#need these idiots happy in the afterlife

[to-proudly-go]

Together again

"Thank you."

[totentnz]

................. thinking about au v and rogue again

[chuunai]

hey, congrats 100 followers !! i would love to join your celebration♡ may i request beastzai (or js adazai) with the scenario married life (1) & all in all, it was a typical tuesday (8) as the prompt ?

congrats on 100 again !!!! it’s a big number and a big achievement !!

I think Dazai is really hot too.

✧˚ · . vroom vroom, than a table for two - dazai osamu

he certainly couldn’t complain.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → icky PDA, cutesy nicknames, minor mention of sex (it’s like barely there though) and overall puppy husband dazai. also obvious mentions of suicide its DAZAI

It was Tuesday.

And also another hardworking day at the Agency. So, so tiring, according to your husband—not that he ever worked—to the point where he simply needed a break with his lovely spouse. That’s how you found yourself hand-in-hand with him during your lunch break, walking down the sidewalks of Yokohama while he excitedly spoke about a new suicide method he had heard of.

Yesterday was a homemade shrapnel bomb, today was a wrecking ball.

“Basically, you hide out in a building that’s scheduled to be demolished and eventually it collapses on you! Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to you expectantly, a cheery smile on his face. It was quick, painless enough method of suicide. Beautiful in a way, too. Sunlight would be warming his skin, the air fresh and crisp and then tons of concrete and plaster would crush his entire body in one fell swoop. No pain, just gain of access to the afterlife.

Looking back at him, you sheepishly shrugged, replying back to amuse both him and yourself. 50% of the time, his attempts were idiotic and funny, the other 50% was genuinely worrying and mildly terrifying. Today seemed to be the former, though. Thankfully.

Plus, it wasn’t like the method would even work due to some random info you found out about on the internet.

“Yeah, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure they check the buildings for people before they demolish them. So you’d get found out.”

Your tone was as equally playful and light as his. He wouldn’t really kill himself. You weren’t ready for a double suicide yet, sadly. His lips curled into a frown when you mentioned how it wouldn’t work, his fingers squeezing yours as he exaggerated his sigh.

“And here I was, certain of my demise! Guess that means I’ll be with you a bit longer, darling.”

Not that he really minded.

Sure, he constantly went off about suicide and how beautiful the whole concept was, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t want to die without you at his side. He’s firmly one of those people who’d kill himself after his beloved died. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself after you died. Sure, he made Odasaku a promise, but he made you a vow.

Until death do them part.

When you died, so would he.

But no one was dying today. Just a happy day for a happy couple.

Dazai’s hand slipped out of yours, curling around your hips instead as he pulled you closer to his side. He wanted to show off his pretty partner to anyone who happened to look over at you two. Show off the person who owns his heart and soul and is his perfect reason to live for just a little bit longer. No one else deserved his gorgeous belladonna.

Just him and him only.

Only Dazai could kiss your lips at any given moment—publicly or privately—, and only he could watch you dress up for dates, brushing out your hair while he mumbled compliments into the spot where your collarbone met your neck. Only Dazai could spend hours with you at night, hearing his name from your lips while his fingers intertwined with yours at the intimate moments.

No one else could hope to do the same with you.

That’s why he soon was leading you into a bakery, the smell of pastries and bread flooding the air as he looked over the treats in the display cases. Black sesame roll cakes, all squishy looking and yummy. The cookies ranging from chocolate chip to matcha and plain vanilla. They all looked so good, but the prices weren’t quite the same.

God, when it came to money, Dazai wished he was still in the Mafia. At least he had tons of it back then.

Now, he had to be a bit more frugal with his income from the Agency. Sure, you guys weren’t dirt poor or unable to afford food and other necessities, but you couldn’t always get special snacks like this. Maybe once every week or two, if you could do so.

Nudging your shoulder, he tapped the glass, looking at you expectantly. He always did this—letting you choose what the two of you would eat. Dazai didn’t mind either. You had good taste unlike his diet of canned crab and alcohol.

“I trust my lovely spouse’s taste and that you’ll pick something good like always.”

He was such a puppy. Only for you, he thought.

“Uhmm…dunno. Pick a number, one or two.”

Dazai placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be in thought like it was the most important decision in his twenty-two years of life so far. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between you and the sweet treats while he hummed quietly. One or two? Eh. He’d go with two. There was the two of you here, after all.

“Two.”

He watched as you pointed at a slice of strawberry cheesecake, your eyes looking at him for approval. Honestly, Dazai never understood why you wanted his approval for everything. You were his equal—his life partner, nonetheless—so there was really no need for this behavior. But he couldn’t blame you. Even now, he had a bit of a commanding aura.

“Oooooh, that looks good! Knew you’d pick something tasty.”

Dazai pecked your cheek affectionately while he held your hand walking to the counter, ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake, taking out Kunikida’s credit card that he had ‘borrowed’ from the blondie earlier at work. Compared to the thievery he had committed in his younger years, it was practically begging to be used with how his wallet was smack dab in the middle of his desk.

Carefully holding the two plates of the cheesecake slices, he led you over to a table in the corner, giving you a fork as he sat down across from you. He didn’t eat until you dug into your piece first, making sounds of contentment as sweetness coated both your taste buds. Geez, it was good. Worth the price for sure. The corner of your lips were stained with the white frosting, and so he swiped his thumb over the mess, cooing at you like a parent.

“Ah ah, ‘donna. You’re getting messy.”

Dazai liked the flush of your face. How flustered you were as you insisted you could clean yourself and that you weren’t a baby and a fully capable grown adult.

“I’m not a baby, ‘samu! I can take care of myself, ‘kay?”

Of course, of course.

“Uh-huh. And you’re not a baby. You’re my baby. My clumsy little baby who can’t eat without making a mess.”

Chewing on the rest of his slice, minutes passed, filled with conversations between the two of you about work, how Atsushi was doing—probably still traumatized and fucked over, is what you both agreed about—, plans for dinner. You tastefully ignored his comment about what he wanted for dessert. At least there weren’t any kids in the bakery.

Thankfully for everyone else in the establishment, your ‘lunch’ was finished. Walking out of the cafe, he clasped onto your hand firmly, feeling his wedding ring rub against your skin. The sounds of honking and birds chirping filled the air, but all Dazai could hear were your gentle breaths coupled with the sound of your footsteps.

Nothing really mattered besides you, in his eyes.

His everything—his reason to live.

Eternally.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

[suiana]

dear psycho, what do i do when my crush doesn't like me back? (yandere! psycho x gn! reader) (angstober day 4)

does your crush have a clear disinterest in you? have they repeatedly told you that they want nothing to do with you? are you looking for a way to get them to love you? here's what you should do!

step 1: meet up with them. make sure that they're alone with you! it's the first step to making sure that they fall for you! remember to dress good too! we need to make a good first impression :)

step 2: bring them over to your house. make sure you bait them with a good reason or they won't follow! (tried and tested)

step 3: knock them out. you can use any method but i prefer to use chloroform. I don't like seeing my darling in pain :( and when their eyes roll back as rhey collpase into my arms oh god i swear- (redacted)

step 4: tie them up and watch them for hours as you wait for them to wake up. just... observe them. stare at their pretty eyes, cute lips... just take in every little thing that they do. you're meant to worship your darling after all... hah...

step 5: surprise them with your love! tell them how much you love them, kiss them and drown them in your affection! it helps to prep them for the next step :D

step 6: promise an eternity with them. you deseve to be with them forever. so end their life and preserve their body so that no one else but you gets to be with them. ah... their lifeless body looks so delicate like this... unmoving and lifeless....

step 7: regret everything you've done and hope for a miracle. fuck i miss them i shouldnt have done that. im such an idiot im sorry im sorryimsorryimsorryimsorryIMSORRY

step 8: PLEASE COME BACK I NEED YOU I CAN'T BREATHE I MADE A MISTAKE

step 9: ...

....

.....

kill yourself so you can be with them forever. you deserve it. a happy ever after with your darling in the afterlife :) ... what do you mean no? aren't you glad? this is what you're waiting for, yes? after all, you're a fucking psycho. no one else but darling will love you. so do it, end your miserable life already. darling is waiting for you! regrets mean nothing when darling is there :)

step 10: have a happy life with your lovely darling♡

[tumblingxelian]

I know it'll never happen in canon but I'd kind of love it if Emilie had been brought back (No afterlife wife for you Gabriel) & not being an idiot deduced her husband was Hawk Moth.

& like at first she figures she should let sleeping dogs lie, she doesn't want Adrien or herself hated for stuff Gabriel did & everyone seems fine right?

"Say where's your little friend Chloe?" "Oh we're not friends anymore, she's awful, she traumatized Marinette, became a supervillain and finally got banished with her mom. She was terrible since day one, I just never realized it." "I ... See..." (Notices Nathalie's brief deer in the headlights look) "You should meet Zoe, she's much better, Andre is much happier with her around!" "I'll have to do that." (Strained smile)

Cue a drawn out and seemingly very happy meeting with Andre & Zoe, and Zoe feeling quite welcomed but needing to leave to go hang with friends.

Cue Emilie turning all business the second the door closes.

"Andre you knew about the Peacock Miraculous, why didn't you tell anyone what Gabriel was doing?" "I couldn't be sure, gave him the benefit of the doubt and well, we all got a happy ending didn't we?" "You banished your daughter?" "She was abusing me, has been making me do horrible things she was a toddler." "..." (The fuck!?)

Follow that up with a brief and gentle talk with Marinette, broaching the subject of Derision Trauma.

"Trauma? I mean Chloe sucked and I'm glad she's gone, but she never traumatized me." "I see, Adrien seemed to feel differently." "Sorry no clue what that's about, though... He's been awfully weird about spiders lately. Like he expects them to make me breakdown crying or something, I can ask him about that if you want." "No need for that yet dear, now show me what you were working on." :)

(For those confused I am saying Lila basically orchestrated Derision, the only people in that pool room were Adrien & herself. Hence why it gets stuff wrong like Kim not being afraid of spiders)

Finally returning home to Nathalie she asks:

"Nathalie, I know you were Mayura, I know Gabriel was Hawk Moth, and I promise to only be mad at Gabriel if you tell me exactly what you two did to Chloe, and hell, everyone. I want all the detail. Now." (Several hours later into Nathalie's -How we broke several teenagers minds- Seminar) "What the fuck Nathalie?!" "You promised not to be mad!" "What did you expect me to say, congrats on breaking the minds of two teenage girls, one of whom just moved here & other being my god daughter!" "To be fair, Audrey & Andre being terrible parents helped a lot there." "You have no idea how little this is helping your case!"

Cue having to figure out how to fix this mess, if that is even possible.

[emsuemsu]

If there's something I really love in life it's the elderly. I love old people and old people love me and that is a fact. I am a peepaw whisperer, I speak fluent grandma. So naturally I've been on a mission for some senior citizen Drarry to quench my never ending thirst.

Some of these fics do contain neurodegenerative diseases such as Alzheimer's. Some of these fics do contain MCD in a form of dying of old age. They're all tagged accordingly, if in doubt check the tags.

These are all well under 10k, and hit me up with some more geriatric Drarry recs if you have some!

About Damn Time by @lumosatnight 👴 4,045 words

All Draco wants to do is eat his custard cup and nap in peace. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so, when the Flamel House for Experienced Wixen is overrun with Harry Potter and his idiot friends.

The Afterlife, According to Draco Malfoy by @stripedsilverfeline 👴 1,861 words

Tea is not a proper substitute for astral brooms': The Afterlife, according to Draco Malfoy

Age is just a number by @gnarf 👴 1,555 words

Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words: "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms."

Attic Past by @piarelei 👴 500 words

Here are his knees. Noticeable and ugly. Harry sighs, doesn’t dare look at more of himself; the skin loose around his thighs and the wrinkles crowning his eyes. “I have ugly knees,” he tells the room. Draco, predictably, is already downstairs and doesn’t answer.

Brave by @mars-bar81 👴 8,403 words

Draco had never been the brave one- that had always been Harry's job.

Easier Than Falling Asleep by @gnarf 👴 1,029 words

After a long and happy life Harry is ready to return to Kings Cross. This time it's not Dumbledore, but his husband waiting for him there and they finally get to ride the Hogwarts Express together.

Dear Life by @drarryangels 👴 5,208 words

"Draco ran his fingers over the headstone at his feet and let his creaky knees fold underneath him to sit on the grass. When he was younger, he thought he’d never get old like this. With bad joints, white hair, and off trend clothes. Harry would’ve laughed at him if he could see Draco sitting in the dirt sniffling over his lost touch in the fashion industry." Or the story where Draco and Harry get to grow old together and be happy.

I Wouldn't Change a Thing by @rei382 👴 1,380 words

Harry and Draco, an old married couple, need to pack to go to their retirement home. But Harry stumbles upon an old photo album, and all kinds of memories start to flood back.

lucidity comes before the sun sets by @squintclover 👴 707 words

Life and memories are cruel sometimes... Stealing Harry from Draco before his time.

Meeting Too Late by WSbrat 👴 1,528 words

What if Draco and Harry fell in love when it was too late? What if they fell in love anyway?

Old School by Bardo 👴 5,053 words

When he was younger, Draco Malfoy used to say sex was dead after 65. Of course, at the time, he wasn't talking about himself.

Stay with me forever, we'll ride this out together by @triggerlil 👴 420 words

In old age, Harry cares for Draco.

Two Old Coots by @sofyachy 👴 1,898 words

On their 50th anniversary, Harry and Draco are a couple of old coots who no longer care what they tell other people about their relationship, to their kids’ mortification. Gather round, children; it’s inappropriate story time.

Wiser With Age, Still Stupid in Love by @sethsevolution 👴 3,483 words

There came a point in their lives where they felt like they were only ones left and that was what finally drew them together.

Won't You Stay By My Side by @gracerene 👴 1,936 words

Harry needs to convince Draco that he is too old to continue his dangerous job as an Investigative Journalist.

[mins-fins]

EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD.

synopsis: the one thing taerae would always go by is "it's better to kill than be killed". a selfish motif to hold, yes, but in a world like this, where being selfish is the only way to survive, love isn't an option, love shouldn't be an option, and taerae thought that was that, but he sure did love lying to himself, and it's just so disappointing how things turned out.

pairing: kim taerae x male!reader

genre: dystopian au, fluff, angst, heartbreak, strangers to companions to lovers, happy ending? hell no 👍

warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of weaponry, kinda hunger games ripoff, talks of death and the afterlife, mentions of injuries and descriptions of bruises, taerae is so gay it's funny, conflicting feelings

word count: 3.7k

notes: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES WAS SO GOOD HELLO??? it was so beautifully shot and the movie was so good and the actors all delivered none of them missed they said "were getting that paycheck" and they DID! but anyway, can i tell you how much i love dystopian books how did i not read the hunger games sooner like wtf 🙁 i debated for so long on who to write this for and originally i thought gunwook but then i thought of something i think would be smart to put in the story so taerae it is! i hope you enjoy 👍

anyway and all reblogs are appreciated, please for the love of god if you have feedback, even if it was the smallest of it, so tell me, i love reading reblogs and people's thoughts on my fics, please do not be a silent reader 🙁🙏 this layout was inspired by @taeiun (ily)

104 days before.

the first thing taerae did was suck in a breath.

being stuck in an arena, with hundreds of other people, some of them adults, some of them children, some of them barely able to say goodbye to their families, some of them that had nobody left, all here for one reason, all against their own will.

taerae has been through this once before, when he was fifteen years old. it was traumatizing, he barely made it out alive, let alone made it out a winner. the only things he'd ever heard about it was how you had to run, how you needed to make sure you didn't make any close allies, how you should've been careful with who you trusted.

taerae had to learn that the hard way.

and by the "hard way" that equals almost getting murdered by a grown adult for a piece of jewelry.

but that was six years ago, taerae's now an adult, and at least he's alive, it's better than having to succumb to such a ghastly fate, then slowly being forgotten by everyone else who would then come after him.

now he's back, with a newfound anger for the organizer of this "challenge".

so as he glances around, he sighs.

he glances at the paper in his hand, the one he had just crumpled. he brushes the small amount of hair out of his face, and reopens it, looking at the name that scribbled onto it.

the one thing taerae just happened to forget about these games.

he's stuck by someone's side.

he doesn't bother reading the name, just once again crumbling the paper and sticking it into his sweater pocket. he watches as other people begin scattering, trying to find out who their going to be paired with for these.. games. taerae just stands there, like an idiot, not wanting to move even a bit.

in short, he didn't want to have a partner, not just because of prior traumatic experiences, but because he didn't know how he'd fair during these years games. it was difficult to stomach the feeling of being in the games again, and his heart almost dropped when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

a small yelp just barely escapes his lips, and he jumps back, startled. all random touches have always made him uncomfortable, maybe it's just his unsaid paranoia, but he takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his fast beating heart.

also because he'd just come in contact with one of the most beautiful men ever..

taerae clears his throat, looking up at his new companion (he doesn't enjoy the word that much, but for this guy, he might just suck it up). his new companion who is absolutely gorgeous, if taerae had to describe him, he'd say the word "enticing" is one of the best words he can use.

taerae has met pretty people, he's met several psychically attractive people, and there's a lot of encounters he's had with said kinds of people. he spends maybe two minutes before snapping out of it, feeling his face go red. "i— i'm sorry, was that rude? i apologize if that was rud—"

his new companion snickers, then full on laughs, shaking his head. "it's alright" he says softly, waving his hand dismissively. his voice is what taerae would think touching a cloud would feel like, it's just so soft, so comfortable to listen to.

taerae quickly pinches himself, he can't believe he's having such thoughts about someone he met like two seconds ago!

"um, kim taerae?"

taerae freezes, then nods. the beautiful stranger stretches out his hand for taerae to take, and he blinks for a moment like an idiot, quickly then taking his hand and shaking it. "l/n y/n, nice to meet you".

"nice to meet you too.."

taerae didn't know that taking that hand had practically sealed his fate.

that in 104 days, he'd be regretting everything he's ever done in his life..

89 days before.

one thing taerae has discovered about y/n is that he enjoys taking risks.

the whole point is that they're supposed to survive (at least one of them is), not try to kill themselves at every single chance.. which is exactly what y/n is trying to do. seriously, taerae never knew that people could ever enjoy jumping off cliffs, or just running into danger.

taerae didn't know having a companion meant having to bust out his ass every time he threatens the next person that tries him.

"seriously, do you enjoy being moments away from death?" he inquires, staring at the scab on y/n's hand, he immediately slaps y/n's hand away the moment he tries to pick at it. he earns a frown, and just rolls his eyes.

"don't do that, it's gross".

taerae's tone is stern, straight to the point, and y/n looks up at him when he stands up, walking off to go get something from his backpack. he narrows his eyes at him, and sighs as he sees the one thing he didn’t want to see.

not the bandages— rubbing alcohol.

"one of these days, the officials are gonna find you somewhere and think i killed you" taerae mindlessly comments, kneeling beside y/n and taking his hand, he considers putting up a fight, but taerae doesn't seem to be taking his shit that day, so he just lets taerae patch up his hand.

"i think that'd just certify you as a legend more than anything".

taerae laughs at the words, although y/n winces because he just happens to apply the alcohol at the same time. "your much of a comedian aren't you?" he inquires, lightly glancing up at y/n, but quickly glancing down as to avoid eye contact with him.

"i try".

taerae can't help the smile that crosses his face, but then his face drops at the realization that he's smiling about y/n. that's enough to make him begin questioning himself.

he shouldn't be smiling over a boy, he shouldn't even be thinking about smiling over a boy.

he was here to survive, not make friends, not fall in love.

but oh what a liar he was.

64 days before.

"what are you doing exactly?"

"it's a surprise".

taerae doesn't know if he can take another one of y/n's 'surprises', mostly because said boy enjoys chasing him around with spiders and, worst of all, snakes. he's smacked y/n so many times for scaring him that it's become much of an instinct in these few weeks.

"i don't know if i can trust any of your surprises anymore, l/n" taerae says, watching as y/n hums to himself. he has absolutely no idea what he's doing, considering his back is turned to him, as if he's trying to hide it from taerae. "what are you doing?"

the inquiry just barely makes it to y/n, who turns around, making sure his hands are hidden away from taerae. "i said, it was a surprise".

"i hope your not about to murder me".

"i would never" y/n smiles ominously, and taerae almost feels a bit.. fearful at the look he receives. he blinks away such thoughts, and simply sighs.

"y/n, seriously—"

taerae pauses, especially when y/n turns around and places something on his head. he goes silent for a moment, but then he sees y/n smile, and he blinks again. "what..?"

"it's a flower crown" he says simply, his hands dropping down to his sides. taerae opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again because he's just shocked at why y/n would do this.

it's just.. such a simple yet sweet act? and with the way y/n was staring at him, how could he not be falling in love with him? taerae's inner conscious is practically screaming at him right now, what happened to love isn't an option? he can't believe what he's thinking right now.

a look of shock quickly spreads over y/n's face and he turns around, clearing his throat. "yeah— uh, sorry" he mutters, and taerae simply smiles, feeling his heart soar in a way it never has before.

"no no it's.. pretty i like it" taerae slowly removes the crown, staring at the kinds of flowers that are littered around the crown. he runs his hands over the crown, and smiles once again, it was just something to cherish; something he would cherish for a long time.

"these are daisies right?"

y/n nods, taerae can tell he feels a little embarrassed, especially with the way he's picking at his nails. "yeah um, i know you like them".

taerae gasps, using this as an opportunity to tease the hell out of y/n. "aww you remembered!?"

"don't start.."

41 days before.

"do you sing?"

taerae looks up at y/n, his eyebrow raising at the inquiry. he tries so hard not to focus on the fact that his wet shirt is practically see through, in fact he tries so hard to ignore everything about y/n, worrying he's going to act impulsively and do stuff he can only think of.

"how'd you know?" no seriously, how did he? taerae mentioned playing the guitar as a one off thing maybe once.. he never mentioned singing before, and even then, the idea of singing being interesting to y/n just makes something go off in his mind..

"intuition" he simply replies, sitting himself down besides taerae. he stares at taerae for what seems like a while, and for some reason, taerae pauses just to stare at him too.

they keep having.. moments like this, where they just sit and stare at each other for unspecified amounts of time. taerae sometimes feels like he's fallen into a trap, that this is exactly what y/n wanted to happen, but those are just the excuses his brain makes to try and erase the feelings he's obviously growing for y/n.

he dislikes feeling like this—

but really, can he stop it?

"can you sing for me?"

"huh?"

taerae blinks, staring at y/n like he just asked an insane kind of question. he wants taerae to sing for him? he opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it, because he has no idea how to respond to that. the question shouldn't be so hard to answer, but for him, it is.

"you— you want me to sing?" he asks, taking in a deep breath. "for you?" he points at y/n, who just snickers, laying down onto the grassy field.

"i mean— you have a nice speaking voice, you must also have a nice singing voice too, right?"

taerae stares at y/n, thinking for a moment, then he turns to his guitar that's lying on the ground and picks it up. "do you have any songs in mind?"

"i was hoping that you would have songs in mind.." y/n immediately replies, and taerae gives him an 'are you serious' look.

"at this point i'm going to end up killing you" he says as a joke, positioning his guitar on his lap. the words make y/n laugh, because he's told that exact joke before, he finds it funny that taerae just repeated it to him.

"at least if i die, i'll die having heard your beautiful voice".

taerae scrunches his nose, lightly slapping y/n in the shoulder. y/n lightly squeaks, rolling ever just the slightest and dramatically clutches his stomach, as if taerae had just sentenced him to death.

"shut up before i change my mind" taerae spits out at him, knowing that was such a lie. he looks down at his hand, which is just caressing the strings of his guitar.

how does one even find themself in such a circumstance?

25 days before.

"where do you think we go when we die?"

the question catches taerae off guard. he notices the way y/n's eyes continue to go down, his eyelids are probably feeling heavy, taerae thinks. he's insanely tired, they both are. besides that, he rubs his eyes and patiently waits for taerae's answer.

"well.. i'm of the belief that there isn't really an afterlife" taerae answers. "i— i feel like, in my opinion, it's more comforting that i just get to die, and that's that, i don't know how i'd feel dying then just.. having to open my eyes again".

y/n's face stays unmoving for a moment, but then he smiles. "when i was younger, my mom told me that when i died, my soul would move on, while my body stayed on earth".

"she was never, you know, specific about it, she said some people go to good places and some people go to bad places after they die, but it all depends on they life they did lead, and the life they could've lead".

y/n doesn't look at taerae, instead resorting to picking at his skin, which taerae notices is a bad habit of his. he scoots closer towards y/n and pushes his hands apart, feeling displeased by the uncanny silence that now washes over them.

"your mom.. she sounds sweet" taerae mumbles, keeping his hands on top of y/n's. he doesn't really realize it, though, because it just feels so natural. y/n doesn't usually talk about things like this, he's the funny, comedic, kind of person, he doesn't talk about serious stuff, it's not his thing.

taerae assumes it's the sleep deprivation, the stress, the idea that he or taerae get could killed at any moment gives him extreme anxiety. yeah he tries to pass it off, but taerae can tell, his overprotective nature isn't outrightly obvious, but you can clearly see it in the bits and pieces of his personality that shine through.

he stops with just leaving his hand on top of y/n's, and begins holding y/n's hand in itself, intertwining their fingers, y/n also intertwines their fingers together, finding comfort in the way taerae decided to hold his hand.

"yeah she was, she.. died while a medic in war".

y/n plays with taerae's fingers, taerae thinks it's because he's afraid he'll cry that he doesn't look up, and he gets it, so he doesn't say more. y/n sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "i don't—" he pauses for a moment. "i don't want to lose you taerae".

taerae's eyes widen, his mind begins racing, his heart begins beating faster, and he feels himself get warmer, despite the cold air that surrounds them. "you've become important to me, i feel like i need to protect you".

the words hit taerae like something he can't even describe, a heavy sigh escapes his lips as he thinks about, and he tightens his hold on y/n's hand. "it's a two way thing you know" taerae mutters. "don't worry, i won't let anything happen to you".

and for once, taerae wasn't listening to his head.

he was listening to his heart.

10 days before.

"the stars look pretty tonight".

y/n reaches over to grab taerae's hand, and tugs him closer, his eyes focused on the sky. taerae looks over at him, staring like he's the most beautiful person in the world, he's grateful that y/n can't just how much he's staring.

"can you identify the constellations?" he asks, and y/n finally looks back at him, closing his eyes as he lets out a laugh. "what? it's a totally normal question to ask when talking about stars!"

y/n shakes his head, then he looks back up at the sky, pointing. "that, is cassiopeia" he states, and taerae narrows his eyes, tilting his head to get a better look at the sky. "or in other words, the most boring constellation".

"cassiopeia? the most boring?" taerae snickers.

"yeah, scorpion is the most interesting one".

"um, no, it's definitely lyra".

"you wanna bet?"

"oh definitely! you'll lose!"

4 days before.

"are we gonna talk after this?"

the question makes y/n laugh. taerae notices that's how he responds to most questions, by laughing, maybe being by his side for about three months now has made him notice all these little things he barely saw when he first met y/n.

the idea of thinking about the future of.. well— them, scares him in a way.

staring at y/n is enough to instantly make him smile, he doesn't know when he decides to drop his whole act, when he decided to stop being so cold, why y/n is the one person that was able to remove him from the shell he once perfectly secured himself in.

to be honest though, he doesn't mind anymore.

"of course, why would we not?"

"i'm afraid you'd be certified too 'cool' for me once we return" taerae admits rather shyly, looking down at the floor despite the fact that he was laying down. y/n laughs once again, tucking taerae's hair behind his ear.

he pats his lap, and taerae lays his head down onto his lap, sighing. "i don't know, people perceive me in such a certain way that i'm scared you will too.." he says, feeling a little better as y/n runs his fingers through his hair.

"well, i know you a lot better than you think, taerae" y/n says, sounding sure of himself. taerae looks up at him, thinking for a moment, then smiling, then laughing.

"you sure do have a way with your words, y/n".

"thank you".

that was when taerae knew.

he was in love.

so in love.

the day of.

"i have a bad feeling about this".

taerae pauses, watching as y/n packs his stuff. "do you know how far astria is? what if you like.. have an accident on the way there?" taerae didn't mean to sound overly protective, really, he didn't, it just came naturally to him, especially when it came to y/n, and now that it was coming to this.

"it'll be fine, rae, you know i've been through worse".

"it's better to be safe than sorry, y/n".

y/n looks up at taerae, a snicker coming to his face accompanied by a smile. "i thought we talked about this yesterday, if you want me to stay, i can" he reminds taerae, the words pretty much echoing in his mind.

of course i want you to stay! but that would be so selfish of me! in these past three months you've never thought about yourself! it would be selfish of me to want you to stay when all you've done is for me..

"no, it's okay" taerae smiles. "it's alright, if it's for your own good, then you should go".

oh who was he kidding?

taerae hated the idea of y/n having to go, yeah they probably would be reunited in the next 10 hours, but they idea of the person he's been with for the past three months suddenly going off on his own gives so much more anxiety than he thought.

but at the same time, he feels horrible thinking like this.

what has y/n ever done but be selfless? even from the first moment they met, had y/n ever thought about himself? no, he hadn't. he thought about taerae and taerae only, he could've left taerae for dead at any moment, there were so many times where taerae felt— no, he knew that y/n was tired, so tired, but he still supported him.

he hates feeling like he's holding him back, like he's the reason y/n can't do more, like he's the reason he can't fulfill everything he's ever wanted.

"don't think so much" y/n walks up to taerae, placing his hands on his shoulder. he stares at him with so much love, that taerae almost considers crying, but he manages to stop himself from coming to tears. "i'm going to be okay, you know i can't be taken out that easily".

"don't jinx yourself" taerae barely manages to get it out, and he feels his voice break. y/n's face falls, and he caresses taerae's cheek, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

"there's no need to worry about me, i'll be fine".

he had to confirm it twice, that meant he wasn't going to be fine.

and taerae was right, he wasn't.

he just wished he did more convincing and made y/n stay.

7 days after.

"i'm surprised how someone like you survived on their own".

"hao!"

taerae glances between the people, and he just gives an awkward smile. the smallest one of the group nudges zhang hao, who yelps, punching him in the waist. "don't be mean to taerae, he's obviously traumatized" matthew then turns to taerae, and smiles sympathetically.

taerae hates it.

"no i— i actually had a partner" taerae replies. at the words, both hanbin and matthew perk up. "it was a few months we were together before.. well— i don't know actually".

hanbin makes an 'o' shape with his mouth, his gaze quickly softening. hao narrows his eyes, and matthew is simply silent as he stares at taerae, who quickly zones out as he focuses on the mug in his hands. "we weren't informed you had a partner".

"well, he's dead" taerae states without thinking, his voice sounds dead, it's so empty that it's enough to startle hanbin. matthew opens his mouth, unsure at how to respond to such a stern statement. "sorry, was that rude in some way?"

"no no it wasn't rude!" hanbin says, waving his hands back and forth, he's waving them so much in fact, that hao has to put his hands down to stop him from moving so much. "we were just.. startled that's all".

"uh huh" taerae's face stays the same way it was before, and he plays with the spoon in his mug, not even bothering to take a sip of the now cooled tea. "so what? that's all you wanted to know?"

zhang hao opens his mouth, thinking of what he was going to say next, but then pausing to narrow his eyes and stare at taerae's shirt. there's a daisy pinned right to his shirt, just right out in the open, as if made to be obvious. "you like daisies?" he inquiries, looking up at taerae.

taerae doesn't even need to look down to realize what he's staring at, he just closes his eyes. "yeah" he responds flatly.

"my favorite flower".

[bookishtheaterlover7]

https://www.tumblr.com/fukyourmind/729723043722690560?source=share

Archangel ari watching his demon lovers and they wanna let him relive his stress after dealing with an irritating soul

Irritating soul is Mr freezy

We diving down into Ari's spicy side now! Let's do this, An🫶n!

Side bar, this happens sometime after, Lloyd and Ari are allowed to marry, Y/N. Bunch of drama before this happens, but I won't spoil it for y'all.

The thing with Ari is that sometimes, he's tightly wound... It's why Lloyd loves to mess with Ari, but not to the point of pissing off both him and Y/N (he made that mistake once, and let's just say blue balls weren't the only problem he had). But sometimes, his archangel duties really get to him, and the souls he deals with really grinds his gears.

His current charge is Robert Pronge, a real pain in his ass. The guy was a real piece of work, who somehow kept Ari on edge, and stressed. Even worse, is when he's enjoying a day in with the people he loves most in the world, and is grinding against Y/N's barely covered backside, as he and Lloyd caress, kiss and suck every inch they can reach. And he gets called away to deal with the little fucker.

"God... Not now..." Ari groaned against Y/N's neck. Desperately burrowing his face into the crook of it, while squeezing her lace covered mounds.

"What's wrong, Sunshine? Did our foreplay make you cream your pants too early?" Lloyd smirked, mischievously smiling at Ari.

"God, I wish!" Ari sighed. Slowly removing himself from the sandwich, with a few light kisses to his lovers.

"I'm being called away..."

"No! Ari, you aren't supposed to even have any form of work today..." Y/N pouted turning around in Lloyd's arms to face the archangel, as the top demon resumed his delicious torture.

"I know... But I'm needed, and I can't disobey Them. That's part of the conditions set, when they agreed to let me keep my powers and both of you..." Ari said, zipping up his jeans, and fixing his navy blue buttoned shirt.

"You sure you have to go, Levinson? Cause it'll be worth it..." Lloyd teased, cupping the apex of Y/N's thighs, making her release a borderline pornographic moan.

"Yes. I'm sure. I don't want to, but I have to if I'm to keep the possibility of our future." Ari sighed, cupping Y/N's face and kissing her deeply, and pecking Lloyd's cheek, as he was nibbling Y/N's ear.

"Carry on without me. I'll be back before you know it..."

~

"Jesus Christ, Freezy! I'm supposed to be on fucking vacation with my loves. And you just had to fucking make an escape attempt today?!" Ari exclaimed, definitely not happy with his Charge. The ethereal being was sexually frustrated and disappointed that he's missing out on vacation sex and aftercare, and so he's taking it out on the menace to his personal life.

"Oh, please. All you archangels ever do is stand around like idiots waiting for the next order. You have nothing more important to do, but be my little bitch of the afterlife." Freezy cackled.

"I'm not just an archangel now! I am married to two of the best creatures on Earth. And we will have a family, and no one, especially not some pathetic scum of the Earth will stop me from enjoying the life I have with them." Ari cried, using his archangel blade to send Freezy back to hell where he belongs.

With that done, Ari dusted the dirt and ash off of his suit, opened his wings, and flew back to their new French vacation home. Flying into the wide open patio doors leading to the balcony attached to their bedroom.

"Y/N! Baby Angel? Lloyd?" He called wondering where they could be?" He wondered. Walking through the home until he heard Y/N beckoning.

"Ari! We've got something for you..." She sang. Ari chuckled, and amusedly shook his head before following the sound of his girl's voice.

The scene before him stopped him in his tracks, the living room, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, was covered in rose petals, Y/N's horny playlist was playing, the lights were set low to create ambiance, and in the center of it all, his succubus wife dressed in the most sinful of the lingeries he had given her as a gift, sitting on a golden chair, one hand in her hair, the other, slowly and teasingly inching down her thigh towards her center.

"We've been waiting for you, my sweet Angel." Y/N sighed. Her voice hitching up a little as she started to slowly, achingly play with herself.

"We?" Ari asked, before being dragged down to an identical chair directly across from Y/N.

"We, Pigeon. Took you long enough! Our girl has been aching to do this all day..." Lloyd laughed, strutting towards their succubus, and patting the back of her head, giving her lips a soft peck, and unlatching the strappy bra, that was covering he luscious breasts, and giving them each a teasing squeeze.

"You left in such... A hurry... Ah... I knew you'd need release..." Y/N sighed. The stimulation making her lose her breath.

"And so, our clever girl came up with the idea of giving you a show. Working you up to pound her sweet pussy, like there's no tomorrow..." Lloyd finished for her, pulling her up to her feet and bending her over the chair. Exposing her plump ass to Ari, who was slowly pumping himself, before slapping it. Causing Y/N to squeal and tense up, both hands desperately clutching the back of the chair.

"And by the looks of things... I think you'd like the idea..." Lloyd said with finality. Grabbing Y/N, and getting on his knees in front of her, roughly pulling her panties down, and sucking and kissing marks all over her ass, before diving down to drink her seemingly endless flow of juices. Allowing Ari to watch it all unfold, before getting a taste.

~

Alright you, horny fucks 😆 this is the weirdest way to start it but, eh, it's a process.

🎉Welcome to the start of my Hundred Follower Celebration!!!🎉

Over the next few days, my asks are open for any questions about me or my writings, or even about celeb tea. And while I will answer your asks. I will also be uploading a handful of fics, so stay tuned and let's celebrate!

Because y'all are the best for allowing and helping me to reach this many followers, when a few months ago, I had zero. I'm saying thank you, from the bottom of my heart. And I look forward to growing even more with you all ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[wrongcaitlyn]

I FUCKING KNEW IT AND YOU TOLD ME I KNEW IT BUT READING IT HAD ME GRINNING LIKE A GODDAMN IDIOT I AM SO HAPPY FOR THEM!!!!!!

ok now that I got that out of my system. I loved seeing the gang back together 🥹🥹🥹like it actually made me so happy. I just know naomi solace was laughing her ass off in the afterlife during the will apollo latricia darren convo 😭 she was like yeah this is GOOD. also the darren nico convo was everything I didn’t know I needed??? sometimes I forget nico’s trans in this au ngl but like it’s such an important part of his character!!! but oh my god I cannot wait for the next chapter I am so excited can I please request everyone’s reactions to the happy news please please please 🙏🏼

YESJSDFDS LMFAO you were the second person to have it actually confirmed i was TRYING to keep it a secret but so many readers ended up figuring it out. it's funny bc the previous chapters actually previously had much more obvious foreshadowing but then i was like "nah they'll figure this out way too quickly" so i cut it all down and y'all STILL figured it out

AND YESJSDF AHH naomi is just living for the awkwardness of apollo and darren, and you can be she's so so happy for her son <33 i do think she'd love nico if she ever got the chance to meet him </3 i'm so glad that you liked it!! THERE WILL BE MANY MANY REACTIONS NEXT CHAPTER!!!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Warriors AU: God-worshipped Sharptooth

I think it would have been super cool if Sharptooth was seen as a God instead of just a predator.

The Clans already view big cats--Tiger, Lion, Leopard--or at least whatever they imagine those big cats to be as these almost sacred, possibly spiritual, beings of the past. How come when an actual big cat showed up in the series, no one thought it might be something spiritual?

--

The Tribe cats are already treated as a group of..to put it plainly, idiots that always need the Clans to help them. What if their first encounter wasn't of being saved from Sharptooth thanks to the Clans?

What if instead, the Tribe saw Sharptooth as a god, who comes to take their tributes (sacrifices) once every [blank]. Like Someone might be close to dying--elderly, sick, just wanting to pay tribute--and they send them to a place where Sharptooth comes to get them (away from the cave so that he doesn't actually become a huge issue in the way that he did in the books). They see it as his guiding spirit leading them to the afterlife.

It would also allow more cats to eat because their numbers can remain steady, so they don't run into the problem that caused half of them to leave back in DOTC.

Remember how the Tribe was meant to show how groups can be different and unique, but also good? Wasn't it a thing for 9/11 or was that made up? I'm tired it's 3 in the morning

What if they leaned more into that idea? The Tribe of Endless Hunting is too similar to StarClan imo, so what if instead of a entire afterlife of cats that guided you, it was Sharptooth that was the leader? And those that sacrificed their lives for him was believed to be granted a high position in the stars?

What if the Clan cats think that this is wrong and try to stop it, but by the end they realize that they cannot control other cats' lives, and that these cats are happy with their beliefs and lifestyle, and it would be wrong of them to force them to change?

So instead of the Tribe being helpless and always needing the Clans' help, they are instead shown to be a group living differently and believing in different things, but who also have mothers just like the Clans, fathers, kits, friends. I don't know, my brain's too tired to formulate the words I want to say right.

Just...There was so much missed potential. I'm pretty sure the Tribe was made because of different ways of living and different groups irl, so it sucks that one of these groups in their books are, for one, so similar to the other in their beliefs, and for another they're so bad at taking care of themselves without the Clans coming in to save them. It would have been so much better if we instead got a moral of getting along in spite of differences and beliefs.

Maybe they don't accept each other at first and believe that the other's way of living is wrong but then there's another enemy or natural disaster that makes the two groups work together and make them realize how similar they are, and that it's okay that they are also different?

PLUS just imagine God-Sharptooth.

Thank you and goodbye

[dappledpaintbrush]

Full honest options on dimentio?

Looks at you like this

Autistic Answer: OHH YM GODODDODHRKEJTJTKTJR LAYS FLAT ON MY BSCK ON A HIGHWAY HESSOOO FUCKINGGNCOOOOOL RUNS FULL SPEED AT A. BRICK WALL AND JUMPS THROUGH LEAVING A CLOUD OF DUST AND A SHAPE OF MYSELF IN THE WALL IN MY WAKE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HES SO INTERESTING AND LOSER PILLED I NEED HIM EMBROIDERED ON MY ARM

Autistic Answer:

Okay so at the start of my spm special interest when I was a tiny little googoogaga baby (seven years old) Dimentio was just. This guy. Evil and shit but just a guy. But he was MY guy. I don’t remember beating the game that young. I seriously think I gave up on the yold desert puzzle and just binged koopakungfu let’s plays over and over again but regardless I remember the aftermath and GODDDDDDDDDD I was so indescribably enamored with this Thing . it was REVOLTING.

Now as a near 19 year old I can’t think about him or the game in general without having to stop drop and roll but at the end of the day, Dimentio is still just some guy. But in the morning and the afternoon he’s a fucking idiot. Like you absolute goofiest of goobers, all you had to do was teleport the heroes to Dimension D and wait everything out. That shit is why he’s currently burning in hell. Not for mass murder or being annoying but for the stupidest plan I have ever heard in my entire life. He is also one of the most intriguing characters ever made in the Mario franchise.

Like okay. You are given this purple and yellow triangular smudge on your screen and you go “hmm… (scratches chin) something is Wrong With This Animal. It Might be Sick.” And of course he ends up betraying the sympathetic tragic villain Bleckie Bear and dies (thank GOD) whatever credits roll NO!!!!

FIRST. This guy tells you Bleck has lied about creating new worlds. That is . THAT IS!!! Now he could be lying but he could also NOT be. After all, what other motivation would he have for betraying Bleck? All the worlds to himself perhaps …………………. That’s the thing. You don’t know . That’s this entire character.

You

DONT.

KNOW.

Anything he says and anything about him is either a blatant lie, COULD be a lie, COULD be the truth, or is vague 3,000 year old information given from this dude in a bar that may or may not even be about Dimentio. He is LITERALLY wearing a mask. A TWO FACED MASK might I add.

Nintendo doesn’t lay out his story for you on screen like they do with Bleck. If you don’t take the time to explore, Dimentio will never be more than Bleck’s silly and funny-talking minion who betrayed him out of greed or.. whatever reason. Because he didn’t say it. No no- You have to go out of your way to investigate and pay money and put pieces of this puzzle together to find out that hurt people hurt people (🤓)

He could be some random bloke. He could the descendant of this sad unnamed character and somehow “never found happiness” whatever THAT means. He could be THE sad unnamed character that went through an accident so devastating that it left his mother dead and it left everyone believing HE was dead. This accident, whatever it was, was so horrifying that Dimentio, who can teleport across dimensions, was unable (by choice or not) to find and tell his remaining family he was alive. After his “death”, his sister would die as well. Their father, likely going insane with unimaginable grief, would rip her soul from the afterlife just to keep his only child- the only family he had left- with him, oblivious to the fact that somewhere, his son was still alive. This little girl, now forever trapped as a Pixl, would become so angry at what her father had done that she would start a war and slaughter ANYONE that tried to get in her way. The Pixl Queen- this angry, scared, and confused child- would lose once more. She would be destroyed. All she is now is a shadow of her former self. And that’s what she would reform as in the pits below an Ancient city, where, at the hands of our heroes, she would lose AGAIN. Dimentio could be oblivious to all of this. He could know a fraction of it. He could know all of it. He could hold no guilt. He could blame himself for what had happened to her, for he had been gone all those years- whatever that means.

He could want to destroy everyone and everything out of personal gain- to recreate them all in his image and rule them as he sees fit all because he is a greedy narcissist. He could want to destroy everyone and everything because, like Blumiere, he sees no point in anything after losing all he loved in all worlds. Maybe he betrayed Blumiere because Dimentio wanted to rule a timeline that goes his way and ONLY his way. Maybe “his way” is where he gets all he wanted in riches, in wealth, in a population that essentially worships him, and so on. After all, he does say that he wants to be king of all worlds. Maybe that isn’t everything he wants. After all, he doesn’t just wipe out everyone in all dimensions and create mindless followers using the Dark Prognosticus that is capable of doing that exact thing. No. Like Blumiere, Dimentio, too, wants the worlds gone. Erased. All of them. The worlds that caused that accident. killed his mom. “killed” him. killed his sister. And in these self-described and self-created perfect new worlds, his timeline, his way, where he can create anything and anyone he wants- maybe he isn’t alone anymore. Whatever that means.

In my full honest opinion, I think he is SO .FUCKING. COOL.

[cherryao3nova]

Changed my story summery because it wasnt satisfying me:

Summary: Afterlife, Eclipse had no idea what could happen to an AI as advanced as he was, Especially as he stared down death itself- also known as Sun and his Kamehameha. He never had to think about it and yet, if Eclipse had to think about the Afterlife, he would say that there was nothing waiting for him on the other side. He thought he was ready, he really did- and yet at the last moment he begins to doubt and regrets bubble to surface- it's far too late for that. So now, here he was, trapped in some kind of limbo bubble, with only the life of the Twin idiots that killed him for entertainment (as well as some kitting). But he wont be kept here, not even by a Higher Being, named Frank of all things, So he plans and makes a deal - even if it means he will have to take responsibility for his creations… Surely it can't be too hard, even as a ghost? ((An AfterLife Fic with Frank as a Higher Being / Eldritch god. Eclipse is trapped in Limbo as his afterlife. He is not happy. Not a reaction fic. OG Eclipse and Bloodmoon redemption fic. Updated when i can.))

-----------------------------------------

plans for the story: Spoilers

Eclipse will make a deal with frank the eldrich god. But the catch is that he will be a ghost. He will need to fix the Blood-Twins bloodlust. Eclispe will want to take over Backup eclipse's body when thats built, but we all know that will take too long so he start to plan for his own. Eclipse will haunt the daycare, trying to figure out how to fix bloodmoon as a ghost. Then killcode happens and Backup actually gets the star Yes luna will still die, but elipse will be doing his best to stop that Luna will be a ghost after that and will be till he is broght back, only eclipse will see him.

[vilandel]

When the Night and the Darkness visit the Morning

Summary For the first time in years, a certain grave in the cemetery get's a visit from a couple...

A/N My very first oneshot about the ship Ichinacht and also my first time writing about Nacht, Ichika and Morgen.

Ao3 link

♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣♣

It was a simple grave. Just a cross of stone, with a name on it and two dates. Birth and death. Whoever rested in peace under this cross, he died rather young. It was fair to assume that he met a tragic end.

The cross was halfway covered with moss and wild flowers bloomed close to the grave. Which might mean that no one came here for a long time.

But not today.

A man and a woman entered the cemetery, walking towards that grave. Both had black her and were wearing dark clothes. The man looked somehow as if his eyes were close, but he was still walking firmly on his two feet. The woman had her eyes open, looking stern, but there was still a softness within those grey irises. Her clothes were rather foreign, particular for Clover standards.

The couple stopped in front of the grave and the man kneeled down, putting a bouquet of sunflowers right before the cross.

“Good evening, brother.”

His first words to the person resting in the grave. A soft breeze went through the wild flowers, as if it was a greeting back.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t visited you during all those years. I still think more or less that I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Don’t listen to your brother, Morgen,” the woman interrupted him firmly. “We still need to work on his guilt issues, but he’s getting there. And he needs to understand that his visit makes you incredibly happy.”

Nacht Faust, vice-captain of the Black Bull squad – because it was him – gave her an amused smile before he turned again towards the cross, who had indeed the name Morgen Faust on it.

His twin brother.

“I’m sure you’re right now agreeing with her, as well as wondering who this woman is. May I introduce you to Yamis younger sister, Ichika. Yes, he has one and he never told any of us about it. But to be fair, he never told any of us about his past.”

Ichika now knelt as well in front of the grave, stroking the cross softly. “Hello, Morgen-sama. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Yami Ichika.”

“Don’t be so surprised that her name isn’t Ichika Sukehiro. Apparently, it is a custom in the Land of the Sun to introduce yourself first with the family name, not with the first name. And Yami had forgot to mention during all those years that his first name actually isn’t Yami, but Sukehiro. I wouldn’t be surprise if he actually forgot about it. You know what an idiot he can be. Thankfully, his sister uses her brain much more than he does.”

Another soft breeze flew through the flowers and for a second, it sounded almost like a chuckle.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but Yami choose me to be the vice-captain of his squad. I didn’t wanted it, of course and even today, it’s more like a pain. I have to be more firm than the captain himself so that squad can actually work like a normal one, sometimes. We have a spatial mage who is actually relieved about that. Oh, and I managed to push Yami to finally do some paperwork. He delegated everything before, even direct captain duties. It is a chaotic squad, full of idiots.”

Ichika pushed Nacht slightly with the elbow.

“But I admit that they aren’t the worst. And they still managed to get the job done. Today, they’re pretty accepted, for misfits. We have a witch and she’s currently engaged to the current captain of the Silver Eagles. Yes, to a royal, don’t ask how this happened. And Yami is finally dating Charlotte Roselei. Do you remember how dense he was, that he not only realized that she was in love with him, but that he loved her as well? Even Jack realized it before him and he was a bigger idiot than Yami. I guess he’s the same in the afterlife. ”

Another chuckling breeze went through the wild flowers. Nachts face became a bit more serious, but there was a softness on his traits which wasn’t there before. He took Ichikas hand gently.

“And… Morgen, you told me once that despite my attitude, that I might find someone to fall in love with still. You actually were right, like always. But… Isn’t it weird that I fell for Yamis sister of all people?”

“I don’t know if I should take this as an insult or as a compliment,” Ichika remarked while rolling her eyes, before she smiled towards the cross. “I’m actually happy to be somehow your sister now, Morgen-sama. It is sad that I couldn’t properly met you. But don’t worry, I will take good care of your brother. But that’s not an easy task, stubborn like he is.”

“As if you aren’t stubborn yourself,” Nacht snickered, but the softness never left his eyes. “I hope you can finally rest in peace… after everything. You deserve this. I promise you that I won’t deny myself any kind of happiness anymore. I love Ichika too much for that.”

Both visitors blushed at those words, but it didn’t stop Ichika to reply, “I love you too, you stubborn idiot.”

Nacht and Ichika knelt for another while in front of Morgens grave, before they bid their goodbyes to him and slowly left the cemetery hand in hand.

The same soft breeze flew again between the graves and at the cross, a blurry silhouette appeared. The ghost of Morgen Faust, ancient Magic Knight of the Grey Deers and still a member of the Black Bulls despite his death, looked with affection at the couple, who passed through the portal of the cemetery before disappearing into the night mist, bathed with the first moonlight.

After this visit, Morgen knew that he would be able to finally rest in peace.

Finally, brother. Finally…. Nacht, be happy with your Ichika…

With this whisper melting with the breeze, the ghost disappeared, smiling happily.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

How does one erase themselves from time and become a conceptual entity. I want to punch Lord Foaming Sky the Celestis in the metaphorical face for what they did to my afterlife and think becoming a conceptual entity would be the best way to do this?

How do I become a conceptual entity?

Evolving into a conceptual entity ventures into physics, metaphysics, and advanced temporal mechanics. Here are some steps that might be involved:

1️⃣ Step 1 - Master Temporal Mechanics: First up, you'll need to learn a LOT of info by having an unparalleled understanding of time and its mechanics. This includes manipulating potential timelines and understanding the intricacies of fixed points and temporal paradoxes.

2️⃣ Step 2 - Study Conceptual Physics: Next, it's time to hit the books, but not just any books - these are the kind of books that make the Matrix look like an episode of the Teletubbies. You'll need to understand how mortal concepts like 'existence,' 'identity,' and 'consciousness' can manifest in the physical universe, and also how they can be manipulated.

3️⃣ Step 3 - Transcend Physical Form: Begin the process of transcending your physical form. This could involve advanced meditation or exposure to raw artron energy (among many other methods). The goal is to detach your essence from your physical body and bind it to a concept or idea.

4️⃣ Step 4 - Bind to a Concept: It's time to pick your eternal theme. Choose something timeless and universal like 'justice' or 'vengeance' to bind your essence. This will link your existence to the very fabric of reality, so choose wisely.

5️⃣ Step 5 - Erase Physical Ties: Carefully erase your physical existence from the timeline. This involves ensuring that your new conceptual form is not paradoxically undone by your physical removal from history, so it's probably the most mind-boggling step.

6️⃣ Step 6 - Fortify Your New Existence: Strengthen your new form by integrating it into the collective consciousness of the universe. You want to be a legend whispered across galaxies - you need to become a 'living' myth - a concept that only exists in the minds and hearts of sentient beings.

7️⃣ Step 7 - Confront Lord Foaming Sky: Now, for the grand finale: taking on Lord Foaming Sky. As a conceptual entity, you won't fight in a traditional sense, so you can't rely on the jujutsu lessons your mum paid for to fight him. Your confrontation will be metaphysical, challenging his essence and what he represents. However, given his track record of failures, your battle might be less about might and more about outsmarting him. The guy's an idiot.

🚫 Disclaimer

This guide is purely speculative. Attempting to erase oneself from time or become a conceptual entity could have unpredictable and potentially catastrophic consequences on the fabric of reality itself. GIL does not approve of such practices and does not accept any responsibility for the death or metaphysical death of you or Lord Foaming Sky or any other person/s involved.

Related:

How might the Celestis digest?: How the Celestis might digest, highly theoretical.

How does religion work on Gallifrey?: Overview of the history and perception of religion throughout Gallifrey’s history.

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Wulfbearn (Finale)

Set in @idiotwithanipad 's Gore AU.

-

There she is! Finally!

Oh Moonah, sweet Moonah, She's shown him mercy at long last.

Lyssie Cub stands before him. Frozen in place, her eyes wide and round as an owls, lips hanging open. Is she as surprised as he is? More important, is she as happy as he is?

She doesn't run. Doesn't scamper off. That's a good sign, he tells himself as he approaches her. He sniffs at her. Lyssie Cub smell different. Make sense. Has been such a long time. Will have to mark her with his scent again. Plenty of time for that later.

First thing, get Lyssie Cub home. Cave on other side of land. Won't take long.

This time, he doesn't grab her ankle. He doesn't carry her like sack over his shoulder. Instead, he's gentle and tender, folding his arms around her. A squeak like a mouse rings against his furs. It okay now, Lyssie Cub. Guardian is here. Guardian has found her.

She's trembling, wriggling, pushing against him. Her touch doesn't so much hurt as her little fingers brush against his wounds and skin. There is a strange tingle. He feels a little bit sick. But he pushes it aside. Nerves, maybe. Can't mess this up. Can't lose her again.

Oh Lyssie Cub, sweet Lyssie Cub. He paws her blond braids as he clutches her to him.

Of course, she wouldn't be all that happy to see him. Not after how they left things. There had been many, many dark days in this mind crushing afterlife of his. That had been one of the worst. One that he's looked back and wished he could go back and change, make a different choice, not been such an idiot.

First thing that Lyssie Cub needs to know is that he doesn't blame her for leaving him.

He had done. At first.

For days and days, he'd paced around that little cave, huffing and puffing and clawing the walls to vent his frustration. He'd refused to acknowledge what he'd done, how low he had sunk, just to make sure she stayed. Faking his attack, over exaggerating the dangers, stealing the babies...Those were all awful, awful things. He knew that now. And he deserved every bit of ire and disgust she held towards him. He wishes that he'd let her hit him, slap him, call him out for all of it.

But at the time, he'd put the blame on her. Believed that she was too young and naive to understand the choices he'd made. That he knew what was best for her, only ever wanted to protect her. He refused to see it any other way.

And he'd waited. Waited for her to come crawling back, crying for him to take her back in. Waited to hear her scream as one of the men or beasts out there got their claws into her. Waited for her to need him.

He'd waited. And waited. And waited.

Nothing.

Days and nights had passed. He didn't sleep for a single one. Couldn't sleep without knowing she was safe. Couldn't sleep without her curled up beside him, or singing one of her lovely songs. His already fractured mind began to develop deeper cracks. He was alone again, for the first time in hundreds of years.

And it was horrifying.

Worry gnawed at him, at every minute of every day, he couldn't think of anything else. Cub. Cub. Cub.

Eventually, his pride had collapsed under the weight of all the guilt. The shame. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lyssie Cub's face the last time he saw her. How...disappointed she looked in him. How let down. Heartbroken.

He'd done that. No one else.

All his fault. All his fault.

It wasn't worth it. Why had he driven Cub away? Because he'd been afraid? Jealous? Wanted to keep her all to himself.

It wasn't worth it. To lose her entirely.

Better to have her in his life and share her with monk fish and village people and whoever else. Anything, just to have her come back to him, to gently touch his face, his furs. To look at him with love in her eyes.

Then one day, he'd heard something. A child's cry.

Cub? Lyssie Cub?

He'd raced out of the cave and through the woods, as fast as he could move on all fours, heart racing. He knew it would happen, he'd thought without any personal glee. Should have stopped her leaving. Should have begged for her forgiveness.

Any hurt she suffers is on his paws. Failed guardian. Again.

He'd followed the cry into the village. To Hell with worrying about what any of them thought at the sight of him. And many did see The Beast. Mostly dead. Some living.

Lots of screams. Women fainting. Old men convulsing. Children racing to hide behind their mothers skirts.

He'd roared. WHERE WAS SHE?!

WHERE WAS CUB?!

She must be there somewhere. Where were they hiding her?! He'd prowled up to everyone who met his eyes and snarled in their faces. He will find her! They won't keep him from her, never!

Priests came out chanting their prayers to send 'the demon' away. Men carried flaming torches but he disappeared into the shadows, growling, laying in wait. Some Livings he found he could touch. Pierce the veil.

Slice their throats. Bite their tendons.

"Ye beast! Get away! Leave us!" One of the sickly Dead women with oozing warts dares to try to shoo him away.

He roars at them all. Just try it! All of them!

He'll rip them all to shreds with nothing but his claws. Make them all fall like dead leaves until he finds his Lyssie Cub.

It's only when he finds the source of the crying does he stop.

A boy child. Not her.

Boy cub who had been weeping over his mother's grave. And then wailing as the great beast had begun to attack the village. Not his Cub. Not Lyssie.

The only place he hadn't searched was the big house nearby. Was she in one of those many rooms?

...Was she watching him?

Something about the boy cub's crying had subdued the monster within. He'd huffed and slunk back across the field. Back to his cave. But the damage was done. Everyone trembled in fear of the Demon Beast.

And soon, along with a great famine and other tragedies, the village was mostly abandoned. Everyone had been reminded of how cursed that land was to all who tread upon it.

He would return now and then, whenever he heard what he mistook to be her cries. Or her singing. Or just her voice.

He'd search. He'd hunt. He'd maul any Man who dared get in his way, believing they were keeping her somewhere.

No matter how many throats he tore and blood he spilled...there was no sign of Lyssie Cub.

Until now.

She'd been wandering through the woods on the full moon when he'd spotted her. Unmistakable. Had to be her, he'd thought, obsession overwhelming what remained of his rationality. Had to be Cub. Her braids. Her dress. Maybe a little different but could he be sure he remembered what she'd worn correctly?

Why else would a cub her age have been walking alone at this time of night? Moonah had to have lead them back together.

His ancient, crumbling heart swells as he holds her to him.

Oh, don't tremble, Cub, don't be afraid.

He must have scared her so much, the last time they spoke. And he'd been a brute, he hadn't used his brain. But Lyssie knows him, knows he's not a monster like people see. And the last thing on this planet that he would hurt is her.

He lets out soft, gentle huffs as he carries her across the land.

Can't sing like Cub. Could try but wouldn't be anywhere near as good.

Things will be different this time, he promises.

No lies. No kidnapping. No strict grounding.

Cub will be free to roam as she pleases, within reasonable distance, under his protection. She can make friends with whoever she wishes. She can be as loud or quiet as she likes. No reason to be frightened anymore.

And he'll be better. To Moonah, he makes this vow. He won't be rough with her again, won't be mean. He'll be kind and sweet.

He'll be fun. Just like he was with first cubs.

Oh, Lyssie, it might seem hard to believe now, hence all the whimpering and squirming, but once they're home and he can settle her, they can start again. Anything Cub wants, Cub will have. So long as she's happy.

Talk to him, Lyssie. Speak. He's missed that sweet voice ever so much.

What has Lyssie Cub been doing for all these years? Has she been living in the big house? Even when the villagers burned it down that one time? Did she make any friends? If she ever wants to go visit them, that's fine, he won't be jealous, won't be mean. Would prefer to know Lyssie not been alone all this time.

Like him.

Not gone mad again, like him.

He's hurt a lot of people, Lyssie. Not sure if always men. Maybe some women. Rich and poor. Old and young. Never children, Lyssie. Never hurt cubs. Not even animal, but those ones don't flock to him for protection like they used to. Too afraid of him. He's become a different sort of legend now.

Don't listen to what they say of him, Lyssie. Most of it is wrong. Some of it. Parts. Lyssie knows his heart. Knows its good, deep deep down.

Will be much better now Lyssie Cub back. Lyssie Cub help him be kind again. Lyssie Cub get him to smile.

Oh no. Why Lyssie Cub cry?

Happy to be together again? No...No, Lyssie afraid. Lyssie asking for 'mummy'. But Lyssie mum been dead for many century now. All they have is each other. It okay, Cub. He won't leave her alone again.

Nuzzling his fuzzy face against the child does little to calm her. When he sets her down on the grass, he attempts to bait her to play like they used to, tries to tickle her in all the spots he remembers that make her laugh.

Not a chuckle. Not even a smile.

Lyssie Cub look at him like he stranger.

Doesn't she recognise him? Can't have been that long that she forget. He's changed...yes. But still same Dear Guardian.

Lyssie still same too. Changed a little though, he can see....

Scars have healed. That good.

Even leg grown back. Now that just a miracle.

He rubs his cuff across her wet face. Shh now, little cub. Just need to jog memory. Won't take long. Take back to cave and have big long sleep. When Cub wakes up, all will be well. As it was before, but better.

How about he tell Lyssie Cub his name this time? Not told it to anyone in so long. He almost forget. Will share as sign of promise. Bare what's left of his soul.

His name, sweet Lyssie, is-

"Ally. What is thou doing?"

He stills.

A soft grunt. Not answering, he continues to wipe the small one's face.

"Dids thou find that little'en? Are ye guiding her home?"

In a manner of speaking.

Cub sniffles, whimpering, and tries to run. He grabs her arm and clutches her tight to his chest, his grip unrelenting as he continues his trek back towards the cave.

"Ally!" His Mistress materialises in a black whirlwind of ash and embers; "Release the child now! She be one of the Living!"

No....No, Mistress is wrong...

This is HIS Cub. Lyssie Cub die many centuries ago. Long before Mistress die on pyre.

Please stop squirming so much, Cub. Nearly home now.

"Ally...Thou doth give me no choice...If thee takes but one more step..."

He doesn't stop. He can't. Not even for her.

Does she have any idea how long he's searched for her?!

Something whips around his ankles and he stumbles forward, losing his hold on the child. She falls from his arms as he tumbles to the ground. Rolling away, she faces him, her brown eyes shining in the moonlight, filled with terror and confusion as she looks at him.

He blinks, reaching for her.

No...No, Cub, don't leave him again.

The acrid smell of charred flesh wafts by as his Mistress passes by him, her burned husk hovering on her ethereal smoky legs. She stands before Lyssie Cub and rests her bony hand on the child's brow.

"Go home, little'en. Thy mummy is calling for thee. Do nots go wandering out alone past thy bedtimes. There be no fairy folk here for thee." Mistress tells her, soft and soothing; "Let all this be nought but a strange dream. Not a nightmare, but one to inspire the 'magination."

All of the fear fades from the little girl's expression as she gives a soft blink, the witch's spell cast upon her mind.

A dazed, sleepy smile forms on her face. She glances down at him and then turns.

"Run along now, girl. Have many a charming dream. Never return." Mistress sends her away with a gentle pat.

The child skips off towards the servant's cottage where her mother works.

He watches her go from where Mistress' dark magic chains him to the floor. Tears blur his vision as she disappears from view.

No...Not again....

Cub. Cub!

He wails and beats at the grass. He was so close! He had her, right there! After all these years! How could Mistress let him lose her again?!

She lowers her wraith-like form down so she's 'kneeling' in a sense beside him.

"Why was thee attempting to claim a Living child as thy own, ally? I has never witnessed thee behave in such a state before." She asks, not judging. Merely concerned.

He cringes, burying his face in the grass.

There is much about him that Mistress does not know. Many things he has no desire to share. Wants her to think better of him.

Those bony fingers caress his mane.

"Dids the child remind thee of one, long lost? I has seen thy attention grabbed by many a little'en with yellow braids." She says, carefully.

None as much as her. Almost identical, except for the leg. And age. And eyes.

But the closest so far.

"Please. Allow me to see...so that I may understand. And thus help to remedy, if I am able..."

He doesn't resist as she uses her great magic to pierce his cranium with one of her smoky tendrils. Barely twitches as she cautiously sorts through his memories to find the answers he's unable to share verbally to her.

By the time she's found them, her raspy voice is laden with even more sympathy.

"Oh. Oh, my beloved ally." She sighs, her hand moving to her singed apron; "T'was not enough of a tragedy for thee to lose thy own little'ens...but yous did gets attached to another. Opened thy heart only to suffer again. Must have been terrible for thee."

He turns his head away from her, wanting to curl up into a ball and shrink to nothing.

She continues to stroke his raggedy hair.

"The sight of a blonde maiden child must cause thee so much grief. But...my good friend...ye must know that this cub of thine...This 'Lyssie'...she no longer wanders 'pon this Earth..."

A deep, painful cry erupts from his throat. No. No, no, no, please don't say it.

"I is ever so sorry. But I only know it be true because thou does. Deep down. T'has been the troth ye have been running from for so long now." She says, blunt but gentle, "Thou coulds not bare accepting the loss of yet another cub....so thy head has believed she still be wanderin' abouts. That any cry ye hear, or any yellow hair ye see, it coulds be her. Be I right?"

He whimpers.

The one with the blade in his chest had faced him, once, during one of his rampages.

"She be gone, foul beast! The sweet lassie I knows you seek! She be sailing the great ocean of stars...Now stop this madness, I implore thee...Little Liz woulds want you-."

He'd roared. He'd pounced on the man and slammed that dagger even deeper, with his fists as hammers.

How dare he speak such lies to try to keep him from his Cub? How dare he say her name?!

It changed nothing. He continued to raid the village and around the manor every so often. Continued to terrorise all who came in his path. Continued to believe that he would see her again.

Until now. Because this time he's hearing it from the one person who understands his pain.

The one person he knows would not deceive him.

"Shhh. There now. Let the truth settle in. I knows its be hard...but rest easy knowing that thy girl be at peace..." Mistress soothes.

He sniffs. The tendril around his ankles dissolves.

He pushes himself up.

Taking a deep breath, he looks up at Mistress' sympathetic looking skull.

'Cub...not my girl.' He signs, morose shadows cast across his face.

She tilts her head.

"That not be what I dids see..."

'Not mine. My Cubs all die. Many Moonah ago. None since. Lyssie Cub....was mistake.'

Foolish mistake.

He'd known not to get attached. Not to care. Not to feel. And yet he'd allowed himself to get close to the child. Allowed himself to think of her as his own. As family.

He'd allowed himself to feel love again.

And look what happened.

"Oh, my friend." Mistress sighs, "Do not take from this that ye should close thy heart once more. There shall be so many lost little'ens who require a guardian in the hereaft'."

'And me will help. Will never harm. Me will protect. Kill to keep safe, if come to that'.

He promises her. No harm shall come to any child that wanders upon this land.

Her land now.

'But me never love another cub. Never.'

If one is orphaned and needs to be claimed, they can be given to Mistress or one of those inside the big house. Not him. Not again.

"Dearest Ally. I do thinks that would be a foolish choice. But I understands." Mistress' tendrils caress against his temples, their velvety touch the only contact that he's comfortable with anymore; "Here. Let me take thy suffering."

Take it all. Take the ringing. Take the pain.

Take her....

No. No, he doesn't make that request, as tempted as he is. Mistress could remove Lyssie Cub from his mind entirely. Take away the good and the bad. He'd just be the same miserable shell as he was before he met her, same as now.

And yet he keeps her there, buried deep beneath the thorns of his mind, sleeping peacefully beside the rest of his children. To think, she belonged to him for decades longer than the rest of them. Should not have cared for any that are not his by blood.

Won't make that mistake again.

[jgmartin]

OPERATION EDENFALL

The sail was classified.

Whatever we were doing out there, they didn’t want anybody to know– not the Russians, not the Chinese, not the public and certainly not us, the crew. They kept us in the dark, fed us the lie that we were heading out on a routine patrol.

Up and down the coast, they said.

Back in no time.

But that was before the storm. It was before the sea turned into a maelstrom and the night swallowed the sun. It was before the captain slit his throat on the bridge, and before the crew tossed themselves overboard.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m a retired navy veteran, and I’m going to tell you something I shouldn’t. It’s the sort of thing that might get me killed, but I’m long past caring. I’ve got one foot in the grave anyway. Doctor says it's terminal. That means I can tell you whatever the hell I want, and short of conscripting ghosts to arrest me in the afterlife, the Powers That Be can go fuck themselves.

My name is Walter. This is the story of Operation EDENFALL, and how our world ends.

The sail began like any other. Our destroyer sat tied up alongside, our crew formed up in neat lines running from the jetty to the lower decks. We were storing ship. Food. Supplies. We brought on anything the next mission might need. It was a normal, run-of-the-mill evolution– all the way up until the moment they arrived.

The Secret Ones.

Nobody on board seemed to know who they were. Government? Civilian? It was anybody’s guess, but what we did know is they were weird fucks. They wore masks of crimson, tight balaclavas without holes for their eyes or mouths. When they arrived, they shoved past our line on the brow and ordered the quartermaster to fetch our captain.

“We need to speak,” they said.

And that’s just what they did.

I watched from the edge of my vision as all six Secret Ones surrounded the captain, the group mumbling words too quietly for me to make out. Their conversation lasted twenty minutes. By the end of it, the captain was frowning– he quickly stepped into the quartermaster shack to make a call ashore, and he looked nervous.

Terrified.

When the call finished, he muttered something dismissively to the Secret Ones before vanishing below decks. The rest of us were left scratching our heads. We had no idea what we’d just witnessed, but by the end of the day, we’d come up with more than a few theories.

Some said the Secret Ones were actually elite special forces, something beyond even SEAL Team 6. That’s why they wore the masks. That way, nobody could see their faces, or what they were looking at, or read their lips.

Others said they were intelligence operators. That they had access to such sensitive intel that they could only learn a fraction of it each, just in case one of them got captured by the enemy. Only together could they divulge their secrets in their entirety.

Briggs, a stoker from down in the engine rooms joked that they were illuminati. Lizards from mars.

Me?

I didn’t know what they were. To be honest, I didn’t really care either. All I wanted was to get the damn sail over with so I could get back home and see my wife. Abby and I had just had our first child, a beautiful baby girl named Alice. That’s all the navy was to me. A way to give Alice the life I never had– a happy life.

And when we set sail that day, I still believed that.

What a naive idiot I was.

About an hour after leaving the wall, the ship dropped anchor. A pipe blared through the intercom system, mustering the crew in the hangar. When I arrived, I found the captain standing at the front of all 200 of us, three of the Secret Ones on either side of him. They looked just as creepy as ever. Silent. Unmoving.

The captain cleared his throat. He told us this was difficult for him to do, but prior to our departure he received word that our mission had changed. Murmurs erupted across the crew. He raised his voice, cutting through the chatter.

“The sail is no longer expected to be routine, and I’m telling you now that you’d do well to expect the unexpected.”

He nodded to our medical officer, who looked deeply uncomfortable. She began moving through our ranks, dropping a pill into each of our hands, instructing us to keep it on our person at all times. Whatever you do, she said, don’t eat it.

“What is it?” Briggs asked loudly.

“Cyanide,” the captain replied.

I swallowed. Thankfully, the crew erupted into laughter, and so I joined them. It had to be a joke. What an absurd thing to say…

“Honestly, sir,” somebody called from the back, “Is this a malaria pill? Are we deploying? Cause I should let my wife know–”

“It’s cyanide, sailor. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t lose it.” The captain sighed, looking at the Secret Ones who stood like gargoyles on either side of him, and then shook his head. He stormed off, and the Secret Ones followed.

That night, Briggs died.

He tried the capsule. He swore up and down that the whole thing was a dumb joke, some government psyop to see if we were all gullible idiots. “There’s no fucking shot this is real,” he proclaimed loudly in the mess, holding it aloft with a smirk. “The officers don’t even trust us to clean toilets unsupervised, you think they’d let us carry around cyanide?” He popped the pill into his mouth. Washed it down with some orange juice.

His last words?

“Tastes like Smarties.”

Briggs died quick.

He died in a seizing, sputtering mess of shit and piss, but once his organs gave out it was only a matter of seconds. Carrying his corpse to the medical bay, though? That took minutes. It took minutes that felt like hours, like years. Once we dropped him on the doc’s slab, she did what she could to resuscitate him, but you could tell in her face that she knew it was a lost cause.

By then, Briggs was already gone. Long gone.

After that, we all assumed we’d turn the ship around and head back. We thought we’d at least drop off Briggs’ body, pay our respects, and take a day to grieve before resuming the mission. But the captain informed us there would be no funeral. There would be no grieving process.

In his words, “The show must go on.”

The ship entered into a state of lockdown. No outgoing communication. No incoming. River City. That meant we had no way to call home, and no way for home to call us. We were isolated. Alone. And then, if you can believe it, the captain had the nerve to get on the PA system and tell us that things were going to get worse.

“Briggs’ death,” he began, “while tragic, is just the tip of our iceberg. I wish I could share more details of what’s to come, but the truth is we’re going into uncharted territory. There are no certainties. All I can say is that by the end of this Briggs’ won’t have died for nothing. Where we go, history will follow.”

The crew became furious.

It seemed insulting, dismissive to treat the death of a crewmate like just another day at work, particularly in peacetime. At sea, there’s always a sailor that does the heavy lifting when it comes to morale. They bring a smile to every face they pass. Their jokes turn bad days into hilarious memories. That was Briggs. He wasn’t just a talented engineer, but a fantastic friend. His loss was a hit to the crew. A big one.

After that, many of us threw our cyanide caps overboard. We hated the memory they represented– the loss of somebody so important.

It’s something many of us would later come to regret.

In the days following Briggs’ death, the ship never held an official funeral, but the crew mourned in our own ways. We swapped stories over soup. We decked his rack out in old photos of him, the more embarrassing the better– just the way Briggs would have wanted it. It became a sort of memorial, a place where we could make peace with his passing.

But as the days ticked on, things became darker. The crew’s morale dipped further and further, and soon, it seemed as though we were all coming undone. We no longer traded our favorite memories of Briggs. Now we were trading conspiracy theories, our best guesswork of just what the hell our ship was doing out here.

It’s China. They’ve got a secret weapon and we’re gonna dismantle it. I saw this YouTube video about it. If they catch us though, they’re gonna torture the fuck outta us, so that’s why Skipper gave us the cyanide.

Fuck that. Are you listening to yourself? You sound nuts. It’s Russia, gotta be. They’re going nuclear and we got early word so now we’re out to sink their subs. What do you mean why? They can’t second strike us after we glass ‘em, can they? It ain’t genocide if we got no choice.

I didn’t know what to think.

I’d never experienced anything like this, and so I just woke up, did my watches, and went to bed. Rinse. Repeat. I tried not to talk about what was going on because every time I did, Briggs inevitably came up and the memory hurt like a knife to the gut. He and I had gone through basic together. We’d sailed up and down the Pacific Northwest and made a game of finding old coins in every port. So I just kept my head down. Did my work.

I was doing that work when the captain’s warning came true. When things got worse.

It was a night watch and I’d been steering the ship on helm. One moment, we were sailing through smooth waters in a bright, cloudless night, and the next moment it all vanished. Darkness stole the evening like a lightswitch set to off.

I recall the watch officer moving onto the bridge wings and staring up at the sky, trying to determine if the moon had slipped behind a cloud. When he came back, he looked confused. Shaken. It was odd to me because we had radars so it wasn’t like we were navigating blind. He called the captain and reported that the moon was missing. Gone.

“Stay the course,” the captain commanded.

“But sir–”

Click.

The watch officer looked at me, shook his head. “He hung up,” he said.

The next morning the sun never rose. The sky remained as black and haunting as the night before. Around this time, the Secret Ones began acting more bizarre. Whereas before they more or less stayed put in their cabins, now they wandered the ship aimlessly. They’d mumble nonsense under their breaths as you passed them in the flats. They’d run their hands over surfaces, stare blankly at bulkheads.

Every so often, you’d catch a couple of them heading to the upper decks with a small ham radio and a portable antenna. They’d set it up and sit there for hours. Mostly they didn’t speak into the microphone, just sat and listened to the static buzz of the speaker. Sometimes you’d hear them screech into the mic. Once, I even saw one crying. He sat there, silently sobbing into the microphone while rocking back and forth.

Events like these transformed the crew’s theories. Talks of Russian or Chinese super weapons mostly vanished, and now the prevailing theory was that we’d been dispatched to make contact with aliens. According to Reynolds, he overheard some officers whispering about a downed spacecraft. We were on our way to investigate their SOS signal.

That’s why the sky’s gone all fucky. It’s alien cloaking technology designed to keep their craft hidden. If we get it first then we’ll be able to travel to different planets and shit. The guys in red work for NASA. Space Force. Whaddya mean how do I know? I asked one.

No way. I told you the Russians were gonna nuke us and now they did. Why do you think it’s so fucking dark, man? Nuclear winter. Duh. All the ash and soot blotted out the sun. Read a book someday and you might learn something.

Neither theory was close to the truth.

None of us had any idea just how bad things were, or how bad they were going to get. If we had, then we’d have staged a mutiny right then and there. We’d have turned the ship around and gone back the way we came, blown the whistle and made damn sure the people who orchestrated this thing ended up behind bars.

But we didn’t.

Instead, we trusted the captain, and we trusted the navy.

Instead, we sailed into the night.

The following week passed in confusion and despair. The crew became irate. Shipmates who were usually chipper began snapping at one another, fighting over the tiniest things. Small comments became loud meltdowns in the space of seconds. Cold coffee led to fist fights. Missing toilet paper left a sailor with a black eye and a bloody nose.

But those were manageable problems. not so far out of the ordinary that we weren’t equipped to understand them, to deal with them. But what happened in the gym between Myers and Ashely? That was something none of us were equipped to deal with.

It started with Ashely spotting Myers on the bench press. I don’t know what was said. I wasn’t there. All my information is second-hand but according to witnesses, an argument started when Ashely accused Myers of sabotaging her marriage. Words flew. Myers went to rack his bar, but Ashely kicked the bar back down on his neck.

Two hundred and fifteen pounds. It nearly decapitated him.

From what I hear, it’d have been better if it had.

Myers was still alive when the doc arrived. His limbs were twitching weakly, his body suffering periodic spasms as it lay in a pool of its own blood. His neck had been partially severed, his head hanging on by a thick strip of flesh.

His eyes though, his eyes were still moving.

Ashley sat in the corner, screaming that she didn’t mean to, that she never wanted to hurt him but something forced her. “I couldn’t stop myself,” she said over and over. “I’m sorry,” she bawled as they dragged her away, locking her up until they could sort out just what the hell happened.

Myers didn’t live much longer. Mercifully, the doc put him out of his misery the fastest way she could think of– by finishing the job. The rest of us got to work at cleaning up the blood in the weight room. As for Ashley? She died an hour later. Turns out she’d held onto her cyanide capsule, and lucky for her, she got a chance to use it.

At the time, I felt for both of them. I hated the idea that Myers was made to suffer the way that he did, but I also felt awful for Ashley because I knew, deep down, what she meant. I think all of us did. She never wanted to hurt Myers. Something had brought a shadow out of her, a monster that should never have existed.

A dark miasma had infected our ship, it’d seeped into our hearts and minds, making us angry, desperate things.

That night, I thought of Ashley. I thought of what she must have looked like after she’d swallowed her cyanide cap, of how easy it could have been to escape this nightmare if I’d never flushed mine. But then my thoughts turned to my wife, my daughter. Guilt filled my stomach like a pit of vipers, snapping at me for daring to think of leaving them behind.

It took time, but eventually I drifted off. My dreams that night were messy things. Hopeless. I dreamt of Briggs’ spirit wandering the ship, unable to find peace so far from home, trapped in this steel cage drifting through endless night. I dreamt of him going through the mess, from bunk to bunk, killing all of us. “It’s for your own good,” he’d say, before reaching into our chests and stopping our hearts. “Somebodys gotta look out for you, right?”

I awoke in a cold sweat. My mind felt like mush, and I hastily brushed my teeth before stumbling through the flats like a zombie. I had to get to my watch on the bridge. With each step I took, my ears rang, and my vision seemed to stutter like television static. I half wondered if I’d been drugged, if maybe there’d been a carbon monoxide leak from the diesel pump below our mess, but then something caught my eye.

The Secret Ones’ cabin. Its door was cracked open, barely an inch.

It was never open.

I crept forward, peeking inside to see that the lights were out. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but once they did I saw one of them sitting at a desk with their back to me. A low sound played throughout the room. It resembled music, but it was decidedly off-tune and uncomfortable, like a violin’s strings being stripped and sanded. Grimacing, I stepped inside, using the ‘music’ to cover my footsteps as I eyed the Secret One sitting rigid in his seat.

My jaw dropped.

He wasn’t wearing his mask. At least, not properly. It was lifted up just above his eyes– except he had none. No eyes. No nose. He only had a tiny hole where there should have been a mouth. My heart hammered, suddenly understanding why these creeps were running their hands over everything on the ship, why they’d stand they were in utter silence staring at bulkheads. They were navigating. Scouting.

Listening.

The Secret One lifted a finger to his face, traced it along a series of wounds, some still fresh with blood. I brought a hand to my mouth, stifling a gag. He plunged his fingernail into his cheek, whimpering as he slowly dragged it through his skin. Slowly, he began to peel back a strip of flesh. Then another.

He placed them down upon the desk, humming in tune with the distorted music. The flesh began to writhe. It began to twist, reshape itself. The Secret One touched it, felt it in his hands as he moaned in low ecstacy. Reaching down, he opened a drawer. Took a file folder out of it and opened it, placing it upon the desk. He scribbled something on the paper, then closed the file and replaced it in the drawer.

What the fuck…

The cabin door creaked. I froze, watching as the thin beam of light from the flats grew, widening as I watched in abject horror as another Secret One entered the room. It stood, staring in my direction through its crimson mask. It cocked its head sideways. Took a step forward. My body rippled with goosebumps, flushed itself with adrenaline as I wondered if this Secret One was different. Perhaps it still had its eyes. Its nose. Perhaps it could see me.

It mumbled something incoherent. The Secret One that had been sitting mumbled something back, and then turned its seat, looking toward me. It rose from its chair. My skull pounded. Like a freak storm, a pulsing headache rose from nowhere, growing in pain until I wanted to scream.

But I couldn’t. If I made a sound, then they’d know I was here.

If they didn’t already.

The first Secret One stepped toward me, and I took a step back in concert with its own. I hoped I could use the sound of its footsteps to mask mine. It reached toward me. I clenched my teeth, shuttered my eyes and prepared myself for whatever nightmare was coming, but instead I heard the soft click of a locker opening. To my side, a locker door opened with a screech, and the Secret One reached into it to remove a ham radio and a… machete. My heart hit my rib cage once. Twice.

I felt faint.

Then they left. Both of them turned, walked away and left me in their cabin alone. Alone with the dossier.

I took a sharp breath and moved to the desk drawer, opening it and removing the folder. I thumbed through the documents inside, but they were incomprehensible. They appeared to be written inside a fever dream. Strange symbols. Meaningless numbers. Nothing about what I was looking at even approached the realm of sensibility, but it occurred to me that maybe that was the point. Perhaps this was a code.

I didn’t have time to decipher it, so I stuffed the folder into my shirt for later analysis. Right now, I was late. I hurried to the bridge, breathless by the time I made it for my shift on helm. I gave a hasty turnover report to Sandhu, the watch officer, and sat down in my seat. I took over steering, and my mind spun with what I’d just seen.

Were these Secret Ones some kind of cultists?

Was Briggs right all along? Were we sailing with the goddamn Illuminati?

Were any of them even human?

Before I could think it through, the captain interrupted my thoughts. He stumbled onto the bridge, looking halfway between drunk and dead. I’d heard rumors throughout the ship that he was in poor health, but this was the first time I’d actually seen him out of the cabin in… weeks. His face was emaciated. His cheeks were so sunken that the bones looked liable to pierce his skin, and I idly wondered if he’d eaten anything since we’d set sail.

“Evening sir,” Sandhu said, sounding uncomfortable. “Err, how are you feeling?”

The captain mumbled something unintelligible in response, brushing past her and practically collapsing into his chair. He buckled the seat belt.

Sandhu and I exchanged a look. She cleared her throat. “Is everything… is everything alright, sir? Should we be expecting heavy seas?”

The captain looked at her, but he didn’t seem to see her. His skeletal fingers gripped the armrests, and his lips began to move as though he were trying to speak but had no voice.

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t quite hear you. Could you speak a little louder?” she leaned forward, holding her ear toward the captain’s mouth.

“Goodbye,” he rasped.

“I’m sorry?”

“Goodbye.”

“Sir,” Sandhu began, but the captain cut her off.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Tears leaked from the captain's eyes, and his body shook with tremors with each farewell he spoke.

“I’m calling the doc,” Sandhu announced, moving toward the phone. She picked it up, but before she managed to punch in the number, an orange glow appeared beneath the dark of the windows.

“What the…” she muttered, stepping toward it.

“Ma,am!” called Ramirez who had been standing lookout on the bridge wings. He rushed inside, his eyes wide. “Those… Those Secret types just lit a bonfire on our gun deck!”

“Come again?” Sandu rushed to the window, looked straight down and shock and rage filled her features. She ran to the bridge wings, shouted down to the Secret Ones to put the fire out this instant. A moment later, she screamed.

Ramirez, who had been gazing out the window, suddenly turned and vomited onto the deck. He stumbled, holding himself up against a radar console. “Oh my god…”

“Ramirez!” I snapped, shooting up from my seat. “What’s going on out there?”

“It’s Ashley,” Ramirez said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. “It’s Ashely and Briggs… They’re chopping up their corpses on the deck.”

Sandhu stormed back inside, a fire in her voice. “Captain! Permission to mobilize an ERT to put those red-masked assholes in confinement! They’re desecrating our shipmates out there!”

The captain tilted his head, gazed straight through her.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Sandhu cursed. She practically ripped the radio off the desk, punching in the number for the Executive Officer. “Ma’am?” she said. “It’s Lieutenant Sandhu on the bridge. Listen, we’ve got a situation up here. Those Secret types are cutting up the bodies of Briggs and Ashely on the gun deck, and they’ve got a fire too… Yes, you heard me right… Roger. Make sure the ERT is armed, at least one of those assholes has a machete… That’s just it ma’am. The captain’s well aware, he’s up here with me now, but he’s out of his mind. Keeps saying goodbye over and over… Thank you.”

She hung up the phone, grit her teeth. After a moment, she took a deep breath and looked at me and Ramirez. “We’ve got an ERT being deployed to lock those red-masks up. The XO is assuming command. We’re turning this ship around.”

Ramirez pumped his fist. “Finally!”

But somehow, even then, I knew it was too little too late. Whatever those Secret Ones had set out to do with Briggs and Ashley’s bodies, they’d already succeeded. The wind began to howl. Then it began to scream.

A wave struck us broadside. Then another. Ramirez stopped celebrating long enough to grab hold of the radar console, but then another wave hit us. A big one.

The impact twisted the destroyer like a rubber duck in the bath. It knocked Ramirez sideways, tumbled Sandhu across the deck. I managed to steady myself against the helm console long enough to get my seatbelt strapped in.

“Jesus Christ,” I heard Sandhu breathe. “Is everybody alright?”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Rogue wave,” Sandhu muttered, getting to her feet. “It’s been three weeks of glassy seas, and then that comes out of nowhere. I’m telling you, this sail is cursed. It was cursed from the second we pushed off the wall.” She picked up the radio and began a shipwide announcement to commence an immediate rapid survey, but before she could finish another wave struck us.

Then another.

And another.

Sandu’s head slammed against the center console with a sickening crack. Her body collapsed to the deck motionless. I shouted out to her, but I couldn’t do a thing to help. I was at the mercy of the waves. I braced against the helm, my seatbelt squeezing painfully into my waist as more and more of the ocean crashed into our hull. Nearby, Ramirez was gripping a hand-hold and shrieking.

No, not shrieking. Praying.

The captain, sitting buckled into his seat, swung limply side to side as he continued his refrain.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Lightning flashed.

For the first time in weeks, I glimpsed the pitch-black sky. Dark clouds spun around us, swirling as though caught up in a whirlwind, and within those clouds swam shadows. Faces. They gazed down at us, anguished. I saw Ashley. Briggs. I heard them whimper and howl, as though they were suffering a great agony.

Ramirez’s body arched, it twisted. He began to scream and holler, writhing in a way that made it seem as if he were being picked apart from the inside out. I wanted to leap from my seat. I wanted to help, but I knew I had to keep control of the ship. Right now, the only thing stopping us from capsizing was me keeping a steady course into the waves. Abandoning the helm in a storm like this would mean certain death.

“Heavenly father…” Ramirez groaned. Tears streamed from his eyes as he gazed up at the haunting faces of the dead, swirling in the clouds above us. “Forgive me… For what I do…” His hands gripped the guardrails that ran the length of the bridge, and he pulled himself against the violent movements of the ship. Slowly. Inch by inch. I watched helplessly as he reached the hatch leading outside to the bridgewings, knowing exactly what he intended to do.

After all, Ramirez and I had flushed our cyanide capsules together.

“Don’t…!” I called out, but I couldn’t think of a reason not to. Why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t I join him? Ramirez paused at the hatch, looked at me, and mouthed something I think might have been sorry.

Then he flung the door open. The bridge erupted with the deafening cacophony of the storm, and through the wind and the spray, I watched Ramirez throw himself into the sea.

I sat there, knowing sooner or later I’d follow him. Right now, I was dying in slow motion. The waves, already vicious, worsened. The swells now threatened to rise up and swallow the ship itself, reaching heights that resembled skyscrapers, or mountains. The ship’s hull groaned. It sounded as though the whole vessel was moments away from splitting in two.

Please, I thought to myself. Please let me make it out of here, if not for me, then for my daughter. My wife.

And then, cast in the flickering light of the storm, I saw my death. A wave. Larger than any before it– a goliath. The wall of water practically ate the sky, and when it came down upon us, I knew it was over.

My neck snapped sideways. My seatbelt tore into my waist. Suddenly, up was down and down was up. The ship tumbled in the rage of the sea, frigid water shattering the bridge windows as the captain and I drowned in darkness.

In retrospect, I don't know why I held my breath. After all that had happened, drowning would have been easy, preferable. But I did. I think I held it for Abby and Alice, gurgling as I desperately attempted to get my bearings. And then, as though by some miracle the water began to drain.

I gazed in disoriented shock as the ocean poured out of the broken bridge windows, Sandhu’s lifeless body following suit. It occurred to me that I was hanging upside down. That my seatbelt was digging into my waist, stealing my breath. Ahead of me, the captain was suffering the same dilemma, and this time he wasn’t repeating Goodbye. No, that brief moment of capsizing must have shocked him back into lucidity.

But if we didn’t capsize, why were we upside down?

I followed the captain’s gaze out past the broken windows, out into the black of night and there I saw something more awful than anything I’ve ever seen. I saw something staring back at us.

It was colossal. It watched us through the broken window, its eyes like three orbs of swirling obsidian. The captain reached into his pocket, pulled out his ship’s knife usually reserved for cutting lines. I wondered if he meant to fight that thing. To go out swinging. To get revenge on this monster for turning him into a mindless zombie and dragging his crew to their deaths–

And then he pressed the knife into the side of his throat. With a gurgling groan, he gripped it with both hands, and tore it across his neck.

Blood burst from him like a faucet.

The creature appeared satisfied. It turned its gaze to me then, and in its eyes I saw an abyss. A void. It was as though something had bottled all the pain of humanity and compressed it into a single point, like a collapsing star, before igniting it. What I saw was a new big bang. An entire universe built of our despair.

I twisted in my seat, panicking. It felt like somebody had poured napalm into my skull, and it was only then that I realized this monster was inside of my mind. It was tasting my thoughts. My memories. I clenched my fists, my fingernails digging into the bone of my palm and I set my jaw as I screamed my throat raw.

None of it lessened the agony.

The cyanide. Why did I throw out the cyanide? It would’ve been so easy.

Abby, I thought. That was why I threw out the cyanide.

Abby and Alice, my little angel, who would grow up with her father. Alone. Confused. No– I couldn’t punch my ticket. Not if it meant leaving him behind.

My thoughts rebounded against the monster. The love I had for my daughter, for my wife, seemed to grow and expand, filling the vast emptiness this being had left inside of me. Slowly, the napalm in my skull began to fade. The screams echoing from my mouth became gasping breaths. A voice reached me, a voice from somewhere distant and endless, and it told me to never return. To always hold onto what I have. Never let go.

Then, from beyond the shattered windows, the monster’s abyssal eyes closed.

And so did mine.

I awoke to the sun. I found myself floating on a piece of debris in a place I’d later discover was off the coast of Guam. The waves gently sloshed at my feet. There was no sign of my ship, my crew, or the monster that we’d discovered in the sea. It was quiet here. Peaceful.

Gulls squawked overhead and a bell rang. It drew my attention. Some distance away I saw a small fishing vessel, one that appeared to have diverted course to sail in my direction. Its crew members were tiny dots on the deck. They were shouting at me. Waving.

They saved my life.

But they weren’t the only ones I had to thank. No, I’d be remiss if I didn’t also thank the monster in the sea. A creature I came to know as Eden. Those documents I’d stolen from the Secret Ones, the papers I’d stuffed into my jacket, well they were badly damaged and waterlogged– but not unreadable. It took me time to translate them. I had to enlist the help of several individuals who I won’t name here for obvious reasons, but I will say that what we discovered was haunting.

We learned that we’d been fed a lie.

Or, at the very least, a partial lie. It turns out that the theory of evolution is missing components, that it’s only telling part of a broader story. See, the way we know things is that life originated from the primordial soup. We’re taught that this all began with basic organisms crawling out of the sea, but what we aren’t taught is that those organisms weren’t miracles. They weren’t a happy coincidence.

They were births.

A billion years ago, something came to our planet. It was a creature, one of unfathomable power from a distant galaxy. It settled deep in the ocean. There, it began to create life, learning as it went. These iterations would one day lead to the creation apes, then to humanity. What we discovered is that this creature was intelligent, but also lonely. It desired connection. In an effort to assuage this void in itself, it did something that it had never done: it imparted fragments of its own consciousness upon a lifeform. It linked itself to human beings.

But it backfired.

The link to this creature’s mind proved unbreakable. Even as it attempted to instill virtues within humanity, to inspire us toward love and compassion and peace, we fought against it. Rebelled. Our baser, primal instincts eventually won out. We fell again and again into cycles of violence and war, of rape and murder. We poisoned this creature– this Eden with our corruption, but still it persisted. It knew that to break its link to us would mean the end of humanity as we knew it, and that whatever empathy we had would become more violence. More rage.

Like a mother, it couldn’t let go of its child. It believed in us, trusted that we could do better, become better– if not then, then eventually.

But now, it’s been too long. This mental wound has festered, it’s gone untreated and Eden is paying the price. She’s dying. Withering away. All our hatred and greed, our thirst for destruction and division has reached a critical mass inside of her and she’s beginning to collapse. She’s filling up with our madness. The mother that once birthed us is now gone, and a monster has taken her place.

The Secret Ones knew all of this. According to their documents, they believed that she intended to finally cauterize her wound, to put an end to humanity before we could put an end to her. Their intention was to strike first. That’s what we were– my ship, my crew– a first strike against our mother. Our creator.

But the most terrifying thing?

The Secret Ones had no idea what would even happen if we succeeded. If Eden died. Theories posited were that she might simply sink to the bottom of the sea, rot away across decades until her bones washed ashore. Another theory posited that perhaps the madness we’d filled her with would leak out of her, like a nuclear core in meltdown, infecting the world in a miasma of insanity.

There were so many variables. Too many to account for. The only thing the Secret Ones appeared absolutely certain of is that we would lose our connection to her. We would lose our love. Our empathy. We would lose our very souls, and to them, survival was worth it.

But I didn’t think so then. I don’t think so now.

My empathy, my love is the only reason I’m writing this today. It was my wife, my daughter who saved me that night. When Eden looked into my eyes, when she expected to see the madness of human corruption she instead saw a piece of that dream she had so long ago. A dream of harmony. A dream of peace.

I believe that’s why she let me go. She recognized that there are still those among us who try to carry her torch, who live with love in our hearts. And it’s for just that reason that I know there’s still love in hers.

But that was all many years ago now. Times have changed. As a species, we’ve grown more divided, more angry and more vile and we rejoice in the failures of one another and criticize our triumphs. All around us, love is drying up. It’s smoldering in the embers of selfishness and narcissism, and when I see that, I can't help but wonder whether the Secret Ones eventually succeeded in their mission.

I can’t help but wonder if Eden is finally dead.