#i fucking hate this timeline its agony

[fourgottencoast]

i'm so fucking angry at the world for deciding to ignore covid and pretend it doesn't exist and letting it spread to the point of perpetuity. I don't want to have to risk my life to get even a slice of Living and connection to humanity. I want to be able to get the most out of life while i can and i fucking can't because i don't want to die early. But it still feels like such a waste of a life rotting away. I think 'i hate people' so much because of this. i wish i could go to bars and movie theaters and concerts and parties and travel and see my extended family and make friends and lovers and learn how to be human before i die

[violue]

A bunch of stray, slightly connected thoughts about Viktor the Mage.

We don't know much about him, really. About how different his world was to the one he was able to save.

I assumed initially that this was his original timeline. But it doesn't necessarily have to be. Maybe it was the timeline that caused him the most agony. Maybe it was the timeline where he got the closest to making things right. Maybe it was the timeline he knew would convince Jayce. Maybe it was all of those.

Now, it stands to reason that he always met Jayce even in his original timeline, otherwise he probably wouldn't even know about Jayce or his potential to aid Viktor in his Hextech Journey™. Unless bro burned through so many timelines that he started just trying random "what if THIS person never died" scenarios for random Piltover residents stretching back years… which, maybe. But for now I'll stick with "Viktor knew Jayce Talis in his original timeline".

I think in the original timeline, Jayce's mom died but he survived, made it home (the family is from Piltover) in whatever condition, and he never became a brilliant inventing Man of Progress.

Which could mean Viktor would have originally come to hextech on his own, another way. I wonder what that was like?

He tells Jayce "only you can show me this".

How many other people did he nudge towards hextech and magic before he realized it was Jayce that he needed? Maybe Viktor saw the promise of him even in that first timeline, but too much had gone wrong for Jayce and his intelligence/creativity/bravery/etc was never nurtured to where it should be. But eventually he went back and saved Jayce's mom (and temporarily stopped trimming his fucking fingernails), but things still just didn't go in the right direction.

He starts trying the different runes, exploring these possibilities. He saw Jayce and his entire WORLD die over and over.

(also, if in any of those timelines he worked with Jinx, I bet everything went to hell in a SPECTACULAR fashion)

Where does Viktor the Mage go when his work is finally done? Has he lived a normal lifespan and he jumps back in time and then back to (his empty, lonely) present? Or does he live out each timeline in its entirety, making him hundreds or even thousands of years old?

Viktor The Mage seems to exist uniquely outside of time, and since the world is not overrun with other Viktors trying to correct past mistakes, it feels fair to assume he's the only one.

I wonder if Viktor's illness is there in every timeline. One would think some of his attempts would base around "if I never become ill, I will never take such risks with hextech".

What then was his motivation in those timelines? Did he ever go back and make it so he was never born? If so, who brought the end of the world in those timelines? Was it even WORSE, somehow? Or maybe he couldn't go back and stop himself from being born, because (handwave, gibberish) paradox. Or maybe he didn't think of that. If he had, he'd probably have considered going back and stopping this from happening.

I imagine Viktor trying over and over and over again and having everything still go wrong every time, I imagine there were times that he started to think it was simply his destiny to end the world, always.

There's just a lot of backstory that could exist for this version of Viktor, and I hate that I know NONE OF IT, but it is of course entertaining to wildly speculate.

[korgidorgi]

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone.
“I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above.
Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her.
“I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

[princefangs]

ok, im gonna try my hand at a proper memory post. i hope this isnt too confusing, im trying to set them up in order to form a timeline but its hard cus everythings kinda fuzzy

this will ( hopefully ) expand as i remember more stuff, so its always gonna be a wip

last updated nov. 11th

PRE-TURNING & TURNING

- im the original vampworld finn - i dont think babyworld finn was ever a thing in my timeline. not that i know of anyway

- before i was turned, i was a kid living on my own. i moved camps often, equipped with stakes and all to defend myself from the vampires. this is when i had my hat, to protect my neck. i came in contact with bonnie and the other hunters before, but i decided not to stay. i didnt like them much. we butted heads a lot. i had no memory of my family, i was alone for as long as i could remember. i was more of a vegabond than a hunter, but i learned a lot from vampire hunters on how to survive

- when i was 15, the star found my camp, along with a group of hunting vampires. i killed most of them and gave the star a good stab to the chest, but missed the heart. hissing in rage, she ripped off my hood and grabbed my hair, dragging me all the way to the vampire hive.

- she threw me in front of the vampire king. i was terrified. he was terrifying. he was the one who turned me - i still remember his fangs in my neck.

VAMP LIVIN'

- they threw me in a cell in the hive while i turned. it was fucking agony. i was left alone with no food or company at all while i underwent mental and psychical torture from the turning process (see the animals in the stakes arc. yeah)

- i was alone and starving up until the star came in. she dragged into a room and gave me my first taste of blood. i refused but eventually caved. Heres more on that i guess

- after that i started moving up the ranks. i started leaning more and more into my new vampire status and slowly but surely, i earned my tarot name. the sun. marcy and i became extremely close and she served as a big sister figure

- the vampire king hated me. he only tolerated my presence because his daughter liked me so much. he turned me thinking I'd be just another low-level vampire under his watch, but i wasnt. i think he would have killed me if marceline wasnt there

??????

- i dont fully remember what happened with the other members of the vampire king's court. i think they all had their own hives and servants in different parts of the world. i vaguely remember simon petrikov being in the empress' court

- i think martin died? the things that happened in the f&c episode happened but without fionna, cake or simon. and babyworld finn. i think i was there on the side of the vamps, maybe. i know marcy and bonnie both survived their fall

- i think after that bonnie was captured by the vampires. i felt pity for her since i knew what being locked in a cell felt like. marcy often came to taunt her after she recovered from her own injuries. i followed, obviously, but i mostly stayed quiet.

- i think i might have let bonnie go. she didnt wait for a second to make a break for it, she even attacked me with a hidden stake she had on her. it gave me a scar above my eye.

- i got in huge fucking trouble for it as you could imagine. i think this is when i lost my arm. the vampire king ripped it off in rage as punishment. i was so out of it so i dont remember it well, but i remember seeing blood from my Arm Nub and marcy arguing with the vk as i slowly lost consciousness. i couldn't hear what they were saying, my ears were ringing

ESCAPE FROM THE HIVE

- sometime after that, idk when, i escaped the hive. I went back to being a loner, but i targeted vampires specifically. i would attack the odd mutant, but that was mostly for feeding reasons. i actively started hunting members of the vk's court. i wanted marcy to come with me, but i knew she wouldn't. so i just disappeared and went into hiding

- i think my timeline had a vampworld fern??? i dont think their name was fern, im pretty sure they went by thorn. i vaguely remember(??) getting found by bonnie and the hunters after escaping the hive and seeing some kid with them.

- thorn still had the grass curse, i think. they could grow the grass sword and had the thorn sticking out of their hand, which they always kept covered by bandages. they were pretty quiet, probably cus i dont think them and bonnie had a great relationship

- my meeting with bonnie and the others didn't last, though. bonnie wanted me DEAD. i was drained from lack of blood and energy, so i did the sensible thing and i ran.

- somewhere along the line, i met someone interesting. another vampire, named marshall. yep, we had a marshall too!

- he was pretty freaking cool. he was a rogue vampire who lived on his own, saying he "takes what he wants when he wants it." of course, i thought he was the coolest guy ever

- marshall was marceline's twin brother. they were separated when the mushroom war happened, and grew up separately. they didnt even remember each other. upon finding out, marshall would express ( rather loudly ) that he wanted no part in being royalty. them being related also technically made marshall my brother, which was awesome

- marshall got a lot of the demon stuff, i think. i remember him having a human disguise that looked like fionnaworld marsh, just with uh. scary teeth lol.

- me and him traveled around a little bit together for a little. it was cool, but he made me miss the hive a lot because him and marcy were so similar.

- also i think simon was around? it really would make lots of sense if he was

[liminalitycarb]

Xenoblade 2 - Final Chapter (Part 5) - And thus, boy met girl.

And thus, everyone returns in... spotlight form...

...Rex is still stuck in his nightmare isn't he?

Oh, it seems we are out of the horror! It was just the Architect trying to peer into everyone's soul. That little rascal!

And thus the Architect informs everyone that he's been spying on them all, INCLUDING THEIR OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS IT SEEMS! ...Klaus had no respect for privacy did he?

So it seems everyone had a different set of visions, but they all shared the same thread of being fears that they harbor. But he wanted to see in order to tell how humanity has changed over the years, and get a feel for their current direction as a species.

Klaus... I hate to tell you but a sample size of 3 humans, 1 Noppon, a Flesh Eater, and a bunch of blades is NOT a statistically significant sample size...

OH BOY! EXPOSITION TIME EVERYONE! Klaus is going to give us his memories, and the memories of the planet. Little did I know he could communicate with the Life stream.

So summary of the past - The word was stuck in a struggle for survival WORSE than what Alrest is experiencing now. Klaus saw it as unseemly, but he did recognize the glimpses of beauty (unlike some pope who SHALL NOT BE NAMED.... and not because I'm blanking on his actual name...)

"Humanity harbors desires, and struggles to realize them. This is the natural state of man" says Klaus. Right before saying "I thought that was stupid so I tried to rewrite THE UNIVERSE!"

Ah yes... the Zohar... I mean Conduit... the biggest plot-driver of the Xeno games. I think in Saga it was basically an energy source that connected to a higher plane of existance, that they used to then create the universe wide INTERNET! (which... caused ghosts to appear...) And now it gave someone the power to open gates TO THE MULTIVERSE...

APPARENTLY almost everyone else who used to LIVE ON EARTH got shunted against their wills into alternate universe BECAUSE KLAUS HAD TO MESS WITH THE FREAKING ZOHAR THAT HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND.

This is why you don't mess with alien/divine artifacts that magically appear in front of you without KNOWING WHAT IT DOES.

Oh.... so THAT is how Klaus exists as both the Architect and as Zanza... he is LITERALLY stuck half way between two universes....

At least he got to feel eternal agony for his part in breaking all reality?

Huh... so apparently timeline wise Xenoblade 1 and 2 must take place at about the same real time if he can tell that Zanza is about to die.

Well, at least you accept this for what it is Klaus. You recognize you fucked up, and you have accepted your punishment for that.

Oh, more lore! Apparently Klaus didn't just accept his punishment. He sought out redemption by trying to restore the world. And now we learn that the Cloud Sea is A MUCH MORE TERRIFYING THING THAN I THOUGHT...

It's a sea of nanomachines that apparently tries to eat old matter to turn it into new matter...

... okay... I guess people calling him the Architect and their effective Creator God was... not farfetched at all since he APPARENTLY DID CREATE LIFE...

Apparently all the core crystals are miniature vessels with the memories of the previous inhabitants of the planet. Though... how did you get those memories if they were sent to other universes Klaus? HOW DID YOU GET THEM!?

So when a core crystal mixes with the cloud sea, you get new life apparently.

And thus Klaus seeded the planet with life, and just waited for evolution to do its thing.

I mean.. If you're worried about humanity repeating their mistakes... you could... I don't know? GUIDE THEM? LIKE YOU WOULD A CHILD!? This is why you teach the young Klaus. So they can learn from your mistakes and your successes without needing to go through the pain of it all themselves constantly... and so you can TRY TO AVOID THEM FROM MAKING THE SAME BAD MISTAKES YOU DID.

Oh.. he's mostly worried if someone like him (dumb, foolhardy, but also intelligent enough to actually break everything) appeared. Okay.. that might be harder to stop. But apparently his answer was to create the Blades.

I guess... to try and kill his doppelganger if they ever appeared?

Oh hey, apparently there are supposed to be 3 ZOHAR BLADES. But one of them just happened to disappear because of a "Space-Time Transition Event"...

Klaus... did you just throw it into the conduit one day because you were bored and wanted to see what happened? You can tell us.

Oh goody, apparently Pyra and Malos were in charge of managing every other blade in existence!

And... apparently every blade is constantly sending data to the two of them... How are they both so stable if they are CONSTANTLY getting data of basically EVERYTHING every other blade is experiencing all the time?

Oh, this is apparently a bi-directional data connection. Pneuma and Logos get the "what's the current status" data, and they send back new info to try and help the blades change over time to meet the needs of the new humanity. That.. is weird but I guess a way to try to automate your "guidance" of everyone.

Oh.... oh not EVERYONE was shunted into other universes... those that survived other than Klaus were... turned into those monsters we say in Morytha..

It seems they used the original version of the core crystals to try to achieve immortality.. As they... were supposed to replace your brain cells? I don't get how that is supposed to work... But hey! Klaus took it and repurposed old tech for a new, probably more useful function. (though possibly just as ethically gray)

And there is EVEN MORE EXPOSITION. But that has to be for the next part because I'm at the image limit.

[blizzardstarx]

HOLY FUCK NAT

YOUR WRITING IS FUCKING BRILLIANT. BRILLIANT. IM SCREAMING

SOBS

YOU.

HELL YEAHHHHHH!!!!

CHEERING RN

ARSONIST VANESSA <333

I AM DEVOURING YOUR METAPHORS LIKE A STARVED DOG

i saw this but AHHHHHHHHHH

“‘There is something bad… inside of me. I was programmed this way. I was programmed to hurt, to kill. I was built broken. I can’t be fixed.’”

YOU.

IM GNAWING AT YOUR LEG.

BUTTERFLY WITH HER WINGS PINNED OPEN, READY TO BE DISSECTED….

IM EATING THESE METAPHORS UP

I HATE YOU /aff /pos

“I’m glad Dad is dead. There’s a deep pit in Hell waiting for him for what he did to me, to them, to you.”

“Is that love, Elizabeth?”

…..

“But instead she found herself kicking and thrashing and hissing at him to let her go with bared teeth.”

for some reason this reminded me of cat!vanessa 😭 BUT SJSJSJSJSJDJDJ

“This wasn’t life, not truly. It was a chain, keeping her tethered to the Earth with all its might. All her agony and spite built upon her and weighed her down, down, down, until Vanessa felt her feet touch the ground once more.”

“Maybe in some other story, some other timeline, things could have been different. But as it were, the house digested its prey.”

NAT THIS FIC IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE. YOU WEAVE TOGETHER WORDS TO FORM THE MOST BRILLIANT OF TAPESTRIES. I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH LIKE A RABID DOG

I FREAKING LOVE AND HATE YOU AT THE SAME TIME

LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE EPILOGUE, GET FUCKING HYPED BITCHES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GET A BOWL OF POPCORN AND ENJOY THE SCOOPENING!!!

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝troubling timeframes❞

(not my gif)

summary/request:

warnings: smut, oral sex f receiving, fingering, semi-public sex, bit of a time jump at the very end

word count: 2.2k

a/n: you wanna hear a small horror story? i was about halfway through writing the smut portion of this when i noticed it was nearly 2am, so i exited out of the document bc i still wanted to catch some sleep. the next morning, i woke up…AND THE SMUT HADN’T SAVED. after i spent about an hour sobbing in agony, hating myself, (over-exaggerating lmao) i rewrote the bit. it’s not rushed as i spent all day on it and it’s still hot imo, but i stg if the original smut had saved…well, anon, i hope you enjoy anyway. tysm for requesting!

//////

One of the things you hated most about quantum mechanics was its interpretations. For nearly a decade now, you and Tony had had conflicting theories on how quantum mechanics corresponded to reality— all because you interpreted the physics differently.

Or maybe you just hated being wrong, because it was Tony’s theory that led you here in 2012 New York disguised as a security guard and acting as backup for the Time Heist, not yours. When you thought about it, the circumstances for how you got here still didn’t make perfect sense, but whatever, there were more pressing things at stake right now.

Like, the fact that 2012 Tony was currently having a heart attack. Or, according to present Tony, mild cardiac dysrhythmia.

“He’s convulsing, give him air!” someone shouted, and you couldn’t help it, you tensed a little.

“Tones, you sure this’ll work?” you hissed through clenched teeth.

“Relax, I’m not dying,” replied 2023 Tony, scarily nonchalant about it all. He was standing a little closer to the conflict, also disguised as a security guard.

“Yet,” you mumbled under your breath.

“Medic!” you suddenly hollered over your shoulder, motioning to the scene playing out in front of you now, “Medic!”

“Give these guys some help!” 2023 Tony joined in.

Meanwhile, 2012 Thor was sweating bullets. “Speak to me Stark, is it - is it your chest machine? Breathe!”

2012 Tony was gasping hard on the floor as people surrounded him, and then, you barely saw it in the commotion, but the tiniest dot emerged from out of nowhere and forced the briefcase in 2023 Tony’s direction.

Scott. Time to make your getaway.

“Watch my six,” 2023 Tony muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he darted forward to take the briefcase. It wasn’t exactly his six, but you watched as Loki’s eyes followed the sliding case— he knew something was up.

“Good job, meet me in the alley, I’m gonna grab a quick slice,” 2023 Tony breathed as he started for the elevator with the case in hand; 2012 Tony was still convulsing.

BANG!

Everyone in the lobby flinched as Hulk smashed his way into the room, and 2023 Tony went flying— shit, the Tesseract.

“NO STAIRS!” the Hulk roared.

Fuck it: you broke all cover and shot towards the Space Stone, but not before the glowing cube had slid straight at Loki’s feet. In a flash, you saw him glance down, saw the glimmer reappear in his eyes, and in that moment, all of your worst nightmares became true: he grabbed it and disappeared into nothingness.

“No!” you shrieked, tearing off your helmet despite yourself, really breaking cover now as all eyes in the lobby found you, “Loki! He - he got away!”

2012 Tony heaved in a breath, 2012 Thor turned to look over his shoulder with his hammer pressed on the Arc Reactor, and then out of nowhere, someone opened a rectangular, near-transparent portal.

“I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline,” someone ordered, pointing a rifle at you.

“Y/N?” 2012 Tony called from the floor, still out of breath, though seemingly over his little dysrhythmia. “I thought you were helping Cap coordinate search and rescue?”

Fuck.

“We’re one unit away from the red line!” someone exclaimed, a someone apart of that same armoured squad that had just appeared out of nowhere, and your breath hitched.

“Seize her!” cried yet another someone.

Before you could fight it, two of these new soldiers grabbed your arms and forced you down, and with a sharp blow to your head, your consciousness spiralled into darkness.

//////

The office you’d ended up in seemed permanently stuck in the 70s: everything was orange or a horrible, horrible brown, but occasionally there were spatters of green. Honestly, it all reminded you of puke, which in turn made bile rise in your throat. It had been one wild day: you’d gone from 2023 to 2012 to a mysterious place where time didn’t exist at all.

You were waiting for an agent called Mobius, someone told you. As far as you knew you’d done everything right: not necessarily chronologically, you’d collected a ticket, stood before a judge and admitted that you’d blown the Time Heist (putting it that way sounded like you’d done something horrible when you really hadn’t), confirmed you were not a robot to your knowledge, signed the enormous stack of paper that was apparently everything you’d ever said, and let yourself be put into this stupid prison jumpsuit without a fight. Now what?

The clock above you was interesting, so you focused on that. It had thirteen hands and it was the same ugly orange colour as everything in this office. God, you never realized you could hate a single colour this much.

“Hi,” someone said, making you whip around. A middle aged man with greying hair and a moustache had just entered, and with a soft snap, the door swung shut behind him.

“You’re Mobius?” you asked flatly.

“That I am. You would be Y/N, correct?”

You narrowed your eyes just the tiniest bit. “Yeah.”

“Great. So,” he started, striding forward and seating himself at what was now obviously his desk, “I’m sure you know why you were brought into the TVA. You screwed with the Sacred Timeline, intentionally or unintentionally, I’ve read your file, the incident looks to be a kinda heat of the moment thing, so-“

“What am I doing here?” you interjected, rather rudely you thought, but after the day you’d had you really didn’t care. “The judge told me I was guilty, said I’d be reset back to my timeline. That was, by my understanding of time, an hour ago. I’m still here.”

Mobius looked vaguely uncomfortable at that. “Yes - you see, because of the way you diverged off of the Sacred Timeline, we’ve decided to keep you here longer, you might be useful to us. You know what’s interesting? You weren’t the only Variant apprehended in 2012.”

You chewed on your lip, unimpressed, hoping the conversation wouldn’t go the way you thought it was going. “And who would that Variant be?”

Mobius gave you a sympathetic look. “I think you already know. It’s Loki Laufeyson.”

You stood up despite yourself. “Absolutely not.”

You started for the door, but all of a sudden you were sitting in your chair again.

Mobius grimaced at you. “You still got your Time Collar on, so you’re not going anywhere.”

“How could I possibly be of use to you?” you shot back. “And if it involves putting me in the vicinity of that - that monster, if he’s here at the Time Vacationing Authority or whatever-“

“Time Variance Authority,” Mobius corrected quietly.

“Then no, I’m out,” you yelled over him, slamming your hands onto the mahogany table, “Send me back to my own timeline and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“What happened between you guys? Why are you so disgusted?” he asked, standing up with you but still very obviously brandishing the remote of your Time Collar.

This had you spluttering for words. “It’s just - he’s a migraine. Always has been.”

He tutted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

He motioned to the chair. “Sit down and I’ll explain to you the full situation.”

//////

Three hours later— at least, according to your understanding of time— you were searching for Loki in a labyrinth of mute orange hallways.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. This was madness.

I’m gonna need to trust you don’t rip his head off, Mobius had told you. I need to find Ravonna again, I’ll explain to her our agreement. In the meantime, bring him to this office and I’ll give you guys your first textbooks.

Fucking textbooks! Like you were in school again! You promised yourself when you strode across the stage to receive your Master’s degree that you wouldn’t go through that onslaught of sleepless nights and general discomfort again. You barely pulled yourself through it that time. And now you were here, against your will—

You rounded the corner, still lost in your thoughts, twisted the knob of a door, and nearly jumped out of your jumpsuit when you came face to face with Loki.

Well, not face to face, exactly, he was sitting down with his gaze boring into his thumbs and you were staring at him from the doorway, but that counted as face to face to you. You were pretty sure this was the closest you’d be able to get to him without the urge to tear his head off.

“Hi,” you said cautiously. “You met Mobius, right?”

Loki looked up from his thumbs, spotted you, and flat-out ignored what you’d just said.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Have you met Mobius?” you repeated irritably. “He wants you back. I’m supposed to take you.”

“What are you doing here?” Loki demanded, ignoring you again.

“The same reason you’re here,” you responded tiredly, already giving up on asking him things. “You stole the Tesseract and fucked over my timeline, so we both ended up here, hurray.”

Loki surveyed you, and when he spoke, you could’ve sworn his voice got lower. “Hurray indeed.”

It made a confusing rush of heat swell up in your chest. Oh no.

“Have you seen your life play out too?” he asked, pointing at the screen to his left, and it was then you realized it was a projector screen, not a weird-patterned wall.

“No,” you said cautiously.

“Odd,” he replied, and then he didn’t do anything to follow up with his sentence, just sat there in his silence, so you stood there awkwardly.

“Are you-“

“Yes, yes, coming.”

//////

Mobius’ office, waiting for Mobius himself to come back, but you were pressed against the cold mahogany wood of his desk with Loki on top of you. Worst of all? Over the weeks that had passed since you’d both wound up at the TVA, this wasn’t the first time you’d ended up like this. Sure, you might have still considered him a monster, but you’d realized long ago that nothing was that bad if it felt good.

“And here I thought I would have to get you ready for me,” Loki murmured as he rubbed your half-clothed clit with his thumb, “How long have you been this wet, my darling?”

That was the first time he had ever called you darling, but you took it in stride.

“All day,” you replied breathlessly.

“Of course,” he groaned, finally pulling your panties out of the way to expose your glistening pussy, “Fuck, I imagine there’s not much here to do in the TVA, is there?”

“Just files and files and occasionally Miss Minutes,” you mumbled back with a grin in your voice as the thumb on your sweet spot became faster.

Loki drew back to spit on your clit, and you sighed without meaning to. “Fuck…”

“Could you imagine if they caught us in here?” he started, his voice deathly low, “How would Mobius react if he came rushing back in and saw you splayed out like this? All over his desk for me?”

The sigh turned into a high-pitched, breathy moan as Loki sunk a finger inside of you: when he leaned forward to lick a stripe up your pussy, it was almost overkill, you could feel him smirking on your skin.

“Make it quick, Laufeyson,” you forced yourself to snap.

He let out a noise that sounded like a murmured chuckle, and then all of a sudden you were pushed right into the goddamn desk— the finger crooked inside of you was perfectly stimulating your g-spot and he was rubbing your clit at the exact same time, this was some seriously advanced shit.

You couldn’t help but buck against the stimulation and grope for one of Mobius’ possessions to hold onto: you found a glowing green paperweight and squeezed it so hard you weren’t sure how it didn’t snap in half. You could feel the pressure building against your core, you were due to burst at any second.

Loki was panting in rhythm with you, and if you bothered to look down, you would’ve seen his soaked fingers delving in and out of you at a quick pace. He was getting off from this just as much as you were, you realized.

“Shit,” you gasped, clenching around his fingers, “Shit - Loki, I’m gonna-“

At that moment, you heard footsteps echo down the hall and Loki automatically jumped off you. “Get down!”

You weren’t sure if it was terror alone, the fact your blood had ran so cold it seemed to cease flowing through you altogether, or the fact that Loki had actually dragged you off of Mobius’ desk— sending the paperweight tumbling to the floor— that got you back in your seat before you even registered moving. Your core was still pulsing against your panties, you were still on the precipice of orgasm…

“Found the file,” Mobius announced proudly as he sidled his way into the room: Loki was trying to slide a folder back onto the desk as naturally as possible.

“Right,” you bit out, folding your hands rigidly on your lap, “Where were we? Branch timelines?”

[darkorderaf]

oxytocin

So I don’t have like a canon for any of my fics but the OFC has sort of the same background for each one for the time being, Dark Order-aligned medic type character. They don’t all go together or anything like that and there's no real timeline. It just sort of worked out that way lol. Anyhow, ramble over, please enjoy and lmk what you think!!

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC

Rating: Big ol’ M.

Warnings/Content: Choking, unprotected sex (please be safe!!), hair pulling, spanking, multiple orgasms, jealousy, sort of hate sex. This...admittedly...took on a life of its own.

Word Count: 2028

(I don't own gif; credit to superkickparty!)

---

She didn’t know when cursory check-in glances had turned into check-out glances. Maybe it was after he gave her that side smirk, the one that had her stomach fluttery. He had never looked at her like that before and then one day, one hot night in Jacksonville, he did. It didn’t stop. The expanse of his hands across her lower back, the tease of a tight grip against her waist when she helped him away from the ring. That damn smirk and the slight narrowing of his eyes as he side-eyed her. She helped everyone out, she told herself. Hell, she had helped both him and Adam before...Well, before. She wouldn’t read into it.

Get your shit together, she had told herself. But he was Kenny fucking Omega. A top guy amongst top guys. Keeping her shit together was a Herculean effort.

His hand gripped the tender, red hot flesh of her ass. She panted out as she felt the weight of him press against the length of her naked back. Her arms shook with the difficulty of keeping herself upright. His mouth ghosted by her ear and his low, arrogant voice brushed against her skin.

“How many was that? Did you remember to count?”

He hummed as he took a moment to stop kneading the flesh of her ass. His fingers drifted down her wet slit to tease her clit. Against her own volition, her hips tried to press back into him. He chuckled and gave her cunt a light slap that nearly had her crumbling onto the bed. Her head fell forward and his hand grabbed at her hip to keep her still.

“T-Ten,” she gritted out. “I remembered. Kenny, please.”

“Ah-ah, baby, no. That’s not it.”

His teeth nipped at her ear. Teased against the line of her neck. She could have killed him. Or fucked him through the floor. There was no inbetween. She breathed out through her nose and when his hand slipped back between her trembling thighs, she tried again to seek out some release. With his grip as strong as it was, it was hard to move.

“Please, Mr. Omega,” she said and lifted her head enough to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes burned and narrowed. “Please touch me. I counted like you wanted.”

He was just as affected as she was. Everytime she pressed her hips back, she could feel his erection against her ass. But the man had the patience, the stamina, of someone inhuman. She didn’t. What a match. His eyes flashed and he smirked at her. He shook his head and bit lightly at her shoulder. He trailed his tongue down her spine and she shivered when he blew against the line he left.

“Come on. Don’t you remember why you’re here?”

She nodded. His teeth bit into the meat of her ass and she tried to conceal her moan.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Ke--Mr. Omega,” she said with a shake of her head. “I helped them out. That’s all. I did my job.”

He tutted and feathered kisses up her back. His mouth was against her ear again as the hand around her hip relented and trailed up her chest. He squeezed a breast and groaned. Plucked hard at her nipple and twisted before he let go. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. His fingers gripped the purple medallion that fell between her breasts and she felt the chain tighten against the back of her neck.

“This. This stupid thing,” he said as he flexed his hips and grinded against her in a slow rhythm. “This I could handle. This doesn’t mean anything. But then you--Then I saw you with him.”

For a brief second, she heard it. He was worried. Her relationship with Kenny was, admittedly, a strange one. Kenny was paranoid. About himself, about the people around him, about so many things. Her laugh startled even herself. He growled and flipped her onto her back to look at her. The medallion bounced between her breasts and he leered at her, his errant curls in his eyes. Every muscle in his body was tight. Especially the one in his jaw. A brow rose.

“Is this funny to you?”

“It is,” she admitted as she held his eyes. His hand gripped the outside of her thigh as he frowned at her, his face taking on that look of annoyance that she so often saw in the ring lately. Slowly, she pushed herself up so she was almost face to face with him. Her chest pressed against his as she tilted her head back. “The man who has everything. Jealous of a cowboy and his friends.”

His tongue pressed hard against the inside of his bottom lip and he shook his head. One hand tangled in her loose hair and he dove in to kiss her. Tongue and teeth. Relentless. It was the most he had given her so far and when her tongue slipped into his mouth to take what he offered, he pulled away. When he spoke up again, his voice was a low hiss against her lips.

“Baby, if you’re his friend,” he stared as he trailed his fingers up her back and worked the clasp of her necklace. When he got it loose, he tossed it off the bed. His thumb rubbed circles into the side of her neck. The bulk of him kept her legs spread from where they had fallen open when he turned her over. He shoved her back onto the bed and gripped his length, worked it as he looked at her body on display. Pre-cum glistened in the room’s low light and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. “Then why’d you come looking for me?”

The head of his cock slipped up her wet slit to press against her clit and she gasped. He wasn’t wrong. She shouldn’t have gone to see him after what he had done and continued to do to Adam. But she had. She had wanted to. Her body trembled with want and anger.

“If you’re that mad about it, Mr. Omega, why’d you let me in?”

Kenny huffed and stretched across her again. His large hand dragged roughly up her chest as he looked her in the eyes. His hand settled against her neck in an all-too-familiar fashion. Slowly, he started to press into her. His head slipped in and she moaned low. He could feel it in his hand. Her thighs tightened around his waist and she tried to pull him in further. He wouldn’t budge, even if she could feel how much he wanted to give in. He glanced down at where they connected and licked his lips. His eyes shot back up to look at her.

The need he found there coaxed a nasty smirk out of him and he pulled out of her with a pop. Slow enough to watch the disappointment flood her face. His fingers replaced his cock and he narrowed his eyes as she squeezed around him. They crooked up and brushed against the bundle of nerves that had her body tightening. His fingers played her expertly and his mouth pressed harsh against hers to swallow her breathy moans. The hand around her neck played with a slightly tighter grip. She tried to tell him to go faster but he wanted to destroy her slowly. With as worked up as she was from his roughness earlier, her first orgasm hit her hard. He bit her bottom lip before he pulled away, a thin light of spit connecting them before he tossed his hair back. Half-lidded eyes looked at her. She wasn’t the only one breathing hard. His large hand, covered in her juices, splayed out across her belly to keep her there. The head of his cock nudged against her.

“I guess we’re both just that desperate.”

He seated himself in her fully with one hard, heavy thrust. Her head fell back against the bed and his grip around her neck tightened. Kenny pressed a kiss to her temple and took a moment to ask her if this was okay. Funny how he could still be sweet when he was being insufferable. That thought didn’t last long in her head as slow, drawn out thrusts quickly picked up pace. The hand not around her neck gripped her hair at the base of her head and pulled. Her legs trembled around him. Lightheaded and climbing higher, she bucked against him with wild abandon. He drove into her just right and her second orgasm rippled around him tight enough to have him sputter out a heavy, startled breath. Not yet though.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her and released her neck. She whined at his absence as she breathed in and in a blink, his mouth and his fingers were on her. His tongue played against her clit with a fury as he slipped one, then two fingers back into her quaking slit. She was barely through her second one when he relentlessly started to coax a third one out of her. Her thighs tightened around his head as she came a third time with a ragged scream. Her body nearly seized. Her fingers pushed and pulled at his curls and she could hear him hum with satisfaction against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His teeth bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

“Kenny!”

“That’s right, baby,” he huffed out as he grabbed her legs and pulled her towards him. He didn’t correct her. They were beyond that. “That’s goddamn right. Say my name.”

With her ankles by his head, she was nearly folded in half when he surged back inside her. At this angle, he fucked her slow. Ground against her clit as he fucked into that spot of hers that he found every time without fail. Looked her in the eyes as she panted his name and whined. The pace he kept was agony for the both of them. She tried to say something but he couldn’t quite hear her. He angled his ear toward her and smirked.

“What is it, baby? I can’t hear you.”

It took everything in her to speak and when she did, it sounded weaker than she wanted. He was fucking her senseless. Crowding her with everything that was him. He wouldn’t accept anything else.

“Is that it, Mr. Omega?”

Her teeth found his earlobe and he snapped his hips against her. She grinned at him and he flashed his teeth back. The room was drowned in a cacophony of slapping skin and low moans. Her hand snaked up across the broad expanse of his back and dragged her nails down his taut skin. Almost hard enough to draw blood. He jerked and lost the pace he had set.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddamn you.”

He pulled out and flipped her over so he could fold her across the edge of the mattress. His hand found her clit as he pounded back into her. Her walls clenched and fluttered around him. She bit into the sheets as her fourth orgasm reared its head and when she came, she screamed into the mattress. Kenny thrust into her three, four times before he stilled and spilled into her with a guttural groan. His hands flexed around her hips as he fought to get his breath back, his hips jerking against her as the final wave of his orgasm passed through him. She wiped at her mouth as she tried to get up but he had fucked her boneless. He slipped out of her with a quiet moan and she felt him climb onto the mattress beside her.

His cum seeped out of her as she rolled onto her back. She glanced over at him, with his dark curls and sharp jawline. The bow of his mouth was still covered in her slick. She used to think he was beautiful once. He reached out to her and she hesitated. His eyes slid over to look at her. He laughed and smirked, set his head back against the bed. She supposed she still did. In a terrible way.

[pinksnow]

HI THE DRAFT THAT DIDNT SAVE JUST NOW SUDDENLY APPEARED HOURS LATER??? ITS 10PM I WROTE THIS FIRST ONE AT 5PM HELP! WELL IM NOT DELETING IT I CANT ILL CRY SO HERES THE TIMELINE AGAIN NOT WRITTEN IN AGONY LIVE LAUGH LOVE X

abridged timeline of the au from yours truly (pink)

- gen 1 addisons with the birth of the internet lol

- mid gens appear eventually which is what spamton is

-nboth of these gens are are susceptible to code glitches causing them to become worms

- yeah computer worms specifically are corrupted addisons lol

- spamton had an originally friend group of a gen 1 pink addison and 2 mid gens, blue and yellow

- they all got wormed except for ogpink

- spamton is a shitty horrible way of coping befriended the addisons we know because hee hee they look like my dead friends

- ogpink is like. ok. this is the worst way to go about this. spamton does not care LOL

- btw hope you don't mind ships bc we are supergluing blue and spamton together since he was closest to spamton canonly and also im just a sucker

- so ^ mostly befriended them all because our blue looked like his ogblue which he was crushing on and like. oh my god dude. mf you are really using this person as a replacement

- after a year or so idk he starts seeing blue as blue, just himself, not ogblue

- asks ogpink for dating advice LOL

- woo blue mission accomplished everyone go home

- ((gestures)) not many notable things here they're just living their best life. blue and spamton go out on dates and slow dance thats important because i use those to create agony later

- yadda yadda gaster phone call whatever i dont need to explain this

- becomes increasingly distant to them all and blue

- not a good look bro

- eventually they cant contact spamton

- spamtom and blue tried to see eachother but. spamton cant get out of all the constant meetings and photoshoots and deals to sign

- everyone is now very pissed at spamton because blue is now being emo in his room while spamtons face is everywhere yet he cant even go see him

- my mans boyfriend basically ghosted him LOL

- not only pissed but theyre all very, upset too

- yellow goes around breaking billboards and posters and anything spamton related he can get his hands on hoping itll grab spamtons attention (it wont hes got employees to take care of little things like that lol. he isnt even aware of what yellows doing)

- orange is talking to the mannequin as if it was spamton himself. man. you need therapy

- blue you already know is moping in his room listening to fucking radiohead LOL

- pink. pink. pink pink pink pink. this is where shit gets good. my man. my dude. he decides that the best way to cope with this is obviously to go around and find werewires and virovirokuns and anyone else to fight in alleyways. he takes that freezering and he goes to town. its all downhill from here folks

- spamton eventually puts out a job for a personal assistant and does EVERYTHING he can to make sure its very hidden from the general public and tries so so so hard to get blue to pick up the spot because then theyll finally be together all the time again. fucks sake he prints the ad in the newspaper that goes round to their house but blue never sees it

- despite his best efforts he hears one day they chose the absolute best candidate for the job. he hopes to god its blue

- its not its thiis fucking green bitch named Novarg

- hates this man for a solid month bc it should be blue there not him

- anyways ((gestures)) whatever more time passes

- 2000 ILOVEYOU computer worm appears. which is ogpink. he got wormed. spamton is. well he is not doing very well after that

- did i mention spamton is wormed ((smiles))

- did you guys know the second worst worm in the world is called SOBIG i think thats funny anyways thats spamton lol

- gaster behind the scenes trying so fucking hard to make sure spamton doesnt completely lose it bc thatll fuck up EVERYTHING

- worms spread by infecting ppl which can be cured easily but the worms themselves cant be cured

- i say this bc what spamton is unknowingly doing is making people think theres nothing wrong. you see the slight puppet joints appearing on his hands and mouth and you dont even register it. they see spamton suddenly rise and get his hands on every product everywhere and dont register that only a worm could spread this fast. yes im making the puppet features a wormed thing i can do whatever i want

- blue and nova notice though. blue because well of course hes staring all those spamton images and also because you know damn well those two explores eachothers bodies. lol

- nova asks spamtom about the finger joints one day and spamtons like what joints and thats when nova realizes oh he doesnt even know himself im gonna stay quiet then

- ((gestures again)) gaster cuts off spamton in 2004. why 2004. because. because. thats when the mydoom virus appeared. also known as novarg, thats right bitches ((slaps knee))

- everything is suddenly falling apart and spamton has a huge breakdown and without gaster there doing his freaky shit my mans does start glitching the hell out like a worm

- nova tries to help calm him down anyways, gets infected, due to spamtons code being unbelievably fucked up it mutates/rewrites itself when it yoinked novarg and just made him a completely new worm. which happens to be the worst one in the world. you see what i did i made the worst one derive from the code of what was the worst at the time. lol

- you know some swatchlings saw this happen and were like. oh my god hes wormed.

- nova at this point has probably already gone crazy and is just doing his own thing, ykno, destroying stuff, as a worm does

- spamton gets his ass thrown in the acid as an attempt to kill him because worms are very dangerous very big deal

- yeah im making his reason for an acid bath this instead, listen this au is already off the rocks

- he is 🤏🤏 tiepnsy now. hes still wormed but hes just like a fucked up rat now LOL

- well now news is out that spamton is dead ((like hell theyre saying he was a worm))

- its assumed nova killed him

- well see now our beloved addisons are REALLY depressed

- orange is straight up acting like the mannequin IS spamton hes in. such heavy denial dear god

- yellow is still breaking stuff

- blue is just even sadder now lol

- pink. a heem heem whimper. folds my hands. he also believes nova killed him and hea dead set on getting back at him. he goes out of his way to find them. of course he doesn't recognize nova AS nova, no one does, its just the MYDOOM worm, but its easier to say nova LOL

- this is when pink first uses snowgrave. he is at his limit. he never ever wanted to use it but now is a great time. well. well that went pretty badly

- half the fight is him getting knocked around by nova because he has to get 200tp to cast it in the first place so hes just running around

- when he DOES though, good god

- thats it hes gone you are dealing with this white eyed freak now. nova only barely escapes with their life due to being a computer worm but he got so fucked up

- pink snaps out of it after the fight is over thankfully and is like what the fuck happened

- only gets worse from here he keeps blacking out and he never remembers anything and after a few years at some point the magic in the ring just kinda. goes in him. its not even the ring anymore. why? bc i said so lol

- after years it gets to a point where its noticable, like before he just kinda went around in alleyways but now whole streets are getting freezed and you just see frozen ppl everywhere and its like damn bro!

- this dude sets the city into a fucking artificial winter it happens so much. bro its not supposed to SNOW here what is going on

- obviously a lot of snow is made when using snowgrave but also just when hes using any attack now so you can just barely make out his silhouette, which leads to those who were able to run away before being spotted only seeing a humanoid outline

- which well. ykno. they assume its a human, a lighter, bc of that

- why would they ever guess its an addison, worms haven't been a problem for years now since only firsts and mids really got wormed, and a worm wouldn't be using ice magic, and addisons alone on their own obviously cant attack

- so like ((gestures)) yeah

- pink in the snowgrave state goes and finds spamton for the thornring bc he KNOWS he has it and getting that ring would make casting so much easier, bro it cuts tp cost in half

- spamton fights for his god damn life!

- also only barely makes it out bc worm

- blue is also out looking for pink

- finds spamton

- insert the image from the you have no idea ask

- found lost boyfriend, is wormed, is also small, is also half dead, says pink tried to kill him

- thats way too many crisises to deal with at once !!

- runion stuff idk he screams when pink walks thru the door lol

- they dont all really fully believe spamton until blues out one day during a particularly bad snow attack in a part of town bc he knows pink is out and it like. i gotta get this bitch home

- THEN he sees its actually pink. jawdrop. deer in headlights

- being in a life or death situation and being determined to not die makes his soul go ah time to wake up i guess heres a cursor thats a harpoon

- yeah addisons cant use magic unless theyre put in a situation that calls for it or they r really trying. like i mean they can create pop-ups and little cursors but not like full on magical shit like a god damn harpoon

- he does not know what hes doing he just throws them around to distract pink and fucking BOOK it

- some time passes this little routine starts where blue goes and spars with pink to keep him from targeting others

- they have not all yet told pink in fear of his reaction to himself and what hes done

- pink believes the lightner theory going around and theyre all like yep uhhuh so true pink

- im getting way too tired hunched over my phone writing this im wrapping it up my bones are killing me

- idk stuff happens spamton gets his ass in the neo suit and the addisons are there and hes beating their ass bc him in the neo suit is basically what he should've been like at full potential as a worm. hes so big. get it lol

- all the worms are actually hiding down in his broken down part of the city

- being away from society for years their infection code has like. just kinda shut off

- they're just kinda freaks now

- iloveyou jumps onto blues cart like hey man need some help

- seeing dangerous computer worm thought to be dead is obviously not going ovee very well with blue

- smth happens they fall down into the broken city and while yellow orange and pink are trying their damnest to stop spamton and get him to snap out of it and listen, blue is about ready to beat iloveyous ass as is he

- gets infected by iloveyou, his emotions are so overwhelming at the moment that its enough to keep the code telling him to go around and infect at bay

- now theres just a very angry and upset blue with hearts floating around him and a heart harpoon ready to beat ass

- mans powered up

- look at the first post of this blog lol

- idk eveyrhting is fine they all reunite

- spamton has some fucking.explaining to do and relationships to fix

- whatever idk thr worms help pink train and get his magic under control and spamton can go to neo at will

- worms code is still like dead so they don't have to worry anymore. if you ask about blue i mean the instinctive drive to infect is gone they can still do it though lol

- iloveyou gets a baggy hoodie to hide himself so he can go out in the public again and tag along w/ one of the addisons

- eventually is brave enough to go out on their own

- newer gen addisons notice little hearts under their hood and pulls it down. ogpinks freaking out but theyre all like omg how are you doing that is it like a new accessory

- anyways ogpink goes outside normally now without hiding. yeah theres still people who recognize them but everyone just stares at them if they make a scene like bro this is just our local heart guy chill out

- whatever whatever happy endings spamton makes up with everyone here you go thanks for coming

yes nova is there you dont think him and spamton didnt fuck over the desk at least once. also ogblue. lol.

[keroseneinhalers]

my favorite part of warrior cats is the grotesque story of squirrelflight, ashfur, and the extended cast of cats that sound like they came out of an ajj song

this gal named squirrelflight flirts with a guy named ashfur a few times. typical 80s romance song. its quick, its fleeting. squirrelflight gets together with brambleclaw. its all real lovely. brambleclaw gets promoted to leader after squirrelflights dad goes into retirement and makes his deputy the chief. brambleclaw is now bramblestar

(before the promotion and after the marriage, brambleclaw leads the entire 4 clans to a new territory. not relevant. he also stabs his brother in the neck with a tent stake)

and then squirrelflights sister leafpool, who is a medicine cat and sworn into celibacy, has sex with a guy from windclan named crowfeather. this is something all the cats are sworn not to do. double illegal.

crowfeather is a bit of a whore because he was previously in love with another girl who went on a magical journey with him when he was a child. (brambleclaw was there for that too. brambleclaw is eternal and everywhere) the girl crowfeather was in love with got impaled by a falling stalagmite while protecting a tribe of savage feral cats with names very similar to english translations of a few native american names i know. interesting. racist? there was a mountain lion involved

yeah so they have sex and leafpool gets pregnant. but since she did two crimes in one she gives the kids to squirrelflight and pretends they belong to her and brambelstar. theres an uncomfortable birthing scene because the kids decided to emerge from her cat uterus in the middle of a snowstorm. this is very telling of their characters after birth

theres three kids. jayfeather lionblaze and hollyleaf. jayfeather is very angry. lionblaze is angry but in a brave way. hollyleaf loves rules. they are a legendary trio

theres a thing about superpowers, and a prophecy or something. jay is sickly and blind and can see peoples thoughts. lionblaze never loses any fights, ever, and he maims ashfur a little while theyre trianing. hollyleaf doesnt have any powers, but she is absolutely obsessed with the warrior code and gets caught up with a guy named sol who says the world is gonna end. none of this is relevant except the "bootlicker hollyleaf" thing

ashfur is stewing. ashfur has been stewing for years now. long enough that they literally brought all 4 clans across the continent to a new territory kind of stewing. hes lonely. he misses the girl he was madly in love with, and shes married to the coolest guy in town. hes in agony. (over in windclan, crowfeather has a new girlfriend. manwhoring as long as he lives)

theres a big fire. thunderclans entire territory sets on fire. everyone is escaping, except for squirrelflight and her three kids. jayfeather, lionblaze, and hollyleaf, who is contemplating becoming an antivaxxer or something

imagine this: a clearing on the edge of a pit. the pit is where the cats live. everything is on fire around this clearing. there is one log running across the clearing, and squirreflight and her fake kids are going along it to escape. theyre the last out

ashfur appears he stands at the other end of the log. hes pissed. hes crying. he hates squirrelflight. he hates her so much. his rage is all consuming, like the fire that burns around them. he says he wants her in as much pain as possible, and he knows how: taking the only thing she loves in this world. her 3 kids

we all know something ashfur doesnt. the kids arent hers. squirrelflight, though non an omnipresence, is gifted with this knowledge herself.. she sees ashfurs twisted evil mind and tells him, flat out that they arent hers. she doesnt love them. he can kill them, they mean nothing to her. they are, after all, just her sister leafpool's. why would she care for them?

ashfur is stunned. he gives up. he leaves. squirrelflight and her three kids leave. its a bit awkward. imagine the thanksgiving dinner table after a particularly bad argument. thats all this is really

anyways. hollyleaf is broken from this. shes the daughter of a medicine cat and a manwhore from a clan that only eats rabbits. she cant take it. much like ashfur, she snaps

there are these big clan meetings, once every month. everyone goes, except the old people and the dying people and the kids who just want juiceboxes and lunchables. thunderclan is heading out to the Meeting Island. they find a body in the river. surprise! its ashfur

they go on to the gathering despite finding the body of one of their finest, most mentally haunted warriors polluting the stream with the blood seeping out of his slit throat. the three kids are there. squirrelflight is there. leafpool is there. bramblestar is there

this story has very weird heathers energy to me. its there, but it isnt coherant. like a bad remix of 100 gecs, sort of. this part is no exception

hollyleaf runs up to the big tree the clan leaders stand on and monologue. shes not allowed to do this. perhaps the sense that she lost her identity with her illigitimate birth turned into something real, that the warrior code didnt matter anymore. perhaps she was just tired of being kind; she wanted to go apeshit

she confesses. to two things. number one - the muderder of ashfur. how tragic. number two - leafpool. leafpools affar with crowfeather. squirrelflights lies to her for her entire life. theres chaos. thunderclan is like stan twitter after a minecraft youtuber said something racist 8 years ago. the 3 other clans are trying desperately to get in on this drama. the hot tea of the hour if you will

hollyleaf says her share. she runs away. lionblaze and jayfeather chase after her all the way back to the thunderclan territory. she yells at them. she runs into a tunnel and gets crushed by rocks. thats the end. shes dead.

jk jk that was a lie shes alive and shes living in a huge cave system with a ghost cat. remember the native american coded mountain tribe? yeah, they had ancestors. the ancestors lived at the territory the 4 clans moved to after squirelflight flirted with ashfur and before she got together with bramblestar. they used to drown little kids in the tunnels. jayfeather is the entire reason why the ancestors moved to the mountains and became the racist mountain tribe. i wont explain the timeline of this, and i dont think i could if i tried

up above hollyleafs slowburn romance with a transparent cat, theres a new girl with superpowers. prophecy fulfilled yadda yadda. her sister is annoyed that she isnt #quirky and so she joins a fighting cult run by the cats in hell. i cannot stress this enough its literally every cat from the 50 some books before this who went to hell. they have an army of children. theyre training them. the sister kills one of her classmates and becomes equals with the hell cats. my second favorite plotline in the series

the hell cats come to the land of the living. the sister betrays them. theres a big battle, and its supposed to be the end of the series but you know theyre gonna continue it for at least 20 more books. (they did). hollyleaf appears, and i dont think its ever explained how or why. but shes back, and she joins the battle. everyones too busy with the literal hell cats to care much about some kid with a body count of 1 appearing randomly

hollyleaf fights a bit. she gets mauled to death. thats the end. its just over. she dies and she doesnt come back. rip to a queen

i think my biggest question besides why would someone create this ad continue to do so for fifty plus books, is how the fuck brambleclaw stabbed his brother with a tent stake when he literally doesn’t even have hands. what.

[jackdaw-kraai]

[pokes my head out from under a pile of nonsense thoughts] what if Canon!Vader met Guides!Vader?

(It's 1am and I'm feeling it, don't mind me🛌🤳)

O o f. Well, that’s a can of worms, nonny, and has multiple answers depending on where in the timelines it happens. For simplicity’s sake and to save my poor typing fingers, I’ll be taking one Vader from the Guides Verse, the one in the last installment of the Interlude arc, and measure him up against various instances of the OT. Cool? Cool. Let’s roll.

For reference sake, the Vader from the Guides Verse already has formally adopted Luke, broken free from Palpatine, and gained an armor upgrade, so his quality of life is significantly better than what we started out with.

Guides!Vader vs. Just-Before-The-OT-Kicks-Off Vader: Honestly just Vader seeing his slightly younger self and realizing that holy shit, he had it fucking awful. It’s often easier to feel compassion for others than for one’s self, so this would be a weird warring instinct in Guides!Vader where he’s only just started to learn not to hate himself with the fury of a thousand suns and his reawakening sense of “need to protect everyone.” In the end, I think his protective instinct would win over the others which would absolutely wig. him. out. as he’s essentially feeling compassion for himself??? It’s weird, is what it is, and he’s trying not to think to hard about it as that would mean some critical reexamination of his own psyche. 

Conclusion: Guides!vader would mostly try to awkwardly steer this Vader into the direction of Luke without causing any time rifts and reassuring him that it will get better. It’ll be a lot of work, and he won’t feel like he deserves it, but he’ll be loved again, and it’ll all be worth it just for the person who loves him. 

OT!Vader would be deeply confused and disturbed by this version of himself, as it’s essentially him, but... not in constant agony. Or apathetic. And the armor doesn’t look like his own design style either, which means that someone was willing to make that for a monster. Or maybe he finally forced someone to?

Conclusion: OT!Vader would be lost and confused, is what I’m saying, and maybe, even if he wouldn’t admit it to even himself, a little bit hopeful again. 

10/10 interaction, Just two awkward nerds trying to navigate around the other while the elder nerd tries to steer the younger into better healing and healthy relationships. 

Guides!Vader vs. Just-After-The-OT-Kicks-Off Vader: A horrifying wakeup call for Guides!Vader as he realizes that his apathy could and would have resulted in the destruction of a whole planet and all its inhabitants since he couldn’t find it in himself to interfere and was only saved by the grace of Luke reawakening his protective instincts. Just... resigned horror and sadness as he realizes that this version of him feels nothing at the death of a whole world. Then a dawning realization that he felt nothing plenty of times when whole cities and people were wiped out under his command because his master demanded it. Would probably result in a hell of an internal crisis as he kicks his own redevelopment of compassion and morals in a way higher gear than he can handle at the moment. 

Conclusion: Guides!Vader would be processing the destruction of Alderaan and all its implications and memories that it would reawaken in him in his own way, and probably not have too much processing power available for this empty version of him. Or, if he could keep his wits about him, ask this version of Vader some very pointed questions that poke at all the things that still could make him things at his most apathetic. Perhaps even invoke Padmé. It wouldn’t be a good time. 

OT!Vader would... probably gain the inklings of something as he realized that this version of him was... grieving Alderaan in his own way. Might shake something loose inside him that unsettles him as it begins to ping questions to his brain about why this version of him is upset. When was the last time that he was upset? How? Machines don’t— They don’t—

And if Guides!Vader could get out his questions it would quickly morph to confused pain and rage as his defense mechanisms went into full overdrive. Unfortunately, this opponent has all of his own skills and none of his limits due to the upgrades curtesy of Luke. A knock-down, drag-out fight would result where one party would hurl pointed questions and accusations while the other would rage and try to make them shut up. Honestly, who even knows how this would end? It might wake OT!Vader up from his apathy, it might just piss him off as a defense mechanism to not have to deal with feelings and consequences. Though again, Guides!Vader has the overall advantage here, so something really might just change, but it would have none of the gentleness of the previous interaction and could very well result in major injury.

Conclusion: OT!Vader would be confused, unsettled, and potentially highly pissed and desperate to make Guides!Vader shut up as he forces him to think about all thing things he doesn’t want to. Might reform, might not, honestly, I don’t think even he would know.

8/10 interaction, a real ghost-of-Christmas-future moment for both that neither quite knows what to do with. Copious amounts of sunshine therapy would be needed to really put everything right again.

Guides!Vader vs. ESB!Vader: Puts the “vs” in the title to good use! Damn the rules of time travel! Damn the rules of alternate universes! Damn everything under the Suns thrice! Guides!Vader doesn’t give a single shit about any consequences that might occur, this fucker hurt Luke. He’s going down. Would personally rock up to Cloud City to kick ass and take names the moment he became aware of the situation. Would kick OT!Vader’s ass on behalf of Luke powered by nothing but the sheer r a g e  of a Papa Wolf. The Dark would on his side, snarling, and both in full agreement that his alt version is getting wrecked for hurting Luke in any damn way. 

Emotional, physical, mental, metaphysical, it doesn’t matter a single damn to Guides!Vader. Luke is hurt and that requires retribution, even if this Luke isn’t his Luke strictly speaking. Adoption is a thing, he could probably smuggle this one back with him anyway. Luke wouldn’t mind a brother, would he? Might have to take his friends too, just to be safe. After he slices his bastard alt version into tiny pieces.

Conclusion: Guides!Vader would be high on righteous fury, parental instincts, and the Dark as he met this version of him, and would honestly have nothing but murder on his mind. Wouldn’t rest until this version of Luke never had to fear his Vader again and would honestly be too preoccupied with this tiny ball of sunshine to pay his alt version any mind beyond the rage. 

OT!Vader would be having a hell of a time fending off this version of himself too. None of his own weaknesses, and while enraged and clearly not thinking too straight, that’s not exactly a disadvantage when fueled by the Dark. Honestly might be the one time he’d actually be afraid during a duel, aside from maybe his encounter with Obi-Wan on the Death Star. No time for introspection or discussion, this would be a fight for survival and likely one on the backfoot. Probably would have to retreat from Cloud City just to not get nuked to kingdom come by his alt version. Would have no idea what was happening and why, just that his black cyborg claims to be him from another time and wants. him. dead. And honestly, that hatred of him might be the one thing they’d be able to agree on. Conclusion: Still confused, but now also scared and maybe even somewhat terrified into thinking about his own actions. Would resent his alt self for blocking him from his son, and probably be weirdly jealous of himself if he ever caught wind of his alt self interacting with Luke, which would make him almost realize things about his own psyche that he probably doesn’t want to. 

10/10 interaction, I want to see this fight happen and would pay good money to see it. Bonus points if we get confused-and-somewhat-scared OT!Luke thrown into the mix who suddenly has a highly protective and more emotionally competent version of his Father fussing over him like there is no tomorrow. Because damnit, he deserves that. 

Guides!Vader vs. ROTJ!Vader: Guides!Vader would still be pissed at this Vader for hurting Luke, but also deeply disturbed now that he can see clearly how much this version of himself is not Free. Would be discomfited, frustrated, and enraged by the fight between OT!Vader and OT!Luke and would put a stop to that nonsense pronto. Most likely by shanking the Emperor and getting it all over with. Would lecture his other self to hell and back on how Free people don’t try to kill their own Son of the orders of someone else, damnit! Would ask the stinging question if he even wants to hurt Luke and go from there based on the answer. Likely course of action would be to just slap this version of himself around a bit until he stopped being fighty and then, urgh, talk to him. Would question his own sanity and ask himself how his own Son had the patience to help him through this bullshit. 

If he saw OT!Vader get zapped by the Emperor while yeeting the bastard over the railing he might be able to be persuaded to use his knowledge of his own suit to save the bastard if OT!Luke insisted, but would be equally happy to let his alt self bite the dust. Well... “happy,” really. He’d feel a load of complicated feelings but regret wouldn’t be one of them. 

Conclusion: Tired, Done, frustrated, pissed, highly uncomfortable, and generally just Not Having A Good Time as he deals with a load of baggage that once had his name on it too and honestly just wants to scoop up ROTJ!Luke and go home. Would be willing to save his alt self but at this point in time is also just as happy to let him lie in the bed he made. Really just the epitome of a tired dad.

OT!Vader would honestly be too far into depression and apathy at this point to have much of a reaction to his alt self at all. He would be confused, but at this point he’s so tired and worn down by life that he would all just let it happen. Luke’s rejection had the time to sink in, and if there’s one thing that’s true of all Vaders, it’s that Luke is their little star, and without him they’re very, very lost, and very, very lonely. Even if OT!Vader wasn’t exactly a stellar father and failed to be what Luke needed, he still loved his son in some way. Losing him would have dimmed his fire far enough that even the appearance of an alt version of himself wouldn’t be able to shake him out of it. 

Even the fight and lecture might only be effective because he just doesn’t have the will anymore to fight these revelations and realizations. Pretty ready to die and get it all over with and might not necessarily appreciate Guides!Vader saving him, even if it was on OT!Luke’s insistence. 

Conclusion: Tired, confused, and honestly just ready to go into that good night without much of a fight. But still wants the best for his son, and might be able to be motivated to keep going by Guides!Vader and OT!Luke using that to their advantage. Needs a hug and even deserves one in my opinion. 

9/10 interaction, excellent fix-it material if you don’t think too hard about it, but loses one point for having emotional baggage that hits a bit too close to home. Could win that point back with a Luke hug or two. 

Well then. That answer your question, nonny?

[just-horrible-things]

This piece is now deprecated because @whump-sprite and I wrote too many rescue scenarios, but is remaining here because I still like it a lot.

‘Verse: Resistance Story: non-canon aside to Unlikely Salvation, co-author @whump-sprite Timeline: Arc 5, Ariadne is loyal to the Resistance

Begging for Water: Alt Rescue [ Pt1 | Prev | Canon Version ]

When everything changes, it is so sudden and surreal that Ariadne cannot comprehend what is happening.

There are loud noises first. But they are not in the cell with her, so she doesn’t think to care. An alarm is blaring, and some part of her knows that you’re supposed to respond to alarms. But she is just a used-up prisoner. It’s not her problem.

Only when there are gunshots very close outside does she start to wonder what is happening.

When the door comes off its hinges, a visceral fear blanks everything else from her mind.

For a second she sees Daniel Peyroux and she thinks she is dreaming.

She tries to ask for help but the only word her mouth will form is “please”.

And then there is agony as she is moved. Not as bad as being dragged but still enough to swallow awareness. Her ribcage, her broken bones, her shock-strained muscles, the ruin that is her back --

The world moves around her in a blur, glimpsed through the tunnel of her vision. Unconnected images like the visions of the high fever. She sees blood. Leaping flames, impossibly blue. An overturned truck, tyres still spinning. More fire. The sky.

---

She wakes, perhaps, to the respite of stillness. She can’t feel the floor and she is sure that she is delirious.

Maybe this time they will let her die.

The light is wrong, or her eyes are wrong. The world is dim and warm-tinted.

She dreams, perhaps, of Peyroux again. The sick certainty of her unwilling betrayal is a knot in her chest.

Hands touch her arm without grabbing. Please, she tries to whine, hoping for water. But her voice is gone again, just a thin whistle in her throat.

Slowly the pain grows distant. If she is losing consciousness, Ariadne welcomes it. She never wants to be conscious again.

---

Once the morphine starts to work, Ariadne at least stops shuddering and moaning. Her eyes stop tracking Daniel, and lose focus. They close slowly, and open again, and settle half-closed, fixed on nothing.

It's as close to peace as she's likely to get. Daniel would give her more, but her breath is already dangerously shallow. He wishes he could give her more before the brutal work of setting her broken bones. 

He would consider going in her head to put her under, if he thought she could possibly consent to that. But the residue of mind magic is all over her. Some shameless fucking traitor forced into her mind to rip out everything she knew.

Daniel hates that he considered the possibility that she’d talked. He hates that he never quite trusted her. He was right to go in there for her.

She's already dead, they said, trying to talk him out of searching. If it had taken any longer to find her, she probably would be. She's at least half way there. But she's given everything for the Resistance. What would any of it mean if Daniel was willing to throw her life away? Nothing.

“It’s over now,” he tells her, making his voice gentle despite the fury that seethes under his skin. “You’re free. I’m going to help.”

There’s no sign of recognition. She hasn’t said a word that isn’t a plea since he found her. Daniel can only hope that it's the fever to blame, or the pain, or the drugs. It's not possible to tell yet how much damage the mindfucker has done.  

Whether or not she can hear him, Daniel keeps talking. “I know it hurts, it’ll feel better soon.” A constant stream of reassurances. It doesn’t stop her from moaning hoarsely as he starts to wash the blood and filth from her skin. Underneath she is all bruises and burns and open wounds. The cruelty makes Daniel’s blood boil. It’s so utterly pointless. They had a mindfucker and they still did this.

“water,” she begs weakly, so he gives her plenty. She doesn’t lift her eyes, but she drinks and swallows when he holds it to her cracked lips. She's completely floppy in Daniel’s hands, too drugged and too exhausted even to try instinctively to protect her broken bones from movement. 

She needs a healer. She needs Alex. But Alex is working himself half to death already and he can't see her like this. If Daniel can just get her to a point where she’ll be able to recognise him, it will be easier on everyone.

Her back is a shredded mess, as bad as Alex’s ever was. Someone has put stitches in the deepest of the cuts across her shredded back in some futile, inadequate effort to encourage healing. Most of them have since pulled out. Infection lingers in half a dozen places, and Ariadne whines miserably with her ragged, barely-there voice as they are cleaned out.

When he sets her broken bones, she tries to scream. Daniel is more familiar than anyone should have to be with the sound of an overstrained voice failing. Afterwards, when he tells her that it’s done, she tries to rub her face on his hands as she begs soundlessly for more water. Daniel’s skin crawls. But at least water is something he can give her.

When at last there's nothing left to wash and wrap, he sits beside the bed. He damps a washcloth and cools it with magic before folding it across her forehead. She whispers something that might be a thank you, but it does nothing to convince Daniel that she knows what is happening. 

He'll stay by her side regardless. She deserves everything he can do to help her. Hopefully when the fluids and the antibiotics begin to work, she will start to understand that this is rescue. If not, he'll call Alex, and he'll just have to do his best to keep Alex from going too far, too fast.

---

Ariadne’s world is mercifully blurred, and she doesn’t fight it. Fear is distant, even with pain still hot in her mouth.

She understands, she thinks, maybe, that the guard -- was that the guard? -- said they were done with hurting her. 

Maybe good things now? Maybe… water? And warmth against the chill? 

There is something soft under her head, and that is good. 

Is she broken enough? Does she still have to grovel?

He is talking like he means to be kind to her, but he was hurting her just a second ago … wasn’t he? The world swims.

Peyroux -- if he is Peyroux -- tells her to rest, she thinks, and that is a reassuring order, an order she can follow. She wants to show grateful, but she can’t remember how. 

There’s water at her lips again, and she doesn’t remember begging for it. Thank you sir, she tries to say, but she isn’t sure if her mouth moves.

She is floating. There is something pleasantly cool touching her face, and she tries to lean up into it, but she hasn’t the strength to move.

The pain has eased a little.

Sleep, or something like sleep, coils around her mind and makes her quiet.

[galaxywhump]

Quiet Evening

Trope: Sensory Deprivation Fandom: Original Work

[Masterlist]

[blue for requested, red for completed]

Timeline: set after Comforted by Whumper

cw: slavery, creepy/intimate whumper, sensory deprivation, noncon touching and kissing, restraints, knives, cuts, blood.

taglist: @faewhump​ @inky-whump​ @whole-and-apart-and-between​ @garbagewhump​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @whatwasmyprevioususername​ @procrastinatingsab​ @insanitywishes​ @special-spicy-chicken​ @redstainedsocks​ @luminouswhump​ @untilthepainstarts​ @lonesome--hunter​ @spookyboywhump​ @ohmywhump​ @renkocchi​ @whump-only​

~~~

The fireplace with its flames dancing on the walls is the only source of light, illuminating Wren’s shivering form. He can’t see them, a strip of emerald green silk obstructing his view. He can’t hear the soothing crackling of the fire and the quiet song playing in the background either, earplugs making sure of that. His bare chest rises and falls in rhythm with his breathing that he’s trying to keep as steady as possible. His arms are raised above his head, kept there by a chain, just high enough to cause slight discomfort. 

His every breath is deafening; he’s defenseless, at Daniel’s mercy, having no choice but to wait for whatever he’s planning to do to him.

He can feel his eyes on him, which is enough to make him nauseous; he might as well be completely naked with how exposed he feels, still as a statue, just a pretty sight to be admired, although how Daniel can consider him pretty he can’t comprehend. Not with his ribs still visible, his strength gone, his body always tense; not with the ugly brand on his back, not with his eyes so often swollen and red from crying.

I deserve so much better than this.

It’s a new mantra, a new desperate attempt at staying afloat along with regular reminders of who he is - a must for him after the moment of panic caused by not remembering.

My name is Wren Rackham. I was kidnapped. I don’t want to be here. I deserve so much better, and I’m going to escape.

He repeats it now as he’s standing still, his breath hitching as he tries to catch anything that could hint at Daniel’s current position, his plans. He focuses on the wooden floor under his bare feet, waiting for it to echo Daniel’s footsteps. He starts to wonder if the feeling of being watched, looked over again and again, is just a figment of his imagination; if Daniel has simply left the room, leaving him here to succumb to paranoia.

He takes a deeper breath. His heartbeat thuds in his head; his entire body is just sound now, noise that fills his mind. He shudders, the stillness getting to him just like his senses being taken away, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his muscles twitching from idleness. He frowns behind the blindfold. His heartbeat gets faster as he waits - just how long has he been standing like this? He measures the time with his breaths now, but he has long lost count. Inhale. Exhale. He can feel and hear his body shifting in rhythm with the breath, it’s all he can focus on.

Then, the touch comes.

He jerks his body and yelps - he can’t hear his own voice, the only indicator of the sound being the vibrating of his vocal cords. Daniel is standing behind him; the only contact is his hand tracing Wren’s neck, but he can feel just how close he is. He cringes in disgust and terror alike, breathing as softly and quietly as possible. He whimpers when Daniel kisses his neck and moves lower, until his lips press against the brand for a longer while.

My name is Wren Rackham. I was kidnapped. I don’t want to be here. He bites down on his lower lip, his heart threatening to crush his ribs.

I deserve so, so much better.

There’s always the voice of doubt, his thoughts from back on Earth - worthless, idiot, unlovable - but this isn’t Earth, this is something else entirely, this is hell. If his thinking stays Earthly, Daniel will win.

Daniel embraces him and kisses his neck again. He shivers, letting his head drop, feeling first tears welling up in his eyes. The touch retracts and he tenses up, waiting for it to return; nothing happens for a long while, and he focuses on the vibrations of the floor beneath him again. He lets himself breathe deeper.

The feather-light touch of one finger under his chin feels like a taser driven into his skin, making him jump in place. Daniel lifts his head and another wave of electricity surges through Wren’s body when Daniel’s lips press against his.

I deserve so much better.

He forces himself to relax, melt into the kiss - and then the pain comes, explodes right under his collarbone, turning the darkness under the blindfold into a blinding white. He chokes and trembles violently. Daniel doesn’t break the kiss and Wren sobs when the - blade, it must be a blade - is dragged sideways along the collarbone. 

Tears slip out from under the blindfold, heavy, ugly, rolling down his cheeks. He jerks his head back to escape the kiss, and Daniel doesn’t force himself on him again. A few months ago considering being cut a preferable alternative to kisses would have seemed ridiculous to him. 

He doesn’t attempt to move away from the blade - as much as he hates it, Daniel knows what he’s doing, and Wren doesn’t want to risk making the wound worse. He’s breathing heavily; the knife is pulled out, but before he can lose himself in relief it returns on the other side, creating a mirror image to the previous thin line. It retracts again, then presses against his sternum, traces down, disappears again. More lines are added, branching out under Wren’s ribs, and he cringes with a whine at the feeling of the tip of the knife pressing into the sensitive skin of his stomach.

The cuts will be gone without a trace in a couple of days, leaving him perfect again. No wound is allowed to scar, Daniel makes sure of that, proud of the brand being the only permanent mark on Wren’s body. 

In the darkness and silence the only stimulus he can focus on is the pain, overblown by the stillness. It’s not the worst he has felt - not the worst a knife has given him, even - but the breaks between the cuts, the uncertainty where and when the blade will return, bring him agony. He’s sobbing, softly, in pain, frustrated, still horrified, never sure what to expect. Finally Daniel seems to be satisfied with his piece - the knife doesn’t return, Wren is left to bleed, to shiver, to cry. 

I don’t fucking deserve this.

There’s touch again, fingers brushing over the blindfold, moving to the knot to undo it. He blinks when it’s removed, revealing Daniel’s face, the warm gleam in his eyes barely visible in the dimmed light. Wren gives him a hard stare, its impact always lost to the tears and the trembling. He doesn’t want to look down, at the cuts, at the blood trickling down his chest and stomach. Daniel smiles - a smile of amusement rather than fondness, enjoying the desperate fury in Wren’s eyes - and lifts his chin again, this time with the knife, sticky with Wren’s own blood.

Wren swallows, his heartbeat quickening, deafening in the silence that’s still engulfing him. Sometimes - often - he’s reminded that he’s alone with Daniel on the entire planet, the reality so nightmarish he frequently catches himself forgetting about it, as if Daniel’s house was in an Earthly jungle, with other people miles away, but still somewhere around.

He feels weak whenever he thinks about it for too long, about the planet that’s not used to humans, that’s undiscovered for the most part, that’s home only to him and Daniel and creatures that see them as intruders - intruders disinterested in expanding, in conquering and dominating, opting to focus on each other instead, a monster and his captive, and the hell the former has created.

Wren’s lower lip quivers. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be here until he dies, to be standing here with a knife under his chin and his tormentor’s smile burned into his mind. He doesn’t deserve this deranged creep to have fallen in love - or whatever it is he believes to be love - with him.

He deserves so much better than to be kissed by Daniel after the torture, the tip of the knife still digging under his chin, a prop in the insulting farce of a relationship he’s being brainwashed to get lost in, with his painful determination as the only barrier obstructing the process.

Next

[castillo-adrian]

A Rainy Day in Paris | Part 1.

Note: Timeline isn’t linear, make sure to take a note of the dates. ♥

December 23rd.  Morning

“We’ve waited six years for this,” the excited snarl was followed by the sound of the fist colliding with Adrian’s cheekbones. “Personally? Me, I’m all for delayed gratification.”

He felt the taste of iron and salt in his mouth. The man in a collared shirt and khakis who delivered the blow was Philippe, and behind him stood three others: Cédric, Agnès and Samir. All of them former GIGN operatives, all of them currently employed by the St. Clair Organization as enforcers and assassins.

Once upon a time, they’d fought literal wars together. Not the mob kind – the real kind.

Now, they were going to kill him.

December 22nd. Late afternoon.

“A friend of mine will be waiting for you in Porto. You can trust him. He’ll drive you to doctor’s appointments and check up on you until Sophia flies out there, too.”

His mother was inconsolable, refusing to leave London, refusing to face the reality of the situation – in order for her daughter to be saved, his son had to give up his life. Perhaps it was merciful that Sophie’s choice wasn’t hers to make – there was no version of the reality where Adrian let his sister suffer for his decisions.

“Mom, I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Mother Castillo sat in the corner, hands clasped around a rosary, praying to the Mother to save both of her children. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face that had still retained its beauty though all the hardships and years she’s been through.

Adrian tossed a few things in his overnight bag, but he knew the only thing he’d make use of would be his passport. He wouldn’t be needing the rest for much longer. “It’s time to go to the airport, mom. We don’t have much time. My plane has to be in Paris at 8.”

He spent the entirety of the car ride giving her last-minute instructions, making sure she’d have everything she needed after he was gone. A part of him wished he had time to say a few goodbyes, but he didn’t want to ruin anyone’s upcoming Christmas, and time wasn’t on his side.

Except Johnathan, whom he filled in with a quick phone call. The man had offered help, but there was nothing to be done. The instructions were clear – Adrian had to go alone, or else his sister would suffer.

"Alright ma, the plane’s leaving soon.” He hugged his mother as they stood in the middle of the Heathrow Airport. Pain stabbed at his heart to be the reason of those tears on her face, for making her say goodbye. Perhaps he should’ve left without saying anything that put her through this agony. What was more cruel? Who could tell.

“Here,” she put the Notre Dame medallion over his neck. “She’ll protect you, son.”

Adrian kissed her on the forehead as his eyes traveled to the information board at the nearest gate that read “PARIS (CDG), boarding”.

December 19th. Evening.

When his sister, Sophia first mentioned her upcoming trip to Paris, Adrian begged her to reconsider. Knowing how badly his former friends wanted him dead, especially after the events of last year, there was no doubt the loyalists would be on a lookout if he or his loved ones ever laid a foot in Paris.

He’d tried to explain it to Sophia, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Do you know just how much I’ve sacrificed, Adrian? Ever since your former friends found out you’re alive, I haven’t been able to go home. Not even once. I had a life there. Friends.”

“I know. I know. But it’s too risky, Sophia. You don’t know what they’re capable –”

“No, you don’t know how important this invitation is. You have no idea how many scientists would kill to be part of this research, how much hard work I’ve poured into getting to where I am. I won’t let your murderer friends get in the way of my career –” Sophia’s voice rose with every next word.

“Your brother is the reason you have a career,” their mother, who had listened in silence up until now interrupted. “You would’ve never been able to afford your 12-year-long education if he hadn’t supported us, and you know it.”

“I’ve never asked for his blood money and I wish for once, for once,  you’d pick my side over his,” Sophia threw the dish cloth on the table and stormed out of the room, frustrated. A minute or a few of angrily packing her suitcase, she barged in back again. “I refuse to pause my life because you’re the most hated man in France.”

“For god’s sake, Sophia. Being a leading scientist at NodThera and living in London is hardly pausing your career...” Adrian groaned, his patience started to thin.

“It’s not about that, Adrian. The research they’re doing at Sorbonne, it’s groundbreaking, I could only get a chance like this once. Why am I even explaining this to you,” she checked her passport and put on the coat, her right foot already in the hallway. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a few months.” The door behind her closed with a thud.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she would be fine. Maybe no one would notice a Castillo had arrived in Paris, or if they did, they wouldn’t do anything about it because that wasn’t the Castillo they had been after.

December 22nd, Early morning.

The second Adrian heard his phone ring, he knew something was terribly wrong, and the unknown number with a France country code made his worst nightmares turn into a reality.

Person on the other end of the call was Cédric. They had his sister, and if he didn’t come to Paris by the end of the day, alone, the only research she’d be good for would be her own autopsy.

There would be no outrunning this one. He had to face his fate, and accept the inevitable.

December 22nd, Evening.

Nostalgia itself had a utopian dimension, one that wasn’t directed toward the future nor the past, but rather sideways. Adrian hadn’t sat in a foot in Paris in six years, hadn’t seen the streets he used to call home, a city he had loved. The country he dedicated his life to serve had become a forbidden Eden he was no longer allowed to enter.

Adrian had been cast out for his sins, and the prodigal son’s return was not welcome. Still, if he had to die today, at least he’d be dying in one place he loved above all – Paris.

The address he’d gotten was somewhere near Gare du Nord, 30-minute-drive from the Charles De Gaulle airport, but he’d asked the driver to take the longer route and go through the 9th arrondissement. One last look...

As the car sped through familiar streets, leaving the familiar landmarks in the rearview mirror one by one, Paris felt strangely foreign, with foreign sounds, with foreign people and no hiding place. A sad realisation hit him all of a sudden – he’d always love Paris, but they’d grown from lovers into strangers.

The destination soon appeared, centuries-old railway station rearing its head menacingly in the distace. He could hear the faint sounds of Vive le Vent coming from somewhere, muddy streets littered with Christmas decorations. Looked like there would be no white Christmas in Paris this year, just rain. Lots, and lots of rain. The streets around the Paris-North were as busy as he left them, people running around with a dash of holiday spirit sparkled on everything. Life would go on, and Adrian was nothing but a disappearing shadow in the city of lights.

He entered a derelict building north the station as instructed. He clocked Sophia right away. Chained to a chair, sweat and tears dripping down her face, scared and terrified. His fault.

“I’m here. Alone. Now let her go,” Adrian addressed the group, hoping Sophia wouldn’t have to be there a minute longer. He raised his hands and took off the jacket. “No guns, no back-up.” They may have been criminals and murderers, but they were military operatives once, too. They still had some moral code, and as expected once they saw Adrian, they cut her loose.

Sophia ran to her brother’s arms. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he hugged her, probably for the last time, “You’ll be okay. Mom’s on her way to Porto, you should fly there right away.”

“I’m sorry, Adrian,” her voice was shaking, she could barely make her words sound audible, “I’ll call the cops, I’ll-I’ll get the help, I –”

“Just go, Sophia. Tell mom I’m sorry,” he let her go and watched as she neared the door reluctantly, but knowing there was nothing to be done.

His eyes were still fixed on his sister when suddenly lights went out and a blunt object hit his head with full force, knocking him out.

December 23rd. Early Morning.

“Wake up, putain,” the icy water and Cédric’s voice jolted him back to consciousness with equal intensity.

“You’re fucking dead, Castillo,” Philippe put a knife to his throat, he could practically smell whiskey on his breath, “like you should’ve been a long time ago.”

“I guess I just want some answers,” Agnes shrugged. Her curiosity couldn’t have been mistaken for remorse. She was just as angry and resentful as the rest of them. They haven’t been close friends the way Adrian and Laure were, but they had served together, at GIGN and at the French Organization. That had to mean something. Loyalty meant something.

Adrian remained silent.

What was he supposed to say? The truth was far too complicated, and there were simply too many factors at play to give them a short, clear answer. Not that it would’ve made any difference. They’d branded him a traitor and there was no undoing that, no changing their minds, no mercy, no truce.

Not when they had another war to fight, but this time on the opposite sides.

[vake-hunter]

A very fucked up Fires headcanon that I have to share

Me: The thought of Mr Fires being dead on the Sunless Skies timeline, probably burned to death considering the title “Saint on the Pyre”, is very distressing to me, regardless of how much of a cunt it was.

My brain: … Wanna obsess over it and think the details?

Me: Oh fuck yeah

I like to think it was the Hybrid’s fault. Please let me have this;

If you fed it the Orange-apple and made it more human, the vision that the Hybrid’s song evokes to your mind at the end of Light Fingers! turns out to be, indeed, an augur of things to come. Some time after the Sixth City falls, it leads an invasion to the city, relentlessly targeting Mr Fires;

Fires, embittered by having lost London, doesn’t take it seriosuly at first. It regrets it later, of course;

After the Moon-King imprisions Fires, some of the Masters (Pages, Hearts, Veils and Iron) completely ditch the Bazaar and flee to the High Wilderness, leaving the others to fend off by themselves;

Mr Wines, who is probably this close of having a mental breakdown, negotiates with the Moon-King and lets it have Fires if it leaves the city alone;

The Hybrid agrees, of course. Its real intention is to go North with its brethren, but it just couldn’t resist tormenting Fires. It is a childhood dream, after all;

Fires is then crucified by the Starved Men, who built a pyre under its feet. It is far too shocked by Wines’s betrayal and the fact that the Hybrid was alive all this time to even struggle;

The thing that was once Dr Vaughann is the one to light the pyre. She (it?) uses the shard of the Mountain of Light Fires kept - you know, the one that can cause “fires that cannot be put down”;

Fires burns and burns and burns. If Masters have souls, his is certainly burning, too;

Wines forces itself to watch it from afar. It feels more alone than ever;

Since the fire cannot be put down, the pyre just keeps burning. Satisfied, the Moon-King leaves the Sixth City with its kin and heads North;

Something of Fires remain, although it’s less, much less than a ghost. Mr Eaten somehow takes possession of it - it both loves and hates that the thing is in agony, but most of all is actually happy for finally having someone that can understand the taste of betrayal. I imagine it cradling the less-than-a-ghost of Fires and shushing its wails of pain with soft words.

[moirai-au]

11. “Oh god, you’re bleeding” 10. “Please, don’t leave me alone” Anti

Timeline: middle of Arc 3: Aster, a few weeks after he gets his human body.

Warnings: blood, serious injury

@immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna

Oliver knew of Aster’s weird views on pain; he apparently found it hilarious, being so different than the kind of pain his original body had known, back in his own realm. He and Mars often had to keep an eye on the fiend, or else they’d find him ‘playing’ with a kitchen knife or banging his head against a wall.

Hence why the subject of ‘Aster-proofing’ the mansion had come up a few times lately.

And whenever he went out -despite all their efforts to stop him- he always came back beaten and bloody, a manic, sharp-toothed smile on his tumefied face. Ollie had lost count of how many times they’d dragged the insane demon into Cecil’s new improvised office, the doc looking absolutely done every time.

But today was different. It looked like Aster had pissed off the wrong thug this time around.

The demon was lying prone at the end of an alleyway, hissing and snarling at him in warning. His black shirt was damp, his hands stained with blood.

Ollieie marveled at the sheer luck of the encounter; he’s been on his early evening patrol when he’d spotted the fiend’s writhing form in a dark alleyway. The vigilante usually would’ve left to his own devices -that deranged asshole- but the fact that Aster wasn’t masking his more, inhumane features had tipped him off to the fact that something was seriously wrong.

Ollie frowned, kneeled down next to the fiend. “Jesus, that’s a lot of blood. Did you take the knife out?”

“What if I did?”

“That was a stupid move. Now you’re gonna bleed out!”

Aster growled, curling up tighter around the stab wound on his stomach; his pitch black arms wrapped around his midsection, sharp claws digging into his sides. He’s reverted back to his base form a few minutes prior, not having the strength to keep up his disguise.

Physical pain had been new and strange for him, having been inhabiting this human-ish construct only for a few weeks. He’s been seeking out the thrill of novelty, the high than came with the sharp pain of a cut or the throbbing, dull ache of a bruise.

But this? This was too much. His body felt heavy as lead, compromising his ability to move around. He couldn’t think, couldn’t analyse, couldn’t parse the flow of information coming from his abused nerves. And he hated it.

This pain wasn’t fun. It was excruciating.

“Couldn’t leave it in,” he hissed, “Would’ve healed around it, and then it would’ve been a bitch and a half to remove.”

Ollie swore, fishing his phone out of his pocket and typing something rapidly. Aster stayed prone on the ground, twitching and hissing every so often as his healing factor kicked it, slow, frustratingly slow. Blood kept leaking out of the wound, forming a growing puddle under the demon, staining his clothes and pallid skin.

“There,” Ollie said, putting his phone away before reaching out to Aster. “I texted the doc, he’s on his way. Now we gotta-”

“Dont fucking touch me!” the imp sneered at the red-clad vigilante, scooting back against the wall. “I don’t need the good doctor’s help. I told you, I can regenerate.”

“Does your healing factor replenishes your blood too?”

Aster stayed silent, his black and acid green eyes burning holes into Ollie’s skull. The hero tsked. “Didn’t think so. Now if you won’t let me help, take this,” he handed a large piece of cloth to the injured fiend, “and press on the wound, hard.”

The demon stayed still for a few seconds, eyes darting between the human’s face and the cloth. Finally, he snatched it out of the vigilante’s hand and shoved it against his stomach, using both of his hands to press it in. The pain spiked again, drawing a yowl of agony from his throat, and for a split second all he could see was darkness.

He came back to a very startled-looking hero shaking him, his hands and hoodie smudged with dark crimson. He felt dizzy and nauseous, he noted with disgust; stupid fleshy human body. So fucking fragile and weak.

“Hey!” Ollie snapped his fingers in front of his face, catching his attention again. He let out a breath when he saw Aster’s eyes open blearily, acid green orbs among a sea of black. “Good, you’re still here. I thought you just up and died or something.”

“Why do you even care?” the imp drawled, slurring slightly; he really was out of his depth here, as much as he hated to admit it. ”You hate me.”

“I don’t like you, that’s for damn sure.” the human scoffed. “You stole my friend’s body and made me do a freaky ritual that you knew could’ve killed me.”

“I told you you could do it,” Aster smirked through the pain, “and that was the truth. You never asked me what would happen if you did.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie!”

“I beg to differ. I never lied to you, you humans are just stupid.”

“Fucking hell,” Ollie groaned, running a hand through his lime-colored hair. “You’re such a dick. Do you want me to leave you bleeding out here?”

“Why aren’t you?!” Aster snapped, annoyed and aggravated by the human’s illogical behavior. “You know the terms of our Deal. Nothing in it is binding you to do a damn thing to help me, so why?”

Ollie tilted his head, unfazed by the imp’s anger. “Because I’m a hero!” he said, his chest puffing up with pride. “And heroes don’t leave anyone behind. Even narcissistic assholes like you.”

Aster blinked, dumbfounded. He let out a sharp, mocking “HA!” before coughing, a few specks of blood landing on the ground next to him. “That was the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” the red-clad hero shrugged. A chime from his pocket diverted his attention; he grabbed his phone once more, glancing at the screen. “Ah. Cecil texted back,” he explained, sitting back against the wall a few feet from the injured demon. “He’ll be here in five with some spare blood. Don’t know where he got it, not gonna ask. Think you can hang on ‘til then?”

“…I’ll be fine,” Aster croaked out, “you can hang around. But if you come any closer I will rip out your throat, Deal or no Deal.“

“Is that your way of asking me to stay?”

“Fuck you.”

“Bitch.”