#narrative post

[coralcalypso]

==> What happened?

A lot of things have. Here it is presented in chronological order.

Where it began.

Spirited Away.

Caught in a fishing net.

Flashes of Memories.

See through the lies.

Make Sushi. (Self Harm and Body horror warning)

This wasn't here before.

This wasn't here before.

This wasn't here before.

The Prince was always dead.

End of Discussion.

Brief summary of events:

Sefoni has been haunted metaphorically, literally, and psychologically for a long time.

The ghosts of her pasts have manifested in different ways in order to get what they want.

Sefoni gets kidnapped her dark mirror in the form of her ghost alien husband* who wants to help her with a curse wound she sustained after the events of Story's Over.

This parallels her situation with @err508 during the Homunculux era.

Shylin in my mind was a witch of light and was capable of control of narrative perception, which I made use of through selective narrative posts and uses of specific POVs.

Before a group of people come together to rescue her and 5ollux's body, she finally relents and cuts a deal with Shylin to give 5ollux the body back.

He returned the body and remained incorporeal for a bit until his new body was done.

He existed on tumblr for a time and generally menaced around.

Eventually the gang tries to deal with him, the plans keep getting revised, stuff happens and Sefoni kills him in the alpha timeline.

Specific details not in the posts are things that I think would be more fun to discuss in character. :)

Panels by @odvunir

[onlyhalfdead]

"Freeman! I can't believe you!!"

Halfsies came downstairs, stomping his clawed feet to make his displeasure more obvious to his detached brother. Freeman was lounging on the couch, scowling at the screens in his prosthetic eyes- after all, he had just been arguing with a couple of people, and decided to end the most unpleasant when finally dared to do so.

"what."

"You! You brought me up, you argued with Ember! You blocked her!"

"yeah, i did. i don't see you unblocking her, either."

Halfsies approached the couch Freeman had been living on for years now, his large tail thumping with further displeased body language; Freeman's point, however, made Halfsies blush white in shame, as well as his current unhappiness.

"That is not the point!!"

But he did have a point. Halfsies had soft-blocked Ember ages ago, but hadn't stopped her from re-following not too long after... and now, he hadn't unblocked her, either, even though he fully had the power. Avoidance of conflict at its finest.

Halfsies's chest tightened. He flexed his clawed fists. Freeman continued lounging, scowling at the screens within his eyes, for a few moments longer, before he blinked them away and made to sit up. His scowl was pointed to Halfsies.

"So what is your point, then? That I didn't have to open old wounds by mentioning you? That I didn't have to acknowledge Ember in the first place? That I shouldn't have fucking bothered anybody with my shitty commentary?"

He loosely hugged his knees. Freeman already knew that the answer was all of these things, and also, that his twin was thoroughly humiliated by Ember's response; he would have preferred if they didn't talk to her at all unless she engaged first, and therefore didn't tread where they weren't welcome. Halfsies never wanted to step out of his comfort zone, his personal barrier of competence: if he knew where he stood and he knew his goals, he was bright and confident; if he didn't, he was overly cautious, sometimes downright too anxious about the unknowns to do anything at all. Yellow slit pupils searched Halfsies's openly expressive face.

Halfsies was now scowling. But he also looked about to cry. A frustrated growl was building in his throat.

Why did his brother have to be so aware of what was going on, but not be able to care enough to do more than argue over it? How could he thoroughly insult someone, hurt them, and not be angry or have been doing so maliciously? How was he so out of touch with the consequences of his words and actions?

"Maybe, Freeman, I WISH YOU WEREN'T SUCH AN ASSHOLE!!"

It was rare for Halfsies to yell, anymore, and Free's scowl lessened slightly.

"Maybe, you should be keeping your douchey opinions to yourself! Maybe Aitar is right, and you should not feel superior to people from media because you know their stories and fates, you should just let them live their lives as they are meant to!! We are not better than anyone, but that does not mean you have to be such a pessimistic, know-it-all, unrepentant douchebag all the time!!"

Halfsies began to pace, gesticulating with his arms for emphasis and out of a need to move.

"We were wished a happy birthday! There was cake, and well-wishes- why do you have to ruin everything that is potentially good?! Why did losing Roxy make you into such a--"

"DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING TALK ABOUT HER TO ME! DON'T!"

Freeman was standing on the cushions, now, sparking white and black, eyes blazing crimson from the excess energy.

"WHY DID YOU--" he pointed aggressively at his brother, hand close to him, "HAVE TO BECOME SUCH A PATHETIC FUCKING COWARD AFTER ESTERA LEFT? HUH?! OH, WOE IS ME, NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE ME LIKE HER AGAIN-

"GROW UP, SOLLUX! GET OVER IT!"

Halfsies tackled Freeman in a rage, toppling the couch and table.

[pushspacetocontinue]

Following a Different Tune (Narrative)

Just a post to make the splitting of Midnight Swarm official. Russell is no longer part of the band because they're all going their separate ways. But that now gives him more time for drumming/gaming steams and recorded videos at least.

The five of them on the video call sat in silence. It was almost strange to be wearing their street clothes after only really seeing in each other in their band outfits for all these years.

"I think we all know why we're here," Stacy, the vocalist only said. Her voice was sombre, "We all knew this was coming."

"And yet you couldn't be bothered to make this an actual in person meeting?" Leopold asked, adjusting the string to a guitar he was holding.

"Listen, I don't think Stacy would want to make us all go out to meet for news like this," Delilah said. It appeared that she knew what was happening.

"Oh she told you and Lucy first, did she?" Leopold rolled his eyes, "Of course she did."

"Well no," Lucy was quiet as she gave her input, "But as Stacy said, I think we all know."

"Nothing to say, Russell," Leopold asked.

"Not, not really..." Russell only said, "I, I was just gonna say, what-whatever we, we decide, I'm, I'm behind it."

"Well, that's the thing," Stacy said, "I don't think any of us are happy doing this anymore. We've started to resent this whole thing. We go through the motions. None of us actually look forward to performing anymore. Even you, Russell, you had a spark in your eyes when you first performed and now it's gone."

"Oh um, well, I..." Russell fidgeted where he sat.

"You don't have to say it," Delilah said, "You still have it in those streams you do. You still have your joy for drumming, just not with us. Just how I don't enjoy back up singing anymore."

"So you're just verbally confirming it now," Leopold confirmed, "We're done essentially. Midnight Swarm has finally committed pesticide."

"If you want to put it that way, I won't stop you," Stacy said.

"I'll be putting a video on our social medias later," Lucy added, "Just so those who did listen to us can know. They've given a lot of support and it's the least we can do."

"We-well, it's been a, a good seven years," Russell said, with a small smile, "So, so I, I have to say thank you for, for letting me be, be part of it, even, even if, if it is over."

"That's just like you, Luna Moth," Stacy said fondly, "Always trying to see the best in things."

"Well, someone has to," Delilah said, "But hey, before we, well, end things for good, how about we do one more song together, now, for old time's sake?"

For the first time in ages, a unified agreement was instantly made, and even if it was on a video call, Russell felt like it was a perfect send off for this part of his life.

[verzephobia-red]

01

The world is broken.

Fragments of things both familiar and unfamiliar tumble and shift in hypnotizing waves, stitched together into a dissonant, orderless patchwork. Houses deconstructed into slices of roof, window, and wall. Bottomless pieces of ground floating in midair. Random letters and numbers, scattered—or arranged?—in nonsensical patterns.

The cheerful background music from years past is long gone. Only silence remains. But somehow, you can't shake the feeling that this is somewhere you used to know.

"......"

In the eye of the storm stands a familiar figure, unmistakable even with their back to the screen. Red jacket, black hair, red cap pulled low over their face. The pixels collide and re-form around them, like planets orbiting an indifferent sun.

"......?"

"ⱳħꝋ'ꞩ tħeɍe?"

The figure turns. Where a face should have been, there is only a mass of dark, corrupted pixels. It seemed to be moving, swirling slowly inward like a black hole—or was that just another trick of the light?

"........."

Their intact hand moves involuntarily towards their waist, the empty space where Poke Balls used to be. The other, overtaken by the same glitched particles, tilts their hat towards the viewer's general direction in greeting.

"ⱳełl, iӻ yoᵾ'ɍe not goiꞥg to iꞥtroduce yoursełӻ, I'm not goiꞥg to ⱳait alł day."

"It'ꞩ ƀeen a łong time since I've seen someoꞥe łike that."

"I'm RED."

RED is now open to questions.

[blueeyesking]

Pegasus Returns?! Duel, Kaiba-Boy! Pt. 1

[Seto and Mokuba fly over the island Maximillion Pegasus calls home, Duelist Kingdom, in the Blue-Eyes Jet. Seto is piloting.

"I can't believe we're visiting Duelist Kingdom again," Seto mutters, with clear disdain.

"Yeah," Mokuba adds, "It's got nothing but bad memories..."

"I'll make this quick, so that we don't have to be here very long." Seto assures Mokuba. They land shortly thereafter.

The Kaibas are silent as they approach the darkened entrance hall. It's eerily empty.

"Do you think anyone even still works here...? I mean, Pegasus is supposed to be dead!" Mokuba remarks. "If it really is him, we'll put him in the ground for good this time!"

Seto nods, but doesn't verbally reply.

It's not long until they come to a large room, too high up to see its floor in the dim, with their walkway suddenly cut off with a drop into the pit. Seto has to grab Mokuba's arm to keep the younger boy from walking right off the edge, as he's preoccupied looking around the room; Mokuba's fear of that near-death experience has him clinging to Seto.

"PEGASUS! Enough fooling around; show yourself!"

On the other side of the room, across the gap, Maximillion Pegasus appears from the darkened hallway, laughing to himself. He's just as the boys remember him.

"Just as annoying as always," Seto mutters.

"Oh, Kaiba-boy, where's the love? We've been through so much together! Aren't you happy to see me, after so long~?"

Seto grimaces, mirroring Mokuba's expression beside him. The younger is the first to respond.

"Shut up, Pegasus! We're not here to catch up with a low-life like you!! My bro is here to duel you, so you leave us alone for good!"

"Ohhh~? And what have I done to earn so much ire from you, boys~?"

The Kaibas grit their teeth. Seto responds this time.

"It's a long list. But you know why we're here now: you've been buying up my company's shares like cheap candy." Seto points dramatically at Pegasus.

"Not to mention- you're the only other person who could possibly have scared the world with those monster holograms."

"Is that so~? You boys know that my little arenas aren't nearly as advanced as your Solid Vision... are you sure you aren't just blaming me to hide your own responsibility for it? Maybe you're just scared about those monsters being real, hmm~?" Pegasus chuckles to himself, raising his arms in a caricature of a shrug and shaking his head. It really pisses Seto off.

"AS IF! Everything has an explanation, and monsters being real is impossible!"

Mokuba, however, picks up on something else in Pegasus's response.

"What do you mean, our responsibility for all of this?? We already told everyone KC's instruments had nothing to do with it!"

Pegasus continues to chuckle, lowering his arms. As always, he's condescending to his opponents.

"I'll tell you if your big brother can beat me in a Duel, Mokuba-boy~. But don't forget what happened last time you dueled me... and how you lost your souls~!"

Seto growls, clenching his fist, then takes a breath to steady himself.

"I don't want to hear it- you're just reminding us of old humiliations to try and rile me up before the Duel, so that I'll make mistakes. It won't work."

"That's old news, Pegasus- like you should be!" Seto brandishes his Duel Disk, and it activates, pieces swiftly moving into its Duel-ready position.

Pegasus gives them a hearty laugh, then spreads his arms in front of him. "You're right- it's time for the rematch of the century!"]

[who-swap-au]

A Post on the Narrative and Relationships Early On/Pre Band!

Trying to find the best way for them to become a band in this, so here's a bare bones rundown (subject to change if I develop it further/better)

John and Roger go to the same posh school (Roger is pretty well off in this and isn't from a working class background), and while they're friends they aren't AS close as John and Pete were. They begin to grow a bit closer when they decide the start a band (Roger had been taking up basic guitar + singing and John taking up bass + song composing). John is quite insecure and tries not to attract much attention to himself but that's kinda hard when you tower over everyone around you.

They know someone they can ask to play drums from another school but it's Keith, and Keith is known to be not... friendly. He has a real knack for starting fights is what I'm saying. Because of his soft boyish looks he gets picked on and treated as much younger than he is and it pisses him off a bit, so he's very defensive all the time. Folks say he's crazy good at the drums though, so they keep him in the backpocket.

They quickly realize that yeah they need a drummer because the one they got from their school is lousy at best. Roger decides he's the one who needs to go because no way John is gonna convince the guy. He tries his best to talk Keith into it but he's just "yeah, OK, like I'm gonna be joining your rich kid band, get real!" because he thinks John and Rog are only doing this for kicks, and not because they want to make it big and find a good break and maybe not have to work in a factory their entire lives. So yeah he isn't thrilled to join.

HOWEVER, Roger convinces him to look into John's writing because he knows John is being sincere about wanting to make music and it isn't doing it because he's a bored rich kid with nothing better to do. Keith goes "ok fine" and is actually pretty surprised by how much John has, both in like writing, and also skills as a bass player. Like at this point there's only so much one can do with the bass but Keith sees that John plays very differently, but in a good way. So OK, he's convinced.

Roger can't carry the band on his mediocre guitar skills though, so they need someone better. They don't need to look for long though because at one their gigs, Pete is attending to it, and is going "I can play better than you, you twat!" at Rog over and over which makes his blood boil and he goes "OK you wanna do it?? Here! =throws guitar at him= Just fucking take over!" and Pete absolutely demolishes everyone in the room and that's how he joins.

[halatro]

[ Everyone who has Hal installed your phone is WHIRRING and WARM. ]

[fog-and-isolation]

"You know," Elias said when Salome entered his office the next morning. He sat behind his desk, not looking up from the papers in his hands; "for a being of all-consuming grief, you hate a lot of people."

"Save it." Salome brushed a hand through her dark hair streaked through with white as she sat in one of the two chairs opposite Elias's heavy mahogany desk.

Elias set his papers aside and gestured to Salome. "Case in point. If you'll indulge my curiosity for a moment, why do you resent me so much? You're obviously bitter about your uncle and your upbringing, and I would think that would manifest in a rebellious approval of me, given his own opinions regarding my person."

"Let's just get this over with," Salome insisted.

Elias hummed. "Very well. Now, about the..."

[graviconscientia]

>You've finished your business, did what you promised you'd do. It didn't fix you like you had hoped. Frankly, it now leaves you feeling worse. You can only hope you satisfied like you thought you did- at least one person will be happy with what you've done.

>Now, though, you feel frenetic, wild, desperate. If doing the one thing you have always been sure of- being a generous lover- cannot help you, then what can? What can?

>You hold your blouse a little closer to you, wishing you could feel sparks in the other hand, wishing you could feel something better than this. Lonely and frustrated and needing something you can't quite figure out. Pacing in your bedroom will not help. Pacing in the forest would be no better...

>A glance, to the flowers you bought, beautiful in a blue vase, a tether to this life for the moment. They should make you happy. You should look at them and think of every wonderful feeling you could have. You should be thrilled with the warmth they bring, the reminder they serve. And yet, you don't.

>The business card you received hasn't been discarded. It needs to be. A step to the desk, a lifting of the card, then a turnover once, twice... You rub it between your fingers, the violet ink refusing to smudge, and you keep thinking to toss it. But you don't. And so it lays on the desk once again, next to the vase, just as it was.

>Perhaps, if your bedroom can't help, if the forest won't help, you'll try the ocean. As you grab a jacket and head out the main door, your good hand leaving the handle, you idly wonder if you'll find the man whose name is on the card there. You wonder, too, if you should want that.

[manorpunk]

(part three)

Tucked away in a sleepy corner of central Michigan, an abandoned mall had been transformed into the town of Webersberg. The crumbling ceiling above the concourses had been stripped, making a cluster of closely-packed buildings, and the expansive walkways exposed to the elements were now lined with trees and raised gardens. The empty boutiques had been repurposed into dormitories, offices, a clinic, a school, and a few simple stores. There was something humbling about it, like a medieval village sheltered beneath the ruins of a Roman basilica. One might wonder if the mall was happier now in its new incarnation, if it preferred to be filled with life rather than than gold.

Liam did not wonder. He lived there, and he found it stultifying. He hated living in a fishbowl, always going to the same places with the same people, few of whom cared to give him the time of day. He hated knowing that there was a whole world out there and he was stuck out in the manors[1]. He hated the maudlin isolation of being the only queer kid who hadn’t gotten the hell out of Webersberg, and most of all he hated knowing that he could get out too if he wasn’t a coward.

He had this conversation with himself every morning, and he knew that if he stayed in bed he’d just keep moping. He got up from his creaky mattress and turned toward the plywood dresser next to his bed. He took the small mirror that was sitting on top and looked at himself. He was on the pale side of white, with thin shoulders and scruffy black hair.[2] After a failed attempt to smooth down his bed-head, he set the mirror down and pulled out the top drawer of the dresser.

Tucked in the corner of the drawer behind neatly-folded socks and underwear, there was a small bottle of black nail polish that he had picked up from a GLN dole[3] a few months ago. Women usually snatched up all the cosmetics, so he was excited to get something for himself. He had daydreamed about putting it on, but there it sat, unopened and gathering dust.

There was a knock at the door. It was his father, Roy. “Liam! You decent?”

“Gimme a minute,” Liam called back. He grabbed some clothes - jeans and a plain t-shirt, clothing as neutral as water - and threw them on.

“Alright, what’s up?”

His father opened the door, grinning wide. “You good to work at the diner today?”

“It’s Thursday, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, and there’s gonna be a road-and-rail crew[4] stopping by for the day. You know what that means.”

To his dad, it meant money. His dad managed the local Denny’s, which meant that he had tricked himself into believing he was a pillar of the community, and not just another petty grinder.

“It means I’ll get harassed by drunk shitheads all day. Great. Fun,” Liam groaned. He looked at his dad, hoping for something, something like ‘I understand you don’t like it but I need the extra help,’ or ‘sorry to impose on you.’ Liam was only twenty years old and still naive like that.

“So you good to go?” his dad said.

Liam rubbed his forehead. In truth, he really didn’t have much else to do, and didn’t have any friends to hang out with. At least he wouldn’t be alone all day if he was at work. Plus, he kind of liked wearing the apron.

“Fine, whatever,” he said, feeling like he had lost a battle against himself.

The place wasn’t exactly bustling when he got there. It was still morning, and the only people there were a few old couples having breakfast, along with Kieth, the already-high line cook, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey dude. You alright?” Kieth asked, following Liam as he went into the kitchen.

“What gave it away?” Liam sighed.

Kieth shook his head. “I just felt your vibes. You’ve got the sads all around you. Anyway, I got some news I think’ll cheer you up. Guess who’s coming to town?”

Liam tried, but couldn’t even think of a good guess. “Who?”

“Fuckin JMR, dude.”

Liam’s sleepy eyes snapped wide open. He was suddenly breathless with excitement, so excited that his voice got higher and thinner. “Seriously?”

Keith nodded. Liam let out an excited squeak, then heard his father clear his throat behind him. He whirled around, already guessing what was coming, and his beaming smile twisted down into a rebellious frown.

“Now, son. You know how your mom feels about that man.”

“My mom thinks I’ll stop being a fag if I don’t meet other fags,” Liam spat. The words seem to burst out of him, he didn’t say them so much as he failed to keep them bottled up.

“Whoa, that’s heavy,” Kieth said.

“Kieth, shut up. Liam, listen. It’s not like that. It’s for your own protection. That man is a creep and a pervert, he-“

“God, spare me,” Liam huffed. He had finally run out of patience. His body trembled with adrenaline and pent-up anger, and it felt intoxicatingly good. “It’s all about ‘toughening me up’ and ‘making me a man’ until there’s another gay person around and then suddenly I need to be ‘protected.’ Just be honest and say you wish I wasn’t a queer.”

Kieth discreetly sipped his coffee. Roy pursed his lips and took deep, silent breaths. As far as Liam was concerned, it was an admission of guilt.

“Well? Anything to say for yourself?” Liam said.

“Hark!” A voice suddenly boomed from the dining area. It was a deep, smooth, commanding voice, the type of voice fit for a starship captain.

A man had just entered the Denny’s, a man with tan skin and dirty blond hair dressed in deliriously fancy clothing. He wore an aristocratic embroidered blue jacket with epaulets, tall black boots with stiletto heels, and form-fitting white riding pants of the style sometimes known as jodhpurs. His hair, soft and well-cared for even from a distance, was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and a short and neatly trimmed beard lined his face. Hitched to his belt, an ornate saber rested in its scabbard. He looked like an old cavalry officer or Prussian aristocrat who had somehow stumbled into the year 206X, and his name was Jacob Martin Rider - JMR for short.

○○○○○

[1] ‘The manors’ is a slang term for rural areas which are generally too distant and sparsely-populated to be under the full purview of the central state authority; places where heaven is high and the emperor is far away, cf. The sticks, the boonies, the peasants, etc.

[2] You didn’t hear it from us but he looks a little like the doomer boy wojak.

[3] The ‘GLN dole’ refers to the Global Logistics Network’s practice of buying up unwanted consumer goods from distributors and distributing it amongst the manors. This effectively acts as a subsidy for (GLN-owned) distributors and lets them pretend that they’re still serious about wealth redistribution. Everyone involved wins and the GLN is duly thanked for its beneficence.

[4] Road-and-rail crews are itinerant laborers sent off to the middle of nowhere to dig up disused highways and lay down new railroad lines, hence the name. The work is physically demanding and socially isolating, but well-compensated. They have the typical reputation one would expect of itinerant laborers, i.e. drunken trouble-making shitkickers.

[miyos-multiverse-express]

Audio Diary - March 3rd, 2010

Your name is Hamasaki Miyo, sort of, and you have a headache. Thank... someone for Ren sending over painkillers.

... Can I say something?

Floor's yours.

Okay. Uh. I'm Minato Yuuki and I'm not sure I can bring myself to stay in Iwatodai much longer?

Too many bad memories?

Yeah. Yeah. Even if everyone could remember - I'm not sure I want to stay and. If they remember, I don't think I can? At least - I don't want to do that to you guys. It wouldn't be fair. This whole situation isn't fair, this - ughhhhhhhhhh.

I know what you mean, yeah.

Kagami of all people does.

... Yeah, you're right. We'll... We'll figure it out somehow. I won't force you to live my life.

Thanks, for what it's worth.

[coralcalypso]

[S] Story's Over

==>

[onlyhalfdead]

The dragons' quarrel quickly made a mess of Halfsies's furniture, his framed photos, the remains of his life; it only made him more enraged every time they broke or damaged something. A swing would miss, a tail would react involuntarily to their emotions, psionics would clash and send sparks onto surfaces that were scorched.

Freeman tried to slash at Halfsies's throat with his draconic claws (because, of course, both men had donned protective scales and superior natural weaponry), targeting his most precious and permanent keepsake- the bite scar carefully aligned to frame his trachea, his carotid artery, and his jugular vein, mirrored on his- Estera's- own throat, with doubled canines- and the splash of their plasmic lifeblood causing the floor to catch fire finally pushed the usually-docile twin to a breaking point.

Bones snapped. Freeman heard them, the movement of meat as musculature and skeletal anatomy were forcibly altered, and paused. Had he broken a bone?

No-

His brother grew larger, larger, pressed against the cave ceiling, cracking the carved stone as well as the hardwood flooring that made the space into a humanoid home. White-hot plasma dripped from ripped skin that quickly reformed into tough, scaly hide. Halfsies's full dragon form filled the space they both occupied *violently,* trapping Freeman with his bulk even as Halfsies realized his mistake. He desperately squirmed and scrabbled, breaking through the front of the house entirely just as

it all began to truly fall apart.

Halfsies landed on the forest floor in a pained, still angry heap. Freeman leapt out of the growing rubble and made his change in the open space between Halfsies's family home and the dry, perpetually-dry, lakebed that sat empty, lifeless, several meters further down in the valley, landing on the dust with more momentum than intended.

Both dragons watched as the building that contained their whole lives collapsed into itself and fell, too.

Great wails, bellows, sobs, all manner of exclamations of heartbreak, echoed through the Catskill Mountains for a while.

That is, until Freeman's approach reminded Halfsies Krull-Ironside of who had caused his entire life to shatter.

The freshly-grieving dragon barely gave his twin any warning before pouncing on him anew. This time, he couldn't possibly hold himself back. He would tear the other half of his soul, practically himself, apart, or be killed, himself.

[communitycatboy]

Burnout

the campaign at Paglth'an may have been a success, but for G'ohak, who had been assisting with triage, the endless supply of injuries to heal was exhausting having used so much of his own aether to be extremely faint, his legs could barely even support him. Thankfully someone strong offered to carry him to his bed, but will the miqo'te be able to repay that kindness?

[verzephobia-red]

02

Light from a nonexistent sun filters down over the warped landscape. The world itself remains as dark and broken as ever—but something feels different. The status quo has shifted; the long-maintainted balance has been irrevocably tipped.

The Poké Ball in the Trainer’s grip is made of crisp red and white, out of place amidst the turbulence. It’s as perfect and unblemished as it was the day RED recieved it from the lab. The same as it had been while battling. Travelling. Seeking glory. Going on an adventure together, invincible with the knowledge that no tragedy could possibly happen. Not to them, the protagonist—the eternal hero of the story.

But everything else is gone now. Only RED and the Poké Ball remain, the way it had been at the start of the game.

Their hold on the device tightens to the point of pain, the pixels that make up their hand deforming and breaking apart from the pressure.

“…can’t hold off of this forever, can I…?”

The Poké Ball opens, separating neatly to release its customary beam of reddish light. They can’t stop themself from shaking—in anticipation, fear, or something else entirely—as a shape gradually coalesces into existence in front of them. 

“……”

Four legs. Triangular ears. Something branched and plantlike protruding from its back. It looks whole. It looks like their old partner, their first friend, the way it remains in their memory before… everything else. It’s still Venusaur. It has to be…

… until the light inevitably fades away.

“………”

Venusaur’s ball drops from RED’s hand, sinking through the corrupted ground. Grief and hope, every shred of feeling they’ve been burying inside for so long, rush out of them all at once in a single, choked breath.

Nothing remains of what it used to be except for bits and pieces. A misshapen, many-eyed skull. A tangle of what could’ve been wings or scythes in place of its tree. The broken parts of countless skeletons, joined together into a hollow mockery of life. Scraps of green-gray still cling to it, slowly disintegrating into dust.

RED stumbles forward blindly, falling to their knees before the remains of their companion, reaching out as if seeking some kind of solace…

The corpse falls apart with the slightest touch, collapsing into a heap of mangled bones.

[blueeyesking]

Not a Rematch- a Duel for Revenge! Alister Revealed Pt. 2

[After Seto accused the person Dueling him of not being Pegasus- "Even [he] wouldn't be stupid enough to copy our first duel to the letter!"- the Musketeer of Doma, Alister, removed his disguise and began using his real deck. For his first draw, Alister sealed himself and Seto inside of the Seal of Orichalcos, a field spell that would take the "soul" of whoever lost. It terrified Mokuba, who was left outside of its radius of effect.

After demonstrating the effect of the Seal and his new monster, Alister launches into a long explanation of his story, why he's chosen to attack Seto and his company: when KaibaCorp was still controlled by Gouzaburo, their weapons of war destroyed Alister's home... and killed his little brother. Since that day, Alister has wanted nothing but revenge.

Mokuba countered that Seto took the company to redeem it, to help people, orphan children like them most of all! But Alister wouldn't hear it. Seto Kaiba, or whoever lead the Kaiba Corporation, had to die; it was the money of the company that fueled the war that killed his brother, and the Kaibas are its heirs.

And so the Duel continued.

Alister activated a trap that disabled all other Traps while it was on the field, crippling Seto's strategy, and forced Seto to end his turn with only Pitch-Dark Dragon in Defense Mode and a useless Crush Card Virus on his field.

Alister's turn. He drew, then attacked the Pitch-Dark Dragon with Gorlag, his ace monster, using its effect to resurrect the Dragon and bring it to his side of the field in his end phase; and, without any defenses, attacked Seto with his own resurrected Versago the Destroyer. Seto's LP fell to 400.

Seto was in a bad position. He needed just one card in his deck to eke out the win...

And he drew it. Seto smirked.

Seto plays Card of Demise in order to draw three cards (bringing his hand to five), and draws a combo that should work. Using White Dragon Ritual, Seto discards a Blue-Eyes in order to directly summon Paladin of White Dragon- then plays Monster Reborn to bring that Blue-Eyes back onto his field. A much better position.

Paladin of White Dragon attacks the stolen Pitch-Dark Dragon (now in Attack Mode due to Gorlag's effect), causing Gorlag to become weak enough to be destroyed with Blue-Eyes White Dragon. When the dust settles, Alister is left defenseless, now, with only 1200 LP.

But Seto isn't done! Paladin of White Dragon can be sacrificed in order to Special Summon a Blue-Eyes White Dragon from his hand or deck! Seto crosses his arms in front of his chest as he is flanked by his Blue-Eyes.

"You told me before that I couldn't win- how do those words taste, knowing the worst is yet to come?"

Alister's turn. He huffs at Seto, "You're so predictable," and uses Pot of Greed to draw two cards.

Then, Alister activates the spell card Aetonyx Flame, destroying all monsters that don't have the FIRE-Attribute: both Blue-Eyes White Dragons! And, it resurrects Gorlag in Attack Mode. But Alister has another trick: Fire Whip! Fire Whip returns all monsters destroyed this turn to Alister's side of the field, as FIRE-Attribute monsters (which buff Gorlag by 500ATK each). Seto now faces down his own Blue-Eyes, infused with dark power from the Seal, and a monster just as strong.

Seto is incredulous, panicking a little, and shouts in betrayal, "NO! Those Blue-Eyes are mine, how dare you use them against me?!" Memories of his fateful duel with Yugi, where the same thing happened, flash behind his eyes.

Alister is now the one in the smug posture, smirking. "It's the perfect revenge, isn't it? Soon, I'll use your own favorite monsters to take you down and feed your soul to our God."

Because Alister can't attack the turn he activated Aetonyx Flame. Seto still has a chance. Alister sets a card, and adds, "When you lose this, you'll suffer just like I did at the hands of your father. This will be your last draw!"]