aspects of sonic media. In fact, its super similar to the upcoming Sonic prime, archie and Idw Comics in this regard, with it possibly being a bit more ambitious, or at least equally as ambitious as Idw.

The Series will follow a number of favorite canon and non canon characters alike, but will also their universal counterparts and alternate universe selves.

The Main overarching plot line is that a Existence level Threat is putting everything in jepoardy. This Creature Known as an Existence Eater spreads its influence to a planet by releasing its minions into it, then after enough time, it comes to absorb the planet, thus erasing it from existence entirely, as if it had never been there in the first place. This has been happening for quite a while, until a few people caught onto it. They began leaving messages and warnings to others in a attempt to save them.

Being an existence level threat, this will take the combined effort of every Version of Sonic,Tails,Sally, Eggman and everyone else if they want anything to be left in the multi-verse. This Story is about how they all come together to do just that.

However that is the main plot. The story follows many minor or sub plotlines and stories that all connect and weave into this ultimate narrative. For Stories featuring Sonic and friends, Stories start off in the classic area and work their way into the modern area as the characters develop and mature, so we get to see and live their journey alongside them. For older characters and parents, I wanted them to have a  more staple involvement in the series, even if only at the beginning. Their Adventures as the World slowly slips into chaos can be read in War on Mobius.

While there are Prequels to the beginning of the story, such as the “Rift War.”, the main storylines that kicks off all the other starts is one of my current productions “War on Mobius.”This follows the economical and political collapse following the Recent End of The Rift War and begins the Egg Empire's rise to Power.I would like to mention that The Egg Empire Now consists of the collective versions of Eggman all working together as a family. Egg Fam for short. But we have Great additions such as boom eggman, Ova Eggman, Aosth Eggman, Satam Eggman, Russian Eggman,Eggette, and a few custom additions such as Omelette and Scramble.

Things That happen in War on Mobius will be seen effecting or influencing the states of things in my Classic Era Story “Classic adventures.” and others ones such as “The Freedom Fighters.”

Alongside canon appearances of less known or scrapped characters and designs, such as Tiara and Honey the Cat, Readers can expect appearances of my own characters, both as counterparts to main characters, and also as people who drive the story forward and show interesting and dynamic opinions of their changing world. A few Such ones would be “Tribal Ties” Focusing on the Tribes of Echidnas, Bayblonians and Pangolins Tribes, all of which play a part not only in Mobius history, but also will play a vital part in its future.

After Classic adventures, comes one of my long running claims to fame and a personal favorite of mine from my early script writing days. Zone Runners. This takes place after the Events of Classic adventures and as the world has been influenced by the political unrest in War on Mobius. It follows the Group of People on the East Side of the World as they try to fight back against the Egg Empire, Newly risen Oscillators Group, and The Very lack of Sonic and Freedom Fighter there. This series will also begin unraveling some of the mysteries behind the existence eater and the ultimate narrative. Originally this concept came from the Fleetway comics, and ever since I've been completely inspired to incorporate this into my own series. If anyone was ever on Sonic Amino, they might have seen me post things related to it back in the day.

I also wish to be a more character focused series as a whole, one who focuses on the people collectively as opposed to just Sonic himself. I want it to as if each character us actually a main character and can save the day, and that the day is only won because everyone has done their part, whether powerful or powerless.

To that End, I have many characters stories intertwine, or lead to one another. Some characters will have branching off stories, while others will be closely intertwined, and always interact with each other, regardless of who the story is currently focusing on.

A few I'd like to notable mention is, Shadow's Ark, Silvers Sanctuary, and Heir of Sol. Focusing on the characters Shadow, Silver, And Blaze Respectively.

While I have a lot of other Titles for the stories respectively, I'd just to touch on a few more before I close.

Worlds collide finally answers the question in sonic media about two planets and the dimensional connundrum of sonic rush and sonic 06. While also bringing together multiple characters who were on their own paths, for the collected purpose of setting up how everyone will be needed much later.

Dimension Forces is, a reimagined Version of Sonic Forces, including a whole new team of villains to take on the heroes from our prior stories. I call them: Forever Force. The Main Three Hitters Being the Villains Infinite, Eternity, And Enigma. In this Story we'll get to see Whispers team in action, and also get to see new stories involving Gadget and His Brother Widget, and a host of other rising heroes soldiers and returning cast members.

I also had this Idea that the wisps were able to use their abilities on their own, except in smaller weaker versions then when they had a mobians help.Thus you could call in drill air strikes and other things to help you in battle, and the flew alongside you rather than in containers. I had these idea way long ago, but what do you know Idw beat me to the punch again in rise of the wisps. However I would just like to say before they do it too, that I had the idea of the wisps combining their powers, as if anyone played Sonic simulator, you would know you can actually combine wisp powers. If its the same type, its twice as strong with a bonus effect. If its different, you can combine the strengths of two different powers. Think how eggman used cube with laser in the boss nega wisp armor.

Speaking of Sonic Simulator! Thats another Story I have plans for. Following alongside the events of Sonic colors, Sonic simulator follows the group of hedgehogs abducted from Mobius and sent to eggman's interstellar amusement park as part of an organic experiment to take out sonic. Suggested by The Leader of the Oscillators, These hedgehogs will now have to work together to prove their worth to Eggman and as worthy adversaries of Sonic! But what of their past memories? What will happen if they remember? And if they do, can they escape? Find out! Also its follow up story leads to sonic lost world.

I'd also like to talk about the Idw Verse Mini series I have been working on! Getting Art from the Talented CatRage and getting to voice my Ideas to My Friends as well as My sister, I present my own Miniseries! Mimic's misadventures!

This story takes place between  the events of Idw's Bad guys, and follows mimic's operations and struggles as he tries to complete his missions, and deal with people of similar caliber to himself. Will this mercenary manipulate his way easily out of another situation? Or has the Octopus finally met the one group who will send him back to the ocean? Find out!

Currently, this miniseries has 5 canon issues and one undecided.

1.Ghost Of The North.

2.Into the Spiders Nest

3.Hunt is on

4.Jaws of a Predator

5.Belly of the Beast

undecided: 6.Seaside Escapade.

Currently I am writing the script for Part 1 of Ghost of the North and hope to finish up the Audio drama reading for it soon.

So this is all the stuff I've had in production for the past few years! Along with my co writer Pinky heart.

Please, Please! Reblog or retweet this. It would mean the world to me. Also please! Ask as many questions as you'd like. I'll answer as many as I can, and would love to hear everyone's thoughts and opinions, as well as questions and inquires involving the series.

[mytwinklelights]

A Reunion - Part 1 | Peter Parker x Stark! GN Reader

A/N: Remember over a month ago when I wrote this preview and didn’t post again? Oops sorry, I had to take a little break from tumblr because I was reading way too much fanfic. But now I’m back, just to post, still no reading for a while! Umm but yeah, here’s the first part! I can’t guarantee when part 2 will be posted but it’ll definitely be within the next 2 weeks! I hope you like it, please let message me with any feedback because I need validation to stay motivated lol

Summary: Y/N is an Avenger, the youngest Avenger. Then, Peter Parker comes along and they’re happy to finally have someone their age to hang out with, even if it was the boy they spent their senior year of high school crushing over.

Content Warnings: I don’t think there are any - let me know if I missed any though!

Genres: Friends to lovers, Stark! Reader, Frequent cameos from Avengers and them being cute, Slow burn, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 2019

                                                             ----

“Alright gang.” Tony begins, standing in front of all the Avengers at the end of a large oval table in the conference room.

“I’m sure you’ve seen these ‘viral videos’ of this Spider-Boy kid swinging around the city and being a friendly neighbourhood vigilante. Well, Happy and I have managed to track him down and he’s agreed to join the team”

“Viral videos of superheroes?” Steve exclaims, looking at Tony whilst tilting his head and looking genuinely exhausted. “I’m still catching up on these keyboard cats and kids biting fingers”.

I giggle. Having Steve around was just the same as having an uncle you saw once the year who lived of the grid. He was extremely sweet, but utterly clueless to anything other than his job. But I mean, that job does include fighting evil aliens.

“Anyway…” Tony continues as the other Avengers chuckles die down after Steve’s outcry “he arrived not too long ago. Happy is next door giving him all the T&Qs and they should be done now. Let me just check and I’ll introduce you all.” Tony then leaves the room, and the other Avengers start to talk among themselves.

I pull out my phone and type ‘NYC spider boy’ into YouTube clicking on the second search result with 20 million views. I have seen this video before as my friend Michael sent it to me around a week ago.

“Do you think there are many other super kids wandering around the city?” Sam asks, whilst looking at the video of my shoulder. Currently the hero is stopping a city bus from off-roading into some confused tourists by building up a wall with his web.

“I doubt it, I mean I guess he’s the only one going viral” I answer, moving the angle of my phone so the others who have gathered around me can see “but it would be cool to be able to meet some people my age who do what I do, no offence guys”

They all laugh. Being the youngest Avenger and hanging out with 30+ year olds all the time can be kind of isolating, but it’s like having a super close family. A family who also happen to be in life and death situations regularly together. But that’s a great bonding experience I would say.

“Guys, this is Peter, the Spider-Boy” Tony draws our attention away from my phone to the door where he has just entered.

“Spider-Man” Peter mutters as a lame attempt to correct him.

“Peter?” I question and the boy stood in front of me was not who I expected. I didn’t expect the masked vigilante swinging through New York to be someone that I knew.

“Y/N?” He responds, looking even more confused than I am “What are you doing here?”

-

“So Tony Stark is your dad?” Peter asks.

After seeing a guy from your school who you shared a chemistry class with last year, walking into a super-secret meeting for superheroes where he will be now joining your team. It is understandable that Peter and I were now talking this out to figure out how this state could be so small.

“Yep” I answer. We were sat next to each other on bar stools at the kitchen island. Wanda made some of her famous fruit smoothies for us and we were both stirring them around with our straws whilst conversing alone in the main living space.

“But your last name isn’t Stark, or Potts?” He continues, genuinely really confused about this whole situation.

“Yeah, well you can’t have the daughter of a billionaire and superhero couple walking around New York City alone, going to a normal school, having normal hobbies. It’s like asking for me to be taken hostage. So, I don’t have either of their last names and the general public doesn’t know I exist. It’s for my safety” I continue, reciting this memorised answer I’ve had to say to multiple people once they find out my existence.

Peter nodded as if he was understanding everything, he probably was, but I guess this wasn’t the conversation he planned to have today.

“And you’re the great Spider-Man” I continued, wanting the change the subject from me to him. “How did that happen? Wait… were you Spider-Man when you sat behind me in Chem last year?”

He began to explain to me the story, it happened to him on our school trip to OSCORP we took last year for our Chem class that happened just before the end of the semester. Something about a radioactive spider. It was strange, kind of the weirdest superhero transformation story I’ve heard. And I’ve heard quite a few.

My story was nowhere near as interesting. I guess having superhero parents who were always around weird alien technology and contaminated substances led to some weird epigenetic alterations of their reproductive cells and then when they had me, I could turn invisible.

They didn’t know at first, I was seemingly a normal baby. Then at my 2nd birthday party when they surprised me with a freaky clown, I was so scared that my body just decided to turn invisible. They weren’t expecting it, the clown definitely wasn’t expecting it and they had to cover up with a very convincing lie.

From then, whenever I was embarrassed, scared or essentially in a situation where I wanted to disappear. I did. Literally. It wasn’t entirely effective though as even though my body tuned invisible, the clothes I was wearing didn’t. I spent the majority of my preteen years of being a walking hoodie and jeans with no head or hands protruding from the gaps. For my 13th birthday Bruce and I got to work on a suit which responds to the activity of my skin cells, when I was invisible, my suit was invisible. It made it a lot more effective for me to actually be invisible when I turned but it also meant my dad let me start training to become an Avenger.

Training was fun, I worked with Nat a lot in our gym in order to become an efficient fighter. ‘Just because people couldn’t see me, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know how to serve a mean right hook’ she always said. I also spent a lot of time with Wanda, trying to manage my powers. Now I am able to actually turn invisible and visible again on demand. And it only takes extreme embarrassment now to turn me invisible against my will, which is great because mum and dad finally let me, after my years of begging, attend Midtown High and stop being home school. This is where I met Peter last year and now I’m at Columbia studying genetics and engineering. A double major, I know but when you’re around the top geniuses in the world everyday, there is no such thing as too much learning.

“So, I guess we’re the only Midtown Alumni to have these crazy powers huh?” Peter finishes. After a long ramble about his becoming a superhero story. I guess he wanted to ease the tension after I couldn’t really think of what to say after “that’s super cool”. It wasn’t like I wasn’t interested, I really was, but when I wanted to have another person my age to hang out with, I didn’t expect it to be the boy I spent my senior year of high school obsessing over. I had turned shy, like really shy, like my normal levels of shy times 50. I couldn’t think of what to say.

“Sorry, if that story was too long and boring, I’ve only gotten to tell it to one person before, my best friend Ned so I was kind of excited to be able to tell it again.”

“No, it wasn’t boring, it was genuinely really cool!” I say a little too loudly and enthusiastically. I cringe at my tone of voice and speak normally again as I continue “It’s just I didn’t really expect the new Avengers recruit to be you, you know, like someone I know. It’s just kind of weird, but nice? I don’t know, now I’m rambling”

Peter chuckles.

“Umm, so are you going to be staying with us whilst you train or are you going back to Queens?” I ask, hoping this new question will miraculously erase Peter’s memory of what I last said.

“A bit of both, my Aunt is back in queens and I don’t want to leave her completely alone, but this upstate facility is a little too far for an everyday commute. I’m here just for today but once I start training on Monday, I think I might stay for the whole week.”

“Well, I can give you the tour! Since you’ll be staying with us soon, I guess you’ll want to know where everything is!” I say whilst jumping of my bar stool and putting my half full smoothie cup in the fridge. I noticed peter has just finished his, so I grab the glass and put it in the dishwasher for him. He thanks me as I do so.

“So this is the kitchen, where we make our food, different from the kitchen where the chefs make our food for occasions, charity events blah blah blah. And also, this seating area here is kind of the main seating area where we’ll sit throughout the day. Lots of sofas because there are lots of us and this is Bucky’s armchair. Don’t ever sit in Bucky’s armchair.” I say, stopping behind the chair and resting my hand on the headrest.

“Bucky, scary guy with the metal arm right?” Peter questions whilst following me at a slight distance around the room as I show him around. I nod. “Yeah, don’t worry, I won’t be sitting in his chair” he laughs.

I continue to show him the rest of the complex, the gym, the labs and finish up on the floor with all our rooms.

“I’m not sure which one of these rooms will be yours because we have a couple spare ones, but they all have the same layout. Look I’ll show you mine” I walk into my room, then hold the door open for Peter so he can follow me in.

“Uh, so this is my room. Obviously, yours won’t be decorated like mine but It’ll be the same size and have an en-suite attached with a full shower and tub and stuff. You know, the basics” I say, whilst sitting on the edge of my bed.

“I like your room, it’s cosy” he adds whilst looking around and then heading for the bookshelf as soon as he spots it.

“Ah thanks, I mean it’s cool, bigger than when we were in the tower in the city so I can’t complain” I say whilst also looking around. What is it about someone else being in your room that makes you see it with fresh eyes and make you super self-conscious that there is going to be a rogue piece of underwear on the floor? Even though I know I tidied my room this morning.

“Holy crap, Vision you scared the life out of me” I say on an exhale whilst holding my hand to my chest after the large gasp I just made as he enters the room, through the wall.

“Sorry, but your door is open” He continues, “Mr. Stark has told me that your car is here to take you back home Mr. Parker. If you would just follow me, I can lead you there” Vision continues, as if him just floating through my bedroom wall and speaking to the boy from my chemistry class now turned superhero was a normal thing to happen on a Thursday evening.

“Oh… thanks Vision” Peter says with some hesitancy, you can see that this is a weird circumstance for him too. “Well, I’ll see you on Monday then” he says smiling at me and walking towards the door. Which vision doesn’t use to exit.

“Yeah, see you then” I smile as he closes the door and I’m left in my room listening to him shuffling down the corridor.

Part 2

[miserable-pile-of-lies]

The Sleeping Beauty of Wallachia Ch. 3 (Full)

I know it's been a lifetime since I last updated the story, but I really wanted to deliver with this chapter as it sets up the basic frame of the fanfic! I really hope you guys enjoy what I came up with, feel free to leave reviews on A03!

Summary: Wallachia is in great peril at the behest of Death himself; all those who have attempted to battle the creature have swiftly been executed and made an example of. The key to defeating the beast lies in Dracula's castle, located twenty odd miles out from a small village by the name of Danesti. In this village, the headwoman Greta must act quickly to save her people from the onslaught of attacks by night creatures and other minions who have sworn their loyalty to Death. Will she alone be able to stop Death or will she require additional aid to save Wallachia?

Skeletal appendages scraped furiously against the transmission mirror depicting the Speaker and head woman, muttering a string of curses against the two mortals. Death hovered in the dimly lit war hall, formerly the stronghold of the vampire king Dracula, standing in front of the reflective surface while his jawbone rattled in a fit of rage.

“Those damn Speakers continue to impede the progress of my fucking war,” the entity spat out savagely, swinging his gargantuan scythe in the general direction of his night troops. Night creatures nervously searched the faces of one another, conflicted by the appearance of their commander who currently donned his true form.

In the presence of their Forgemaster Hector, a naïve necromancer native to the distant country of Greece, the mystical being deceitfully modeled his appearance after that of Vlad Dracula Țepeș. Despite the steadfast loyalty the night creatures held towards their liege, Death had promised the beasts an unlimited supply of sustenance that what would ultimately lead to the extermination of humanity.

Left with free reign of the planet, the night hordes would transform Gaia into a ruinous paradise where the nighttime skies dominated daylight and the forsaken creatures would never have to return to the torturous confinements of Hell.

“The whole lot of you are absolutely useless, do I have to do everything on my own,” the grim reaper lamented, waving a hand to dissolve the magical mirror’s image, erasing the sight of the two women that would later contribute to his demise. One night creature resembling a large bat blew through its nostrils tactlessly, finding no amusement in the unprovoked castigation of the army.

Hearing the sound of the snort, Death languidly turned its effervescent build towards the large beast, staring daggers in retaliation at the ill-timed slight.

“Braying like an ass will not change my words, I was perfectly clear in my demands,” the angel of death howled out powerfully, raising the daunting crescent of his scythe above his frightening form. Making quick work of the unlucky demon, the gruff of its neck caught onto the merciless edge of the blade and the head of the devilish bat soared into the air in moments. Blood sprayed out from the decapitated monster as it unceremoniously fell on the polished floors of the chambers. Exposed arteries showered its nearby compatriots cowering in fear at the execution, all halting further movements.

“Would anyone else care to challenge my words, if so, step forward,” Death questioned calmly, effectively slinging off the blood that clung to the steel of his otherworldly weapon. Silence filled the war hall effectively, no one dared to stand in opposition against the underworld ruler.

On the verge of throwing a fit, Death stopped in his tracks at the sound of quickened footsteps in the distance, closing in on the massive war hall. Permitting a gratuitous exhale, the immortal turned his back to the night hordes who readied themselves for the newcomer, recognizing the familiar footfalls from anywhere. With the flourish of his skeletal hand the grim reaper chanted inaudibly, summoning forth his power to shapeshift into the rightful lord of the castle.

Tendinous muscles bloomed in the place of bone, quickly overtaking the shrinking mass of Death who groaned in soothing tones at the tickling sensation. Inky black hair sprouted from the scalp of his skull and fine threads of linen materialized over muted skin. Black wool breeches pooled over his long legs while a standard charcoal doublet garnished with the Țepeș family insignia appeared over the newly formed body of Vlad’s imposter. Polished leather boots clacked as Death spun around for the night creatures to observe his clever disguise, finishing the last transfigurations needed to complete the transformation.

Looking back into the transmission mirror, the surface reflected an image of the war lord indiscernible from the genuine article currently incapacitated by Death. Sharp claws adorned with a platinum wedding band traced over the mirror thoughtfully, not bothered by the sudden intrusion of Hector who appeared to be out of breath from dashing from his workshop.

Strands of starlight shook gently as the Grecian man doubled over from exhaustion, sweat gathering at his brow as his vision locked onto Dracula. Gently gripping the railing of the grand master stairway, the Forgemaster allowed himself a moment to catch his breath while his night creatures marched out of the war hall.

“Dracula, we need to replenish our forces, the number of casualties in your army continue to rise across Wallachia,” Hector announced wearily. Currently, the Forgemaster worked tirelessly around the clock to provide the soldiers that supplied Dracula’s army. Although he was honored to be chosen as the chief general in the crusade against humanity, Hector could not help but feel that he was reaching his limitations. Additionally, the necromancer pondered the whereabouts of his equal Isaac who had yet to make an appearance in the court of Dracula. Feeling a stab of disappointment at the late arrival of Isaac, Hector found his hands tied up with numerous tasks that did little to distract his thoughts that led to the other Forgemaster.

The two necromancers had been introduced to one another with the assistance of Dracula during his pursuit of knowledge upon Lisa’s request. Hector recalled being in awe, shyly eyeing the other sorcerer whose appearance was quite different than what he had expected based on Dracula’s vague description of the man. Wise beyond his years in matters of philosophy, the Ghanaian man bore the façade of a fabled ruler from a faraway land. Sharp cheekbones exquisitely found purchase against the high points of his face, sleek lines defining the entirety of his graceful form.

However, the other man was unapproachable in their initial encounters, seeking no camaraderie with Hector outside of their shared association with Dracula. Life had dealt a fair share of cruelties to Isaac; sold into slavery at a very young age, his village invaded by Teutonic Knights seeking gold on behalf of the Catholic Church. Having his own share of hardships, Hector faced abuse administered by his parents and peers throughout his lifetime.

Despite the difficulty bonding with Isaac, it became clear to the reserved man that Hector coveted their connection and respected him despite their different worldviews. Isaac slowly began to disclose tidbits of information about his past, detailing the events of his travels throughout the years. The young philosopher was often met with unwarranted violence, constantly badgered by men who had something to prove. Following suit in storytelling, Hector confided in Isaac about his current quarters on the island of Rhodes, forced into isolation by locals who feared the Forgemaster.

“They called me a demon, convinced that I was a byproduct of Satan and his wickedness,” Hector confessed quietly around the campfire. Looking across the flickering flames, his companions offered their sympathy in silence at the disheartened declaration.

Aquamarine hues reflected sorrow, recalling the daily deliverance of venomous words from his birth parents. His mother Rhea viewed her son as a curse, damning their family from the moment he left her womb. His father Cyrus cruelly forced Hector to use his abilities for his greed, completely lacking any attachment to his son. Trauma was an understatement when it came to describing the afflictions he suffered under the roof of his childhood home, every day more miserable than the previous one.

Hector recalled reaching his breaking point when his mother and father heartlessly set aflame Cassius, an undead canine that he revived in the picturesque meadows of Corfu. Infuriated by Hector and his strange proclivities of bringing dead animals into their living quarters, Rhea ripped off a long branch from a nearby olive tree.

“If only I could have foreseen the depravity of your character; why did God gift me with an evil seed,” Rhea cursed ruthlessly while beating a sobbing Hector, leaving irritated welts across his vulnerable back and arms. Curling into a fetal position to avoid the worst of his mother’s fury, Hector begged his mother to stop, but she refused to relent her punishment.

In retaliation, Hector ignited the residence under the cover of darkness, miming the brutality of his parents in an episode of calculated rage. Horrid screams shattered the silence of the night, smoke carrying the scent of burning flesh that could be smelled for miles. Neighbors cautiously gathered around the family home in horror, hurling a plethora of wicked expletives directed to the young boy. Hector retreated into the night wordlessly, never returning to the island of Corfu.

“Your story furthers my point, humanity is an infestation that ravages anything it comes into contact with,” Isaac asserted casually, wrapping his artisan hands around a ceramic mug containing water infused with citrus tones. Mahogany eyes squinted in displeasure at the shortcomings of mankind; a species that Isaac deemed unnecessary given their lack of purity and selfishness.

Propping an alabaster hand against his temple, Dracula wordlessly looked to both men who appeared to be at a standstill in the discussion.

“Peculiar would not even begin to express the paradoxical nature of this discussion, wouldn’t the two of you agree,” Dracula suggested whimsically while rising from the dewy grassland. Both humans exchanged a perplexed look with one another before allowing their supernatural companion to continue his train of thought.

“Despite the misfortunes that you both have endured, neither of you have purposefully gone out of your way to hurt others,” the vampire explained with a faint smile, looking to the two magically imbued mortals. Hector allowed a small smile of his own to surface in agreeance while Isaac quietly mulled over the words in deep contemplation.

Not long after their travels together, Isaac followed Dracula’s recommendation of perusing the world for further insight on humanity and what it had to offer. Traveling through the city of Tunis to return to his abode in the Western Sahara Desert, Isaac encountered a man who simply went by the name of Captain. Commanding a crew of forty-four men, the Captain invited Isaac to explore the world with him, seeing curiosity twinkling in those umber hues. Prior to the present war, both Hector and Isaac communicated through the distance mirrors gifted to them by Dracula. The vampire was quite insistent about the two staying in touch, emphasizing the importance of their friendship.

Hector listened in wonder at the tales that Isaac narrated, completely enthralled by the whirlwind of journeys that Isaac experienced across the globe. Various knick-knacks were presented under the ever-watchful eye of Hector, souvenirs gifted by companions made along the way during his world expedition. Contentment radiated off Isaac in a terrific arrangement throughout their conversations over the next couple of months, feeling closer than ever before to the other Forgemaster. Despite the Ghanaian man being worlds away from Hector’s humble abode in Rhodes, the Grecian man truly felt that he could call himself Isaac’s friend.

“I have never felt more at peace Hector,” Isaac conceded amicably as the sound of relaxing waves sloshed in the backdrop of his lodgings, retiring to his personal cabin for the night. The other Forgemaster curled his body against the worn mat in his small man-made hut, propping a hand under his chiseled chin. Daydreaming about a life of exciting escapades, preferably at the side of Isaac or Dracula, Hector allowed his imagination to run wild. However, Hector lacked the confidence to travel on his own at the mercy of other humans, knowing that his naivety could easily be exploited.

“What you have accomplished is an astounding feat, I’m happy for you,” Hector professed honestly while gently scratching behind the ear of his curious pet Cezar, the small pup wagging its stubby tail at the attention of his master. Tucking away a lingering lock that swayed in his vision, the Corfu native was thrilled that Isaac had achieved inner peace in his ventures to distant lands. Prattling on into the night as they often did, the two men would communicate almost daily until calamity struck Wallachia.

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False rumors quickly spread across Wallachia regarding Lisa Țepeș, all unfounded accounts of the human doctor being a malevolent witch who used black magic to heal the residents of Târgoviște. Local priests and clergymen of the Catholic Church demanded that the woman burn at the stake for her crimes, claiming that Lisa denounced the teachings of the church through her unorthodox methods. Leading the public lynching of the innocent physician, the Bishop stormed the cottage and burned the structure without remorse, gleefully watching the home crumble in on itself amongst the flames.

Not long after the unexpected invasion, Dracula was alarmed by a disturbance in the cosmos after departing from the market town of Târgșor. The small town was roughly three miles out from the small dwelling that he shared with his wife from time to time following the birth of their son Adrian. The scholar had just returned to Wallachia after a year of traveling, departing from the port city of Braila just days ago. Wasting no time, the voivode glided through the bleak skies of a Wallachian winter, perturbed by the prickling unease that struck him out of nowhere. From the darkened clouds above, the nosferatu noticed fumes shrouding the small refuge of their home, seeing two figures situated in what remained of the cottage.

Crimson red engulfed the sclerae of Vlad’s eyes, his wrathful aura alerting one of the two creatures standing. Ivory frost coated platinum blond loose waves that resembled that of his wife Lisa, golden eyes widening in apprehension as the youth registered the presence of his father. An old woman crouched remorsefully by the young man with a hand full of withered cowslips picked from the nearby flora, laying them down in front of the incinerated remnants of the home.

“Words cannot express how indebted I am to your mother, the church has truly gone too far,” the elderly human muttered repentantly, clasping her worn hands together in a silent prayer. Jet black locks viciously swirled around the pale visage of the vampire, treading through the snowy sleet that did little to impede his powerful steps. Finally stopping before the pair, hellfire danced in his blazing irises that refused to burn out.

“Where is your mother and why were you not by her side,” Vlad snarled out quietly while dropping his traveling sack onto the blanketing snow, glowering at the dhampir without any inhibitions. A wave of tremendous guilt washed over Alucard at the blunt criticism of his father, unable to loosen the knot in his throat. Dark fitted leather gloves squeaked in protest, looking to the longsword he held in his hand for guidance. The weapon was a keepsake given to him by his mother in his teen years, a family heirloom passed through the ages.

“Mother asked me to travel to the city of Pitești to purchase medicinal herbs from the local market for her patients, I was only gone for two days,” the young man weakly explained. Raising a gloved hand to his temple in silent resignation, his eyes shut worriedly at the unknown fate of his mother, hauled away to the town square of Târgoviște to be burned for all to see.

Bloodied tears mirrored those that ran translucent in a state of clear distress. Despite the two butting heads from time to time, Vlad and Adrian loved Lisa more than anything else in the world so it was no question what they needed to do now. Casting a downward glance at the woman who knelt in the frosty snow, Vlad looked to the human thankful that at least one soul refused to participate in the cruel spectacle. Slowly rising to her feet with creaking bones, Alucard lent a hand to help Mrs. Djuvara rise from the snowfall, alleviating the strain of her getting up from the ground to the best of his abilities.

“The Bishop left about thirty minutes ago sir, rambling like a mad man after seeing the contents of the cottage,” the gray-haired crone commentated apologetically, gently thanking Alucard for his assistance. Giving her full attention to Vlad, almond-shaped eyes lowered in thought before she deemed it appropriate to continue.

“The Catholic Church wishes for Lisa to burn at the stake, those clergymen should be ashamed,” Mrs. Djuvara angrily expressed, crossing her arms at a complete loss.

If those bastards wish to burn my wife, blood shall be spilled all over these lands the immortal scholar promised menacingly while Alucard looked to his father with unadulterated determination. Somewhere in his delicate heart Alucard knew that his mother would be saved and that she would not want either of the men to spiral into violence on her behalf.

“There is no time to waste, we need to leave now Father if we hope to stop them,” Alucard suggested gently, sheathing his longsword into the scabbard that was fastened to his hip. Silently nodding in agreeance, Vlad directed one last glance to Mrs. Djuvara who watched the two men with concern.

“Thank you for your kindness, this act of generosity will not be forgotten,” Vlad expressed with a slight nod in her general direction. Turning on his heel, Vlad charged back into the frigid heavens once more. Following in suit, Alucard gave a polite bow in a show of gratitude before he took to the gloomy skies after his father.

“I truly hope she is alright,” the kind woman spoke in hushed tones, rubbing her aged palms together to regain some warmth before heading down the slushy path with careful steps. Tucked away in the grim forest nearby, a shadowy figure briskly swore, praying that the two supernatural beings would fail to reach the physician in time.

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Not a soul in Wallachia knows what occurred following these events, only aware that Lisa never reached the town square as the Bishop had intended. The Catholic Church decided not to pursue the matter any further after several months passed, deciding that God would be pleased by their work regardless of her unknown whereabouts. Many speculations were made by those residing in Târgoviște relishing a year of peace following the abduction of Lisa Țepeș, theorizing that she used her craftiness to escape the reach of the church. Completely unaware of the violence that would pervade the cursed province, Wallachians returned to their daily routines and forgot all about Lisa of Lupu.

Shortly after the presumed tragedy, Hector received a distress signal from his distance mirror roughly six months ago, contacted by Dracula to conduct a global population cull. Briefly explaining what led to the maniacal request, the vampiric king pleaded that Hector travel to Romania to assist in his war against mankind. At a loss for words, Hector hesitantly asked Dracula to give him more time to consider the harrowing proposal.

Feeling guilt streaming through his conscience, the necromancer attempted to contact Isaac for additional guidance in what path he should walk. However, the other Forgemaster failed to answer the line of communication that both were accustomed to. Left to his own devices and feeling indebted to Dracula for his kindness in those previous months together, Hector agreed to act as a general in the vampire’s army. At the acceptance of the request, Dracula summoned forward his transmission mirror, allowing Hector to safely arrive to Wallachia without a moment to waste.

Upon his arrival, Hector noticed several oddities while exploring the expansive fortress. For one, Dracula failed to mention that Hector and Isaac would be the only generals acting in his army. While the Grecian man understood that Dracula detested the vampires in his inner court, the sorcerer could not understand the set of tactics that his master presented. No vampires had been spotted in the months he spent in the estate. Marbled hallways remained vacant apart from the night creatures that passed through on occasion, leaving Hector with so many questions that would remain unanswered.

Moreover, the late appearance of Isaac bothered Hector to no end, knowing that the missing Forgemaster prided himself on being punctual. When the young wizard prodded Dracula about the man in question, the lord of the castle insisted that he could not get ahold of Isaac.

“I have tried to speak to Isaac on several occasions, yet I cannot seem to reach him,” Dracula permitted after weeks of leading Hector on about the whereabouts of the Ghanaian man.

Hearing the admission aloud troubled the tanned islander despite the war lord attempting to put his mind at ease.

“Who could possibly harm Isaac, he will be fine,” the undead tyrant exclaimed irritably with the wave of his hand, silencing the anxious man altogether. Shortly after his biting remark, Dracula issued an apology to the dismayed general, explaining that he meant no harm. During his tenure at the castle, Hector took notice of the constant mood swings that afflicted Dracula, his temperament setting off at the slightest inconvenience.

Night creatures controlled by the childlike fellow were disposed of in cruel moments dealt by the voivode, often victims of senseless brutality. Seeing their battered remains evoked memories from the childhood that Hector desperately tried to escape, feeling ill when coming across his slaughtered beasts. In those moments, Dracula knew exactly what to say, explaining that his episodic cruelty stemmed from his immeasurable sorrow. Despite it being clear that his lord was still in mourning, the sorcerer could not help, but feel that many details leading to the tragedy were abstract in nature.

Only once did Hector attempt to question Vlad about the demise of his wife, hoping that he could comfort his friend. Unsurprisingly, Dracula vehemently lashed out at Hector when inquiring about Lisa, clarifying that his grief was too painful to blatantly express.

“Her passing is like an open wound that was left to fester Hector, vulnerably exposed to the brutal elements,” the sovereign spat out venomously. Approaching the portrait of Lisa that sat in his over cluttered study, Dracula tenderly caressed the oil painting with a hollowed expression.

Feeling a strange mix of empathy and apprehension, Hector simply observed the unsettling scene, concluding that he could not offer the consolation that his liege would never be able to claim.

The two quickly began to draft plans, offering their own introspections about which cities would best serve as ground zero in the war. Setting the tone of the attacks was of the utmost importance to Dracula, deeming that the first strike against Wallachia would determine the success of future battles. After careful consideration, the warlord determined that the first skirmish had to be personal in nature so that Wallachians took his actions seriously. Maneuvering a pasty hand against a yellowed map of Romania, a finger landed on the foundation of his misery, allowing an insidious smirk to sprout in place.

Târgoviște would be the first target of Dracula’s unbridled fury in avenging Lisa, staking claim on the capitol in one fell swoop. Many attempted to escape the city in the initial wave of attacks but quickly fell victim to the onslaught of the night hordes. Those surviving escaped through elaborate labyrinths lying underneath the city, fleeing north to the region of Transylvania. News quickly spread regarding the ambush on Târgoviște, survivors warning anyone in proximity to desert Wallachia at once.

Not long after, Hector began to expand the numbers in Dracula’s army with the excess of corpses from successful frays around Wallachia. His materials for forging varied in appearance, leaving the necromancer to question his own moral compass at times. Some of remains relatively intact appeared to be as young as a five-year-old, robbed of a meaningful life all too soon. Others seemed elderly to the point of having issues with mobility, their joints stiffened from a lifetime of working day in and day out.

Shaking away these intrusive thoughts, Hector continued to perform his duties to the best of his abilities, successfully overtaking many cities with his revived hellhounds. Things were running according to plan until the unexpected appearance of Speakers in Greşit; the mages assisting the common people from the attacks of night creatures. Since then, different caravans had travelled throughout the province in hopes of defending the innocent civilians falling prey to the unexpected raids commanded by Dracula.

Projecting the falsehood of contemplation under the focused gaze of the young man, the doppelganger summoned away the enchanted mirror. Pacing to the throne that sat at the heart of the war hall, the faux Dracula slowly sat down while interlacing his corpse like fingers together.

“What do you suggest that we do Hector,” Dracula requested patiently, looking to the Forgemaster currently descending the steps with a weighted gaze. Drawing himself to the side of his master, Hector failed to ignore the fallen night creature slain in the war hall, its fresh blood still perfuming the stagnant air. Sparing a brief glance at the sight of the corpse, the magician allowed a downcast expression to cloud his handsome features, pity flooding his body.

“The night creatures need guidance on the battlefield; however, we do not have the means to be everywhere at once Master Dracula,” Hector expressed bluntly.

Conceding with a small bob, the commander of the army allowed his high-ranking officer to pursue his thread of reasoning.

“Why not utilize your vampiric subjects in this war, they could easily best anyone that challenged your authority,” the magical user hesitantly recommended after a beat of silence. Thrumming his lengthy fingers along the arms of the dark oak throne, an extended sigh was released at the suggestion. Craning his neck to make eye contact with the standing Forgemaster, Dracula allowed an unrefined snort to escape his mountainous frame, startling Hector with the action.

Rising from his cushioned seat, the imposter scrutinized the undead conjurer with a wary eye, bending down to gander at the Mediterranean male. Suppressing the urge to back away at the sudden invasion of his personal boundaries, Hector furrowed his brow but remained in place, refusing to yield to the intimidation tactic. Nevertheless, his heart thrashed madly inside the cavity of his chest, unsure of how Dracula would respond to the open defiance of his commanding general.

Surprisingly, the ghoulish sovereign beckoned the sorcerer to follow his footsteps up the stairway, leaving Hector stupefied. After Hector took a moment to gather his bearings, his stride shadowed his master who walked ahead in silence.

On the upper level of the castle, the crackle of lightning could be heard within the glass lanterns decorating the top of massive pillars. The Forgemaster trailed behind the imposing figure of Dracula by several steps, pondering the undisclosed destination that his master had in mind. Peculiar rooms embellished with the strange mechanisms of the castle passed in the background, colossal cogs spinning in tandem to power the lifelike structure. Illuminated by the blue radiance from the electrically powered lamps, both men began to slow their extended steps before coming to a complete stop at the appearance of an unexplored threshold previously unknown to Hector.

Darkness swept away any previous amusement from the face of the vampire, retrieving a skeletal key shrouded in a venomous miasma, visible to even the unsuspecting eye of Hector. Sweat beaded across tanned skin that shivered at what lied ahead, a wave of unexpected nausea overriding his otherwise well disposition. Am I being punished for what I previously suggested Hector questioned shakily, fearing that his unfiltered callousness stirred the rage of his liege.

“Hector, you must promise me that you will never tell anyone about this particular room,” Dracula cooed softly, brushing a frigid hand against the quivering form of his subject. Unbeknownst to the Grecian man, Hector faced no danger behind the doorway that Dracula wished to show him.

Nodding reluctantly at the inquiry, Hector directed a skittish glance to his master wordlessly. Wasting no more time, the entryway of the room was swung open by an otherworldly force, revealing an otherwise chaste setting.

Gossamer curtains carelessly blew back and forward, blinding sunlight filtering through the boarded windows of the secret lodging. Surprise struck the features of the Forgemaster, seeing a mysterious man in the center of the room, lying in a lavish canopy bed. The lord of the castle hesitantly entered the room with a grimace, trudging towards the rest station with heavy footfalls. Tilting his head downwards, Dracula once again gestured for Hector to follow his lead, inviting the magician to stand by him with the repeated curl of his ghoulish finger.

Promptly accepting the invitation, the Corfu native briskly paced his steps to stand by his commander, following the line of attention given to the ethereal man sleeping in the comfort of the bed. The expanse of porcelain skin revealed the lean form of the fellow, marred by an unsightly scar that splayed across his Adonis-like chest. Flaxen loose curls attractively framed the resting warrior, unfurling around the man in a breathtaking impression that resembled the mythical tresses of the Greek god Apollo. The celestial being only wore leather-bound trousers that effectively displayed his powerful yet lithe frame, equal parts refined and daunting in aura.

Clearing his throat at the awkward stretch of silence, a pale hand splayed across the bare chest of the dhampir, partially covering the only imperfection that could be found on the man.

“My son attempted to thwart my plans in avenging my wife,” Dracula carefully disclosed. Slithering the hand upward, his icy hand cupped the sculptured cheekbone belonging to the youth in bed.

Looking between the parent and child, it was clear to Hector who the unconscious beauty resembled, favoring the late woman that he often saw in the disorderly study of his sovereign. Only around the eyes and brows could he see the influence of his master, both father and son showcasing striking features that conveyed their noble heritage. Despite the discovery of Adrian seizing his interest, the Forgemaster was befuddled by the late introduction of the halfling prince.

“Before his betrayal, I tried to call on the assistance of the closest generals within my court, demanding that they come at once after what the humans had done to my beloved wife,” the vampire king hissed while drawing back his claws from his sole heir.

Pausing for the sake of building momentum in the elaborate lie, the false Dracula closed his crimson eyes, soundlessly relishing in the misplaced trust of the naive sorcerer.

“A vampire by the name of Orlok struck down Adrian with a cursed blade despite my prompt warnings, leaving him in this weakened state,” the voivode admitted with a bite, leaving a disquieted Hector to piece together what occurred.

Starlight strands shook at this revelation, finally coming to terms with the reluctance that his master exhibited at the mention of vampires being at the forefront of his war. Loyal subordinates of Dracula mortally wounded his offspring, proving themselves to be as depraved as human beings.

“I came to a realization following the near death of my successor; neither vampires nor humans deserve to walk these lands,” the executioner confessed boldly. According to the violent account of the crown ruler, Dracula dispatched every vampire in his path following the assault of his cherished son.

Bonds of blood and love fueled his animosity towards his own species, concluding that vampires were incapable of viewing mortal creatures as purposeful creatures.

“Please forgive me for my suggestion, it was an unreasonable request,” Hector confessed sorrowfully. Brushing off the verbal sputtering of his general, the doppelganger felt a ripple of fatigue begin to hammer away at the effectiveness of the spell disguising his legitimate form.

I will have to dismiss him at once Death deliberated apprehensively, detecting that the veil of the glamour was slipping rapidly from his persistent usage of the spell as of late. Allowing a rare genial smile to surface, Dracula summoned his tactical officer away, promising that he would find a proper solution to lessen the workload of the Forgemaster.

“Words alone cannot describe my gratitude Master Dracula, I will not fail you,” Hector promised with a bright smile, feeling a surge of passion spark at the unguarded constitution of his friend.

Once the jovial magician departed from the alcove, a deep scowl set on the face of the imposter wearing the skin of Dracula, sickened by the fictitious bond between him and the accursed man-child. Death lifted the enchantment camouflaging the angel of death, gliding over to the unmoved form of Alucard. Flesh melted away in a horrifying reveal, making way for the signature semblance of the spectre.

“Do you hear me Alucard,” the grim reaper griped, clearly miffed by the tireless charade that he put on day in and day out to accomplish his current objective. Procuring an agreeable spot in a gothic high back chair that sat close by, the entity permitted a superfluous exhale to leave his lungless structure. Gazing at the sleeping prince, a sharpened appendage attempted to pierce the heart of the unconscious youth. Simultaneously, a visible force field crackled at the threat of danger for the son of Dracula, Death forcibly removed by the triggered spell. Allocated by the true ruler of the castle, the spell allowed Alucard to remain unharmed by the malicious entity, protected by the paternal love of his father.

Groaning at the effectiveness of the hex, a feral snarl erupted from the underworld king. Stomping back to close in on the cursed male, the skeletal face of Death unceremoniously crowded in the proximity of the defenseless dhampir. Small breaths escaped from the gorgeous warrior compelled to sleep against his will, unable to voice his displeasure against the depraved creature.

“That cock wart Dracula will pay for making a mockery out of me, I will find away to break this spell and I will take what rightfully is mine,” Death assured brusquely, gripping the hollowed cheeks of his captive. Releasing the delicate face of the supernatural fighter, the grim reaper vanished from the chambers, slicing through the frigid air of the room with his trustworthy scythe.

Creating an ingress that led to the Infinite Corridor, Death saw a copious number of settings distorting the foundation of time and space, different eras and locations all residing within the unusual dimension.

“In order to assure my victory, I must douse out any semblance of hope for humanity,” the supernatural being concluded grimly. Selecting a seemingly arbitrary setting, Death pursued the target he had sought out for months: the absent Forgemaster Isaac.

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Harsh pants dispensed at the suffocating dryness of the barren lands; a wearied figure found difficulty with properly trekking through the golden sand that seemed infinite. Bringing the waxed batik fabric of his bell-shaped sleeve to his drenched brow, Isaac squinted in exhaustion at the compression of heat, seeing waves distort his unreliable vision. Leering at the nothingness that extended for miles, the Ghanaian man paused in his journey. Looking back at the night creatures created from the remains of desert bandits, maroon eyes warily searched the blazing heavens to see if the deadly entity hid amongst his troops.

Dropping to his knees abruptly, the Forgemaster felt his stamina begin to plummet at an unprecedented rate. For several months the necromancer avoided the grim reaper with the assistance of his distance mirror, indebted to Dracula for his selflessness during a critical time in Wallachia. Frowning in discontentment at the unpleasant memory, the sorcerer felt responsible for failing the traveling scholar in his time of need.

Approximately a year ago, Isaac received a distressed message from his highly esteemed friend Dracula, foreboding the current events that he now endured. While the communication from the man of letters was not an aberration in his daily rituals, the Forgemaster noticed an immediate difference in the usually collected countenance of the vampire king.

Shooting pains stirred within the frontal lobe of his head at the recollection, immediately bringing Isaac back to the tumultuous present. Night creatures gathered around their master, concerned by the abnormal behavior of the dark skinned enchanter. One night creature by the name of Fly Eyes stood at the forefront of the troops, chittering away commands to instruct the lesser beings within their ranks to search for nourishment at once.

Attempting to placate the dehydrated magician, Flyseyes knelt by the side of the Ghanaian man, gently prying open the attractive curve of plump lips with his razor-sharp talons.

Carefully bringing his hands to his side, Flyseyes retrieved a leather waterskin from the satchel belonging to his liege. Despite his nightmarish appearance, the night creature retained a good deal of his humanity, constantly conversing with Isaac about a great deal of worldly matters. In his previous life, the anthropomorphic fly acted as a Greek philosopher who died in the ancient city of Athens, remembering inconsequential details from his past. Delicious morsels for discussions by the fire, the creature inspired new trains of thought for Isaac with his wisdom and vice versa.

“You really should drink Isaac, do you wish to expire,” the night creature prattled with a hint of admonition, the water-filled receptacle promptly placed in front of the revenant summoner. Allowing a small exhale to leave his crumbled form, the Forgemaster gladly accepted the offering given by his wise servant, taking extensive gulps to savor the lukewarm water.

Pulling back to intake an influx of fresh air, Isaac straightened his toned frame, unable to articulate his hopelessness. Wide vermillion eyes stared adamantly, refusing to yield in their conquest of retrieving their master, the wise man seeming so lost for the first time since the two met.

“Death does not concern us, because as long as we exist, death is not here,” the night creature mentioned offhandedly, raising a barbed nail to pick at the human flesh stuck between his visceral fangs.

Down casted burgundy eyes closed at the ancient Athenian proverb, shaken by his own bewilderment, instead offering an Islamic adage to combat his own troubled psyche.

“Life is not guaranteed at all, but death is absolutely guaranteed upon all, yet we still prepare for life more than death,” the necromancer countered, passing the waterskin to the puzzled night creature.

Although the demonic entity politely accepted the leather canteen, Flyseyes no longer required the fundamental resources needed for human survival. Placing the waterskin by his side in the shifting silt, the jarring beast stood up, seeing the dispatched creatures returning to their malnourished master bearing gifts. Not too far off, a small caravan trailed in the overshadow of the flying critters, a small collection of several men and women on camelback.

Slowly, Isaac retrieved his forging dagger from the rough cotton sash tied to his strong core, prepared to add the travelers to his ranks if need be. Shockingly, the men appeared to be completely calm, not bothered by the presence of the Forgemaster or his beasties. Cool steel began to heat up in his clammy palms, hooded eyes sinking close from the burnout administered by the unexpected travels leading him to the accursed desert.

This is the end I suppose, my only regret is dying in this hellish heat Isaac mused casually, falling onto the fiery golden sea. Vision blackening at the edges, the last sight captured by Isaac was the dismounting of the leader, an unusual ambiance filling the air at his arrival.