#memories fade and warp over time right? so it really feels like existing in the world and talking to people is just a passing moment

[pl4n]

[yuseirra]

Kamiki's mentality- an analysis(post 162)

Hello! :) I'm back..with an analysis of what I think this character must have been feeling, I always need to come up with some type of interpretations to make fan work... some sort of base I could work with. The new chapter was really confusing, right? I've been struggling to make do of it since I encountered it, here's what I make of it, until the new chapter would drop and I get new information.

If you're fond of this character.. or want to see just what the heck he may be feeling, and what's going on in his head, I can't say my interpretations may be the best but it may help you form your own thoughts on this guy. He's a really hard nut to crack but I think I do get how he felt about Ai, and what he struggled to do to an extent. Or what they were trying to go for by having him say those things. Things can overlap with the things I already said, and I incorporate my interpretations into my fanworks too so you may see some things in common~

Really…

If we remove the contradictory descriptions and align it with the song, when trying to roughly understand Kamiki’s psyche:

About this whole idea about Kamiki feeling the "weight of life"—this may sound like some strange nonsense (I feel the same way), but when it comes to him saying such things about Ai, I feel like I somewhat understand what he means.

This isn't about worship or idolization. No, Kamiki doesn’t kill someone for the sake of making Ai an unbeatable idol. I wonder if anyone still gets confused about this. But no, that's not it. Kamiki's reasoning on this is different from Nino's;

It feels more like Kamiki wanted to truly feel Ai's existence. It's a subtle difference, but it's there. He wanted Ai to be alive, but since she isn't, he resorted into trying to feel her existence by increasing her significance and presence, by doing what he did. (I don't know how it would, but according to his belief, this can be achieved by taking down people who can surpass Ai-probably people with the star eyes-)

That’s what it seems like too, based on how it’s phrased from his own perspective.

Ai is dead, but Kamiki couldn’t bear it, so he probably wanted to feel something similar to the feeling of Ai being alive, or at least something close to it. Did he really kill them though? Really? Seriously? Well, it hasn't been fully revealed yet, so I'll hold off on judgment on that for now.

If Ai were alive, Kamiki wouldn’t have acted this way. Over time, Kamiki couldn’t accept that Ai’s presence was fading away, and he wanted to keep her memory alive within him forever, so he acted like this.

But how did Kamiki come to think this way? I don’t think he would’ve reached this kind of belief on his own. Wasn’t there someone who hinted to him that by doing this, he could get closer to Ai? Because… how would Kamiki have known to approach specific people, with those exact conditions? Someone must have told him—maybe the 'black star.' Could he have come up with this idea on his own? And to believe that acting this way would bring him closer to Ai, from the start?

When you look at the lyrics of "Mephisto," at first Kamiki was doing something that could be considered somewhat theoretically logical—he wanted to exchange his life for Ai’s. But at some point, it warped into "becoming like Ai." When did things start to twist like this? What could have driven him to this point? His original personality seemed so gentle…

It’s like he kept saying, "I want to see her, I want to see her," and when that wasn’t possible, he changed direction. That’s how the whole narrative feels concerning the song, right?

"Mephisto" is definitely not about Aqua. It’s not. Because Ruby is still alive. In fact, Aqua giving his life would take him further from Ruby, and the sentiment behind this song is completely different.

Kamiki is definitely insane, but there’s something sad about it too.

Kamiki desperately wants to keep sending something, anything, to Ai, even though she’s gone. But no matter what he does, nothing will ever reach her. So, no matter what he does, his longing remains unfulfilled.

The lyrics of "Fatal" really capture Kamiki’s feelings perfectly. I also think "Mephisto" is his song. He keeps saying, "Watch me, I want to hear your voice, I want to reach you." It’s about his feelings for the dead, so it couldn’t have turned out any other way. He misses her so much, but it’s impossible to meet her. He can't have any of these things to be fulfilled or bear fruit, but he simply couldn't stop continuing to feel this way about Ai.

After Ai died, Kamiki couldn’t live a normal life anymore. But what exactly drove him over the edge in his despair? Did he go insane by himself, or was there something else influencing him? I can’t be sure. To go this mad, it feels like the latter. Because if it were just his original personality, he would’ve probably chosen to quietly follow Ai in death on his own without harming others. But it feels like something tempted him, pushing him away from that path. Even in the early parts of "Mephisto," it seems more… moderate? But then again, you see mentions of blood, so it feels like he may have already done something quite early on. Maybe he initially believed he could bring Ai back to life, but at some point realized it was impossible—by then, though, he’d already done too much to turn back.

After Ai died, Kamiki probably felt so empty that he couldn’t feel anything at all. I actually got this right in my fancomics even before 162 came out, you know? (One example) After Ai died, Kamiki couldn’t find meaning in anything, and from then on, whatever he did, it was all for Ai. He couldn’t feel alive without her. So, he did everything he could to reach her, to get closer to her.

In the end… Kamiki just wanted to see Ai again so badly that he didn’t know what else to do. That’s what these feelings are.

Sigh… When I analyze a character and create fan art, I have to emotionally align myself with them. More than just knowing theoretically, I need to feel a bit of what this emotion is like to understand it, so that I can write dialogue, draw expressions, and bring the character to life. It’s like locking onto their emotional wavelength.

So, the characters I’m good at handling are somewhat limited by series because I need to be able to do that to draw them.

This… feels like I can almost sync up, but it’s hard. These emotions are complicated. Very painful too.

You could see this as pitiful, but at the same time, it’s such a broken emotion.

Honestly, you only just need to listen to the songs. They’re filled with Kamiki’s emotions… Once you hear them, you instinctively understand what he’s feeling.

That’s why, after hearing "Fatal" in July, I’ve been analyzing, creating, immersed all the way up to now.

Kamiki really, truly misses her… But yes, there is madness in him.

I’ve done a lot of analysis, and so I derived Kamiki was originally a really good person. That’s pretty much confirmed in canon too, but… how do you save someone like this? Is he just beyond saving now?

I feel like there was something that drove Kamiki to this level of madness. Isn’t there the issue with the black star…? The lyrics constantly mention stars, and there's darkness coming from it as said in Fatal...

The sad part is that Kamiki didn’t fall apart just because of something bad happening to him. He broke down because he couldn’t bear Ai’s death… and the extent of his destruction is severe. To break Kamiki this badly, Ai had to die. Kamiki wouldn’t have gone this far if it were just him getting hurt or dying. That’s how I see it. Now, he’s definitely lost it. He couldn’t handle the idea of a world without Ai… That’s the impression I get now. He’s completely in ruin. It’s almost like something possessed him. It feels like something took root in Kamiki’s shattered heart. He wasn’t someone who could hurt others like this.

I knew, theoretically, that he’d be deeply broken, but to this extent, it’s like he’s a completely different person. It makes me wonder if this is even possible. His original personality was really good. This was based on my hunches, but seeing him described as noble confirms that I was right about him. I can think of two reasons for him being broken this bad: 1. he adored Ai so much that the blow was enormous, and… 2. there must have been something else. Just Ai’s death wouldn’t have immediately pushed him this far—there must have been a long-term destruction of his mind. Did he REALLY make a deal with the devil? There must be a reason why a song like Mephisto exists, it may be speaking on his behalf. Could be foreshadowing you know, whatever it is discussing, it STILL hasn't been touched!!

It feels like there’s more behind this. Why are they showing us nothing? Is this really not important? We need to see Kana’s graduation concert, and we have Aqua hurting himself and falling into the water… Shouldn’t the story start moving in that direction soon? There's so much to deal with in the story even without Kamiki; Couldn’t they just reveal it already? If it’s not important, why are there two songs, and why did Ai ask to save Kamiki? It feels like this isn’t the end yet, and the real mastermind if there is one, may be connected to all this…

Kamiki wasn’t someone who would’ve normally fallen apart like this. What could it be? Am I really on the right track? I feel like I’m going to be right. I’m really good at guessing things like this.

If Kamiki is really the embodiment of Sarutahiko…

Then he’s not someone who should die, right? Does it not matter because Ai is already dead?

If this is really the case though, if someone intentionally destroyed Kamiki, they would have a lot to gain from it. The domain he governs is incredibly powerful. He governs order, guides people’s futures, he’s a god of the land and light… If there’s a being that wants chaos and irrationality, Kamiki would be the perfect target. It feels like they kept him alive just to twist him, but they wouldn’t take the plot that far into fantasy, right?

I love mythology and fantasy, so if that’s the case, I think it’d be fun to see… haha. But it would be difficult to weave that into the story well.

Anyway… the fact that I’m searching for hope in mythology is really just me. But honestly, there are so many parallels. The strange, unnatural things happening around Kamiki can be explained through mythology. Otherwise, I have no idea what’s going on.

I’ve got a rough grasp on the emotions now, so I can probably draw him better. If I can’t get a handle on it, I can’t draw things properly.

The answers are all in the songs! The more I look into them, the more I’m amazed at how accurate they are, more than I first thought… They’ve captured Kamiki’s emotions so delicately and precisely. I’m in awe! The songwriters are really amazing! Hopefully, the things in the songs do get tackled. They seem very interesting to me and I'd love to see and learn more about it~

[i-found-you-justine-time]

Varian’s Tangled Trials

A “Varian and the Seven Kingdoms” fan fiction.

Chapter 23. The Third Journal. 12709 Words.

Varian gets a glimpse into his mother’s past. 

Previous Chapters: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

Varian pulled the wires apart as he stepped back through the portal, closing it behind him. As the rippling bronze before him resolidified he saw the reflection change from the trial chamber to something unfamiliar. He turned, ready to set eyes on the Eternal Library.

As soon as he did, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. Varian hadn’t known what really to expect. Perhaps at most, he visualized something like Corona’s or Nesdernia’s royal libraries but on a massive scale. It never truly sunk into him what another plane of existence could be. In the simplest ways, it was a library like any other, with long shelves crammed with a variety of books. But that was where the similarities ended. The shelves themselves weren’t built with straight lines or right angles. In fact, they didn’t seem to be built at all. They were like trees whose dark branches had woven tightly into the semblance of shelving, dripping with moss and vine-like foliage that glowed with neon luminescence. 

The half-circle bronze mirror itself stood in the middle of a clearing on a dark mossy hill, giving Varian a breathtaking view. Much like trees, the shelves grew to different heights, towering and twisting around each other and creating a labyrinth of paths that stretched into the shadows. The tallest shelves rose in the distance and stretched high above like impossible mountain ranges that surely hid further depths of an endless world. Instead of reaching any perceivable ceiling, these shelves seemed to fade into a bizarre mist of color and shadow. Directly above him, just beyond the mist, Varian could see a warm amber ball of light that washed the clearing where he stood in a flickering candle-like glow. He could hear a low noise like the growling of a table holding too much weight. But the sound was so distant and sourceless it might not have been there at all. The whole world seemed to warp at the edges of his perception- like something out of a dream.

Varian glanced back behind him and saw his own reflection in the massive bronze mirror. He’d successfully closed the portal. He lifted his hand, gently pressing it to the cool, glass-like barrier.

Then the thought of a shamed, bespeckled face saying ‘trust me’ flashed through his memory. His fingers curled into a fist, and his eyes turned back onto his surroundings. 

“Mom?” he called out. “Mom!”

His shouts rung through the silence. He waited, but there was no reply. 

He started to run, his feet carrying him down the hill and forward impulsively as he continued to yell. “Mom! Mom, it’s Varian!” After just a few moments, he stopped and looked around. It was hard to know where he was or where he’d come from. The amber glow above gave him some idea of a direction but the shelves obscured his view. Aisles that seemed to go straight would suddenly be curved. Shelves or tables he hadn’t noticed before seemed to come out of nowhere. Glowing foliage would grow so thick as to block his path. He swore he thought he saw some of the books rearrange themselves out of the corner of his eye. 

He picked a new direction and ran forward, this time, trying to keep an eye on his surroundings, but even so, it was hard to figure out what kind of progress he was making. And this time he definitely caught a whole shelf manifest out of the ground, spouting up, not unlike a tree, though a thousand times faster than one.

“Fascinating,” he muttered, reaching out to touch the new shelf. At first, it felt normal, all smooth and solid wood. But then he sensed a pulse, almost like it had a heartbeat. He pulled his hand back in surprise, but then slowly placed it back to feel the pulse again. “It’s like this whole place is alive.” He passed his hand over the spines of the books. He pulled one out and watched as the other books gently pushed together to close the gap left. Curious, Varian pushed the book back towards where it’d been and was shocked to see the other books pull back to make way for it. “Okay wow, um, so that’s going to take some getting used to.”He was about to grab another book when he heard the sound of something moving behind him. He turned to see an open aisle that hadn’t been there before. “Mom?” Varian tore down it. “Mom!” As he ran forward he began to hear a noise growing louder and louder until he broke from the labyrinth into another clearing and skidded to a halt before a dark river cutting through the shelves. Free from the forest of books, Varian could now once again see the amber orb high above and the bronze mirror on the hill below. He was a ways away but clearly despite how long he’d been running, the maze of shelves hadn’t allowed him to go far. Part of Varian was relieved he wasn’t as lost as he feared. It had been a bit stupid in hindsight to move so blindly through a place so unpredictable. Another part of Varian, bitter and burning, felt he was not nearly far enough from Demanitus’s door. Still, following the river deeper seemed a better method of exploring than risking the labyrinth again. So he followed along the unnaturally deep blue waters and watched wondrously as little neon lights glimmered beneath the surface. After what felt like ages following the water, the sound of running water started to become deafening. Varian expected it when the ground gave way ahead of him and the river dropped into a massive waterfall. What he didn’t expect was what he’d find as he peeked over the cliff's edge. The dark water seemed to glow bright turquoise as it fell down into the pool below. The area around the pool was like none other Varian had come across. It was more open, with couches and chairs gathered together. The furniture, like the shelves, was oddly organic and seemed to grow right out of the ground. Curious, Varian climbed down strangely step-like stones along the cliff's edge into the grotto. As he descended alongside the falls he once again noticed the glimmering lights that swam around in the glow. Suddenly one light flew from the water. When it broke the surface Varian realized it was no longer a single light, but a stream of glowing words. Before we could make out what they said the words flew down to the edge of the pool. As he neared, Varian saw several stump-like lecturnes that lined the water’s edge. On it, growing from the wood with thread-like roots, was an empty book. The words flew inside and the pages fluttered along. Varian tripped down the final steps and hurried to the book, but as he arrived the final word disappeared into the pages and the book shut with a snap. A flash of light later and it was gone, leaving Varian staring in awe. “This must be it,” Varian muttered to himself as he gazed with wide eyes at the falls and the grotto and the new books growing on the lectures. “This must be where it all comes from.” Before Varian could give in to his urge to lose himself in discovery and research, movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Varian turned to the curtain of glowing neon vines that covered an overhang beside the falls. From behind it he could see something flickering. Varian walked cautiously forward and brushed aside the vines. Just beyond the curtain several large tables and desks had been cut from their roots and pushed up against the walls of the cave. In the middle was a lit fire pit set into the floor. A branch-like hook jut from the ground and held a large pot over the fire. The pot was steaming and Varian’s nose twitched at the appetizing scent wafting from it. He peeked inside to see some kind of stew bubbling within.Varian continued past the fire to one of the tables. Each of them was completely cluttered, some with papers and others with instruments and tools. A few were holding strange objects Varian had never seen before. Others were clearly set up for alchemical experiments. Varian’s face lit up as he recognized this. “Mom?” He rushed forward, eyes torn between looking around the area and down at the bubbling vials on the tables. His eyes finally landed on one writing desk on the far side of the cave that was lit by the glowing falls, littered with paper and ink and a softly glowing crystal ball. Right in the middle, catching his eye, was an old journal.Varian approached it and ran his hand over the cover. He took one last look around before opening it. He thumbed through the pages, seeing familiar handwriting and diagrams. Finally, he turned back to the front where the first entry began. “If anyone finds this, “Varian read aloud, “please heed this warning and leave this place behind. The Eternal Library holds the keys to destruction and it would be best for you to leave and forget you were ever here. Not only could it lead you to destroy our world as we know it, but it could tear apart your own life as it did mine. I don’t regret my decision to shut the Library, and yet I can’t help playing everything over in my head, again and again, wondering what went so wrong…” Read the rest of the chapter here.

[snackhobi]

22 - things you said after it was over

prompt sent in by @55west81st​ (ty queen 💖); I tried saving the original ask as a draft and it disappeared. thanks tumblr. prompts are currently shut, I’m just trying to work through the ones in my inbox, sorry for the wait on this. unbeta’ed so please excuse any mistakes 🤧

pairing: jungkook x reader (kind of) / word count: 1.6k / genre: angst  / warnings: none

You don’t exactly remember when you met Jungkook. Lost to time and the past, the smear of childhood memories gone hazy as years have gone by—kids the same age, neighbours, basically destined to become best friends. He’s always been a fixture in your life. Underpinning everything, a constant presence at your side; it doesn’t matter that you don’t remember when and how you met. Doesn’t matter that you don’t remember exactly how you became best friends, because you just are. 

A fact is a fact and it doesn’t need dissection. Doesn’t need questioning. It’s not like Jungkook is your other half, really—you’re a full and whole person by yourself, thank you very much—but when he’s there it’s like you’re more of a person. More of yourself. Two different people who are so intertwined it’s hard to separate all those spiralling threads, a tapestry, weft and warp, spun and tightened, growing longer and longer as the years tumble by. 

It feels like you’ve both been woven together so perfectly, by Arachne’s skilled hands, more adept and adroit than a goddess, even. You and Jungkook, Jungkook and you; you just… work. It’s easy. You fall into his rhythm, and he falls into yours, even as you grow and change and mature, life shaping you into people who are so different to those kids who first met, all those years ago.

You think it’ll never end. Why should it, after all? You’ve come this far. Why can’t you go further? Why can’t you be with each other till the very end, years and decades, a lifetime—with a friendship this good, how could it ever go sour? How could this flawless bolt of cloth unravel?

You’re there for him the first time he gets his heart broken, letting him cry his feelings into your shirt, holding him close. He’s always been so big hearted, has Jungkook, a romantic through and through, hoping and yearning and aching for Big Love, desperate to grasp it with both hands. But that’s okay. You’re still young; you have time to fall in love and fall out of love and to learn what you’re really looking for. Even if there’s that flicker in you, that tiny voice that murmurs, maybe it could be you? You’ll ignore it, be there for Jungkook, like you always have been, always will be.

It keeps happening.

It keeps happening. Jungkook falls hard and fast and deep, goes all in, throws himself entirely into love like he does with everything else, and his heart gets broken over, and over, and over. You watch for years and years, try to guide him away from the wrong people, saying your piece or staying silent, trying everything in your power to make him see, and yet, he keeps doing it. 

It’s exhausting. It gets bigger and bigger, Jungkook trapped in a maze that he seems to willingly step deeper into day by day. This time, they’re the one, he says. I know it. I can feel it.

It’s exhausting. Trying to be there for him, to support him when he doesn’t support himself. He leans on you and you try to stand tall, but it’s hard, so hard, all this giving, without getting anything in return. Not any more.

It's exhausting. It’s not a sudden realisation. There’s no bolt of lightning, no sudden spark bursting to life in your skull, no. It’s more like the inevitable rise of the tide, the shifting of tectonic plates, slow and implacable and unstoppable, undeniable. With a low and slow sadness, the realisation is this: you’re not Jungkook’s priority any more. You haven’t been, not for a long time. Even if he’s still your shining star, the thing in your life that you’ve placed on a pedestal and taken care of with delicate hands; that loyalty isn’t returned, any more. You can’t remember the last time it was. Can’t remember that feeling of being full of the knowledge that, at the end of the day, yours are the arms that Jungkook returns to.

He takes you for granted. Doesn’t return your love the way he used to, because he knows it’ll always be there for him. He doesn’t even seem to realise how far you drifted, and maybe, that’s what hurts the most. The fact that your growing absence in his life isn’t one that he even notices, so intent on these other people—people who take his heart and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze, a soft little plum that bursts in their hands, messy and painful.

Day by day, you draw back. See if he’ll follow. Watch as he doesn’t. Feel hollow and cold even when you return, reach out your hand, only to have Jungkook’s eyes focused somewhere else. He says he misses you, wants to spend more time with you, but then he’s always distracted, never putting you first.

Not any more.

That’s the thing people don’t really talk about. There’s always talk of big arguments, blow outs, blow ups, bubbling emotions, frothing and hot like lava, a volcanic explosion that leaves nothing but ash and devastation in its wake. Like love is there one moment and shattered the next.

They don’t talk about the erosion of sea against rocks, the lapping waves that pull away layer after layer, over decades and centuries and millennia, slowly destroying something that once stood so strong. They don’t talk about how love leaves. How it fades, a solar flare that grows and grows, impossibly strong and bright—before it ebbs away.

You never realised love could be like that. You thought that it would just continue to grow the more you learned about someone. You thought that you and Jungkook would be friends forever; that your daily talks would never end, that the sound of his laughter would always echo in the chambers of your head and heart, that the overwhelming love you had would always be that. Overwhelming. Endless. Unstoppable.

You grow up, and grow apart. You give, and give up. 

But you think, for all that you’ve come apart, you can always come back together. That connection is still there, layered experiences and memories that time can’t pull apart, written in stone. You’ll be able to bridge that gap in due time. You might not be the right people for each other right now, but you were in the past, and you can be in the future. You have faith. There’s no way this level of love can ever truly fade.

Surely.

It’s strange, seeing Jungkook again. Strange, to see how his face is still the same but so different, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Strange to see how he carries himself, how he moves and walks and breathes, echoes of your Jungkook etched into every part of him, even if he’s someone you don’t recognise any more.

But you’ve changed, too.

And you can see that he sees that. You can see the way his eyes widen, just a little, small flickers of surprise around his eyes and mouth. You can still read him so well after all this time, in a way you know no one else will be able to.

Your heart aches.

It aches for what happened. What could have happened. What could have been. But you’re here now, in this moment, and you can start anew. You can start weaving that tapestry again, take those loose, moth-eaten threads and spin them into something as beautiful as before. You’ve always held onto that hope, and you know it shines from your face now.

Then Jungkook opens his mouth.

And it… doesn’t… click.

You don’t click. Jungkook’s rhythm is off-beat, and when you try to match it, sync up the way you used to, so effortlessly—it doesn’t work. You try to follow his metronome’s beat, but you just can’t. Even as Jungkook’s eyes light up, and you can see how excited he is to see you again, how he talks and talks, words stumbling over themselves—he’s ignoring this gap that’s grown. Tries to talk like you used to, like all the silence between you can be swept away like it never happened. Like everything’s just like it used to be. Him and you, you and him. So desperate to make up for lost time, to pretend like everything is just like it used to be.

It’s exhausting, trying to match this manic pace of his, when it never used to be. Never should be.

And Jungkook—Jungkook doesn’t even realise.

(And, like that, you know it’s gone.)

(Your heart will always be soft for Jungkook. Your first friend, first best friend, first love, first heartbreak. But the Jungkook you hold in your heart is one that doesn’t exist, not any more. He’s a memory of the past, a shadow, eclipsing the real Jungkook that stands in front of you. A stranger.)

(Not your Jungkook. Not any more.)

“I’ll see you around?” His eyes, shining.

And even as you open your mouth, line the words up on your tongue, settling the lie behind your teeth—because you know it’s a lie, even if it’s something you wish you could make true—you know it’s over.

“Of course,” you say.

And there’s a moment. A flicker. Jungkook looks at you, and you look at him, and you realise—he can’t read this part of you. This new part that’s grown apart from him. When before he could so easily flit his eyes between the lines of the things you said, pull the true meaning out—he can’t, any more.

“I really missed you,” he says, quiet and soft.

And this is the truth you speak, even as you watch everything splinter apart in front of you, all your hope finally gone, everything finally over—

“I missed you, too.”

(And you always will.)

[bunnyywritings]

May I please have headcanons on how hawks and grown up!midoriya would react if their daughter turned into a villain if it's ok? Thanks!!

their daughter becoming a villain

[a/n: this is such an amazing prompt! Thank you anon 💓I’m guessing the daughter is the reader? If that’s not what you had in mind then go ahead and let me know ☺️ I tried to make it as angsty as possible, I hope you enjoy! Uhh these came out longer than I thought...sorry -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

takami keigo

✾ he honestly had no idea you existed

✾ he was on parole one day and there was an incident

✾ he was too far to help but he saw the headlines

✾ the hero had completely disregarded the woman being held hostage and had gone for the villain

✾ this resulted in the woman being brutally murdered

✾ his stomach churned as he shut off the tv, she had looked vaguely familiar but he shrugged it off

✾ later on in the day, he got a call

✾ he had a kid...a daughter to be exact

✾ the woman he had just seen on tv was the mother, someone he had a one night stand with and forgot about

✾ so there he was, sat across from a 13 year old with his wings and her mother’s lightning, who had refused to talk to him

✾ it took a few months but you finally warmed up to him, even calling him dad/papa

✾ you had gotten accepted into UA and were very excited

✾ it wasn’t till the anniversary came up, you though you had repressed the memory but it all rushed back

✾ and as time went on, everyone saw the change

✾ you were questioning the principles of being a hero, questioning why heroes were in the right and all villains were automatically in the wrong just because they didn’t agree with the ideals of being a hero

✾ the last nail in the coffin was when you met Dabi

✾ it was completely by accident but you had recognized him and had asked him what it was like to be in the LOV

✾ he was gonna completely brush you off since he knew why your wings looked familiar but the tears in your eyes and the genuine pain in your voice tugged at his heart and he had taken you to the hide out and had somehow convinced shigaraki to hear you out

✾ he did and invited you to join...an invitation that you had greatfully accepted

✾ sneaking back into the house, you got a few things and left nothing but a feather on your pillow

✾ that was the last time your dad saw you

✾ until...

-

After having run away from home, you were confined to the LOV hideout for a bit because police and heroes alike were searching for you and Shigaraki didn’t want you to draw attention.

Taking a page from Dabi’s book, you bleached and dyed your hair. It was now a bright, fun color instead of the drab natural hair you had before. You quite liked it. Your wings, however, were the same maroon as before. There wasn’t much you could do about it, at least not until one day that Toga had rushed into the hideout with some pet safe dye she bough. It would effectively dye your wings without damaging them and without needing to use bleach. Whenever you looked into the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. Your hair a fiery red and wings a jet black. Dabi had even given you a few piercings per your request, your favorite was the tongue one.

“Hmm so what d’you think?” You hummed, sticking your tongue out to show the metal stud.

“Ooh (y/n)! You look so adorable!” Toga squealed in delight.

“I agree, it looks super cute!” Twice agreed before downturning his thumb. “Looks terrible! Any hero with a magnet quirk would rip it out!” You giggled and thanked him.

Dabi watched from the side, a small smile tugging at his lips. It had been a bout a year since you had joined and he had noticed that you were way happier than before. He had felt a connection with you and he couldn’t help but see you almost as a little sister. He looked out for you, made sure you were eating and sleeping well.

After you had been missing for around two years, Keigo gave up looking for you. He had lost hope of ever finding you. There was a new villain who had joined the league that he had to worry about, it didn’t seem like they were up to anything violent...just petty crime. He couldn’t help but notice that as the anniversary of your mothers’ death came up, the crimes got more and more violent. It wasn’t until he was called on the scene that he had realized why.

On that day, Shigaraki had called a meeting. You were finally going to get the chance to get justice for your mother and there was absolutely no hesitation when you had agreed to come along. You had just through you were going to go in and smack him around a bit. You definitely did and it was more than a bit, but he was still breathing when you left him a limp mess on the ground...just barely. What you hadn’t noticed was that Dabi had gone in after you and set fire to the agency, after making sure those who weren’t targets had made it out. So you were a bit surprised to see the building being engulfed by gorgeous blue flames. Dabi smirked and threw an arm around your shoulder.

“How’s it feel kid? He finally paid up.”

“Yeah, and I say good riddance.” You smirked along with him, absolutely no remorse in your voice.

“B-aby bird?” You cringed at the name. Dabi frowned as he felt you tense up. Both of you turning around to see Hawks and Endeavor. He couldn’t believe it was really you. “(Y-Y/n)...w-what did you do to y-yourself?” There was tears in his eyes as he looked you over. Watching as you rolled your eyes, reaching a gloved hand up and removing the muzzle like mask from your face.

“What do you think Keigo?” You spat, “I got justice. That disgusting excuse for a human being murdered my mother and was basically praised for it!”

“That’s still a human being...where’s his justice?” His mind was racing, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

“We just gave him his justice, bird-brain!” Dabi snickered from beside you.

“You’re more angry about this bastards death than my mother’s?” You stalked over to your ‘father.’ “HOW DARE YOU! My mother was INNOCENT! She was held hostage and murdered because a hero wanted to make it on the front page!” Your feathers ruffling up with your anger, lightning crackling to life around them.

“I thought-but you said you wanted to be a hero? W-what happened?”

Scoffing, you brought your finger up to your cheek and pulled down the skin under your eye, tongue sticking out and a wicked look in your eye. “Things change pops! Try and catch me if you can!” You felt Kurogiri’s warp gate ruffle your feathers and you tugged at Dabi’s coat sleeve. He threw his arm around you once again and stuck his tongue out at both pro heroes as well, Keigo took notice of the matching tongue piercings the both of you had. “I’ve got a new family, I don’t need a phony holding me back.” You winked, flapping your wings and both you and Dabi leaned back and fell into the the purple mist. While Dabi’s heart swelled with warmth at your words, Keigo’s grew cold and crumbled into little pieces. He fell to his knees, holding out both his hands to catch the stray feather that had floated down. He gently caressed it with his gloved thumb, gazing sadly at the faded black dye, the natural maroon was faint but it shone through.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kicking himself and trying to see where everything went wrong.

He lost his baby...he wasn’t sure if he’s ever bounce back from it. Not only was it the day that your mother died but it was the day he lost you too.

pro! midoriya izuku

✰ never would he had thought that things would end up like this

✰ he had been blessed with a beautiful wife, but with a healthy set of twins

✰ a baby boy and girl

✰ however, you were both quirkless

✰ either way, you and your brother were loved and cared for

✰ you grew up idolizing both All Might and your father

✰ it wasn’t until the both of you were going to take UA entrance exam that it happened

✰ you both new that he had possessed One for All

✰ so when your brother had suddenly manifested a quirk, your heart broke

✰ Midoriya watched as tears cascaded down your cheeks, a blank look in your eyes

✰ you couldn’t believe it, he had passed it down to your brother...

✰ you withdrew your application for the hero course and applied to the General Studies course

✰ with your grades alone, you instantly got in

✰ and even as your father congratulated you, you could see the overwhelming pride in his eyes as he praised your brother for getting into the Hero Course

✰ it wasn’t until your third year that you had enough

✰ you watched your brother receive special treatment, how he flew through each semester with absolutely shit grades but he was going to take your father’s place as the symbol of hope

✰ you watched your brother become the pride and joy of the family

✰ your accomplishments never even got any attention, always being brushed off by your father who was too busy helping with your brother’s training

✰ even your mom ignored you in favor of babying your brother

✰ so you left

✰ it took them a whole three days to notice

✰ in the first week of working as what society viewed as a “villain”, you made quite the name for yourself, in your first year of working...well, let’s just say that there was a good amount of heroes on the look out for you

✰ in reality, the villains were the ones abusing their power to oppress those that lacked those insignificant quirk cells...those a re the people you got rid of

✰ you had captured a low level “hero” that had been framing innocent people for crimes they didn’t commit, all to get his name to the top of some stupid list

✰ that’s when your father saw you again

-

“How pathetic.” You spat, wiping the blood from your Bowie knife on your black cargo pants. The man whimpered in fear, still trying to escape his restraints. Relacing your boots, you stomped on his ankle. A sickening crack echoeing through the empty room. Tears leaked from his blindfold. “This would be so much easier if you confessed, y’know?” You chuckled manically, gazing into the camera before refocusing on the task at hand. “No? Okay then.” Shrugging, you pulled the cloth sack over his head.

You fixed the plain face mask that you had worn and made your way into the convenience store and picked up some cheap and quick things to eat before heading back to the abandoned warehouse that was working as your base for now

What you hadn’t noticed, was the person following you. They watched as you entered the building.

��Deku...I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think it’s her.” He spoke into the earpiece. “I’m going in.”

Back inside, you sighed and tossed the wrapper of your meat bun to the side. You were growing irritated. You had this man chained up for three days and he hadn’t said a word. No matter how much you cut at his skin, no matter how much you made him bleed. Growling, you went to your table of toys and grabbed a gun and reloaded the magazine. The sound of a cocking gun made the hero quiver in fear.

“Alright, I’m done playing games with you!” You pulled off the cloth hood and ripped off his blindfold. You placed the muzzle of the gun right under his chin. “Confess or pay for your sins!” His lips quivered.

You were intimidating, despite technically still being a third year. You had a mask that was similar to Shinso’s artificial vocal cords, it distorted your voice and your eyes were wide with insanity. Your outfit could be classified as tech wear. You had a harness strapped above the black long sleeve you were wearing. Multiple knives and other weapons strapped to the harnesses on your thighs.

He stayed silent, eyes glossing over with more tears as you pressed the cold metal into his skin. “OKAY! OKAY! I DID IT!” His voice cracked as a satisfied smirk played on your lips.

“What did you do, Mr. Hero?”

“I-I framed all those people. The ones in jail, people that were put on death row. They’re innocent!”

“Good to know Mr.” You giggled. “The jury finds you guilty of all accusations, Penalty: Death.” You grinned.

“WAIT-!”

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse as he fell limp in his chair. The splattering of warm blood against your skin made you shiver.

“Great, now I’m all dirty...” You sighed.

Just before anything else happened, an explosion sent you skidding across the room.

The dust clearing and your eyes widened. “Uncle Katsuki?” You asked softly.

When Bakugo saw the blood, he panicked that he had hurt you but then he noticed the body that had fallen to the ground. Gun still in your hand. Anger bubbled in his chest.

“YOU DAMN IDIOT!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-“ Before he could finish his reprimands, Shoto ran in.

“Uncle Shoto...” The fog in your head cleared as memories of simpler times flooded your brain. The days where you’d get spoiled by Uncle Katsuki and Shoto before they had their own kids. The comfort they offered you before you ran off.

Shoto took advantage of your distraction and slowly approached you. “(Y/n)...sweetheart I need you to put the gun down okay? You’re safe now.” The look in your eyes was too familiar. It was the way his mother’s eyes looked when he first saw her in the hospital. Broken, lost, terrified. He knew you weren’t in your right mind. Hope filled both him and Katsuki as your trembling hand held the gun out to him. Of course, that was until-

“(Y/N)!!” You flinched, snapping out of your docile state. Eyes hardening once more as you kicked away form Todoroki’s knelt form. Seeing your father filled you with absolute rage.

Midoriya froze, eyes running over the scene. Realization setting in as he saw the gun clutched in your hand.

“D-did you do that?” He asked, eyes glossy.

“And what about it?” You giggled. “Why do you care all of a sudden? HUH? DAD? WHY NOW?!”

“You’re a murderer (y/n)...a villain.”

“Better than being a phony and pathetic hero! I’M NOT IN IT FOR THE MONEY!” You growled, cocking the gun and pointing it at Midoriya. “But he was. He’s had dozens of people locked away for life, people sent to the electric chair for things they didn’t do...all because he wanted to be in the top 10.” You shrugged, biting your lip coyly. “He’s the real villain here, not me.”

Midoriya clenched his fists, holding in his tears. It felt like his heart was violently being ripped from his chest. “I thought I raised you better. How do you think your mom feels? Or grandma? Your own brother-“

“Uhm, news flash! This is all your fault! Plus, I couldn’t care less about my degenerate of a brother!” That’s what made Shoto and Katsuki realize what happened. “WHY?! WHY HIM?!” They were all caught off guard by the tears that drenched your cheeks. “I worked hard and did my best...but that wasn’t enough for you! He was failing all his studies but NOBODY CARED! He was your successor and that was enough! I got a B on my final exam and all you did was give me a lecture about the importance of studying...HE FAILED! HE GOT AN F AND ALL YOU SAID WAS TO TRY HARDER NEXT TIME!”

The tears finally escaped Midoriya’s eyes. ‘Did he really do that to you?’ ‘Had he been such a terrible father that it drove you to this?’

“HOW WAS A QUIRKLESS DISSAPOINTMENT LIKE ME SUPPOSED TO COMPETE WITH THE GREAT DEKU’S SUCCESSOR?! YOU BASICALLY SET ME UP FOR FAILURE!” The tears were streaming down your face but instead of sobs leaving your lips, they were replaced by deranged giggles. “It’s okay Papa...don’t feel bad. It’ll all end soon.” No one noticed when you pulled the pin from the sphere in your hand. Not until the flash bang went off and everyone turned to shield their eyes.

Once they regained their senses, you were far gone. Leaving behind empty meat bun wrappers and several cassettes taped with confessions of those that you had ruled guilty. He screamed. It was so gutteral that it hadn’t sounded human. His body filled with dread and anguish.

“I’m sorry (y-y/n)...I never meant to-“ A choked sob interrupted his whispers. Then another...then another. Both Katsuki and Shoto watched helplessly as their friend completely broke down. Their hearts heavy as well. The little girl they watched grow up was gone.

“I lost her...she’s gone.”

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱(open) : @ohbois-biggay-bnha @yuiji-yuiji

[the-asmp-wt]

(QUICK OOC COMMENT ABOUT MY POST. This is a nightmare, so characters WILL be out of character. Everything italicized is the dream. Have fun!)

The ground was sand. This was something that was unusual, because a!WT knew in her heart that this was L’Apoloburg, but nothing remained past the sand. No walls, no homes.

“Hello?”, she called out, squinting to try and see if she could see anybody in the sand. The wind kept pushing the sand over her feet, and she kicked it away, deciding she may as well walk since there was no answering call.

a!WT walked for hours, or maybe only minutes before reaching what looked like the walls of L’Apoloburg, crumbled and fallen, and a figure standing in front of it. The closer she got, the easier she was able to tell that the figure had its back to her, and that it was the President.

“a’Wilbur! Where are we- what happened to our home? What’s going on?”, a!WT asked, reaching out a hand to grab onto a!Wilburs shoulder, but instead of the other turning around the scene changed.

They were now both standing in L’Apoloburg, brightly colored grass beneath their feet. a!Wilbur was facing a!WT, and they were by the walls. The look on a!Wilburs face was a look that a!WT had never seen before, it was unsettling.

“D-did you r-really think I w-wouldn’t know?”, it asked, and a!WT froze. No. No no no no this wasn’t right this wasn’t something that happened or was going to happen no.

a!Wilbur was advancing now, grinning, and a!WT backs up, until her back hits the wall, panic shooting through her stomach. That was wrong she shouldn’t ever be scared of a!Wilbur this wasn’t right why was this happening-

“D-did you re-really buy that I’m that stupid? Come on a!WT, really? Was that what made you think you could pull this shit off? Of course I know your working with the enemy. I knew since the day I made you my Vice President.”, a!Wilbur sneered, a sword appearing at its side, and they rested a hand on it.

a!WT couldn’t comprehend what was happening. a!Wilbur knew all along? This was just some stupid fucking game that she was a pawn in?

“Then why not say something earlier! Why wait until I’ve told a!Tommy things!”, a!WT responded, pretending like her voice wasn’t shaking as hard as her hands were, eyes wide.

a!Wilbur laughed coldly, a dark gleam in its eyes that was never there before. At least, never a look that was directed at her. Once the laugh faded, the words that came were just as cold,” You think I care? You think I told you the truth- do you really think I’d trust You? Of all people, why you? It was just a stupidly easy way to distract the poor whining opposition…”

It was then that a!WT felt the eyes on her, and her gaze drafted from the healed but entirely unrecognizable face of a!Wilbur to the area around the pair. They were surrounded by residents, both ones who had been exiled and those who stayed. Ghostburs, a!Niki, even the a!Techno and the Wilbur she had met on her journey. They were all watching with impassive expressions, meeting her gaze and the longer they looked the more disdainful they became, faces warping in expressions of pure disgust or betrayal.

But the worst was a!Tommy.

a!Tommy’s eyes were filled with disgust and hurt, but also grim resignation. He was up in a tree, their bracelet-less arms wrapped around a branch, making no move to help.

“Help me.”, a!WT mouthed, aware that a!Wilbur was speaking but she paid them no mind, pleading for her friend to somehow be able to save this. Surely she had a plan, or some sort of saving grace that would get a!WT out of this. They were a pair right? Best friends?

Though a!Tommy was far away, his words echoed around a!WT.

“Why would I help you? You didn’t even fucking give me useful information- you got yourself into this situation. I don’t need you, and never did. You weren’t careful enough, and now everyone knows. Everyone knows everything except me. You’ve given me nothing… you are nothing to me…”, a!Tommy’s voice echoed, a!WT wilting back against the wall, the wall now fully supporting her weight as the weight of the words crashed down around her, unable to help but whisper back a helpless,”You don’t mean that.”, but a!Tommy’s cold eyes and careless shrug confirmed the Vice Presidents worse thoughts.

Everyone knew everyone knew everyone knew-

“Who are you talking to? Praying to some god you’re hoping will answer- why would they help you? Everything was in your hands… you could have saved me.”, a!Wilburs tone suddenly changed, and a!WT straightened, instantly looking back at the President. It’s face was now covered with a mask a!WT knew they got from a!Dream.

“What?”, a!WT asked, feeling incredibly wrong footed with how this had changed, but not questioning when it had had the chance to put on the mask. She also didn’t question the way a!Tommy was now standing beside a!Wilbur, and the feeling of being watched became stronger.

“You could have fixed things, fixed us. You could have not betrayed everyone you ever met, but everyone knows, and always did. We are all damned to a cursed existence because of you. And you are not going to escape punishment for your crimes”, a!Tommy and a!Wilbur spoke in unison, voices eerily similar as they both drew weapons, a!Tommy hoisting a bow and a!Wilbur with a sword.

There was chanting now, and the clicks of a clock. “We all know”, was being repeated over and over, in perfect time with the ticks of a clock that were getting steadily louder, and quicker as the pair in front of her advanced.

“No, no- no nonononono- NO-please, I’m sorry Please-“,a!WT couldn’t back up any further, shrinking down and she finally realized that tears were streaming down her face. The clocks were getting louder, and a!Wilbur was drawing its sword back, preparing to swing.

The sounds reached a crescendo before all the voices merged into one, sounding like every single person she’d ever loved or cared about. She was surrounded, but completely alone, with no one on her side. Only the ticking of the clock was there now, echoing in the silence.

“They all know. Traitors like you deserve to die alone, and your time is up.”, a!Wilbur said, mask disappearing to reveal their grinning face swinging it’s sword swiftly at a!WT’s face, as a!Tommy let the arrow fly in the same direction.

~*~

Right before the weapons hit, a!WT woke up, gasping for air, pushing herself away from the desk she had been sitting working at until she’d fallen asleep. The force of her startled push pushed her backwards in the chair, hitting her head on the ground once she fell.

“What the fuck-“, she mumbled, sitting there for a moment with a hand over her face and her other under her head, staring up at the ceiling. A!WT’s chest heaved with frantic breaths as though her body was making sure that she was still alive.

For a moment the girl simply laid there, staring up at her ceiling, unaware of the tears streaming down her face as she tried to convince herself it was all a dream. But was it? Maybe everyone did know…

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, she mumbled to herself, sniffling slightly as she crawled out of the chair and stood up shakily, glancing out the window, glad to find it was only barely sunrise. That would give her some time to try and make herself perfectly presentable before any of the remaining citizens saw her. She couldn’t let them see her like this, she was all they had left right now. The president hadn’t sent a letter, and a!Tommy hadn’t replied. Maybe they didn’t need her….

Deciding to busy herself in her work, a!WT stumbled back over to her desk, setting her chair the correct way around before flopping down onto it, and pulling the papers towards her. Might as well try and finish figuring out the details for the weaponry they had.

As she tried to distract herself, and the sun rose, the girl couldn’t quite shake the feeling that everyone around her knew, and were just waiting for the right time to expose her as a traitor. The morning sun and the tedious work may have burned away her clearest memories of the dream, but a!Tommy’s words were burned in her memory. They didn’t need her, and her time was running out.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Revenge.”

Getting into the meat of this arc now, I am having fun so I hope you all are :)

A thousand humans, perfectly straight in their orderly rows three feet to all sides. Looking down each row, it almost seemed as if no organic creatures should have been able to achieve it. In comparison, the rundi and Tesraki forces seemed scattered and confused, though the Drev and the Celzex had taken up the very human tradition.

The inside of the ship was dark.

The Rundi Imperial cruiser was large enough to hold an entire city inside its belly, but today it held soldiers. These soldiers were the first of their kind, or so the human said. Airborn shock troops from the UNSC 109th. Most of them were ex marines, who had been set on this new path after at least five years of prior service.

Overhead, the arching ceiling rose almost fifty feet into the air, and it seemed as if they couldn’t possibly be standing in a structure, especially one currently floating at the edge of IRus, waiting for the moment when they were to warp into existence over the burg planet, and drop their deadly cargo.

Not one of them moved an inch.

The human battalion commander Lieutenant Colonel Tyson stood eyeing his troops: the first of their kind, the best of the best, and likely heading to their death.

Did he feel bad about that: no. They knew what they were in for.

And they had volunteered.

He would give them one more chance to back out, but he already knew they wouldn’t. That's not how these guys worked. Though, it’s not like he was just throwing these men away, they had the best training in the galaxy, and that was a statement of fact, not just boasting. And then there was their secret weapon, an idea given to them a grounded marine.

Delta units.

A Drev, each of them monsters at over nine feet tall strapped with mobile machine guns manned by one of the shock troopers. Intelligence on the Burg home planet described it as mountainous, hilly, and riddled with caves. Their troops from above would be no use, and their vehicles wouldn’t be much better than decorative rocks when it came to that sort of terrain. Even the hovercraft wouldn’t be much use with how dence the rock and foliage was.

That is where these men came in, with their full body gear including gas masks, thermal vision, and advanced weaponry: advanced weaponry worked on by the Celzex themselves.

He smiled a little bit. Maybe he wasn’t sending them to their deaths.

Maybe he was sending them to glory.

The other alien commanders finally filtered in.

He stepped forward, and a call to attention rose through his troops. Heels snapped together, and hands shot up brushing their temples with one clattering echo. The aliens stepped back.

“At ease!” A hundred hands dropped.

He paced across the deck, “I know a lot of you have heard why you are here. I know you have heard a lot of bullshit, and despite what my commanders want me to say, I am going to be honest with you, “This isn’t about economics, or even about rightful retaliation.” He paused hands behind his back and glanced down at his men, “This is about REVENGE!” A shout rose up from his men.

“Revenge, for the burg war!”

Another shout.

“Revenge for their attack on earth!”

The room echoed.

“REVENGE for the good men and women lost!”

It was a roaring now.

“REVENGE!” He threw his fist in the air and waited for the screaming to die down before he finished, “Revenge, for Commander Vir.” He paused, “I didn’t know the man personally. I will openly admit that. And I am not pretending to make the tragedy of his passing a personal one because I am not. His passing is a tragedy to, humanity, to the GA, and to the universe.” 

He paced down the line, “he wasn’t just a man, he was a symbol. The embodiment of what humanity should be and the lynch pin that held together our different species.”

He passed his eyes over the men and women standing before him, “I visited the memorial before coming here. I visited with my son. We lit a candle, and he left a stuffed bear to keep watch at the vigil for us. For those of you who haven't seen, it takes up an entire city block, thousands of candles, flowers pictures, toys notes, people singing…. This wasn’t just an attack on us, it was an attack on every ideology we have ever held. It is an attack on what we believe in. The Burg wish to divide us….” He turned to look in a wide circle and smiled, “I will say they failed.”

He didn’t try to speak after that as a cheer rose up into the air. Thousands of voices, both human and nonhuman crying their desire for revenge. 

When things quieted down again, he turned to look at the Drev and raised a fist, “For those of you who don’t understand revenge… for glory!” That got a rise out of the Drev, and he bared his teeth like a wolf, hungry for blood.

It was then he got a surprise when a voice rose up from the crowd to the line of a song he had never heard.

IT repeated a few lines and then faded.

The second verse came up and then faded again.

He turned to see who was making the sound but he just couldn't make it out.

This time when the voice rose up there were others to echo it, a call and response.

The more the lyrics repeated the more voices that joined, until the entire room was filled with the roaring echo of a thousand voices.

He looked down at the command major, “What is this.”

The man stepped up beside him smiling slightly, “I learned it from a marine who worked on the commander’s ship. It's unofficial name: We are the Harbinger.

Lieutenant Colonel Tyson nodded his head, “Not bad… not bad at all.”

Rest in Peace, Commander

***

So, fun fact, walking out isn’t an option.

I know, I know what you might be thinking. Commander Vir, why didn’t you try that as soon as you got there. Well my young padawan, that was because I was in horrific pain and bleeding out on the floor, and after that it was because I was too exhausted to try anything. Plus, another part of me sort of assumed they were here to help me. I mean they hadn’t done anything to prove otherwise, so there was no real reason for me to worry.

However, this morning, when I tried to walk out past the Omnidroid, my path was blocked, and I was encouraged back to the other side of the cell. It wasn’t being mean or anything really, not that I would have known, but it made it pretty clear, I was supposed to stay here, and there were no other options.

Ok, that didn’t necessarily mean that I was a prisoner, it could just mean that they didn’t want me wandering around and messing stuff up, so instead, I sat down and turned to look up at them. Here was to finding out if this thing could speak. Or at least trying to figure out if I could understand it.

My quickest conclusion was totally not.

These guys sound like above ground wales. Their voices were so incredibly deep that when they vocalized, it shook the very ground around me and rattled inside my chest until I thought my spine was about to crawl out of my mouth.

You’re welcome, for that visual.

And unfortunately for me, I am not as talented as a small, forgetful, blue fish, and do not, in fact, speak whale 

And I thought the Gromm were aliens, but this thing took it to an entirely new level.

There was always the chance that I could try and fight it, but I was hesitant to try that as they hadn’t actually hurt me. It seemed best to pursue all of my other options first, and determine if I was actually a prisoner, and if there was actually anything for me to worry about before I took such sudden and drastic measures.

So I sat in the white cotton fluff and wondered where this was going to go…. Also wondering where the next rest stop was, because I really had to pee, and I wasn’t a fan of having this guy around watching when I did.

The omnidroid didn’t move though, so I was forced to hold it.

If this went on any longer, you were going to be able to see the urine levels in my eyes as I slowly filled up to the very top.

No no that isn’t jaundice, that is just me really not wanting to pee in front of an alien, and… like where? There is nowhere in here to go.

Just as it seemed my eyeballs were about to shoot out of my head from the pressure, the door hissed open and another one of the omnidroids walked in.

They shook the cel with their voices for a second before turning to look at me…. At least I think.

Behind them, I can see others out in the hallway, a group of five or six. There is a bit of a commotion, and, for a moment, I thought I heard a distant voice, very high in pitch compared to the Omnidroids.

Reminded me of Krill a little, but wasn’t THAT wishful thinking.

Just then, the Omnidroids stepped from the room leaving the door open.

I watched them go.

And waited.

The door remained open.

Alright, i’ll bite.

I stood and took a step forward, slowly waking over to the door and poking my head out into the hallway. Two of them were blocking the hall to my left, but the hallway was open to my right. Also there was a random piece of fruit lying on the floor in the middle of the hallway. This made me frown as I had no idea what they were trying to accomplish with that.

 I was not going to eat floor fruit.

I turned back to look at the other two at the end of the hall and then shrugged, turning the walk up the hall, stepping over the floor fruit and down around the next corner. They were blocking my way out to the right this time, so I went left. I thought I could see a sliver of light towards the end of the hallway.

I quickened my pace, jogging forward, my bare feet clattering over some sort of cold material that was neither metal or plastic, but something in between. I had to hold up a hand to block my face from the light, and by then it was too late.

There was a sharp snap, and I nearly leaped out of my skin turning around to find that a wall had risen up from the floor behind me and snapped into place leaving me inside an eight by four crate.

I turned in a sharp circle in confusion pressing my face up against the little window of light.

Shapes moved around outside, though I could see nothing beyond that.

I sighed and sat down on the floor.

Leaning my head back against the wall.

Great, I was trapped, AND I had to pee.

This really was turning out to be a pretty lousy day.

If only some super secret mystical universe force had granted me unimaginable power and a laser sword, then this wouldn’t be a problem, but instead of being a jedi, or Han solo, I was stuck here like an idiot…. Guess that made me a little more of a Captain Reyalds after all, or…. Star lord maybe?

No, star lord had a higher charisma score than I did, and you know, could actually get a date. I was… well I was me, Commander Adam Vir, the absolute lamest story protagonist ever. Where Spaceship captains were supposed to be dashing, I was sort of just….. weird ? Where they were supposed to be charismatic and confident, I was awkward and racked by crippling self doubt that I never let anyone else see. And while they were supposed to be smart and full of ingenuity. I was an idiot stuck in a box with no way out and really needing to pee.

Yeah, captain vir… whoo-hoo.” The lamest man alive.

If my life were a book, I would put it down.

The roof above my head jolted, and I nearly tumbled against the far wall as we began to move.

I braced myself against the back wall and steadied myself against the moving floor.

It went on for only maybe five seconds before there was a sharp thud and click. Another moment of silence, and the door hissed open.

I threw my hands up to cover my face blinking past the sudden onslaught of light.

WHen I could only sort of see, I walked forward, keeping my hand raised high in the air as I passed out of the door, feet falling onto soft sand.

The air around me was clean and fresh.

Somewhere water trickled.

I slowly lowered my hand eyes rising to the view before me.

And frowned.

You have got to be kidding me.

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Coming Home

I recognize that the finale will probably give us an entirely different plot line with Eda, but I have A LOT OF EMOTIONS ABOUT THAT LAST EPISODE OKAY, and needed to write something, so here we are.

Or Eda’s perspective of being trapped by her curse, and then getting out.

.

Eda always knew, if she became the owl beast permanently, whatever would be left of her would be trapped in the gray mindscape she tends to visit when the curse overpowers her. ��What she didn’t know, up to now, was how boring it would be.  She’s just sort of here, wherever here is.  Sure, it’s most likely her mind, but it irks Eda that her mind is this dull, though.  She’d think she’d have a lot more interesting things going on in here.  At least before she’d had the recurring memory of when she was cursed.  Even that isn’t coming to her now.  Not that Eda wants to think about it, about Lilith.  She just…she wants something.

Something to ground her in this endless gray.  Eda can ‘walk’ in any direction and feel like she’s going somewhere and nowhere at the same time.  She can look at her hand and consider it both close to her and far away.  Eda’s perception of reality is skewed, warped.  She’s both conscious and not.  She hates this feeling.  Having enough awareness to know she still exists, but not enough to truly be anything.

Eda is fading away.  She knows this in a calm, accepting sort of way her old self, the one who existed back in the physical world, would never tolerate.  If she’s anything right now, it’s merely a phantom projection of that self.  The last vestiges that refuse to let go before the curse consumes every corner of her mind and Eda as she was is finally no more.

She’s not really Eda anymore anyway, is she?  Not Edalyn Clawthorne.  Not the Owl Lady.  Not anything.  Just a ghost, a lingering memory.  Will the owl beast remember her?  Doubtful.  She never had any awareness of what the beast did when it was in control—only the terror of those who witnessed its carnage afterwards.  The memories of fearful faces of former friends comes back to her for a brief second.  A moment to be sad, and a little relieved.  No one will mourn her.  After all, there were reasons she lived alone in a secluded house in the woods.

The thought that that’s not quite right struggles for her drifting attention.  The details are blurred shapes she can’t quite focus on long enough to recall.

There had been a reason for all this, hadn’t there?  A strong emotion for something—someone?—outside herself.  She can’t describe it, but she knows it.  There was something and, whatever it was, it drove her to pushing beyond the breaking point, to where the curse could fully exert its control.

She doesn’t regret it, is what she assumes her last cognizant thought will be.  Even though this is her fate, she doesn’t feel remorse.  Whoever it was, was too important to her.

It’s comforting, in this final moment, to know she had something worth sacrificing everything for.

Hooo.

And then there’s an owl.  Sitting on her knee.  A vibrant splash of brown and gold disrupting the endless gray monochrome.  Her focus is caught on it, stuck on the only thing that can differentiate itself from the miasma.

Hooo.

The owl spreads its wings.  Small, cute, familiar.  She can’t place how, but she knows the little creature.  It circles around her once, twice, and then starts flying in a direction.  Entranced, she follows it.  This time, when she walks, she feels like she’s going toward something.

She arrives at a door.  Its details blur and meander, but eventually settle into a design.  Soft wooden features.  What looks like two spy holes over the backside of an owl—owls seems to be a recurring thing now.  Vaguely she wonders why.  It feels important, that there are owls.

There’s a long door handle.  She looks at it, blinks at it, and then realizes she can reach out and take hold of it.  She does.  It feels heavy.  So heavy.  Impossibly heavy.

The owl that led her here—Owlbert—coos comfortingly in her ear.  She can do this.  It’s just a door.  She can open it.  She’s opened lots of doors before, hasn’t she?

She pulls.  The door resists.  She pulls harder.  The door doesn’t budge.  She wraps both hands on the handle, hopes they don’t pop off as they occasionally do, and yanks.  The door jerks open.  She’s sucked beyond, plunged into an abyssal unknown.

.

“HOOT HOOT!  HEY EDA, YOU’RE BACK!!!”

The sky is above her.  Her head throbs with the worst imaginable headache.  Hooty is yelling obnoxiously.  Eda groans.  She’s going to lie here, wherever ‘here’ is, for the rest of her life.  Everything hurts.

“Eda!”  She’s being squeezed.  A set of arms wrapped too tightly around her.  A body pressed against her own.  Soft, muffled sobs soaking her tattered dress.  “I thought…I thought…” Luz clings to her, as if letting her go will mean Eda will slip away again.

It takes Eda’s brain some time to catch up.  She’s out.  She’s not sure how exactly, but she’s escaped her mind.  Either that, or this is the afterlife, but if this were the afterlife, Luz wouldn’t be crying.  Granted, it seems to be a relieved, joyful sort of crying, but still.  Eda wants no part of any afterlife that causes her apprentice to cry.

“Uughghgh…” Eda’s first attempt to vocalize start and end with her jaw forgetting how its supposed to function.  She moves her mouth around, adjusting to the feeling of having a defined, physical presence again, and then tries speaking a second time.  “W—what happened?”

Luz relaxes her tight hold on Eda, sits back, and looks up into the Owl Lady’s face.  She wipes tears out of her eyes.  “We rescued you and Owlbert, but we couldn’t get you to turn back.  Then Owlbert went and got the Bat Queen.”  Luz gestures to where the massive demon is watching them from a distance.  “They did a palisman magic thing and went in your head I think?  I’m not sure.  Then you changed back.”

“Oh,” is all Eda can say.

“Curse is not gone for good,” The Bat Queen speaks up.  “More must be done to prevent it from coming back.”  She pauses and dips her head in a slight bow.  “But help I am willing to give to Owl Lady.”

Eda nods.  She’s having trouble keeping up.  Words of her own will have to wait.

“Hey, Luz, I got the blankets.  Do you think she’ll want some twigs too?  You know, cause she sleeps in a nest and if she’s stuck like—EDDDDAAAA!”  King drops everything he’s carried out of the house, charges forward, ducks under one of Luz’s arms, and slams into Eda.  His tiny limbs can’t fully wrap around her, but he holds her tight regardless.  “I—Luz was so worried you wouldn’t be back this time!”  He buries his face against her stomach, careful to keep his horns pointed away.

Eda wraps one arm around King.  The other she uses to draw Luz back in closer.  She hugs them both tightly.  They’re real and present and solid, and she’s here with them.  Owlbert lands on her shoulder and nestles against her neck.  Hooty stretches down, squirming his way into group embrace where he can.

“Thank you,” Eda whispers, “for bringing me home.”

For being my home.

[talesmaniac89]

I Just Called to Say I Love You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: As Dean realises he’s only got minutes left to live and no way to get help, he calls you; so he can hear your voice and have one last normal, happy moment.

Triggers: Main character death, loss, lethal injury, angst, no happy endings here people.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour | Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

---

This was it. End of the line.

Dean had always known he’d die in a ditch somewhere, fighting whatever monster of the week caught him unaware. But that didn’t make it any easier. The pain that had been blinding hot only seconds ago was already growing numb as his body grew colder from the years of life left unlived that was quickly escaping him to bleed out over the country road.

Gritting his teeth against the new shot of pain that seared through his nerves and burned them to ash, he reached into his coat pocket to fish out his phone. Forcing already shaking fingers to keep a tight hold of his last small lifeline to the rest of humanity. Biting off another gasped breath, he put the momentum of pained adrenaline to good use. Forcing himself up into a seated position against the rear right tire of the Impala with a whispered curse.

His eyes squinted against the darkness as he tried to assess the damage. The gravel around him was just a black canvas, matching the rest of the quickly fading world around him. He couldn’t tell how much blood he’d already lost. But, from the numbness slowly seeping into his bones and the dull constant pain, this was definitely it. His side was warm and wet with blood, and as his hand came away from the gravel he’d pushed against to sit up, the blood that coated it told the same story. Refusing to look closer, Dean pushed his palm against the wound. Willing the blood flow to slow down. 

To just give him a few more minutes. 

Calling for help wasn’t an option. By his professional estimate, he had a few minutes at most. Help wouldn’t make it in time. He was in the middle of Podunk, USA and it would take a hell of a lot more than a few minutes for anyone to make it out there. 

Still, as shaky fingers and quickly blurring eyes scrolled through his contacts, he couldn’t help but pray to an unresponsive God. Not for salvation or a promise of heaven. Just… A few minutes.

---

“(Y/N)... Hey baby,” Dean tried to keep the pain out of his voice as the dial tone across the phone was replaced with the background noise of a busy diner. 

“Dean?” The slight worry that coated your words clearly hinted at his unsuccessful attempt at fully hiding the weakness in his voice. Betrayed by his own slowly weakening body as life drained out of him to paint the gravel road an angry red. 

“Yeah, it’s me…” Biting back another wave of pain, he let the sound of your voice soothe over the worst of it as he forced himself to control his breathing. To hide how few lungful’s he had left to take before the sand in his hourglass flowed out across the bloodied country road. 

“Are you ok Dean? Do you need me to…” 

“No, no… Just tired from the hunt,” Dean lied, unwilling to paint his last few moments with you in dark colours of blood red anguish and black misery. If this was it, then he wanted it to be on his terms. With your soft voice in his ear and the sounds of the world moving on without him in the background. Another forgotten weapon of a war humanity didn’t know it was losing; left broken and useless on the battlefield. 

Maybe it was selfish, but he needed your light, not your heartbreak to lead him into that good night. He wanted gentle, he wanted the whisper, not the bang. 

“It was just a routine hunt. Easy as pie, nothing to worry about,”

“As long as you’re sure…” You hesitated across the phone, clearly not fully buying his words. You’d always seen straight through him; cut past the self-deprecating jokes and flirty smiles that had acted as his armour in a world that was more war zone than shelter. No small protective fib could make it past your emphatic warm eyes and big heart. Your love easily making the walls he’d built around himself crumble from the first time his eyes met yours.

As Dean closed his eyes, he could almost see you. (Y/E/C) eyes overflowing with worry as that cute little frown line formed on your forehead. Your mind making a mental tally of your emergency first aid kit back in the bunker. Ready to patch him back up the moment he walked through the door. Like you always did.

Except… He’d never walk through that door again. 

Squeezing his eyes shut and feeling the stinging heat of bitter tears cutting paths across his skin. Dean took a second to let himself wallow in the pain of those lost moments. All the things he’d never do again were much more agonizing than the deep gash in his side as his head numbly hit the tire of the Impala. The endless lost heartbeats he’d never get to spend by your side spilling out onto the dirt below him and leaving salty wordless verses inscribed across his tightly drawn lips as he tried not to sob out loud at the heartbreak. 

An eternity of you. Lost forever.

He’d never see you smile again. Never get to hold you close. You’d never come running up to him, equal parts happy and worried as he came back home from a hunt. He’d never get to kiss you, wrap you up into his arms and carry you back to the room he shared with you. Never get to feel you curl up against him, happy and content as he held you close and safe through the night. All those little moments, and an infinity more, were never going to happen. Ever again. 

“Dean?” The worry was back tenfold as you called out to him from the present. Pulling him away from the many imagined futures by your side that he’d never get to live. That light that your presence always brought into his life, even over small phone calls, the only bright spot left in the quickly fading world. The dark night around him, growing denser and more impenetrable with every small, pained gasp for air.

Holding the phone away from him, Dean allowed himself a shaky breath. Not bothering to wipe at the many tears staining his eyes and face. Knowing full well more were sure to follow, as he spent his last moment alive on the phone with you.

“Sorry. Connection’s bad. How are you… And Sammy?” Dean asked, keeping the sorrow of a man mourning for a lost future out of his voice as he finally pulled himself together enough to respond. Forcing his voice to sound brighter, happier, as he spoke. His free hand pushing numbly against the ticking clock of a lethal injury that was counting down his last minutes. Like bullets entering the chamber of a revolver. 

Dean’s body was growing weaker. He couldn’t keep up the pressure on the wound for much longer. Still, just… A little more. Just a few more minutes. He just needed to hear your voice for one last shared moment.

“We’re good, just waiting for you to come back. I’m getting your favourite pie ready for you,” Your words came a little easier now, relief clear at his little pained act. The teasing words tempting Dean with a last meal he’d never get to savour.

“Awesome. Can’t wait to dig in,” Dean said, giving a breathy laugh as he pictured your proud smile at the sweet gesture. One that just as quickly faded when the same picture warped. Showing tear stained eyes and a feast left untouched on a cold kitchen counter. “Just… Save me a big slice yeah?”

“I’ll save the whole pie until you get here,” Your bright laugh was better than any drug. Easily dulling the pain enough to distract him from the gruesome reality of his death. Just like it always did. Your laughter was his lullaby on hard nights and the euphoria that turned everyday moments into treasured memories. 

“When will you be home?” The hopeful little tinge to your voice speaking of sleepless nights missing him and the many more that were soon to follow.

“Soon,” Dean lied. 

He’d never be home again. Even if Sam and you broke protocol, forgoing the hunter’s funeral to bring his body back to the bunker. His home was in your arms, in your heart. And as he struggled to keep the phone raised to his ear, he knew he’d forever lost the strength to wrap you up in his embrace. 

His only hope was heaven, if they’d even let him in. And even that seemed like a cheap imitation of itself next to you. He’d long since found heaven in your arms. The real thing paled in comparison to that. 

“Great! Hey… You really do sound tired…” Your voice was soft and soothing through the phone as Dean let his eyes close. Unable to muster up the energy to leave them open for one last look at the ungrateful world he’d spent his whole life saving. Choosing instead to reserve the last remains of his strength to hear your voice and speak to you. 

“When you get back, maybe we should take a break for a day or two? Plan a movie night?” You added, planning for a homecoming that would never happen.

“That sounds great. You pick the movies,” Letting his tired and broken mind float into your pretend future, Dean barely managed a weak smile as he forced his hand to keep the phone to his ear.

“You know I’ll pick the cheesiest chick flicks, right?” Your laugh flooded every one of Dean’s remaining senses. This was it. If he had to go, this was how he wanted it to be. Just another shared moment, rewarded with the most beautiful sound known to man. Or at least to the soldier who was finally laying down his weapons, quiet and alone. 

“That’s fine, if I’m with you then even chick flicks are tolerable,” Dean could feel new warm tears flood the back of his closed eyelids. But unlike their predecessors, these didn’t burn him. Instead they felt like the loving soft strokes of your careful fingertips across his cheeks. Soothing away the pain with overflowing love for a woman that had always been everything to him. Since before he even knew you existed.

“Alright then you big softie, I’ll pick the movies. As long as you pick up the snacks and beer,” You said, your voice a bit louder and brighter as the sound of the bell over the diner door signaled your exit. He could picture you, balancing the pie against one hip, phone between your shoulder and ear and (Y/H/C) hair in your eyes as you pushed open the door and hurried towards your truck to beat him home. Not knowing he’d dropped out of the race already.

“Deal,” Dean promised. Hoping against hope that the same word wouldn’t slip from your lips in a completely different context once you learned about his death. Surrounded by yarrow flowers and standing at a crossroads, a box hiding a picture of your smiling face buried in the dead centre. 

“Listen, (Y/N)... I gotta go,” Dean’s last minutes were up. He could no longer feel the rest of his body. His heartbeat was just a ghost of its former self, as the last functioning nerves in his body focused on the phone that was slowly slipping out of his numb fingers. He had seconds, a minute, at most. He didn’t have time to make you promise him not to do anything stupid. Not without cluing you in on the end to his story that was quickly approaching. Just a few more words. Then it’d all be signed, sealed and delivered. Right into the hands of the same reapers that detested him.

At least he got to share his final heartbeats with you.

“Yeah, ok sure. See you…” Your cheerful voice sounded far away to his ears as you smiled over words that were much more final than you knew. 

Dean bit back the goodbye that tried to spill past his lips. Not wanting the finality of the words to taint his last moments. Instead he let his last words be a prayer to you. His last breath a sacrifice to the most important words in the world.

“I love you (Y/N). You know that right?” 

His voice was barely a whisper, the words a secret between the two of you. His greedy heart unwilling to share the warmth in those words with the cold country road around him, until the very end. The avaricious gravel could steal his life, but his heart was yours and yours alone. 

“I love you too Dean. Forever,” 

That was all Dean needed to hear. No goodbye, no forgiveness of past sins from some judging God. Just a last reminder that he’d been lucky enough to bask in your light and love, and he could finally let go. 

“Forever,” Dean echoed, before ending the phone call with a shaky hand. 

This was it. End of the line. 

As the tired hunter let the now quiet phone fall to the bloodied gravel below him, his last few seconds were spent picturing your smiling face behind closed eyelids. An imagined homecoming playing out in a numb and tired mind. He could put down his weapons, he could let go with no regrets. And as his final shaky breath left him, it did so with a smile and a last dying whisper of your name slipping over cold lips. 

“Forever… (Y/N),”

 ---

Dean Winchester tag: @ria132love​

[thekisforkeats]

An Avatar No More (Let All the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Three)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Character death (mentioned), character injury (mentioned), body transformations, birds, sacrifice (sort of, I mean, everyone lives) 

Summary: Jon is a warlock who thinks they're a druid, and they're finally meeting their patron. Well, their original patron, not the nasty Watcher that tricked them into ending the world, that guy's a jerk and we have no truck with him.

Avatar powers or no, Jon will yell at eldritch beings to protect Martin because they need their tea-making poet alive and well, dammit.

——————————————————-

First Chapter Previous Chapter

Jon wakes to a world that looks as if it’s had all the color leached out, all blacks and whites and grays. Martin’s arms are still around them, holding them, but not as tightly as they dimly recall from before.

Martin seems to be asleep, his expression pained and his breathing shallow. He is vibrant despite the lack of color, standing out from his surroundings, almost verging into sepia rather than mere monochrome. Jon, too, seems almost as vibrant though perhaps not quite as much so.

There is a nip of cold in the air, and that by-now familiar feeling of being watched.

Jon slowly disentangles themself from Martin’s grasp, doing their best not to wake the sleeping man. They can see, and that is odd--didn’t Martin stab them in the eye? Eyes? They can barely remember, everything after stepping into the Panopticon is a blur except the conversation with Martin, as though the words were somehow burned into their memory while all other sensations faded during the trip to wherever they are now.

They take a moment, blink slowly, press their hands gently to their eyes. And yes, they have eyes, and there’s no blood on their face, and now that they look there’s no scars on their hands, either. No burn marks on the right hand, no worm scars on either one. Their skin is whole and unblemished.

This bothers them more than, perhaps, it ought.

They sit up and look around to take a greater survey of their surroundings. Jon and Martin are on the balcony of a large fortress set on the edge of a cliff in whatever this strange realm is. The sky above is an inky black, devoid of sun or moon or stars, and the landscape beyond the balcony is bleak: jagged mountains behind and a flat plain dotted with twisted spires below.

It occurs to them that it might be reasonable to assume they're in Hell.

“That’s… disconcerting,” Jon says aloud, as much because they are used to narrating their life as to hear the sound of their own voice. They stand, slowly, checking to see if there is a room attached to the balcony. Usually balconies are attached to chambers, though with Hell, it’s possible that this will be another level of torment: impractical architecture.

The balcony turns out to be just an extension of a room with no doors or outer wall. The room is shrouded in darkness, but it looks... big… ish? With maybe a table and some chairs and some sort of dias beyond that?

Jon leans down to place a hand on Martin’s cheek briefly before they begin to move into the room. “Rather spacious if… empty accommodations for a Hellscape.” Again they're speaking partly for their own benefit, but the darkness of the room is deep enough to hide someone who might respond if they speak.

And then there is indeed a voice, coming from the shadows around the dais: “This is not Hell. That place is rather more… torturous for mortals to exist in.” The voice seems… vaguely female, but with a strange, almost croaking sort of undertone.

“Ah, there you are.” Jon starts looking around for the source of the voice. “That’s good to know, that we are not dead. I take it you are who we have to thank for that? Since this is your domain.”

As Jon moves into the room, the shadows seem to shift and a form appears sitting on a large chair on the dais, pretty much a cowled cloak. It would be spooky if Jon weren’t becoming inured to these things.

“Oh, no, you are quite dead,” the voice replies from the depths of the cloak. “He is not, yet, but he will be soon enough.”

Jon looks back toward Martin, who looks to be in more pain and maybe a little less vibrant than he was. “Stop that!” they shout. They move back to Martin and kneel down, running their hands over the taller man’s hair, trying to soothe him. “Save him!”

Martin relaxes at the touch, but only slightly. He still looks pained, troubled.

The voice from the cloak says, “I have done nothing to him. He chose to follow you through the gates of death, and so… he is dying.” There is an odd level of unconcern in her voice. Not malice, per se, and not indifference, but rather what one might expect from an avatar of the End, regarding someone dying.

“And you can’t do anything?!” The indifference in the voice angers Jon. How dare this cloaked wannabe Grim Reaper just ignore their plight? And though they might not admit it, they have become used to getting their way in most things, to having power to shape the world as they wish. “This is your world; insulate him from the ravages of its effects!”

“Why should I?” The voice is more curious than malicious. “I have no hold nor tie to him; where once he belonged to Araushnee, in this form he belongs more to Oghma, or perhaps Sune, and I have little truck with either.”

“Because he is important to me!” Jon hisses, still keeping contact with Martin. “And you clearly have some attachment to me or I wouldn’t be here. Is that not enough, or are you so detached from all compassion as to not understand the intricacies of companionship?”

The figure moves out onto the balcony and Jon can see it now, cowled and hooded, with a glimmer of light from within the hood: eyes, maybe. “I understand compassion. And I understand companionship. And I understand that the latter has rarely led to much but tragedy, when pursued too fervently.”

The woman(?) looks down at the two of them. “He will not fade from your view. He will become part of this place, and if you are so concerned I will take him into my employ. You will be able to see him still, between the work I have for you to do.”

Of course. Some new eldritch horror expects Jon to work for them without even knowing what they're getting into. Lovely.

Jon stands, placing themself between the cowled figure and Martin. “No. You will save him and ensure that he lives. He didn’t sacrifice himself just to be controlled by another one of you.” They are shaking with both fear and rage. “You want my help, fine. Another Eldritch power wants my hands for its machinations…” They laugh. “What else is new? But he deserves better. Name a price for his survival and freedom, and I will pay it.”

The eyes under the hood seem to narrow. “There is a way to save him, to give him life enough to survive here and to survive the journey you are yet to take. But it would require…” A pause, a deep, heavy sigh. “I had thought to give you more time as something you would still recognize as… yourself.”

The woman gestures, and a mirror appears, so that Jon can see just exactly what she means.

The mirror allows them to see colors, but only in the mirror itself. Jon still wears the clothing they'd been wearing in the Panopticon (and much longer before that), and they look… themself, they're short and slim, their skin dark, but their eyes have become shining gold. Their long black hair shimmers now, and their ears are… pointed? Yes, elongated and pointed, and they realize their form is even slimmer than they remember, now that they look closely.

They appear to be, for all the world, an elf.

Jon puts a hand to their ears to see if it is real. How had they missed that, while trying to be sure they were whole and alive? “What? What… happened to me? You turned me into an elf? Like Tolkien? Why?”

“Tolkien…?” There’s a pause, as if the woman is accessing information; it reminds Jon, oddly, of themself. “Ah. No. I have done nothing, really; this is what you were before you went to that world. You have become something like what I once was, Tel-quessir. I believe in the common parlance the term is ‘sun elf’ or ‘high elf.’” Galadriel more than Legolas, then.

Jon tries to make sense of what the woman is saying as they take stock in the mirror but they can’t understand more than rudimentary levels. They truly had come to rely on Knowing as a crutch. “Went to that world? What you once were?” More questions than answers, and little is more irritating to them. They return their attention to the cloaked figure. “And this has what to do with saving Martin?” That is what’s important right now, after all.

The woman’s words become suddenly clipped. “You were mine. From birth, you sought out new stories, new experiences, new memories, as many as you could find, to bring them back here when you died. A spark, a soul sent into the dark, to try to expand my reach to the other worlds. And, I admit, to try to bring balance to a world so overrun with evil; an attempt at a ray of good to balance that out.” A pause. “I suppose it succeeded, mostly, if only by spreading that evil out into the realms. But the powers there, they tried to… claim you. The Spider, the Watcher…”

There is a rustling under the cloak, a sound of many wings. The voice rises, angry. “And then the Watcher stole you from me, to carry out its perverse warping of your world! It would not do, but you already had the means to combat what the Watcher tried to make you, Archivist. And so, here you are. And yet, you do not even know who you truly are.”

There is more rustling of wings beneath the cloak. The woman is clearly angry.

“Wait… you’re saying I’m from here… originally? Not human?” Jon touches their ear again, a nervous gesture. “And I was your agent… meant to be your eyes and ears until Jonah Magnus…” They have to stop, the anger that rises in them is so great, “did what he did.”

Jon’s tone turns insistent, and they wish they could still compel answers. “Then tell me. What am I? What are you? Feathers, a cloak, pinpoints of light that could be eyes. Do you have a name?”

“You are not from here,” the woman says, and her voice has become… melancholy. “We were from a place of light and beauty, once. It is my fault that you came here, but you never complained, before. And you were never meant… that ritual was never meant to happen. I never meant you to experience… any of what the Watcher made you do. But at least now the pain of all those you encountered is catalogued, and perhaps in time, they can be cleansed of the pain and know peace.”

Another deep sigh. “As for what I am…” The rustling intensifies, and then suddenly the cloak explodes into shadow. Beneath is not a woman at all--beneath is a massive collection of ravens. They fly around Jon, all flapping wings and eyes, and one in particular--the one with the eyes they've been seeing under the hood--seems to hover in the air in front of them. It speaks in a voice that booms off the nearby mountains:

“I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.”

Jon stumbles back a bit, and narrowly manages to avoid falling on top of Martin. They haven't been this terrified since… what, since before the Change? Since well before the Change. But terrified they are. “A-an-and I’m… I’m… o-one of your… servants… and extension of you… one-one-one of… of… those?” They gesture at the ravens flying about them.

The ravens settle all around the balcony, and the one that has been speaking stays where it is, as if to give them space. “No. I told you--what you are now is what you were one, long ago, before… before my failed attempt to become a goddess and stop the conflict between Corellon and Araushnee failed.”

She sighs, and her voice is full of ancient, terrible sadness. “You came to me and offered your help to stop that conflict. You gave much of your life and essence to try to fuel the ritual, along with many others. Like them, you believed in our cause. The gods were warring, and it had to be stopped, or the Tel-Quessir were doomed to split apart forever. We would save the Tel-Quessir from the doom we foresaw. I would travel to Arvandor, gain the attention of the gods, and stop the war.” A long sigh. “I was a fool, and it was all of you who paid the price.”

Jon is starting to put the pieces together. “So… in order to save Martin, what do I have to do? Give up this… essence again? Return the restoration you bestowed on me? Become something else? Something that can still be your hand, but different?”

The raven cocks its head in almost a nod. “This is what you were, before my failed ritual. This is what I purified you into becoming again so you could go to the place where last you lived. I had wanted to give you time as this again, a lifetime of reward for your service, but…” The raven looks to Martin. “You have brought your reward back with you, I see. You always did prize love above so much else.”

“In order to save his life, I must siphon off yours. Return him to what he is, and perhaps allow him to be more, something closer to what he was long, long ago. And return you… to what you were. Shadar-kai. Shadow fey.” A pause. “It is not pleasant. The color will leech from you, even in the living world. The shadows will cling to you. In the living world you may look young and fresh, but here you will see your true state: cursed, aged, withered.”

The raven gives a long, deep sigh. “You may say that you will endure all of that and more to save your lover, but you will lose many of the emotions that now drive you. You will be bitter and grim. Others will see you as cold and pitiless. Most of my people who go out into the world care little for their physical bodies; they know they will return here, and be reborn. Some embrace physical pleasures, others test their limits, and some strive for glory in their lives.”

“You… never did much of any of that. You were usually content to watch, to listen, to study, and to bring me back what you found. You played tricks, sometimes.” Is the raven… amused? Yes, by the glitter in its eye, it is. “You have always retained your sense of humor, regardless of everything else.” The amusement fades. “But you may lose your love for him. Even if you do not--even if it is the one thing you cling to--he may lose his love for you, on finding you so horribly changed.”

Jon looks over their shoulder at Martin for a moment and then back to the raven before them. “Done. It may be as you say, but he’ll be alive. And that’s what’s important.” They sigh. “He has to survive. He’s given up too much to not survive. Do it.”

The ravens all flock back into the form they’d been in before and the shadows warp around it like a hood and cowl once more. The Raven Queen nods--or seems to--and sighs. “Very well.” She reaches out with one “hand” to Jon and the other “hand” to Martin’s sleeping form

A bright white light begins to flow out of Jon and into Martin. Jon doesn’t feel lessened so much as different, as though the shadows here seep in to replace the light that flows out. They can see the color fade from their form in the mirror. Their skin becomes a pallid grey, their eyes become wholly black--no pupil, no sclera, something far more befitting the avatar they became. And they do, indeed, twist and wither and age, though they feel no less strong and vital.

And Martin… wakes up.

Next Chapter

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 18: the rebirth of a world

uhhh so I cried like a baby while writing this so have fun!!!!

ao3 link

For two days and two nights, I forget everything. I sink deep into stasis, maintaining mana skin as I sit high up in a tree, where no one will find me. The clear air and the strong mana around me both sink into my pores, flowing through my body, and compounds itself upon the power already within me. The world dissolves away, taking my body and mind with it. All I am is a pair of lungs, breathing out and in, over and over in an endless cycle. 

Life and death. Death and life. There is joy in death, and despair in life. 

Breathe.

Who taught me how to breathe?

Mother?

No… not that woman. 

I taught myself.

There have only been three times in my life where I have been truly at peace.

The first- before I was born.

There was no life, there was no breath. There was only warmth.

The second- when I was One.

His warmth was joined with mine. The bliss of unity. I ceased to exist.

The third- Now.

Warm, golden light envelops me as I breathe. In and out. In and out.

There is nothing. I am nothing. I will never be anything again.

Either way, the world will end. Because of me. So I will become nothing. I will become hated.

I have destroyed myself before. And I will do it again. Because… maybe then I can be happy.

Not me… someone.

What happens to everyone?

They will be destroyed, just as I was. 

There was joy in that destruction. They will find joy in their deaths.

And there will be joy in their rebirth. The rebirth of a world worth living in.

I see nothing but a golden light up ahead. I desperately want to hold it in my hand.

I don’t see the bodies I will have to walk over to do it.

The light will outshine the blood that stains my hands.

And then I will die. I will burn in Hell for three eternities, but that will not be enough.

…

…

…

…

…

“I forgive you.”

I remember how William smiled at me when he said those words. 

Patri… will you forgive me, too?

Of course, he can’t answer. Because I killed him.

Why am I doing this? Why am I willing to go so far?

For a moment, I leave my body, and look into my own eyes. My own dead, cold eyes. What I see is something far from human. What I see is something that scares me. 

Don’t do it… you don’t have to.

She closes her eyes.

You’re going to die anyway. Is it really worth it to take everything down with you?

… 

Of course, I can’t answer. Because I already killed her.

There’s no hope for me. There is no more joy in this world, or love. I will atone for my crimes by committing the worst one of all.

What do you mean? What crimes? Haven’t I done my absolute best? Is there really no hope?

Yami and William are still alive. My two oldest friends. And even if they die… I have my family. I have Marx! And Nozel and Fuegoleon and Charlotte and Mereoleona… and all the kids… and Adeline… and…

My daughter.

Shouldn’t you spend your last moments fighting for a better world for your daughter?

Isn’t that a spark worth kindling?

…

Julius hates me.

The spark dies.

No… this is just a curse. Any curse can be broken.

Not this one.

Her eyes open, and they are glowing blue. The light is so bright that it drowns out all else, the entire world melting away under its burn.

You cannot escape fate itself.

She smiles, her mouth warping into a toothed grin. She starts to cry, the tears running in two mirrored streaks down her cheeks, black as the blood that flows from a pen. But she keeps smiling. 

The smile holds an emotion that I cannot even fathom. But somehow, I know its name.

Malice.

“I am your fate… and you are the world’s fate.”

They reach out. The two blinding lights no longer come from her eyes; they come from her wings.

Both of their hands glow with marks.

“Isn’t there joy in your shared fate? Isn’t that the closest two people can be? In life, and in death?”

But… there’s life after death! I’ve seen it- I don’t want to die! I want to be alive! I want to love.

“What is the point… if his love has been removed from this world?”

Her eyes bulge from her head, splitting into a sheet of thousands of tiny pupils… like an insect.

There’s other love in this world… I want to experience it!

It’s too late.

Either die alone, or die with the entire world. You have no choice.

Their hands close around my throat and finally break the cycle of my breath.

…

…

With a violent gasp, I’m jolted from my trance, and my eyes pop open. The sound disturbs the area around me, and four birds burst out of the leaves beside me, cawing angrily before flying away. The flutter of feathers subsides, leaving me alone once again in a comfortable silence.

The wind blows across the treetops, a quiet roar that bends branches and tears leaves. My hair flies out of my face, rippling around my head for a moment before everything becomes still once again. 

Sounds erupt as soon as the wind has quelled. Bugs and birds, appearing from nowhere, all raising their voices in a song. A dissonant, confusing song, but a song nonetheless. 

It’s peaceful…

Too peaceful.

After a long moment, I slowly stand up, my knees and back nearly creaking with effort after being stationary for so long. Despite my lack of activity, my body feels light, almost unhealthily light. Maybe it’s just the contrast from my recent pregnancy, but something tells me that my constant output of mana over the last two days may have strengthened some things yet weakened everything else.

Fine. I can still fight, though. I feel healthy-

Right as the thought crosses my mind, the left side of my mark bursts into agony once again. I squeeze that eye shut, simply gritting my teeth. Over these months, the pain hasn’t lessened; I just became better at bearing it. Fortunately, I can sense that I just burnt my candle down to the base, so I won’t have to deal with it for much longer.

“Come on…” I whisper to myself, feeling the pain finally start to dissipate. “I need to go… head out with the others…” Shakily, I take a careful step forward, farther towards the tapering end of the branch. “And then-”

Before I can finish, the world turns upside down. Like skates upon ice, my feet slip out from under me, numb and unresponsive. My eyes widen, and I don’t even have time to shriek before I fall, my limp body plunging like a rock to the bottom of the lake.

...what-

I don’t really realize what’s happened until the world fades back in, and the canopy of the forest looms high above. Did I just pass out? And fall out of the tree? What on earth-

Pain floods my body, each bone screaming in protest as I try to move. With a sharp inhale, I manage to roll over, one of my arms flopping uselessly beside me. Shit! I grit my teeth, not sure of what to do. I just fell out of the tree?! What on earth made me do that? My head feels fuzzy and light, as if I just woke up from a long nap, but there’s a familiar feeling of trickling blood down the side of my face and past my ear. Well, I’m probably just an idiot and misstepped… I don’t think I passed out. I hit my head pretty hard, I’ll probably remember what happened later. Anyway… 

Right on cue, mana within me activates. Bands of numerals start to circle my body, glowing a familiar, comforting blue. Chrono Anastasis. I let out a relieved sigh as the pain starts to disappear, slowly but surely fading into just a memory. My broken bones start to mend, and the blood dries up and flakes off of my face. I wiggle my fingers a little, delightly to feel that they aren’t numb anymore. Well, that was weird… time to go-

The fuzzy feeling in my head suddenly intensifies as I try to sit up. With only a hollow gasp, I flop back down, my strength leaving my body all at once. My fingers go numb again, and my toes, and everything else.

Panic starts to seep in.

What’s going on? Am I-

The light starts to get brighter. 

I’m… Dying…

All at once, I realize the problem: Right now, I contain the magic of three people; not just their magic, their memories. Shards of their very souls. I am a vessel for Julius and Patri, but my weakened body, a soul that’s already trying to die, is withering under their weight.

The moth is flying towards me again.

“N...n…”

A gargled sound escapes my lips as I desperately struggle to keep my eyes open.

Sleep.

“N-NO-”

There has to be something I can do- I’m not done-

 I can see a sunset. I see Patri. He’s grinning malevolently.

“Just you try and protect them now!”

 The moth flies closer. 

I have to protect them… all of them… I need to live and create that future!

 I ball up my fists.

The memory flashes along with the sunset. Patri flies far above.

Sealing magic… release!

That spell… it’s a forbidden spell, one that sealed up the necessary power to unleash patri’s ultimate attack- the one that Julius spent his final moments thwarting. Patri carried that within him, with the help of that spell… 

Forbidden magic… doesn’t that need a sacrifice or something? 

As far as I know, I’m alone. 

Either that… or something is going to change about me.

Like Nero, who used so much forbidden magic that her very humanity was warped. She was confined within the body of a bird for centuries, and even after she returned to a human form, she had horns. The mark of the Devil.

Great… 

The light starts to fade. I’m running out of time.

Patri… let me use these memories. Let me live just a little bit longer. Help me cast this spell.

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but I feel something stir within me. There’s a sound outside, a whirring, unearthly sound. Magic.

I’ll have to sacrifice part of my humanity, just to live a little longer.

That’s ok.

There was hardly any to begin with.

…

…

…

…

“Where on earth have you been!? And- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

Marx stands in my way, his face red with anger as he blocks the hallway. “Your mark- the other half-”

“Get out of my way.”

My voice sounds flat, the words alien as they leave my lips. I can’t recognize its tones anymore.

Marx…

His eyes widen, and his hands start to shake.

… I don’t even know who you are.

No… I don’t. This man is a stranger. I’ve never seen him before. I’ve never talked to him. There were no deep conversations, no commiserating about Julius’s behavior. I’ve never made him coffee, and I certainly don’t know that he likes it with just a dash of milk. 

This man is a stranger.

He is not my best friend.

Slowly, Marx closes his mouth. There’s a strange acceptance in the movement. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he is starting to get an inkling. Without another word, Marx steps out of the way. He doesn’t move, or even raise his gaze from the floor as I walk by, my eyes fixed on the hallway up ahead.

I don’t know him… I can’t know him.

I bite my lip as I turn the corner and start ascending the stairs. 

I can’t… look him in the eye.

My room is empty when I reach it, thankfully. Any unwanted visitors would have complicated things, since I need to leave quickly. I strip down and start pulling on a new set of clothes. A clean shirt and skirt, my usual uniform that I haven’t been able to fit into for months; tights; boots lined with fur; a thick grey peacoat with a high collar; and finally, my robe and my Crown upon my head. I unfasten the medals from the front, then turn to look at the empty chair by the window.

Julius’s robe lays draped over the back, still and dusty. Sucking in a breath, I step forward.

Here… these are yours.

Slowly, I place the medals and chain onto the fuzzy white fur, and let my hand stroke it for just a moment. Then, I step back.

I’m sorry… I couldn’t keep my promise.

The room is silent. The entire castle is silent.

I know you’ll hate me for this. But in the end… the future will be bright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be like you.

With one last look, I turn to leave.

Evening falls upon the castle as I make my way down to my usual exit. The candlelight on the walls flickers with my pitch-black shadow, broken only as I pass by a mirror. The sudden sight of my own reflection makes me pause for just a moment. 

That’s… me.

I look like a stranger.

I don’t know who you are.

The mark on my forehead has changed after that forbidden spell. When I woke up, I expected to have some sort of weg; horns, a streak of black over my cheek, or something in that vein. But no. All that happened was that a magic circle was burned into the grass around me, and both sides of my mark were filled in with black. It doesn’t feel any different, but it’s strange. But in the end… it doesn’t matter. I won’t have to worry about it for long.

The sealing spell will buy me just enough time to win this fight. To win and set everything right, at long last. And then… I’ll let go.

What will it be like, I wonder…

I turn away, and continue to walk.

But I’m not alone. Footsteps thunder towards me, and Marx bursts back into the hallway, out of breath. “S-Stop right there!” he commands, pointing at me. My pace doesn’t falter, and I continue to move as if I hadn’t heard him.

Marx grits his teeth as I advance. “I-I said stop! I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

Step. Step. Step.

“You’re different… something’s wrong, and you better tell me what it is! Hold on-” Marx stumbles as I brush by him, before turning to watch me move away. “Wait! Don’t just leave without a word! Don’t think you can just go out there and die for everyone! I won’t allow it!”

Not for everyone. With everyone.

“STOP!”

His desperate cry falls upon deaf ears.

“Wait-”

Someone else steps into the hallway ahead of me. They’re shadowed by the torches behind them, but I know that voice.

I keep walking.

Don’t look at her- Don’t look at her-

The torches flicker, illuminating her front for just a moment. 

I make the mistake of looking.

No… not at her. Not at her golden eyes. Not at her beautiful face.

No… my eyes are drawn to the thing she’s holding in her hands.

The bottoms of my boots scuff against the stone as I halt suddenly, my body freezing.

T-That…

…

…

"Once everything settles down... I... I would like to have a family."

Julius wanted her so bad. So… so bad. 

But by some cruel twist of fate, he fell in love with me.

Why…

My vision starts to blur.

… why would you look at something like me… with a smile?

He smiled at me… he promised we would be together forever. He promised that nothing bad would ever happen to me.

But that was a lie.

But there was one promise that he did keep.

One way or another… even if it has to be through sheer force of will…

Something wet starts to drip down my face. My eyes burn, and my heart weakens.

“Do you really think… my love is that weak?”

Slowly, Adeline walks up to me, her form becoming clearer. Despite everything that’s happening, she still wears that kind smile on her face. She comes to a stop in front of me. Slowly, I tear my eyes away from her face and down into the bundle in her arms.

It stirs slightly.

I see her face.

My love still exists in this world. 

A strange sound escapes my lips. It’s almost a sob, not quite a gasp. I can’t tell if it’s sad or happy, because I can hardly remember what it was like to feel either of those emotions.

But now… I feel them. I feel them like a million knives in my chest.

She rolls her head slightly. She has fat cheeks,and a tuft of dark brown hair on her mostly-bald head. 

And then, she opens her eyes.

You just have to find it.

They sparkle like amethysts, like lavender blowing in the wind. She stares up at me through those squinted eyes, but just that little sliver of color is enough to break me.

She… she…

“Do you… do you want to-”

I nod before Adeline finishes her sentence. She nods, then carefully places the baby in my arms. 

She closes her eyes again, but turns her head to snuggle into my warmth.

I stand there, still frozen, with this beautiful, precious thing in my arms. I hold her like she’s made of glass, because she is.

Julius’s love wasn’t something I had to find. It wasn’t something I had to fight for, or earn.

It was always there. Inside me.

You… you are proof of a love that no longer exists.

No…

I let my head start to hang over her, more and more hot tears bubbling up and streaming down my face. 

You are his love.

You are proof… that I am human.

Because Julius’s love was what made me human, in the end. I know that now, I feel that now that he’s gone. But this baby, this child in my arms, my daughter-

She is proof… she is proof.

“I…. I…”

A hushed, weak whimper finally leaves my mouth, barely able to form words as I crumble further and further.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

I whisper those words again and again, warped by my tears and by my guilt. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry-”

They raise in volume each time they’re repeated. 

I’m sorry- I’m sorry-

How could I be so selfish?

How could I be so foolish?

If only I had known… that you would give me more joy than anything in my entire life-

Joy.

Two pairs of arms are around me as I sink down to sit on the ground. I melt into a sobbing, shaking mess, but they are there. They are warm.

“M-Marx- I-’M sorry- and-” I finally look up, a pair of hands holding my face. Adeline is crying too, but she still smiles. “Adeline… I was so unfair to you-”

“Shhh…” She leans forward, and presses her forehead against mine. “It’s alright now. It’s alright.”

Slowly, I close my eyes, one arm holding Joy close while the other wraps around Marx. 

But… it’s not alright, is it?

I sit here, with forbidden magic in my body, with the blood of Patri on my hands, with an enemy knocking at our gates.

But even worse…

I let out another gasping sob.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

But even if I do…

We sit there for a long time, until my sobs finally calm. After a moment of silence, I take a deep breath before sitting up. Adeline and Marx both sit back, their eyes red and puffy. Even though they have no idea what’s going on, it’s as if they know… and they still want to help.

“Marx…. You’re my best friend.”

His eyes widen a little at the sudden confession. I let out a small smile, the most I can manage right now. “I…”

“It’s ok. But just know that I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head a little before redirecting my gaze to Adeline. “And you…”

Julius…

You could never hate me.

Because, no matter what… the two of us know that much.

We were one. I’ve seen your soul. I am your soul. 

You could never hate me. 

And you would be happy to see me love again.

I reach out to her, and she takes my hand. I give her another strained smile, fighting back more bitter tears.

“I’m so sorry… that you fell in love with me. But…” I sniff once. “I love you, Adeline. That’s the one thing I’m sure of.” 

Out of everyone here, I know that she and Marx are the ones I’ve hurt the most. But even now, they hold me. 

“I love you too... “ Adeline reaches up with her other hand to wipe her eyes. “I don’t know what you were doing… but I’m glad you’re back for now.”

My heart sinks.

For now.

No…

There is no “for now.”

That dark path might have consumed me, but I will fight against the end as hard as I can.

I am not the fate of the world… but I can still save it.

Joy squirms a little, letting out a little sob. My heart jolts out of my chest. “Oh- I-I don’t know what I did, is she okay? Oh god, she’s-”

I cut myself off when I hear laughing. I look up to see both Adeline and Marx chuckling at me. “What?! This isn’t funny!”

“Yes it is! Don’t worry-” Adeline reaches out to stroke Joy’s cheek with the back of her hand. “She’s hungry~”

“Hungry?” I frown, not sure why they’re both looking at me expectantly. Then, it hits me. “Oh… ah…” I let out a nervous laugh. “I probably shouldn’t feed her… I might not be healthy.”

Adeline frowns. “What? What do you mean?”

I can save the world… I will. I am the natural enemy of the Devil. I will destroy Qhlipoth and restore peace to this kingdom. And then…

I don’t answer. I just lean in to give Adeline a kiss.

I’ll spend my last days with Marx, Adeline, and Joy.

When I pull back, Joy is once again nestled in Adeline’s arms. I turn to look at Marx, giving him a sad little smile. 

“I still need to fight… I’ve done too much to prepare for this.” For some reason, I can’t help but chuckle. “It would be a waste to not go at this point, no matter what Nacht says. So… Marx… will you let me go?”

After a moment, Marx smiles, nodding his head. “Of course… go. You’re the Wizard King, after all.”

Wizard King…

Yes. There’s still time for me to be the Wizard King.

With that, I jump to my feet, sudden energy and vigour coursing through my veins. Maybe it’s blind hope, maybe it’s just joy. But right now, I feel like I could take on an army of devils. Adeline looks a little frightened, but after a moment the emotion fades from her face. “That’s right… you need to catch up with the others! The rescue squad left a couple of hours ago!”

“Oh! So the fight’s started without me? How rude!” I grin, giving the two of them a wink. “Keep the castle orderly while I’m gone… I’ll apologize properly when I get back.” I look down one last time at my daughter. Her eyes are open again, and I swear that she smiles, despite only being two days old.

“Take care of Joy… one day, you’ll tell her this story, I’m sure of it.”

Adeline nods, her eyes glinting with determination.

“Yes… both of her parents are Wizard Kings. She’ll hear more stories than this.”

Yes… yes she will.

Because Joy is the daughter of two Wizard Kings. The daughter of Julius Novachrono. She bears my hair, and his eyes. She is human… and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that humans are an endless candle of potential.

I have no right to snuff that candle out.

With one last wave, I turn and run off towards the exit, already queuing up magic around me. Due to the forbidden sealing spell, this fight might be a little more… interesting than expected. But I’ve already vowed to not use the magic I sealed away. I no longer need it.

I don’t need to recreate the world in order to make it bright. Because now I can see for myself how bright it is.

Next time! The battle to rescue William and Yami is underway, and the first devils have emerged from the Qliphoth. Will our Wizard King get there in time? And will she be able to take on three powerful foes at once?

[russianredassassin]

Huntress x Reader - It’s Been A Year:

This was requested by @romanoffbertinelli​ so I really hope this is what you wanted and you like it. And I know I have some headcanons similar to this but the request seemed important so I hope you all don't mind :)

Word Count: 1,344

Warnings: Mentions of the death of a family member

A/N: Y/G/M/N - Your Grandmothers Name and content warning mentioning death of a family member  

Your POV

It was that time of the year again; the summer was rolling in once again. Everyone was going off on their holidays for a rightfully earned brake. You, however, were just sitting on a bench in the cemetery. The wood of the bench was heated up from the intense heat of the sun making it a little uncomfortable but the number of times you came here you’d gotten used to it. But still, the thought of getting here and facing this was something you didn’t think you would ever get used to. But you were here, that's something right? Clutching a bunch of healthy flowers in one hand of many different bold and bright colours, ranging from yellow to purple to white. I was about to replace them with the other ones on the gravestone as they were slowly but surely withering away dying, the colours also fading away and giving way to shades of grey creeping up along the flowers.

‘In Loving Memory Of Y/G/M/N’

‘In Our Hearts Forever’

You remember every time you saw her. In her house, all cosy and comfy with that instantly recognisable old person smell. Or at your house when she came to visit, always starting with a big hug. A welcoming, tight hug full of love. But it didn't matter where she was, she was always happy to see me. Evident by the permanent smile on her face. It was never one of those fake forced smiles either. Forced by people just to seem nice or to pretend as if they were listening to you. Neither was it a big, wide smile complete with a loud bombastic laugh. But a small, more personal, and emotional, just radiating warmth and comfort. And now those smiles and hugs exist only in memory. In your own time, you pushed up against your knees using the palm of your hand and stood up to walk over to the grave while just managing to hold back tears. Kneeling, you placed the new flowers on the headstone and took the decaying ones. You stayed there to get a closer look at it all. Spending a few minutes examining the gravestone. It wasn't anything extra special, just a simple marble headstone with the new flowers now gently laying against it, just above the flowers a picture-perfect photo of your grandmother. Just looking at the photo with her smiling at me. It was at this point the feeling of the tears started to build up. Because it wasn't just the fact that I will never see my dear grandmother again, as sad as it is. It is more the thought of what now will never be. Your weddings day, knowing there will be that one special person missing, she will never see you achieve your dreams like she knew you would. But probably one of the most painful things is she will never get to see how your future will play out with your girlfriend Helena. 

Helena’s POV

I just arrived at mine and Y/N’s shared apartment after being up all night on a long and tiring stakeout with the Renee and Dinah. And was due for a nice rest so I dragged my deadweight feet up the stairs until I was met with the door to the apartment.

“Hey Y/N,” I said as I entered the apartment but was met with silence, normally Y/n would at least say hey back.

“Y/N!” After the second callout, I got worried and instantly drew my crossbow and prowled around the corner into the living room looking for you. The room was the same it was when I left and no sign of a struggle or fight. I also turned to see their coat and bag was gone from the hanger. Meaning they went out. My shoulders lowered and relaxed at this realisation that they must’ve headed out and just wasn't back yet. But I tensed back up again when my eyes were drawn to your calendar and see the date. Realising what day it was I quickly rushed out the door and out of the apartment building, got on my bike and rode off. Heading to Gotham Cemetery. Arriving at the cemetery I took of my bike helmet and got off the bike. Entering the cemetery I quickly scanned the area for you and spotted soon saw you kneeling at a grave. I moved quickly to get to you. But stopped when I got close to you. Just giving you enough space and time to yourself. Knowing from experience that it can help. I carried on waiting for the right movement. It didn't seem like you were talking, so after another minute or two I practically tiptoed over to you. 

“Hey Y/N,” I said delicately and softy and nothing else. Not wanting to push anything. You didn't say anything at first, just looking at the picture on the grave of your grandmother. 

“She’ll never know,” You said, even more softly and on the brink of tears. “She’ll never know about you, about us, never see us together and find out how it’ll turn out” You continued, still turned away from me. 

“I'm sorry Y/N,” I said, not knowing what else to say

“It’s ok,” You said as you were wiping your eyes “not your fault”

“I was just thinking about how she never got to meet you properly, and now she never will” you continued before a sniffle cut you off and seeing your shoulders shift up and down I realised you were crying so I moved to you, but not too slowly then I put one hand on your shoulder and manoeuvred you around to face me and seeing the tears fall down your face. That caused me to pull you into a hug and warp your arms around you and putting my other hand on your head and gently stroke your hair. 

“Hey, hey it’s ok I'm here,” I said as I stroked your hair and slowly manoeuvred the both of us to the bench. Sitting the both of us down. “Take your time, it’s ok” The both of us just sat there on the bench for a while complete with a comfortable silence occasionally broken by your sounds of crying as the only thing I could do was gently stroke your hair and place the rare kiss on you. 

“I just...I just thought it would get easier” You said, 

“I know, I know,” I said still stroking your hair as the memories of my family and what happened came flooding back. I fought back the tears that threaten to fall “ I always thought it would get easier, when I kill…when I took revenge for my family I thought it would help me move on, that it would get easier. But it didn't”

“Sorry,” you said through your tears

“Thank you, but do you know what did help me?” I said and you simply shrugged “Remembering that even though they’re gone, I must never forget them or what they meant to me”

“So per certo che non perdiamo mai le persone che amiamo, fino alla morte” 

“What?” you said, lifting your face to meet mine, a little confused. 

“I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death,” I said taking another deep breath before continuing the rest but in English “They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.” I said while you looked at me with a tear-stained face even but with a small smile as if to say thank you. Needing no words you just simply stood up, with me following suit before hugging me and then walking over to the grave a final time and saying one final goodbye and I love you. Then walking back over to me and started to walk away, my arm wrapped around you and stroking your shoulder for support.  

[bloodboundismylife]

Broken

Summary: The events at Rheya mansion has created a rift between Blaire and her friends, particularly with Adrian. She doesn’t know who she can trust anymore and Adrian is terrified that he’s lost the one person he cherishes most.

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Blaire)

A/N: I’ve been working on this all week and I finally finished it. It didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted it to, but it’s decent. This takes place at the end of chapter 8. This is also the first fic I’ve written since September. Writer’s block sucks.

Tag List: @kinda-iconic @choices-addict-25 @adrianadmirer @adrianrainesworld @flyawayboo @drakexnadira @tacohead13 @bloodboundsstuff @god-save-the-keen @galaxy-of-rosess

"Kill her."

Those two words kept replaying in Blaire's mind like a broken record. Images of Rheya drenched in blood, and grinning wickedly flashed in front of her, sending cold chills down her back. She felt her chest tighten again, and her stomach clenched as the fresh, raw memories tormented her over and over.

She felt faint and fought to keep herself from passing out. The burst power she'd used at the mansion had drained her physically and mentally, leaving her utterly exhausted. She had no idea where that power had come from, and her hands were still tingling from the blast. The thought that powers like that existed within her unnerved her. If she could do something like without even trying, what else was she capable of doing?

She leaned her head against the window with a sigh. She wanted to sleep so badly, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the murderous, hate-filled faces of her friends descending on her, eager to kill her and drain her blood from her body. It was terrifying that Rheya had turned them against her so easily and that they had almost succeeded in killing her. That Adrian had almost succeeded in killing her.

That had been the most frightening thing. He had attempted to murder her and had shown no hesitation or remorse. He hadn't recognized her, and she had seen no trace of the man who had always shown her kindness and made her feel safe. No trace of the man she'd fallen in love with. Instead, she had only seen a monster hellbent on her demise. His eyes had been cold and empty, as though he'd had no soul. She would never forget the moment his hands closed around her neck, and how he had smiled while choking her, how his fangs had gleamed dangerously in the moonlight. Her hand unconsciously drifted to her neck and lightly touched where his fingers had dug into her skin. Any bruises he'd left had already faded, but she could still feel where his hands had been.

Blaire remembered the utter hopelessness she'd felt when she tried calling out to him, when she had tried to reach the real Adrian, only to realize that he couldn't hear her. Rheya had snatched him away just like that and had trapped him inside his own mind. She had made him want to kill her, and he had readily obeyed. Blaire couldn't suppress the nagging thought that deep down, he wanted to hurt her and that Rheya had only given him the final push he needed to act. The thought sent a new thrill of fear through her. Surely that couldn't be true, right?

She wondered for a moment if that was how Adrian used to be before he'd escaped from Gaius. He had always been vague when talking about his early days as a vampire and never went into great detail on what exactly Gaius had made him do. Was the Adrian at the mansion the same wild and ruthless Adrian that had once followed his master's every command without question? Had she caught a glimpse of the Warrior Prince? The Butcher of Antietam? Had Rheya managed to bring his inner darkness to the surface again?

Blaire shuddered at the thought. She hated thinking that way about him. He'd been nothing but kind, patient, and caring since the day they'd met, and she knew that he'd changed his ways. Rationally, she knew he would never purposely hurt her, and that it had just been Rheya working through him, but she couldn't help the fear she felt towards him now. Towards all of them.

Part of her wanted nothing more than for Adrian to hold her close like he always did, and tell her that everything would be okay. But the other half feared his touch, terrified that his hands would find her throat again and attempt to kill her once more.

Blaire wrapped her arms around herself as silent sobs wracked her body. Rheya had toyed with her mind so much that she no longer trusted her friends, and no longer trusted her own judgment. She thought back to the visions she'd had just a few days earlier, of New York in ruins once again, of those awful creatures on an unknown island, and of her unleashing her powers and massacring dozens of innocent humans. Was this the moment she began sinking into the darkness that Serafine had seen in her? Was Adrian's attempt to kill her the catalyst for the future she'd seen? Blaire didn't know, and that was terrifying.

Never had she felt so alone before.

Never had she felt so broken.

_______________

If there was one thing Adrian hated most in the world, it was hearing Blaire cry. He hated seeing her so upset and not being able to do anything about it. Especially when he was part of the reason for her tears. He wanted so badly to go and comfort her and tell her how sorry he was for hurting her, but he knew it wasn't wise to approach her right now. She'd been through enough already for one night.

He and the others sat quietly near the front of the plane. Neither of them had spoken since Blaire had retreated to the rear of the jet over an hour ago. They knew they needed to give her some space, but watching her walk away from them had stung each of them quite a bit. None of them had voiced it aloud, but they all knew they'd lost Blaire's trust and that it was going to be difficult to regain it. And it was all because Rheya had decided to use them as pawns in her warped quest for power. Adrian clenched his fists in anger. Rheya would pay for what she'd done. He would make sure of that.

"Damn it!" Jax's voice cut through his thoughts. Adrian glanced up to see him glaring at the wall, his hands gripping his katana tightly. "God, I hate hearing her cry. Especially when we're the reason she's so upset."

"I know," Lily said dejectedly. "I want to give her a hug so bad, but...."

"But we should leave her alone for now," Kamilah said. "She's vulnerable right now, and forcing her to talk will only make things worse."

"I just hate that Rheya was able to get inside our heads like that," Jax said. "The way she was able to control what we thought and forced us to turn on Blaire like that." He shook his head. "I never want to experience that again."

Adrian silently agreed with him. The way Rheya had corrupted his thoughts and made him want to kill Blaire was nothing short of terrifying. His mind had been filled with an overwhelming desire to hurt her in the most painful way possible. He had wanted to have her blood on his hands. It made him sick knowing how close he'd come to killing the woman he loved. He couldn't blame Blaire for not wanting to be anywhere near him.

Her petrified face appeared in his mind again, making him wince. He'd been aware of what he was doing the entire time, but Rheya had been in control of his body, whispering in his mind and making him relish the thought killing Blaire with his own hands. It was almost like what had happened with his serum. A force more powerful than him had taken over his mind and forced him to kill. But what Rheya had done to him felt so much worse. She had violated him and completely changed who he was with amazing ease. She had turned him into a monster, the one thing he'd fought so hard not to become.

And once again, it had been up to Blaire to save them. None of them had expected her powers to manifest in the way they had. The blast of psychic energy had expelled Rheya's presence from his mind and had instantly made him feel like himself again. It almost felt like he had been cleansed of Rheya's evil, and honestly, Adrian felt lighter than he had in a long time. He glanced over at Blaire. If she could break Rheya's mind control that easily, then just how powerful was she? And how much stronger would she be after training with Kano?

A hand on his shoulder drew him away from his brooding. Kamilah was frowning at him with concerned eyes, and he realized she'd spoken to him and he hadn't heard.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, are you alright? You haven't said a word."

Adrian sighed and ran a hand down his face. "No, Kamilah, I'm not alright." He glared down at his hands. "I almost killed her."

"That wasn't you back there, Adrian. That was Rheya," Kamilah said sternly. "She took control of us and used us as weapons."

"That doesn't matter," he countered. "It was still my hands around her neck. It was my face she was looking at."

"But Blaire knows it was Rheya pulling the strings. She knows you would never hurt her on purpose. None of us would."

He sighed again. "Knowing that doesn't change the fact that she's afraid of us now. That she's afraid of me. We've lost her trust, Kamilah."

Kamilah was silent. She knew he was right, but didn't want to admit it. If Blaire didn't trust them to stand by her, to help her unlock and control her powers, then defeating Rheya would be impossible. Maybe that's what the First had intended from the beginning. To cause a rift between them so that Blaire wouldn't be strong enough to oppose her rule.

A long moment of silence settled between them, and Adrian finally noticed that Lily and Jax had moved off to one side of the plane to sleep. He suddenly became aware of how tired he felt after running from Rheya's mansion and then being thrown into a random fight with Gaius, who'd somehow returned from the dead. Was it really too much to ask for a break every now and then? Apparently, the answer was yes.

He looked back at Blaire again. She was still slumped against the window, but her crying had stopped. Adrian wanted to sit with her, but he wasn't sure where he stood with her now. He didn't want to risk pushing her away any further, but he wanted to help her through everything that had happened. If she would let him, that is.

Kamilah followed his gaze and nudged his arm. "Go talk to her. She might be more receptive now that she's had some time to think. Just don't push her too far."

Adrian nodded wordlessly. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He made his way to the back of the plane sat in the chair opposite her. He couldn't bring himself to meet Blaire's eyes, though; the shame was too much.

"Hi," she said without turning to him. Her voice was unusually flat and emotionless, a complete contrast to her usual bubbly personality.

"Hi," Adrian replied, forcing a smile. "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm fine." She said with a glance at him, but Adrian could tell she was shaken by Rheya's betrayal and Gaius's unexpected return. He sighed.

"Blaire..." His voice caught in his throat. "I am so sorry I hurt you."

"It's okay, Adrian. I know it wasn't you."

Adrian frowned. It wasn't okay. In fact, it was the farthest thing from okay. Rheya had manipulated him in such a way that killing Blaire been the only thing he wanted at that moment, and he hadn't fought against her. He'd obeyed like a mindless puppet, and to him, that made him just as guilty as Rheya.

"I nearly killed you," he whispered, his emotions threatening to spill over.

Blaire finally turned to look at him. Her eyes were wary, but he could also see a hint of longing in them as if she wanted to be near him, but her instincts told her to stay away. He was proven right when he cautiously reached for her hand, and she visibly flinched away from him. He quickly pulled his hand back and tried to ignore the hurt welling up in his chest. He had no right to feel that way after what he'd done.

"I...I'm sorry, I just..." She stammered.

Adrian shook his head. "It's okay. I understand."

She relaxed slightly, but her eyes never left him. He shifted uncomfortably before meeting her gaze again.

"We're here for you, Blaire. We'll help you however we can." He paused. "And I'll do anything to keep you safe. I know the last time I said that the exact opposite happened, but I mean it this time."

"I know that, Adrian," she said. "It's just...the way she turned you guys against me like that...it was scary. And if I hadn't tapped into my powers when I did..."

She trailed off, and Adrian felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He didn't want to think about what could have happened.

"I just need some time, okay?"

Adrian nodded. "That's fine. Take all the time you need." He looked into her eyes. "Just don't lock us out, okay? We really do care about you."

She nodded silently, and he returned to the front of the plane. He slumped into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. He hated the disconnect he'd felt between him and Blaire. They'd been through so much together over the last year, and Rheya had destroyed it all in one night. She'd severed the relationship he and Blaire had worked hard to build, and now it was at risk of never being repaired. All because she was power-hungry.

Adrian sighed and finally closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly. He didn't want to think about tonight's events anymore. He didn't want to think about what he'd lost.

He didn't want to think about what had been broken.

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Intruder

Soundwave/Brainstorm thing... Yeah!

Content: gun, rough sex, sex with ex, together again, jealousy

Alarms are blaring overhead and comms are short-range only. Someone had breached the ship. Brainstorm had been working in his lab when the lights had shut down and the emergency lights along the walkway flickered on then the rhythmic blares of infiltration alarms started echoing through the halls. Brainstorm had started wandering the halls a while ago when the pressure of waiting alone in his lab had been too much but not without grabbing a gun, locking up the rest of his weapons, and securely locking the door behind him. The alarms fade to the background, echoing off in the distance as he steps slowly, cautiously down the hall looking for any friendly face. His steps fill the hallway, the sound hammering in his audials and ramping the whirring of his spark. Trying door after door, he finds them firmly locked, even to his emergency access codes that he tries over and over until he gives in to just wandering the halls. Then he notices that only some of the blast doors have been lowered and as he tracks his path and backtracks in his mind, he realizes that he’s being lead down a beeline path to a part of the residential block. This part had remained completely unoccupied, leaving it a complete ghost town.

Without anywhere else to turn, Brainstorm walks forward along the path until he reaches a corridor that leads to a dead-end. The panels next to the doors along the path all glare red, mingling with the low-red emergency lights. At the very end of the hall, a solitary panel glows bright green, piercing through the haze of red. He can’t hear the alarms now, leaving the entire corridor silent so he can hear his inner mechanisms whir quickly with the panic rising in his spark. Brainstorm raises the gun with him up in a firmer grasp and looks behind him occasionally, trying to keep his optics everywhere at once. Then, he finally reaches the door and with a deep vent and his gun pointed in, he initiates the opening sequence and the door wooshes out of his way to reveal a dim, undecorated room. The room glows the same eerie red as the rest of the ship, casting long shadows against the walls, the light bouncing off the standard berth and console. Brainstorm steps in carefully and the door slides shut behind him. He moves in slowly, and his hands tighten on his gun, making it to the very center of the room.

“Hello, Brainstorm,” a voice comes up from behind him, making Brainstorm whip around to face Soundwave leaning casually against the wall without his facemask.

Brainstorm would hate to admit it to anyone but he freezes, the energon in his fuel lines turns to ice and his frame feels stiff. Soundwave pushes himself off the wall and walks right up to Brainstorm, standing point-blank in front of Brainstorm’s gun looking completely unconcerned.

“It’s good to see you,” Soundwave tilts his head, appraising Brainstorm’s tense form and reaches a hand up, making Brainstorm flinch but all he does is remove his visor so Brainstorm has to gaze into those treacherous blue optics of his.

“Why are you here?” Brainstorm hisses and takes half a step back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Soundwave smirks, his optics becoming lidded, “I came to see you.”

Brainstorm shakes, with what, he doesn’t know, “But why all of this? Couldn’t you have just come on board? We’re at peace… You could have just talked to the captains. You could have just come on board. You didn’t need to do this. You could have-you could have…”

Soundwave makes a face, his icy-blue optics going sharp and steps back up to Brainstorm, “I don’t currently have the spark to face Megatron again and Rodimus is tedious to speak to at best. I find him to be… far too loud a presence.”

Brainstorm grits his denta, his hands are shaking too much as anger flares in his spark, “Why are you here? Really, why are you here?”

Soundwave looks at him for a moment then sighs, “I heard you failed… Well, your time machine worked but you didn’t bring him back.”

“What does that matter?” Brainstorm snaps and raises the gun ever so slightly.

“I wanted to know why,” Soundwave’s voice turns almost desperate as he leans in, pressing his chest against the barrel of the gun, “What happened? Why did you fail?”

“I should just shoot you now,” Brainstorm tries to sound intimidating but his words come out sounding more like a sob.

Soundwave runs a hand up Brainstorm’s arm, stopping at his hands to grip them and turns the gun up to press against the underside of his chin then presses close to Brainstorm, their faces just inches apart. Brainstorm can feel Soundwave’s hot vents against his lips and his hands begin shaking again on the gun.

“If you’re going to shoot me, then do so now,” Soundwave whispers, one hand coming up to remove Brainstorm’s facemask, leaving him completely exposed, “but I won’t leave without an answer. Why didn’t you save him?”

Brainstorm gasps in a vent, his optics locked firmly on his gun, his voice coming out in a trembling confession, “I tried to end the war… I planned on killing Megatron and then the war wouldn’t happen. Quark would be safe, everyone would be safe and so much death wouldn’t happen… Instead of destroying Megatron… I made him.”

“Then I’m glad you failed,” Soundwave’s voice wavers with an intensity Brainstorm’s never heard before, his hand resting against Brainstorm’s cheek with his thumb stroking the pliant plating tenderly.

“Of course, you’d be happy,” Brainstorm growls it out, his voice pitched high with hurt.

“Yes,” Soundwave doesn’t even hesitate to agree, “For I still believe the war to have been necessary, whatever scars we may bear. If it weren’t for the war… I would have never been able to hold you in my arms.”

“How can you say that,” Brainstorm doesn’t hold back the sobs in his intake now, “He died because of me, they all did. I failed… It’s my fault he’s dead…”

Soundwave’s optics grow bright with rage, “Quark was never worthy of you.”

“And you are?” Brainstorm accuses, flexing his hands on the gun.

Soundwave presses in close, touching his forehelm to Brainstorms and whispers, “I try to be. Quark never saw you as anything more than a construct. You were just an assistant, a ward and yet you almost gave up your entire existence for him. You needn’t go to such lengths for a mech that would never see you that way.”

“Shut up!” Brainstorm shuts his optics tight, the words ringing in his audials.

“Brainstorm,” Soundwave whispers softly and Brainstorm looks back on him, “All you ever have to do is ask and I’m yours.”

Brainstorm’s hands flex on the gun awkwardly, his confidence ebbing rapidly. Seeing this, Soundwave rests his hand on the gun and tugs it gently from Brainstorm’s grasp and it goes easily. Soundwave takes one of Brainstorm’s hands and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it, closing his optics as he does so then simply holds it against his face. His optics open to land on Brainstorm once more, lidded heavily and so full of emotions Brainstorm’s not sure he wants to be there.

Brainstorm tries to say something, half-words forming on his glossa but nothing coherent comes out. It doesn’t help when Soundwave starts moving his face even closer until his lips just brush Brainstorm’s, making his processor go blank. Soundwave deepens the kiss ever so slightly, warm lips pressing against Brainstorm’s own, locking perfectly with practiced ease after so many trysts that have long since passed but he remembers. Flashes of memory course through Brainstorm’s mind of dark corridors and officer’s quarters where Soundwave would lay into him and render him a thoughtless mess. Soundwave mouths softly at his lips, pressing no further, patient as he has always been, the heat of it sending Brainstorm reeling. A moan escapes Brainstorm’s intake, guilt clouding his spark.

Brainstorm wrap his arms around Soundwave to hold the back of his helm, pulling him in closer so he can deepen the kiss. Shame and guilt all but forgot, he runs his glossa over Soundwave’s lips before pushing further as Soundwave gasps, locking his lips fully with his. He tastes the familiar zinc and copper on top of the taste of Soundwave’s glossa, the savory sensation lingers on Brainstorm’s own glossa while feeling Soundwave’s soft vents in his mouth, warming him to his core. Without thinking, he finds himself falling into the motions. Pressing himself fully against Soundwave, he feels the familiar thrum of Soundwave’s motors against him, their quiet hum so much weaker than the average engine but all the more soothing because of it. Soundwave pulls away and Brainstorm can’t help chasing after him, longing for the feeling of Soundwave’s lips against his now.

“I love you,” Soundwave confesses, holding Brainstorm close as his optics flicker with obvious emotion, a vulnerability Brainstorm had never seen before crossing his features, “Whatever happens, whatever you say, whatever you feel, I need you to know I love you. I love you so much.”

Sounwave pulls Brainstorm close, holding his helm tightly against his own, surrounding Brainstorm in warmth. Brainstorm gives in to the ache in his spark and tucks himself tightly against Soundwave, pushing his face into Soundwave’s neck. Sobs threaten to break from his intake again but he manages to swallow them down, venting shakily against Soundwave’s neck cables. Soundwave shudders beneath him, visibly affected by Brainstorm’s presence.

“Make me forget him,” Brainstorm practically begs and Soundwave freezes before moving quickly to kiss him again.

Soundwave lifts him up with that hidden strength of his and Brainstorm wraps his legs around Soundwave’s hips as he’s carried to the berth and laid down gently onto it. Brainstorm gazes up at Soundwave looming over him, the dim, red light warping the color and shape of his frame into something darker, something far more sinister and a little voice in the back of Brainstorm’s mind tells him he really, really wants this. As Soundwave kisses him again, excitement trails over Brainstorm’s frame like an electric shock right to his array. His digits dig shallow gouges over the plates on Soundwave’s back making him shiver and moan right into Brainstorm’s mouth and he begins grinding against Brainstorm’s panel. Impatient with the want to feel everything, Brainstorm transforms his panels away so he can feel Soundwave grinding right up against him, his spike cover rubbing roughly over his node. Soundwave groans and tucks his head in to bite at Brainstorm’s neck cables as Brainstorm’s warm lubricant spreads over his spike cover. Brainstorm finds himself smiling wide with the mix of pain and pleasure lighting up his sensornet and bows his back up into Soundwave, craving more.

Soundwave pressurizes his spike and rubs it through Brainstorm’s wet valve lips and over his node making him gasp. He grips Brainstorm’s hips tightly, digging the tips of his digits into seams sending sharp pricks of sensation through Brainstorm that makes his legs spasm in and makes him moan low in his chest. Soundwave tilts his hips up so he can press the tip of his spike to Brainstorm’s entrance and thrusts shallowly, giving Brainstorm time to adjust. Brainstorm tries to push himself on further but is prevented by Soundwave’s strong grip that digs in further, sending Brainstorm onto his back with a gasp as stars appear behind his optics. Slowly, Soundwave presses in further, bit by bit while all Brainstorm can do is writhe and moan. Soundwave soothes the tense and abused plating with his fingertips as he continues to thrust slow and shallow, working the nodes just at Brainstorm’s entrance. When Soundwave finally slams his hips home, hilting himself fully into Brainstorm, Brainstorm sits up fully to grasp at Soundwave’s shoulders as cascades of charge lick up through all the way to his spark. Soundwave kisses him and runs his hands up Brainstorm’s sides then grips his wings, squeezing tightly as he pushes Brainstorm roughly back onto his back. Brainstorm actually laughs, a strange kind of relief and joy flooding his spark and Soundwave smiles down at him.

Soundwave rests his forehelm against Brainstorm’s and begins to thrust into him and sighs, “I love you.”

Brainstorm gasps at the feeling of Soundwave’s spike pushing deep into him and holds on tightly to Soundwave’s shoulders as he rides out wave after wave of pleasure sparked from every cluster of nodes Soundwave’s spike so much as brushes against. His words echo through Brainstorm’s processor as he kisses Soundwave again and feels his chestplates ping him to open but he clamps down the feeling. The kiss breaks and Soundwave is looking down at him with those startling blue optics of his so sweetly as that spike of his continues to stretch Brainstorm in the best way. Brainstorm’s world turns blue as overload sneaks up on him, rocking him to his core as light and sound distort and he’s sure his optics are sparking. He feels something hot fill him through the overwhelming sensations that send his hips into spasms and as he calms down and Soundwave’s spike depressurizes out of him, he registers it as Soundwave’s transfluid as it spills out of him. Soundwave kisses him quickly and lifts him up so Brainstorm is sitting in his lap, uncaring of the mess between them. Brainstorm’s face grows hot as Soundwave presses his face into Brainstorm’s chest, venting in deeply with a soft smile on his face. Feeling warm and content, Brainstorm gives in to the treatment, cuddling in close to Soundwave. Some time passes as they just sit and rest there then Brainstorm pulls away just enough to cup Soundwave’s face in his hands and Soundwave blinks slowly at him, a soft smile on his face.

A hot jolt courses through Brainstorm’s spark and words come tumbling out of his intake, “I love you too. At-at least I think I do. I want to try though. That’s the important thing.”

Soundwave just tugs him down and kisses him in answers, hiss glossa running over every part of Brainstorm’s mouth he can reach. Brainstorm sighs into the kiss and lets himself get carried away by Soundwave’s affections, practically sinking into the other mech. At some point, Soundwave winds up on his back and Brainstorm flutters his wings languidly as Soundwave’s hands run lightly over his body, claiming every part of him as his.

“Brainstorm! Are you o-oh, okay,” Rodimus cries out startling Brainstorm out of the kiss and up enough to face his captain.

Rodimus and Brainstorm stare at each other, each pair of optics blown wide in shock. Brainstorm opens his mouth to explain but the words stick in his intake. Rodimus’s optics flicker down briefly at Soundwave before returning to Brainstorm. Then, he turns and leaves.

“Okay,” Rodimus says flatly as he walks away.

Then to Brainstorm’s horror, a confused looking Megatron comes to the door next only to stop there, his face unreadable as he looks at his former third-in-command currently pinned beneath Brainstorm.

“Ah, hello, Megatron,” Soundwave says, calm as can be like he wasn’t just caught fragging one of the ship’s scientists, “I’m glad to have run into you. I was hoping to request to join your crew.”

Megatron pinches his nasal ridge and closes his optics as he takes a deep vent and pushes it out.

“Welcome aboard, Soundwave,” Megatron says, surprisingly calm, “I’m sure you won’t need help finding quarters as Brainstorm can easily aid you with that.”

“Thank you,” Soundwave responds and Megatron lets the door fall shut without another word.

Brainstorm gapes down at Soundwave who pulls him down for another kiss but Brainstorm stops him.

“What the hell?” Brainstorm whispers.

Soundwave shrugs, “I’m not fond of long-distance relationships.”

“You say that like it explains everything,” Brainstorm scowls down at Soundwave who smirks back up at him.

“Well,” Soundwave pulls Brainstorm fully to him, “I have all the time I need to explain everything now then, don’t I?”

Brainstorm sighs and curls into Soundwave, too tired to argue and certainly not ready to walk out and face the questions his crew undoubtedly had for him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Brainstorm murmurs.

“I am,” Soundwave says a little too sincerely for it to be a joke, “I am very lucky.”

[fallen029]

Gone

He was gone a lot.

Not in a, "Oh, he clearly doesn't want to be here," kind of way, but more in a, "He's an S-Class wizard and people constantly are needing and relying on him," kind of way. Laxus was a well-known mage which meant a high price point to go along with such notoriety, and that made it even harder to walk away from things. Help save a village in the way only you could? Or stay home? Say no to enough jewels to completely pay off that new motorcycle? How can you deny people? Or the jewels?

It was just how it had to be.

It was the way it always was, when your parent was a mage.

Laxus could remember being a young boy, sitting around, waiting for his mother and father to come home. Sitting all day in the guildhall, annoying the fuck out of everyone around, worried about when his parents would return. And though at times he felt a slight resentment over such things, there was always nothing more than he wanted than to be the person someone was waiting around for.

He got a taste of it, in the first few years of his marriage.

Mirajane didn't travel often, instead staying around the bustling hall, where she spent her time assisting the ailing Makarov in what seemed to be his final years. She seemed happiest there, among all their friends, and though at times both the slayer and the demon discussed what it would be like, if she took some time off, and traveled around with him, perhaps even as the S-Class wizard she once was, assisting on jobs, nothing ever really came of it.

And then, in their fourth year of marriage, the idea was shelved indefinitely as they both decided it was finally time to start trying for a baby.

It was a very big step and had been discussed to death, but it was definitely one in the right direction. For sure. Laxus wasn't so sure that he was completely ready to be a father, but he knew for certain his demon would be the best mother to ever exist and that she'd pick up where he stumbled.

He figured he'd stumble a lot.

Freed told him once that he was a reserved person these days and Laxus felt like that was a rather accurate description. Something changed in him, all those years ago, during his excommunication. Though that was now a distant memory, a lot of the self-discovery that came to him in those months stuck with him all these years later. He used to be a rather brash and reactive person, but that had faded as his twenties did as well and now, a man in his thirties with a wife and child, he found it much better to be an outside observe than an active participant in much of went on.

He was quiet now. In a lot of situations where he'd be the first to pop off. It didn't mean that the same energy, the same power, the same drive wasn't still residing in his core, but it did mean he knew when to best unveil it.

When he and Mirajane first started getting serious, he could remember one time in particular where they were hanging around in the apartment he had at the time, mostly just spending time together following a rather long job he'd been out on, when she suddenly just looked at him. Really looked at him. They were seated on his couch, him glancing over a section in the paper while she was watching a movie on his lacrima, but suddenly he felt her eyes and, when he turned to meet them, the woman only smiled.

Upon his questioning though, the demon merely smiled at him, reached a hand up, and took his chin between her thumb and forefinger. Then, in complete sincerity, with her piercing blue eyes captivating his dark own, she told him simply that she could see it in him, all of it, swirling there beneath the surface, and she was really glad he chose to share it with her.

He couldn't remember, so many years having gone by, what it was that prompted this or what idle thing they were discussing while each doing their own activity, but he could remember the way it made him feel. Loved. Not the kind that he felt, all those years ago from his mother or currently from his grandfather. Or the veneration and respect he garnered from the Thunder Legion.

No.

It was different, when it came from someone you were in a relationship. When you were falling for someone. When you'd fallen, already, and were down, but blinking up at them, it felt like, and they were staring right back down at you, with that same dopey look in their eyes.

But when she released his chin, Laxus only turned his head back to his paper, saying nothing as Mirajane went back to her movie, and he didn't have a lot of words. These days. Now that his cutting remarks and jarring jabs were taking from him. He felt at a loss, a lot of times, for what he was supposed to do or say, as if these emotions he had in the current age, separate from the aggressive, hate-filled ones of the past, just weren't as simple to navigate.

He felt that a lot, now, honestly.

All the feelings that went along with this stage of life got tangled up rather frequently. Especially when it came to his daughter.

That first time he held her, he knew he felt all of the things you were supposed to feel. That joy and relief. Maybe not the connection, just yet, that Mirajane seemed to have right off the bat, that made her get up much easier in the dead of night and not grow as annoyed so easily when the baby was a bit too fussy.

It came with time though.

The first time he really felt it was a month or so, after she was born, when he was trying to let the demon have a complete nights rest for the first time, since, oh, a month or so, and he was up rocking the whiny baby back to sleep. She wasn't hungry or wet. Didn't feel too cold or warm. Nope. Wasn't sick. Just wasn't happy. Wasn't content.

Laxus felt that.

As he sat there though, in the rocking chair, he just kept staring down at her, watching as the baby slowly settled in his arms, comforted fully by him, wanting him.

She knew him and wanted him and it would suck, he knew, he always knew, the first time he had to go away for a very long time.

He took some small jobs, after the baby was born, just so they'd always have a steady stream of income, but eventually a big, lengthy job came up that he couldn't rightly refuse. The travel to get there alone, though, would be a week and he was just freaked a little. Maybe.

Even while being married to Mirajane, he found that he liked long jobs. Time away. People needed space. Everyone wanted to be missed. While his wife might not always seem it, he knew she was much like him deep down; they functioned best when they had a few moments to themselves. To be alone. Think things over.

Plus, there was nothing quite like it. Coming home to the demon. She'd cook him a big meal when he'd been away a long time, shower him with adoration upon his return, and, of course, well, nothing quite beat the first night back in town.

But Mirajane, obviously, was a fully grown person who could understand what it meant, when something went away. That it would return. And, of course, his biggest fear, what it was when it returned.

He was worried his baby would forget about him.

The job was projected to take a month and, given she'd only been alive for about ten of those by that point, he couldn't imagine her memory was that great.

Mira offered to transform into him, so he'd still be around, but Laxus feared that would warp the child even further and besides; this was going to be their life. He was going to go away sometimes. For long stretches of time.

She had to learn to get used to it.

Still, as he packed his bag, he let her lay up on the bed, where she could watch the process while chewing on some of her toys (yeah, she was mostly concerned about the toys). When he came to nuzzle his head against her similar blonde locks, the baby mewled at him and he could hear Mirajane giggling at the sight, but he didn't care.

He was going to miss his baby.

But fuck, how was it that he slept better camping out than in the house with a not quite one year old? Sheesh, he'd take chirping crickets over those still sporadic full night sleeps. Those first few ones, at least. Eventually he found he missed not only the demon's warmth, like he always did, but how he'd get up each night, for a glass of water, and go to peek in on his daughter. Waking up to Mirajane laying her on the bed, where she could play with her toys as her mother got ready for work and Laxus laid there, wishing for more sleep, but giving in and waving her little soft toys in her face.

It wasn't just the baby that was going to have to get used to how things were going to be.

Still, he did have a job to do and Laxus was a good as shit mage. He always had been. He prided himself on it.

But he didn't stay around to celebrate or hit up any bars on the way home. No. Just used his Lightning Body Magic the length it would take him and even risked train travel, just to get home as quickly as possible.

He knew the demon's schedule well-enough that he was certain she would be home, rather than working (in which case he'd have to track down just who was babysitting that day), so he skipped out on the hall all together and headed straight home.

The demon was very busy with laundry when he walked into the living room, her seated on the couch, folding it, while her younger sister, Lisanna, seemed to be over, visiting with the baby. She was sitting on the floor with her, helping the steady her niece as she practiced standing.

She was getting quite good at it.

Before Laxus left, she'd finally seemed to master doing so without falling immediately down on her butt and it had felt like a very big accomplishment. Now though, as he opened the door, he heard Mirajane coaxing her, from over where she sat on the coach nearby, only halfheartedly, not quite having faith in the little girl's first steps. Which would make sense, given they'd been trying for a few days now and though she could fake enthusiasm like the best of 'em, well...maybe Mirajane kind of missed her dragon too.

But he was there then, in what felt rather sudden, and Mirajane was quickly jumping up to greet him and that was great, he accepted her hug and kisses with ease, but just as quickly, Laxus' eyes were on his daughter.

Lisanna had been in the middle of standing her up, in hopes of once more ushering her into her first steps, but then Laxus walked in and it seemed to confuse the baby for a moment, who just stood there now, way more steady on her feet, wow, he was super impressed, but just standing there, watching her mother embrace the man. As Mirajane laughed though, at her own reaction, and took a step back, Laxus only took one towards his daughter and, surprisingly to him, when he held out his hands, she took her own towards him.

She was going to fall on her face though, with the second step, but he'd never let that happen, tough love was for the birds, and he rushed then to grab her, lifting her up, tossing her, really, and he found himself laughing when she giggled. When she was safe in his arms then, he nuzzled his golden hair against her much softer and, though he knew it was crazy, he swore she nuzzled back.

The moment wasn't shattered though, when Laxus felt the stares and bemused grins of both his wife and her sister as, instead of collecting himself, he only said, "What? A man can't love his baby now?" before pressing a kiss to the child's cheek.

And he'd be gone a lot. Sometimes way longer than he had been that time.

But he'd always come back. And he was sure, as he grinned openly down at his daughter in those moments, that he'd always have someone waiting on him.

[narwulf]

Goodbye Missy (a Doctor Who Short Story)

Missy lay in the void. She could feel herself slowly fading away as her breathless body lay silent amongst the dying foliage of the forest by the elevator. Funny how things had turned out. All this time she had been running towards oblivion, running towards a never ending drumbeat and yet the moment she finally turned around to join her best friend, to do the right thing for once and perhaps to acknowledge that there might be some good in herself, it was then that her past threw her into the darkness. She was his end and he ended her. So funny. She wondered what would be next. 

Would he miss her? 

“Mind you, “ Missy thought to herself. “Not sure there is much chance of him getting out of this one alive. He’s dying and I’m not sure he wants to keep living anymore. A Timelord only lives if they choose to”.

Missy wondered why death was taking so long. It wasn’t as if she had enough energy to even begin to regenerate from the damage she had taken…. or perhaps the damage she had caused. She supposed that the two of them, being she and the Doctor, perhaps could never be the same; perhaps they were never equals. He had always acted as if he was special, acted as if he was some mystical adventurer who wanted to see and love everything and take anyone he could along for the ride. She supposed that was what his so-called ‘companions’ were for, or was it ‘friends’? She’d never had much experience of those. Thinking about it he was the only true friend she had ever really had, someone who had been there all this time. All she had ever wanted was for someone to notice her, to see her as someone greater, to see her as an equal and to be equal to her. She supposed that was why she had always wanted to win. To show that she could be just as good as him and just as special; and recognised for that. She guessed that maybe she never could win and that was why she was always running to oblivion; and he was always running away, but from what?

Suddenly she felt warm? How peculiar, this wasn’t how she imagined death. Wait, this wasn’t just warmth, it was energy. Maybe she could use it? Missy summoned what strength she had left and her form began to glow with a soft golden hum. Her chapter may be over but she wasn’t going to let the story end here, not now. She felt a tingling sensation all over as energy flowed through her cold veins. She had loved being Missy just as much as she loved her last incarnation but it was time to go.

Goodbye Missy.

All at once everything burned in an unintelligible, ear-splitting scream of light. The flames still rolled above and cybermen disintegrated as a new form blazed into existence. At last the smoke lifted to reveal the charred remains of the ash choked woods and the fizzing start of a newly regenerated Timelord. She, wait no he, staggered as he pulled himself up by the flaking branch of the tree he had held moments ago as his former self had shot her. What now? Who was he? Where was he? Oh wait, the Doctor. Where would he be? The Master knew that he couldn’t stay on that ship, although at that point he was unsure of who exactly he was. If the Doctor was still alive he would have to make an escape now. There would be no time for himself to find the Doctor. He needed to get back to his Tardis, too bad he couldn’t hitch a ride with his past self. A thought buzzed into the Master’s aching mind, still pulsating with energy. A ship like this likely didn’t have usable escape pods, otherwise they would have already been put to use, and then there was the black hole to factor into the equation. Wait… maybe? Perhaps, if he could make it down there, the Loading bay might have a supplies vessel he could take out to get some distance from the black hole so he could summon his tardis???? It would be a long shot considering the gravitational forces involved but it would be the only way to get anywhere near far enough away from the black hole to even begin to pilot his tardis with some accuracy, considering the warping effect the black hole would have on the artron stores if he tried to summon it from the Mondasian ship. He checked his boot, the layered fabric of the dress felt a bit bizarre now; not really his style anymore although the colour of the fabric was nice so perhaps he could reuse it to make a new coat? Ah there it was. He pulled out a small silver key from the heel of his shoe. Time for another escape act, something that had become a speciality of his over the millenia.

The plan, despite inevitably unforeseen obstacles, worked.  Now what? The Master's mind drifted back to the fate of the Doctor. He surmised the easiest way to find out what had happened to the Doctor would be a trip to the Matrix. There an answer was sure to be held. He released the hand brake and flicked the dematerialisation switches. Time to go home.

Eventually the Master reached Gallifrey and the chamber of the Matrix. It hadn’t been hard to make his way through the maze of corridors encapsulated in the Prydonian Chapter house and past the Chancellery guard to reach it, after all no one recognised this face. It wasn’t hard for him to hack into the Matrix either, it was a game. A brief search told him that the Doctor was alive and not only that but a woman now.

“Well, about time” he supposed.

The Master dug deeper, wondering how he should make his next big entrance; afterall he had never been one to say a simple hello. He laughed at the Doctor's misadventures, of which there had been many, and the reactions to previous greetings. He was lost in a sea of memories and was diving ever deeper until he stopped. Something was wrong, he’d reached the point that should have marked the start of the Doctor’s timeline but there was something wavering just beyond it. He ran his fingers along the console interface, whatever it was was strongly encapsulated in Psychic encryption. 

The world melted away as the Master broke down the data’s defences until at last, images of what appeared to be early to mid 20th century Ireland glitched into existence. The images, on their own, seemed nothing out of the ordinary but where did they fit into the puzzle? They could have come from anywhere but there had to be a reason for them to be here. As a character, Brendan just seemed to be another boring, little human, holding no connection to the Doctor par for a... police facade.  Who would be so paranoid as to conceal information in this manner? Again the Master skimmed his hands over the Console Interface, breaking down the encrypted battlements and wiping away the mask. He was at last faced with new images, of which he recognised. He drove through the remnants of history and the roots of lies. They had betrayed them all. His insides felt heavy and nauseous. What had they done to her and why had they lied? It was no wonder that he had always betrayed the Doctor, it seemed to be the only thing his species was good at. There was nothing noble about the creation of the Timelords; regeneration was a stolen gift. Of course she always acted if she was special, it was sickening. 

Once again the Master was blinded by hurt to any beauty present in the Universe. He desperately tried to uncover the rest. He tried every method he could think of, but nothing. Vast swathes of the Matrix remained empty and curdled. The Master broke down and screamed. Why couldn’t the Doctor just be like him? Why was he always defined by her and made lesser? Why should the betrayal ever stop?

An idea flicked into the Master’s mind and burned. Everything in his mind burned and screamed as it always had and the rage felt endless. The Master had a plan. He grimaced. 

This was going to be a lot of fun.

[Thanks for reading :) Please feel free to offer constructive criticism. This story is basically an interpretation of what the Master’s timeline between S10 E13 and S12 E1 might have been. My knowledge of DW lore isn’t that great so I don’t know how well this matches up with cannon but, let’s be honest, DW cannon is a bit wibbly wobbly anyway. Thanks again and have a nice day :) ]