#lor fanfic

[insanitylock]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Library of Ruina (Video Game), Lobotomy Corporation (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Angelica/Roland (Library of Ruina), Roland/Roland's Wife (Library of Ruina) Characters: Angelica (Library of Ruina), Roland's Wife (Library of Ruina), Roland (Library of Ruina), Olivier (Library of Ruina), Argalia (Library of Ruina), Elena (Library of Ruina), Giovanni (Lobotomy Corporation) Additional Tags: Human/Vampire Relationship, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Fights, Inspired by Vampire: The Masquerade, Fluff and Angst, Beta Read, Don't copy to another site Series: Part 1 of Tales Of A Distant City Summary:

Roland, a prestigious Color Fixer part of The Society of Hunters and known as a mercenary, is hired one night to partake in espionage to a vampiric meeting.

He didn't know that night would change his life months later.

Supernatural AU, takes place before the City exists.

Hi hi hi! I invoke the art of raising the dead to raise my Tumblr from the dead and post this new fanfiction I’ve made! I got into the Project Mooniverse, and I really really like it, but also I like vampires, so.

Library of Ruina spoilers!

[ao3statistics]

Date of creation: 11.03.2024

The tag "Dick Grayson is Nightwing" comes in at 5147 hits btw.

Short version with most hits first, much longer version beneath.

I assume no guarantee or liability for the completeness, correctness and accuracy of this chart despite my best efforts.

Includes fanfictions in all languages available on Ao3, NOT English only.

More charts will follow. :)

Want to have a chart for different pairings, headcanons etc. in your favourite fandom? Send me an ask!

Also, what's going on here:

[daydreaming-ace]

The Appearance of a Voice.

He had been staring at himself in the mirror for... A while, to say the least. Turning away for a second, Magolor caught that the Lor's windows (screens?) now showed Popstar at sunset.

Sunset. On Popstar.

...

Right.

It had been years since he started his quest for forgiveness. Kirby had completely forgiven him, at this point, but its other friends... Well, Bandana Dee started to joke about the betrayal, so he assumed the Waddle Dee forgave him on some level.

His most recent encounter with the duo was at Merry Magoland. They had begged him to join them in a friendly venture around the park, which they had succeeded in.

The entire day, they had dragged him onto every ride they could. From the spinning teacups, to the fastest roller coaster, to the Ferris wheel, until he dropped from pure exhaustion. Glancing at a picture he had attached to his mirror, the magician sighed as he remembered the most terrifying ride Bandana dragged him on: The Doomer.

Oh, the screams of terror! Of euphoria! Of pure adrenaline!!

He grinned at the thought, noticing his friends' quirks showing through in the picture. Kirby, the fearless little critter, had managed to look directly at the camera and wave. Next to it was Magolor, though the wizard glanced over himself to look at Bandana Dee. In stark contrast to Kirby, the Waddle Dee looked absolutely terrified, face hidden in the harness.

Noticing this detail, Magolor chuckled to himself. That explains why we had to get Bandana an ice pack afterwards...

Shaking his head, Magolor turned back to his reflection.

All day, he noticed park goers anxiously glancing at him. He simply assumed it was because his face was everywhere, being the mascot and all, but then he started to notice a pattern:

They only started to stare after he talked.

Thinking back on it, he assumed it was because his voice was instantly recognizable. It was in his theme park, his voice played in almost every attraction. Still, it left an odd taste in his mouth... He sighed, covering the mirror and walking out to the main room.

"Lor?" He called out, "You awake?"

> Greetings, Magolor. How was your day?

"My day was fine, got to hang out with Kirby and Bandana at Magoland! Very fun!" While saying this, he walked over to the main computer, hoping to find a distraction from his thoughts.

There was silence, before She spoke again.

> Is there something on your mind?

"No! No no no no!! I'm fine, just exhausted! Long day, you know?" He quickly responded, brushing off Her question with a wave of his hand.

Mindlessly clicking through various screens, Magolor landed on a tab containing the park's footage of the day. Specifically, he found footage of a conversation he had with Bandana Dee while Kirby was ordering food.

"--- So my friend Sailor stops me and says, 'Wait wait wait. Let's put in one 'It's Not Unusual' before adding another one of those.'" The Waddle Dee paused, waiting for Magolor to process this information, before continuing: "And that is when the afternoon went from good to great!"

At the time, Magolor laughed at Bandana's enthusiasm, unknowing of the results of the two Dees' actions. Looking at the footage, Magolor could only chuckle, cringing at the sound of his own voice. Avoiding looking at himself, the magician noticed that passersby looked at him with a mixture of confusion, anxiety, and... was that disgust?

He turned the video off after that, ears drooping as he tried to figure out what he did wrong. Did you even know those people? Did he have to know them in order to hurt them? What if---

> . . . Magolor.

His thoughts halted, fear growing at hearing Her say his name in that tone...

> Would you like to talk about it?

Nooooo... He internally groaned, being reminded of the first few weeks back in this dimension. All those nights spent crying and ranting and raving as She listened in complete, utter silence... Ugh, he never wants to go through that again.

There is a traitorous part of his brain that desperately wants to vocalize his thoughts, bring them into reality so She could analyze them and call him an idiot in the kindest way possible. And that part won out.

"Ugh... Where would I even start?" He groaned, floating away from the console to sit on a beanbag chair. Despite how tense he was, the memory of who got him this chair made him relax.

> . . .

No response... Great. He shifted in his seat, pulling his cloak tight around his body. Across from him, a table materialized from the floor, with the only objects on it being a candle, a bottle of water, and saltines. Oh no.

> Why did you stop the video?

His throat burned, clogged up by memories of past conversations. Still, that selfish, traitorous part of him answered Her.

"I... I noticed how they were looking at me." Stupid, so stupid! You couldn't have phrased it better?

In the corner of his eye, he could see the screen turning on again. He turned his head away, knowing what the Lor was looking for. Once She found it, She started talking to him again.

> Has this happened before?

His throat burned, forcing him to blurt out how this has been happening all day. Once this information was out, shame rolled over with, clawing at his hood and dragging it over his eyes.

The Lor didn't respond. The only sign of her presence was the candle miraculously lighting, filling the room with the scent of unprofessional, uncomfortable trauma dump sessions. Glaring at the candle, Magolor noted that the actual scent was Tranquility. Tranquility my---

Letting out a breath, he grabbed the bottle of water and chugged it as fast as he could. He ended up only drinking half of the bottle, slamming the rest down on the table and quickly covering his mouth with his scarf.

"I just..." He cleared his throat, before continuing, "It's been happening all day. Every time I talked, people would stare at me like... Like that." He vaguely gestured, hoping She knew what he meant.

"And... And I don't know why. All I did was talk, and then..." He paused, lowering his hands. Staring into space, he thought... and thought...

They only started to stare after he talked.

Only after they heard his voice...

"Lor," he turned towards the console, now noticing that the screens showed Popstar at nighttime. "Do you still have my journal entries from... Before?"

> I do. Which one would you like me to pull up?

"Any of them, just... One with audio."

> Affirmative.

After a few seconds, an audio log and transcript appeared on the screen.

> Now Playing "Dream Log. Dated 01011000"

The only thing he could do was listen, not processing a single word his past self uttered. In the background, hidden behind his rolled words, was purring that Magolor could distantly associate with cockiness, arrogance, pride. He focused more on the audio, noticing how many sounds he skipped just to sound natural.

Ugh, why did he think faking a Popstarian accent was a good idea? Let alone King Dedede's accent? At least he let himself speak in his own voice, after...

Okay, so the accent was definitely not the issue.

"Can you play the video again?"

> Of course.

Knowing what his voice originally sounded like, Magolor picked up on every difference. The way his voice flashed like lightning, instead of crackling like thunder; the way his laughter sparkled like glitter, rather than rang like bells; the way his voice looked, rather than sounded.

It shouldn't be possible, yet he couldn't describe it in any other way.

Shaking his head, Magolor played the Dream Log again. His voice was different from the video, sounding just like any other. It chittered and purred and did everything else a voice should do.

No... Nononononononono... He looped the two voices again, hoping it was a glitch of some sort.

It wasn't a glitch. His voice really had changed.

How?? Why??? He swore his voice hadn't changed at all! It was the one thing that the Master Crown hadn't changed... Right? Right???

But it had changed his voice. It changed every part of him to fit in its image. Even if the scars healed, even if his magic fully returned, his voice would still be... be... Corrupted.

The air burned as it entered his lungs, with his throat closing up in an attempt to get him to stop suffocating himself with the putrid air.

No wonder they stared at him. He sounded evil.

> Magolor.

No wonder he couldn't listen to his own laughter. It sounded horrific.

> Magolor.

He curled up on himself, attempting to hide. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe.

> Magolor?

The candle extinguished, suffocated by something imperceptible to his panic-stricken mind. Suffocated flame. Suffocated potential.

He blinked, turning towards the bottle of water on the table. It was metallic, covered by a bright blue coating. Stickers covered the bottle, each different in style, age, and origin.

The first sticker was near the lid of the bottle, small and stretched and worn. It was clearly from a children's sticker sheet, though there was no sign of its exact origins. However, its worn edges and faded colors showed that it had witnessed many years. Magolor vaguely recalled that Kirby gave it to him after his first full year on Popstar. After witnessing him drink from his water bottle, Kirby had grabbed a cutesy, gear-shaped sticker and applied it to a random spot on the container. It was inconvenient, but Magolor didn't have the heart to move it.

Glancing below it, a newer sticker made itself evident to him. It was a "Priority Mail" sticker, most of its original text covered up by red and blue paint markers. The person who gave him the sticker was clearly impatient, not waiting for the paint of one marker to dry completely before writing in another. A layer of magic covered the paper sticker, not allowing water or sunlight to fade any of its features. His mind was too panicked to properly read the writing, but vague recollections made it evident it was from Marx.

To the side, Magolor noticed a vintage-looking sticker that was evidently for scrapbooking. Looking at it closely, he noticed it was a combination of two stickers: fern and gardenia. His mind paused, trying to recall what Taranza had told him about these plants. Something about secrets, magic, and love?

With shaking hands, Magolor reached over to the cup and grabbed it. Lowering his scarf, the mage gulped down the rest of the water, focusing on the feeling of cold water entering his system. Listening to the chimes of ice cubes meeting metal. Under his hands, he could feel the various stickers that littered the bottle.

He gulped it down like it would be his last chance to do so, eyes shut in an attempt to savor every drop. Once there was nothing but ice cubes, he placed the bottle on the table and exhaled. His throat was cleared, but it still stung.

Overhead, he could hear the Lor trying to get his attention. Now looking up at Her, She paused.

> Magolor?

He didn't make a sound, only blinking and moving his scarf back.

> Talk to me.

> Please.

Magolor stayed silent. And then he felt something drip down the side of his face. Something cold.

Its kin soon followed, forced out of his eyes and burrowing into his scarf. Sobs choked out of him, warped and unnatural. He curled up on himself, trying to hide from the world while trying to comfort himself.

Magolor was stuck like that for hours. Until his voice and tears completed their exodus out of his mortal body. Until exhaustion overtook him, leaving him contorted in his beanbag chair.

The Lor didn't move him, simply keeping the door locked until he woke up.

-----___-----

This was posted on AO3 shortly before the Tumblr posting!

[kivaember]

got inspired to write some viv621 involving flowers so here ya go! post-LoR with Rusty Lives because in my mind he never dies uwu

-

In the months after the fall of the Xylem and the retreat of corporate forces and the PCA both, the Rubiconians began to piece together their lives. Staking out a city to rebuild slowly, to gather themselves and their forces in preparation for when the corporations returned... it was a lot of hard work, admittedly, and some days Rusty felt more exhausted than when he was pretending to be a bootlicking corporate merc, but the sheer happiness and satisfaction he felt was beyond words.

It helped that he got to step into this brave new world of freedom side-by-side with Raven. It quickly became apparent to everyone in the Liberation Front that Raven had no idea how to live independently, and with Rusty already having a rapport with him, it was decided that Raven would shadow him both on missions and in his daily life. They fought together, they did chores together, had meals together... they even slept together - chastedly!

Well, mostly.

The line between platonic and romantic blurred at some point, but Rusty was hesitant to fully step over that line while Raven was still figuring himself out. Even though it had been months... Rusty knew Raven was still raw over losing Walter, at having the unthinking stability of being a leashed hound cut out from under him. As a result, Raven clung to Rusty like a drowning man at sea would to flotsam, the only person he knew and somewhat trusted in his life who he was willing to take orders from, and while it was flattering...

Well, if Rusty was going to sleep with someone, he'd rather have there be no ambiguity in how willing it was, for his own peace of mind.

Anyway, they were essentially living out of each other's pockets. They even lived together, in one of the few apartment complexes that had been refurbished in the new city they were rebuilding. It was drafty and cold, but it was theirs, and Rusty enjoyed every morning where the sunrise would spill through their window, lighting the room up in streaks of golds and pinks and reminding him that it was yet another day of a free Rubicon.

That morning was no different. Rusty woke up to the sound of heavy transporters trundling past the building, their engines growling loud enough to wake the dead, and the dawn's light filtering through the window. Raven had been displeased at the early wake up call, grumbling and huffing, but Rusty had managed to prod him out of bed and to freshen up in time for their morning routine.

Now, while the apartment was refurbished, it still wasn't fully functional. There wasn't any central heating, the water wasn't potable and the electricity only worked during certain hours of the day. With the city's electric grid still being rebuilt and the attached subterranean Coral generator being brought back online, most things like food, potable water and a warm place to stay was centralised in the city hall to be easily accessible.

So that's where they went for breakfast.

"That clothes shipment might be in today, so we'll see if your thermals have finally arrived. You'll be a lot warmer then, huh, buddy?" Rusty chattered as he and Raven stepped out of the apartment complex. A thin layer of snow crunched underfoot, and the street was quiet but not empty. The road had deep tracks dug through it from those transporters, and a few people were striding past, a destination clearly in mind. Raven paid little mind to all of this, keeping his gaze fixed on his feet as he hundled in his thick jacket, half his face hidden behind his scarf.

While the air was certainly brisk and chilly to Rusty, Raven always acted as if he was stepping out into the polar regions. It was a little charming, in a cute kind of way, but Rusty was also aware that Rubicon's invasive chill just didn't agree with him. If Rubicon was to become Raven's home then, well, some compromises needed to be made.

Hence the thermals order. Though, it was less they had purchased it from there and more directing their scavengers to keep an eye out for them amongst the various supply depots the PCA and the Corps had abandoned during their flight from the planet.

"The PCA bases had a lot of supplies for us to claim... I'm surprised they didn't take any of it when they left the planet," Rusty mused. Talking to Raven was like talking to himself a lot of the time, but he didn't mind it. He found it strangely easy and freeing, being able to ramble without having to constantly judge or anticipate a response and how to react to it, manipulating the flow of conversation and plastering on an affable, inoffensive mask. Some things just couldn't be unlearned quickly when you spent a literal decade as a spy.

They stopped at a crossroads. There wasn't any true vehicle traffic - only the heavy duty transporters were up and running with any regularity, and you could see (and hear) those coming a mile away. On occasion there was a Pillbug (an armoured MRAP that was common road transport on Rubicon), but they rarely drove within the residential areas of this battered city. The roads were still a little fucked in places.

"Hey, let's take the scenic route," Rusty suggested. "It's still early."

Raven made a vague humming noise, but followed when Rusty veered away from the direct route to the city hall. This road swept past what must've been a city park back in the day, the area flat and devoid of any building ruins or the like. It also lacked plant life, except for the odd stubborn tree, skeletal and coated in a thick layer of frost.

It'd probably take another fifty years for that park to recover back to its old glory - whatever that had looked like. Rusty had only ever known Rubicon to be harsh and barren, all sharp-edges that would cut and a cold that seeped in through the cracks no matter how warmly you dressed. Imagining a green Rubicon... it just didn't compute in his mind.

Maybe it'd be like how New London looked back on Earth... but those parks had looked uncomfortably artificial, cultivated by a wasteful use of fresh water, all perfectly levelled grass and trimmed hedges, symmetrical in a way nature never was. If this park was to regrow, Rusty hoped it'd do so in a wild way and stay like that. He wanted to know... what a rewilded Rubicon looked like...

He hadn't realised he'd stopped until he felt a tug on his sleeve. Raven peered up at him in mild concern, a silent question in his eyes.

"...just thinking," Rusty said with a smile. "You ever seen a park before, buddy?"

Raven, as always, considered this off-hand question very intently. After a moment's pause, he nodded very slowly, his gaze drifting over the barren stretch of snow that smothered the old park.

"I've only seen the ones on Earth. They were pretty, but they looked fake too." Rusty rubbed the back of his neck. "I wonder how this would grow back, if it ever does..."

Rubicon's ecosystem was beyond saving - at least, it could never return to what it had been. Uncle had said Rubicon had been covered in lush grasslands and rainforests before the Fires, a veritable Garden of Eden where fertile land was never lacking. Even the Belius southern deserts and the Enlil ice fields had been teeming with life. Now, the planet was a husk of itself, its once fertile lands scorched and choked beneath ash and ice, and the majority of flora and fauna rendered extinct.

Unless the Institute had kept viable genetic material for the fauna and seeds for the flora in some heavily reinforced bunker somewhere, the revitalised Rubicon would be a completely different beast to its past self. Rusty wasn't sure how to feel about it, personally. Uncle felt sad about it, he knew, but Rusty had never known the old Rubicon, he only knew this one, and thinking about it changing made him uneasy in a way he couldn't quite put into words.

Raven nudged him, and when Rusty glanced over at him, stirred from his thoughts, he saw his friend sign - clumsily, because he still wasn't used to it and his gloves were very thick; 'Flower.'

"...flower? Oh. Flowers," Rusty chuckled. "I don't think a flower's bloomed on Rubicon in half a century, buddy. You'd think all the seeds for 'em died off by now."

Raven gave him a long, searching look. He didn't elaborate, though. Instead he simply turned and clambered over the rickety, half-collapsed fence that surrounded the dead park.

"Wha- hey, Raven! Careful..."

Raven ignored him. Sighing, Rusty climbed over the fence and followed him, the ashy snow crunching loudly. He could see faint imprints of older footprints, likely people cutting across the park to get to other areas faster. Raven veered away from those faint imprints though, towards the base of a lone, skeletal tree whose skinny branches were weighed down with a myriad of fat leaves that ranged from pale pink to stark, angry red. It's trunk was a weird blend of wood and stone, where dull red crystals jutted out from between old cracks in the bark; crimson amber that always felt hot to the touch.

Coral trees, they were called for lack of anything else. They had sprung up after the Fires, and Rusty remembered his home village being surrounded by these. Their branches burned well, and the children would prise off those crystals to use as pocket warmers, where they would emit heat for weeks until dulling grey and becoming inert. The only danger to them was that they were highly volatile, and a lightning strike could turn them into bombs of all things.

Raven gently touched one of the protruding crystals, his expression contemplative.

"You can take some, if you want. They make good pocket warmers," Rusty suggested, and laughed at the dubious look Raven gave him. "They're Coral deposits, if you can believe it. Y'know, we're lucky that the Corps didn't decide to deforest Rubicon while they were at it. Guess the amount of Coral in these trees are negligible..."

Raven looked back at the tree but didn't take any of the crystals. He crouched down instead, slowly, using the tree for balance until he was on his knees and poking around the roots. There was a thin layer of dead leaves coating the tree's base, slick and half-frozen - the closest thing it'd get to fertiliser.

Rusty was bemused but didn't stop him. It was rare for Raven to go off and do his own thing, and even if Rusty didn't understand his actions half the time, he wanted to encourage that independence. He just kept an eye on him, standing in the shade of that tree, feeling the warmth radiate from it, and wondered if it'd be possible to get a cutting and grow a sapling from it. Maybe the apartment would be warmer if they made a mini-Coral tree? It wasn't likely to get struck by lightning, so it's bomb status wasn't really an issue...

Raven made a noise, and Rusty looked to see his friend triumphantly pointing at something amongst the roots. Tiny, little shoots were pushing from the black soil, springy and green and definitely not the scrubby grass that stubbornly survived across Rubicon. Rusty crouched down and tilted his head, surprised but confused.

"...probably some kind of grass," he said. "That's all that grows round here."

Raven gave him a very disappointed look, and signed with far more confidence this time: 'flower'.

"Hah, you think so?" Rusty smiled, finding the thought nice but unrealistic. His gaze wandered back to those springy green shoots, though. They were vibrantly alive in a way most things on Rubicon weren't. The Coral trees, the grass, the shrubs... they survived but they never thrived, always half-wilting or drooping, but these...

"How about a bet, then?" Rusty found himself murmuring. "You bet it's a flower, and I bet it's just more grass."

Raven tilted his head. 'Gift?'

Gift? Oh, he must mean- "Hmm, I dunno. Loser has to fulfil whatever favour the winner asks - within reason, of course."

Raven considered this intently, but nodded. He was smiling slightly, a rare sight, and his eyes glittered with confidence. His friend was certain of his victory already.

And...

And a part of Rusty hoped he was right. That this would grow into a wildflower, sprouting through the ashy snow decades after the world died. Maybe it'd be something like these Coral trees, something new and alien, or maybe it'd be something old... Rusty didn't know. He'd have to wait and see.

He did a lot of that nowadays: waiting and seeing, watching his home slowly pick itself out of the grave.

"C'mon, buddy." Rusty stood up and held out his hand. "Let's leave this to grow in peace."

Raven nodded and gently re-covered the sprouts with the protective layer of decaying leaves. After a gentle pat he peered up at the tree, some unreadable emotion flickering through his eyes, before he reached up and took Rusty's hand.

-

A few weeks later, the springy green sprouts bloomed into a beautiful carpet of scarlet flowers.

[rainykthebroken]

As promised, here are some of the headcanons I use in "A Wonderful Attraction" (AO3):

Magolor:

-Even though he wasn't born on Halcandra, he considers it his home planet because it made the person he is. That's why I keep saying he is Halcadran in the fanfic. He doesn't speak about his real home.

-Kirby and all his friends have forgiven him (even Meta Knight), but he's still trying to prove his trustworthiness.

-After the Lor found him in the Kirby Clash dimension, he agreed to follow her therapy program, which lasted several months. He still have huge emotional issues that he cover up with his eccentric persona.

-He has a room in the Starcutter where he stores all the artifacts he has found on his adventures. He also collects objects from other dimensions, such as books, films and video games.

-Magolor hides a tail and whiskers because of the way some people reacted when he first explored the galaxy with the Lor. Some people didn't take him seriously with his kitten-like appearance.

-Magolor has a lot of scars that he hides.

Taranza:

-When Joronia was alive, he managed the feat of both being shy and pretentious.

-Joronia's death and his guilt kept him withdrawn and he became a bubble of anxiety. But today, he's regained a little more self-confidence.

-He comes from a noble family. He has an extremely complicated relationship with his parents (I intend to explore this aspect in a fanfic).

-While pursuing his passion as a gardener, he is also a diplomat for the kingdom of Floralia. Magolor has taken Taranza to other planets such as Ripple Star with the Lor, so that he can expand the kingdom's relations. What a good friend~

-At the time of the fanfic, Taranza has long since accepted that he can never bring Joronia back to life. The problem now is to overcome the impression of infidelity when he falls in love again.

Marx:

-As obnoxious and childlike as ever.

-He's Magolor's best friend and knows many of the secrets he keeps from others.

-Although Marx is impulsive and slightly idiotic, he manages in a disturbing way to feel other people's emotions with ease.

-While Marx can sometimes be a jerk, he's extremely protective of his friends and tends to be uncharacteristically serious when it comes to a friend's trauma.

-He'll never admit out loud that he cares about his friends.

Susie:

-Since her father's death, she's taken over the company and done a complete 180°.

-Susie has empathy problems but tries her best to socialize.

-She's Taranza's confidante and best friend because they understand each other through grief.

-Although she is friends with Magolor, they maintain a kind of rivalry over who is the best mechanic.

-Susie and Marx don't get along at all, so it's a miracle they put their differences aside to put Magolor and Taranza together.

-She's very close to the Mage sisters, especially Zan.

Lor Starcutter:

-She is Magolor's mother figure mentor. She is extremely protective of him.

-She blames herself for being mute for so long, and thinks she could have avoided the whole Master Crown incident if she'd been a better mother.

-Before the Master Crown incident, she only communicated with him small caring gesture that doesn't necessarily needed to vocalize. After his redemption, she used text to communicated before finally undoing thousand of years of mutism during the Void Termina crisis to say that she loved him and was proud of who he had chose to become.

-The Starcutter's interior is basically a dimension unto itself.

-One of her strange hobbies is watching telenovelas and other TV movies, which she justifies by saying that she studies organic beings.

I can't delve deeper without spoiling some of the fanfic.

Thank you for reading!

[idsfantasy]

And Then the World Was Fire

It was almost funny to think that less than a year ago, Jor-El had been at his wife’s side, welcoming their newborn son into the world.

Now, he was racing to reprogram the escape pod he had managed to steal from Brainiac’s forces to be able to safely take his infant son as far away from his family and home planet as possible.

Or, no matter what happens, no matter what changes, all a dying father wants is for his son to live.

Full fic on ao3 or under cut.

It was almost funny to think that less than a year ago, Jor-El had been at his wife’s side, welcoming their newborn son into the world. In that moment, everything had been perfect. Seeing Kal-El’s tiny body curled in Lara’s arms for the first time had brought tears to his eyes, and his mind had raced with excitement at the thought of introducing this brand new life to his extended family, seeing him make friends, and watching him grow up into the wonderful man Jor-El knew he was destined to be. 

Now, he was racing to reprogram the escape pod he had managed to steal from Brainiac’s forces to be able to safely take his infant son as far away from his family and home planet as possible. Though ‘as far as possible’ may not be the correct phrasing, as Jor-El was relying on the pod being able to make it through the portal that had been opened between Krypton and the planet that was about to be invaded. 

Krypton’s oncoming explosion should destroy the ship keeping the portal open before the invasion could actually get underway, but while Jor-El was hopeful the pod would make it through in time, he also had to be careful that this pod didn’t end up reopening the link. Brainiac’s ships, even those that could grow from escape pods, were what opened the portals when they found worlds to conquer (they were meant to be used for backup in dangerous situations or to return home if stranded on an unknown world, not this, where the technology on board would just as quickly attack a Kryptonian as it used to defend them), so in order for Kal-El’s escape to remain secure, Jor-El didn’t have much time to set up a defense against the rogue AI’s influence.

Putting one hand on the pod to establish the link for the copying of his mind into its AI for as long as he remained nearby, Jor-El turned to see Lara quickly approaching, a bundle of blankets cradled in her arms. Jor-El breathed out a sigh of relief. As much as he had tried to push the worry from his mind, the creeping concern that Lara wouldn’t be able to arrive with Kal-El in time had been there. 

Ever since the strange explosive had been launched into Rao, changing the sun’s color from yellow to red, the remaining Kryptonians who didn’t have shielding against the low-energy rays had their energy drained. It had taken less than a day for Jor-El and Lara to lose the ability to fly, and it wasn’t long after that their maximum speed had plummeted. Those weren’t the only abilities they had lost, but those were the ones they had been missing the most with how precious their remaining time was.

Jor-El walked over to where Lara had come to a halt, clutching a crying Kal-El tightly. As she looked mournfully up at the explosion filled sky, Jor-El rested a comforting hand on her shoulder, even though they both knew that, in what could be seconds, it wouldn’t even matter. Wordlessly, Lara shifted her hold on their son and allowed Jor-El to take him into his arms. 

Forcing himself to carry Kal-El to the waiting escape pod was probably the hardest thing Jor-El had ever had to do. With how little time they had, he should have been moving as fast as possible, but it was all he could do to hold back the rising tide of despair and keep moving forward. He had to keep moving or else he would stop. Or else he would cling to his son and his wife until his dying breath, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. He had to hold back the selfish desire to spend his last moments holding his family close because even if the escape pods were too small to fit his whole family, his son had the opportunity to survive.

He signaled the escape pod to open through the mental link, and watched the metal casing pull back. Carefully placing Kal-El in the glowing blue chamber, Jor-El smiled sadly down at the tiny bundle who would grow up in a completely foreign world among people who Jor-El and Lara could only hope would accept him despite his origins.

The crest of the House of El stood for hope. It was painfully fitting that what was left of it would be relying so heavily on that hope to survive.

Taking a deep breath, Jor-El closed the pod and sent it skyward.

Finally allowing the tidal wave of emotions to wash over him, he collapsed to his knees, his hands pressed against the ground as he blinked back tears. He felt, rather than saw, Lara drop down next to him and wrap her arms around him comfortingly for a moment, before he grabbed her hand tightly in return, a gesture of reassurance that they both knew was empty. 

Pulling on the last of his willpower, he looked toward the sky as they held each other close, the ground shaking beneath them from the explosion of the planet’s core. He watched as the small spacecraft flew towards the portal, just fast enough that it would reach the other side before the explosion. He didn’t have the strength to speak as tears poured freely from his eyes, but as he felt the fiery destruction about to consume him, he had the strength for one last thought.

Kal-El. My son. Live.

-

As an AI, Jor-El unfortunately could not follow his son to wherever the man and woman who found him had taken him. In fact, he couldn’t even manifest outside the ship without Kal-El’s presence to respond to. He was barely aware of time passing as he waited in the ship, making sure that Brainiac’s systems didn’t activate, hoping that one day, Kal-El would be able to return.

Then, one day, he did.

As soon as Kal-El set foot on the surface of the ship, its systems lit up and Jor-El immediately snapped to attention. He didn’t exactly have a heartbeat anymore, but he knew that if he did, it would be racing from anticipation. He would finally be able to see his son. He would be able to explain to him who he was, where he came from, why he had been sent to this planet. That he had family. Even if Jor-El wasn’t the original, he was an exact copy of him in every way that mattered. Neither of them would have to be alone anymore.

The ship’s obelisks rose, and Jor-El could sense Kal-El as he walked across the ship’s surface and made contact with one of them. He let out an unnecessary sigh of relief. While he could still use the transportation functions of the obelisks, he couldn’t use their full capabilities without Kal-El activating them in the first, and it would likely be best to have their first meeting take place somewhere more familiar to his son who, as much as it pained Jor-El to admit, would find Kryptonian technology and his own father unfamiliar.

So, Jor-El turned his focus to the powered obelisk, steeled himself, and projected himself through it to see-

Even if he hadn’t known who was in front of him, a part of Jor-El whispered that he would have recognized him anyway. Still so small, yet so much bigger than when Jor-El had placed him in the escape pod, Kal-El’s vibrant blue eyes were wide with shock. Every paternal instinct begged Jor-El to reach out and pull the young boy, his boy, into his arms, but even if had been able to make physical contact, he knew that would only scare him more. The last time they had seen each other was when Kal-El was an infant. Kryptonians had excellent memories, but even for their people it was rare to remember their infancy, and the look on Kal-El’s face didn’t even hint at recognition.

Jor-El only realized how long he’d been silently staring when Kal-El spoke. “H-hello?”

The word was unfamiliar, but the ship’s automatic translators quickly processed it into the questioning greeting it was.

Steeling himself, he responded, “Son, I am your father. My name is Jor-El.”

There wasn’t a hint of recognition on Kal-El’s face as Jor-El continued to speak.

Jor-El knew he had a one track mind at times. He knew he could get overly passionate. Years later, after countless times running over his failure to communicate with his son, to realize there were people put at risk as he tried to open the ship to let Kal-El inside, to notice that Kal-El’s lack of understanding was due to the translation program only working one way rather than just shock at something unfamiliar, he knew that he would never lose that feeling of loss and regret that consumed him when he realized that he had scared his son away for what could be forever. 

-

Using the positioning system of the ship, Jor-El could tell that the planet made fifteen revolutions before Kal-El returned again. Using the time measurement capabilities of the ship, Jor-El knew that he had missed his son’s entire adolescence. When Kal-El touched down on the ship’s surface, Jor-El didn’t bother trying to speak first, opting to summon him directly into the ship instead.

He wasn’t going to lose his chance again.

There was a bolt of light as Kal-El was brought into the ship, and Jor-El quickly activated the ship’s lights and holotech. Without it, the ship’s interior would be dark unless Brainiac’s drones became active (which Jor-El was hoping to avoid), and not only would the darkness likely unnerve Kal-El, but it would leave Jor-El unable to truly see as well. And oh how desperately he wanted to see for this.

The holograms glowed to life and Jor-El’s metaphorical heart skipped a beat as he looked towards the figure now visible in the white-space. Just as before, even though the man standing on the platform was facing away from him, Jor-El felt that instinctive recognition. Even if he hadn’t been keeping track of time, it was clear that his son’s childhood was behind him, and though it hurt to know he had missed so much of Kal-El’s life, Jor-El still felt a wave of parental pride and affection as he looked down at his son. Standing tall as he examined his surroundings, Kal-El looked just as strong and healthy as Jor-El and Lara had dreamed he could be on this alien planet, and relief flowed alongside the grief and joy Jor-El felt.

As did trepidation.

Even if Jor-El would be able to understand Kal-El, without more exposure to his language, Jor-El  wouldn’t be able to actually speak it back to him. While he hoped he and Kal-El would be able to learn from each other, Jor-El had scared him away once. He would need to be careful not to scare him again.

“Okay, this is…new.”

The sound of Kal-El’s voice as he stepped away from the edge of the platform snapped Jor-El out of his thoughts. Right. No more stalling. 

Jor-El flew down, and put his hand on Kal-El’s shoulder, the power of the holodeck allowing manifestations that were more than just illusion. “Son.”

Kal-El’s head turned at the touch, and a moment later he was staring up at Jor-El, an almost-perfect, older mirror of the little boy from fifteen years ago. 

“Are you…” Kal-El started, before his tone suddenly shifted to quiet awe and his eyes widened further. “You’re responding to me.”

“Yes, Kal-El,” Jor-El’s voice wavered with relief as he fought to maintain his composure. “Yes.”

Unfortunately, Kal-El still could not understand him, and Jor-El’s grasp on the language without the translator’s assistance was nowhere near what it would need to be to actually speak yet. No matter how Jor-El tried to explain things or how many times Kal-El reiterated that he didn’t understand, nothing changed other than both of them getting increasingly frustrated.

Finally, Kal-El turned away. “Oh, what am I doing here? I don’t even know who you are.”

“Son.” Jor-El felt the despair that had arisen after he’d realized he may have lost his son forever rise up and claw at him with talons of ice. He couldn’t lose him now. There had to be some way…

Of course! Turning to the side, Jor-El changed the holodeck to show the vast expanses of space.

“What’s happening?” Kal-El asked quietly, though when Jor-El turned to look at him, he could see that Kal-El was still staring, shocked into the sea of stars.

Knowing words would be useless, Jor-El phased his own hologram to be directly in front of Kal-El, and with a determined expression placed his hands on the sides of Kal-El’s head.

The typical use of a ship’s holodeck included sharing mission reports through the use of memory. While it wasn’t usually quite so direct as a mind to mind share as he would be doing now, being able to see what took place could always reveal details that mere words could not. As painful as it would be, if it would help Kal-El finally understand who Jor-El was, what he meant to him, and why he was here, Jor-El would gladly relive Krypton’s destruction a thousand times over.

-

It wasn’t nearly so long before Kal-El returned again. Jor-El had only waited about one-third of an Earth cycle before he was back. Jor-El’s heart swelled with pride seeing his son, fully-grown and standing tall wearing the traditional colors, crest, and garb of the heir of the House of El.

“I know why you sent me here.” Kal-El looked up at him, a cold determination on his face as he flew up to be face to face with Jor-El. “You tried to conquer this planet. My home. I won’t let that happen. Ever.”

Whatever happiness he’d felt at Kal-El’s visit quickly turned to horror and confusion as he processed Kal-El’s words. He thought he’d been sent here because Jor-El wanted the planet to be conquered? What in the world would have made him think that? Did he not realize the meaning of the memory Jor-El had shared? 

Desperately, Jor-El reached towards him. “You don’t understand-”

But Kal-El batted his hand aside as he leaned forward, fury overtaking his expression as he interrupted with words that pierced Jor-El’s heart. “I’m not like you. I’ll never be like you! And if you come to Earth again, I’ll be here to stop you.”

And in an instant, Kal-El disappeared towards the exit in a burst of speed.

“Wait!” Jor-El cried out. But it was too late. As he watched his son vanish, the horror and heart-break and despair that he’d thought was gone, thought was over, piling up and pooling together into sea of anguish that was worse than Krypton’s destruction, than realizing he scared his son, than anything Jor-El had felt in his life or what came after it. 

The white space was empty. Kal-El was gone. And Jor-El knew he was never coming back. 

Alone, Jor El quietly spoke into the void, “I would never hurt you…my son.”

-

Less than one Earth-day later, everything somehow went from bad to worse.

“Kryptonite?” Jor-El’s eyes narrowed as the ship’s systems glowed red due to the proximity. “The poison is here?”

That shouldn’t be possible. The corrupting radiation that had been transforming Krypton’s soil into the deadly mineral shouldn’t have had any way to reach this planet, and  if none of the Kryptonite itself had made itself known yet, none should have been brought through the portal either. Where could it have possibly come from?

But before he could start to consider what Kryptonite’s presence here meant for Kal-El and his safety, the red light above him brightened. Jor-El looked up and his eyes widened as he saw the symbol forming above him. Dread started to well up in him, not helped by the fact that Jor-El could feel the ship lift into the air out of his control. 

In spite of Jor-El’s best efforts, his attempt to make Kal-El’s escape pod safe had only done so much, and now the consequences were in full effect in the worst possible way. The Kryptonite triggered the ship’s defense systems, sending out a distress signal. Brainiac had been alerted. The invasion Kal-El had accused Jor-El of would be picking up where it left off all those years ago after all.

With frantic determination, Jor-El tried to reach out and wrest control of the ship back, but no matter what ground he regained, he was powerless to stop the ship from rising further into the sky, or hold back the wave after wave of attack drones sent hurtling towards the planet’s surface. All he could do was helplessly watch as the ship blasted open a portal to reveal one of the very warships Jor-El had sent Kal-El to this world to avoid.

Then, a massive thud shook the ship, and this time when it began to ascend, he knew it was not under the ship’s own power. Jor-El quickly turned his attention to the outer sensors and felt the flickering hope within him strengthen, the beginnings of a sad smile pulling at his lips as he registered his son’s palms against the ship’s base. Of course. Kal-El had promised he would be here to stop the invasion. It didn’t matter that he was wrong about the culprit, his son had made a vow to protect this world, and he was going to see it through. 

And Jor-El was going to help him.

Jor-El felt when the ship’s hull was breached and the drones in that portion of the ship descended from the walls. Resolve flooding him, Jor-El pushed back against the programs trying to block his access to manifesting there to help. Kal-El was strong, but Jor-El had enough control to see that he was weakened. The drones were capable of wearing down a Kryptonian when in high enough numbers, and Kal-El was certainly no exception.

That didn’t stop him from throwing himself into the battle, untrained and inexperienced as Jor-El could see he was. He faced down the drones with a courage and determination that Jor-El couldn’t help but feel proud to see. But as Kal-El was knocked to the ground by a hail of drone-fire, Jor-El was painfully reminded of the dire circumstance they were in.

Just as one of the drones prepared to fire a finishing blow on his son, Jor-El pushed through the systems and forced his hologram into being right behind the drone. With a rush of speed, Jor-El flew through the drone, merging his digital form with it just enough in the process to leave the robot’s systems scrambled and useless.

The drone fell to the ground and once again, Kal-El stared up at him from the ground. This time, the expression on his face was a disheartening mix of anger and confusion, and Jor-El turned away. He couldn’t be distracted right now; they didn’t have much time. The warship was already coming through.

“Kal-El! Follow, to the heart,” Jor-El called out to his son, hoping that even if he didn’t understand the words he would at least understand the meaning. “Do what you must, quickly!”

Before he’d even finished speaking, Jor-El sped through one of the remaining drones, and then another, as he flew in the direction of the heart of the ship. As the sound of impacts and his son’s grunts of effort followed close behind him, Jor-El’s worry was momentarily drowned out by relief. In spite of the hatred he’d expressed earlier, Kal-El had still followed him. At this point, with Jor-El unable to gain control of the ship to stop it, their best chance was for Kal-El to destroy the ship’s core. Without that, it would no longer be able to hold open the portal, and Kal-El and his home would be safe.

Finally, they reached the heart, and as Kal-El went in, Jor-El turned back to the hallway and sped toward the advancing drones. Kal-El was the only one who could stop the ship now, and Jor-El would make sure he wasn’t interrupted. He could only hope that Kal-El would be able to stop it in time.

Seconds felt like an eternity as he flew through drone after drone, waiting for some sign of Kal-El’s success, when suddenly, a shockwave rocked the ship and green light began to carve its way through the normally invisible internal power lines. Never would Jor-El have thought he’d be glad to see the effects of Kryptonite again, especially since that was what had caused this all in the first place, but that didn’t stop the initial relief at knowing that the ship would not be able to maintain the portal.

And then the realization of what Kryptonite’s presence on the ship meant hit in full force and Jor-El was by Kal-El’s side, glowing green light from the dying heart casting his son’s crystal-covered skin in a sickly shade as veins of neon green glowed from under the surface of the flesh Jor-El could see. Jor-El was unable to keep the worry off his face as he knelt at Kal-El’s side and called up the holodeck one last time to help his son.

Kal-El’s eyes slowly blinked open, then widened slightly as he recognized the figure in front of him.

“You brought the Kryptonite here,” Jor-El said softly. It wasn’t a question. There was no other way the Krytonite would have made it on board. But, if he brought it here, Kal-El had to have known just how dangerous exposure to it was. He had knowingly almost destroyed himself to destroy the ship.

“I had to stop your invasion,” Kal-El responded, pain clear in his voice as he clenched his eyes shut. Tears flowed freely as he added, “I had to protect…my family.”

The pain that lanced through Jor-El at Kal-El’s statement was enough to briefly shake his control of the holodeck as he felt his heart break in two. It was almost as though the ship’s pain was his own, Kryptonite lodged in its core, tearing it apart from the inside out. The emphasis on “my family” was so intentional and final in a way that, combined with Kal-El’s confrontation with him earlier in the day, left Jor-El no room for denial. Kal-El didn’t consider him family, and now, there was no time left. They were both dying of Kryptonite poisoning, and only one of them would be able to make it.

Jor-El closed his eyes, reached into the depths of himself for what remained of his willpower, and stood up. Holding out one hand, he called on the last of the ship’s energy to lift Kal-El’s body off of the ground and construct a temporary physical hologram of an escape pod around him. It struck Jor-El in that moment, seeing his son once again in that pod, that this was the second time he was sending his son away to avoid a death that, for Jor-El, was inescapable as the world collapsed around them.

But this time, there was no form that Jor-El would come back in.

Jor-El would never be able to have the bond with him that he had dreamed of when he had first held that baby boy in his arms so long ago, but with what little of Kal-El’s language he knew, he could at least try to set something right, to help him truly understand exactly what Jor-El wanted for him.

Painfully aware of the precious seconds ticking away at what was left of their time together, Jor-El leaned forward and rested his hand against his son’s face. “Kal-El. My son.” Then, Jor-El reluctantly broke physical contact and stepped back to allow the pod to close, his gaze locked on his son’s the entire time as he whispered, “Live.”

The last thing Jor-El saw of his son was his eyes widening just before he was sealed away.

And then, the world was fire and Jor-El was gone.

[the-spam-specialist]

Kirby fanfic ideas that I’m playing around with but don’t officially have planned

Serenade the Stars with Me: Metalor. It’s a silent night in the skies of Dream Land. Magolor decides it’s a beautiful night for playing his violin on the deck of the Lor. His playing eventually attracts the attention of someone very special to him. And this certain someone has an instrument as well. 

Distress Signal: Socially Awkward Magolor series. The Battleship Halberd receives a distress signal in the middle of the night. Meta Knight sees to the call personally upon discovering that the signal is coming from the Lor Starcutter. The ship itself. Not Magolor.

Drastic Measures (to Distract): Meta Knight is numb to Kirby attempting to bother him while he’s trying to read out in the fields. But Kirby is determined to get the knight’s attention so he’ll play with him. He’ll try everything!

Let me know if you’re interested in reading any of these! 

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

What are your thoughts on the lack of attention Lara Lor-Van gets in comparison with Jor-El?

On one hand, it's frustrating seeing how underdeveloped Lara is as a character over eighty years into Superman's history. One of my favorite parts of Pennyworth was seeing Martha Kane fleshed out and given a personality, even if the viewer knows she's ultimately fated to die relatively young for no real reason than to spur her child onto becoming Batman.

Lara's got it worse, in that while Martha's death specifically influences a lot of Bruce's personality as an adult (moreso than than his father's), Lara feels largely incidental. Clark has a dead biological mother because--despite being an superpowered alien being--the metaphor of Superman necessitates he have a mother, the tragedy of Krypton's destruction heightened for the typical reader with the tragedy of a young family being ripped apart. It underplays the tragedy of Krypton's death as a culture, something that's only gotten worse as modern reimaginings and adaptations have focused more and more on Krypton's social stagnation sterility and imperial past.

All that said, on the other hand, I think Lara presents a good opportunity to explore Krypton as a living culture in a way that can't really be done with Jor. Jor-El's an outsider and an ideological extremist who happens to also be a scientific genius and correct about the planet's rapidly approaching death. While the circumstances that brought him and Lara together is a whole story in and of itself, Lara can believe in her partner without necessarily having to share that "Fringe Scientist" archetype he's pigeonholed in even his most heroic interpretations (and pushed to "Mad Scientist" in his least heroic).

My personal interpretation of Lara--with no real canon basis--is that she was a member of Krypton's Artist Guild. While the Science and Military Guilds are heavily represented in Jor-El, Zod, and many of the Phantom Zone detainees, the Artist Guild doesn't get much attention. Which is understandable--a thesis on Kryptonian Art History doesn't really suit any kind of monthly action comic one could reasonably sell--but nonetheless disappointing. Having Lara be an artist gives a strong reason to actually explore this group and the questions that come with it, while also giving a reason for Lara to be open to Jor's ideas. As an artist, she's always looking for stories and narratives to inspire her creativity. The tragedy of Jor-El's Sisyphean attempt to save his world falling on deaf ears becomes a romantic notion: they can't save everyone, they can't even save themselves, but they can spare one life. Their child.

I was working on Kara's Kryptonian history recently and it gave me an idea to flesh out one of Lara's works--her final work, maybe the final major artistic artifact of Krypton's history--and I thought it'd be appropriate for her to be composing a full sensory immersive visual opera-novel about a child in a strange and distant land, made strong and invulnerable under a golden sun. Lara Lor-Van's final major piece: "The Superman."

[serenefountain]

I LOVE writing about the Lor Starcutter. SO MUCH. Magolor doesn't matter, I want the intergalactic star sailboat and I want it NOW!!!

[victorsandvanquishers]

Tinctures of Lithium

Fandom: DC Comics

Ships: Gen

Ratings: T+

Warnings: reboot trauma, preboot haunting the reboot, Joe Casey compliant, violence

Story Synopsis: Lor Zod is no stranger to pain, but what he can’t seem to understand is why his nightmares punish him with images of strangers. Who is the woman made of flames? Why is Superman here? Why does he remember experiencing love when Lor’s never loved a single person nor thing in his entire life – including himself?

[in-canon, Action Comics and Kneel Before Zod compliant; written for 2024 Superfam Horror Week, Day 4 - The Forgotten One]

~~~

For a full appreciation of this story, I recommend reading the Zod family backup in Action Comics 1060 (current era), as well as Kneel Before Zod #1 by Joe Casey. For additional fun, you can also read the Pre-Flashpoint Chris Kent books. I know this sounds like Sinister Sons promotional content, but I swear to you it's not LOL!

Thank you for joining Lor in his shenanigans, and don't forget to leave comints! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

[mintygreenaqua]

Magolor and Susie's Venture - Helping Out (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1382123514-magolor-and-susie%27s-venture-helping-out?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=AquaGreenMint64 Magolor has developed feeling for a very special person who shares some very similar feeling just like him.

[mintymintsyjelly]

Hey guys. I wrote a fanfiction. I think i did pretty good so I wanna share it. It's silly and i had fun. May make more of it.

[astrocourier]

The dad is the youngest hilariously enough.

deviantart

So a 5 month year old, 10 year old, and a teenage smth years old.

Who let the child decide it's a good idea to raise a bunch of adults with the other adults? /j

@ahmedmootaz

[brightbluedesmoxytes]

sillyos. my favorite thingamabobs ever. i need them to meet

[kivaember]

👀!! but also, 🎯?

🎯 Have any of your readers accurately guessed major plot points? Care to share which?

Interestingly, not many people have made in depth guesses about major major plot points for APV! I am curious to hear people's theories though, if only to see if the foreshadowing I lay down it getting picked up...

Otherwise, on my P5 fic To Know Your Target, quite a few people correctly guessed major plot points, which I found really cool! I like it when people can sorta guess where the story is heading, bc it means I'm building it in a coherent kind of way. There's no better feeling for when you guess something will happen and it does!

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Oh man I have so many!!! Okay, I have one wip that's like two thirds done... it's a oneshot (a big one rip) that's post LoR. It follows 621 hunting amongst the wreckage of the Xylem for Walter's AC, mostly because he's kinda lost on what to do with himself and also bc he wants to give it a funeral. Rusty, still horribly injured from his fall fromthe Xylem, hijacks an RLF MT and follows him there...

The fic's most about discussing 621 and Rusty's different approaches to grief and moving on and the like... and hilariously, as I was writing it, 621 ended up being a lot more emotionally intelligent than Rusty was...

Have a snippet :) as a treat!

He rounded a collapsed pile of masonry and shattered glass, some sort of towering roof structure that had caved in on the deck below. STALKER was standing in the near distance on the very edge of the deck, staring at the slowly approaching supercell. 

Carefully, Rusty piloted his MT to stand beside STALKER, and directed his visual sensors towards the incoming storm. His wipers were going a little crazy now, frantically whipping back and forth to try and outpace the heavy downpour. Beside him, STALKER moved fractionally, its half-rusted joints creaking loudly. 

“...hey,” Rusty murmured. “Aren’t you tired, Raven?”

STALKER’s head angled towards him. 

«Aren’t you tired, Rusty?»

Rusty felt his mouth quirk into a smile. A response, even if it was a mocking (he assumed). He’d take it. “Yeah. I’m pretty exhausted, to be honest.” 

«…then why are you here.»

“Like I said, I came to get you. You’ve been out here for two days. Uncle was getting worried.”

Raven took his time in replying and Rusty patiently waited, ignoring the various aches and pains lancing through his body like razor sharp glass. It was fine. So long as he didn’t bust the stitches from his spleen repair surgery, he should be okay. 

«I’m fine.»

“Sure,” Rusty said. “Just like I’m fine.”

«I wasn’t in a coma for two days after breaking half my bones.»

no, you were just tortured for weeks on end instead, Rusty did not say with some effort. “You still need to eat, right? You’re augmented, but you’re still human.”

Raven didn’t seem to have a ready response for that, so he just didn’t say anything.

“...what’re you even out here for anyways?” Rusty asked, genuinely curious. The Xylem was a marvel of Institute tech, yeah, but most of it was completely ruined from its violent re-entry. Aside from getting blown up and ransacked by invading corporate and Liberation Front forces alike, the seawater filling up half the ship would’ve eaten away at most of the technology by now. 

«…I’m looking for something.» 

“Well… if you’re looking so hard for it, I guess it must be important…” Rusty said slowly. “Maybe I can help?”

«You’re injured and should be resting.»

“You’re injured too.” Rusty’s tone grew solemn. “I know what they do in those re-education camps, Raven.” 

«…»

“You’ve been flat out since you escaped,” Rusty said softly. “Uncle said you only swung by for a day at our base before running off again. If you don’t stop to rest, your body’s just going to give out on you. It’s a pointless way to go.” 

«…»

“Unless that’s what you want?” Rusty asked, and made sure his voice was dispassionately blunt when he added: “Are you just waiting to die?”

The question lingered between them like an ominous shroud. The supercell moved close enough that its thick cloud wall blocked out the sun, dousing them in deep, dark shadow. 

«…no.»

Raven paused, and STALKER kept shifting its weight back and forth, rusted joints screeching and groaning, the AC not built to spend so much time along the seashore, getting sprayed with saltwater and blasted with coastal gusts. It looked like a corpse just barely moving, skeletal, where chunks of its ablative armour had been stripped off from its own re-entry, and the inner hull torn from the tremendous forces it had been under (had never been designed to endure, but had endured anyways). 

There was even a gaping crack in the Core, a sliver where Rusty could peer past the protective armour and see a bit of the Core block that contained the pilot’s cockpit. Red-tinged rainwater was collecting in that crack, pouring out of it like a miniature stream.

«I don’t know what to do.»

It was unexpectedly honest. Vulnerable. Completely out of nowhere. 

“What do you mean?”  

«Before everything went wrong in Institute City, Handler Walter told me what to do. I knew what to expect with each day. I knew what my objectives were. Now, I know nothing. I’m a mercenary with no money or clients, and I have no idea how to get those things myself. I got my life back, like Walter wanted, but there’s nothing in it.»

STALKER’s head bowed. 

«…I have nothing.»

“That’s not true, Raven,” Rusty said gently, taken aback by Raven’s raw honesty, and cursing the awkwardness of having this talk while they were in two separate mechs. Raven was as expressionless as they came, but he could still gauge his human face better than just staring at the side of STALKER’s cracked Core. 

“After saving Rubicon, you’ve definitely got the Liberation Front on your side,” he continued. “And, for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back too. I know you won’t trust that, considering what happened before Institute City but, I mean it. I was-”

He drew in a slow breath, before admitting quietly: “I was wrong about you. You weren’t a threat to be eliminated, and I acted too hastily in my judgement of you. I’m sorry.”

«It’s fine. You weren’t exactly wrong. I was a threat.»

“...? What do you-”

A flash of scarlet lightning lit up the horizon, followed by a booming thunder that rattled Rusty’s very bones and briefly deafened him. He couldn’t help but wince. 

«I’m looking for Walter,» Raven said in an unexpected non-sequitur, forcibly dropping the last topic. «His corpse is on this ship somewhere.»

[kirbyathirdchance]

Kirby a Third Chance: Chapter 4

It's out now! Check it out on Deviantart!