#operation: sorrow is all the rage

[effieotto]

Random Hunger Games headcanon

•Haymitch liked to trace the lines of Effie’s face when they were in bed to keep her in memory, because he loved her features and usually couldn’t see them properly when she was all caked up

•Katniss and Peeta had a hard time deciding which of their last names they would choose for their children. Because even though she knew that hers hold too much weight, for being forever associated with the mockingjay -and she didn’t want their kids to be associated with everything she once meant- It also represented the name shared between her, her Father and Prim, and she didn’t want to erase their memory from such a important thing in her life. So later on, Peeta suggested for them to use both of their names (Mellark-Everdeen) so the kids could decide which they would use when they got older

•When his rage had settled down and the Hummingbird Operation (along with everything else he had done during the war) had finally sink, Gale had a very ugly breakdown, while they waited for Katniss’s trial, and Haymitch was the one to pick him back up. The boy sobbed on Haymitch’s shoulder and he decided to, for once in his life, be the father the boy never had and help him through it all

•Effie Trinket had a bunny (i won’t go further, but she looks like the bunny type. So yeah, after the war she had a white fluffy bunny called Daise)

•Annie knew all those things about Gale when she wrote the letter for Katniss because, after the war, him and Johanna developed a close enough relationship and she had those informations by overhearing their conversations sometimes

•Haymitch resented Katniss a little for how blunted she had been when she asked for him to take Peeta’s place when the announcement from the Quell came out (even if he had been the one to offer it, he wished she had at least hesitated a little bit before throwing him to the wolves), and even though he had never (and would never, for countless reasons) tell her that, he always carried the feeling that she didn’t care for him as much as he cared for her, and the coldness of it hurt him badly….even if it wasn’t exactly true.

•Effie felt uneasy every time she went out with Katniss and Peeta’s daughter and a man talked to her too softly, because as much as she knew District Twelve’s citizens were warmer and that she wasn’t in the Capitol anymore, she couldn’t shake the memory of how the men usually talked to her when she was the same age, and as irrational as it goes, she didn’t want anything like what they did to her back then to happen with that little girl. So, not so politely, she would excuse them and nudge the girl to walk faster every time she gave too much attention for them

• When he got his recess from the Peacekeeper job, Gale went to District four and he and Johanna went out every Friday night to drink their sorrows away and find a easy fuck to each other -which wasn’t really an easy doing, because Gale was too shy and Johanna was too picky, but they had fun anyway-

•Even though Haymitch never enjoyed to leave District Twelve for long, he had managed to get involved in a handful of political activities for the new Panem, since President Paylor had finally decided to have some use of his limited political knowledge and strategies to help the government and the country back to its feet, with as much peace possible. He traveled once or twice per year through the Districts to help the new President with small social programs

[stuckasmain]

Hal’s deactivation is hard hitting across both the movie and the book. It’s been dissected a million times and likely more in the future. Most recently in the way of Hal having little agency…he has no arms to ward off his attacker or means of defense (but I’d argue killing Frank and the others was his defense, especially in the movie when his reasoning is more ambiguous). I do love the idea this is following and hope to see more of it in the future, however the way I’m approaching it is with a more romantic lense.

The entire lobotomy sequence is heart wrenching and almost worse in the novel purely because we get to see Dave’s thoughts on it. Not only do we hear Hal’s frightened pleas for his life but we get the ‘attacker’ perspective and it’s… an act of mercy.

While there is the themes of survival and violence this is approached with a softer touch. It’s much more that he is putting Hal out of his misery. Ending his suffering. Not putting him down like an animal but rather the harsh decision faced when one has an ill/dying lover.

“The only answer was to cut out the higher centers of this sick but brilliant brain, and to leave the purely automatic regulating systems in operation” 155

After the job is done Dave forgives Hal incredibly quickly once all of the facts are in. He can quickly pull together the mental break that must’ve happened and recognizes that Hal had the very human ‘fight or flight’ response to what he had been through. He had always been treated like a sixth crew member, respected and talked to like anyone else but it is only “post Mortem” that Dave recognizes how human Hal was and that true emotion might be more than theorizing.

“And yet, in one very real sense, he was not alone. Before he could be safe, be must be lonelier still.” 153

The fact that Dave genuinely sees Hal as his last true connection. Even after the murders. How he fights and forgives and comes up with excuses to not have to go through with the enviable because then will he be truly alone… but he also knows logically- Hal isn’t right and can’t be left active. Despite his feelings safety and protocol come first.

Hal is human in Dave’s eyes and it makes things all the more tragic, it’s what turns shutting off functions into lobotomy, into murder. He thinks he won’t feel pain, not because he’s machine but because there’s no sense in the human cortex. So human that his “true” voice is unrecognizable and horrifying.

“Bowman could bare no more. He jerked out the last unit, and Hal was silent forever.” 157

It’s not rage which he makes the final blow, it’s sorrow. It’s pulling the plug.

Some of Hal’s lines in the book particularly, as we get more insight into him as well and some of his pleading. His honest to god confusion and panic because he’s so young and has no idea of sleep and …

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. . . You are destroying my mind. . . Don’t you understand? I will become childish. . . I will be nothing. . .” 156

I don’t know, I’m becoming borderline incoherent but there’s something here that’s so tender and sorrowful that I have to address it. I’m a sucker for the violence = intimacy metaphor just as anyone but the unwitting murderer is also an angle I have to adore.

Maybe in another life Hal got to be a little gay Victorian with someone to hold his hand on his sick bed rather than be murdered. I just think he deserves better; they both do.

Computer death sad -> he should be fed soup

This is when you know you should go to bed.

[asthmaticplushiedragon]

OC time!!!

Hope, Trust, Longing, Dread and Rage are characters in a webcomic I hope to one day write, called Letters of Sorrow.

The five of them are workers in a company called Spirit Express. It's a mail company like no other, that delivers emotions and feelings in the form of letters. They operate world wide, all day, every day, and in return receive special powers, such as invisibility, intangibility, and immortality. But seeing as the company is a secret, every worker has to give up the lives they once had and forget their past. It's a (mostly) painless procedure, and the rewards are worth it! But not just anyone can do it.

You're welcome to send questions to me or the characters, more information about each of them under the cut!

!The drawings below show blood, detailed injury and death! (Injuries include self harm, stabbing and gun wounds)

In Spirit Express, every worker represents a different emotion. The emotion has three "embodiments", each in a different department of the company. The worker called "Happiness" from Headquarters is right above the ones called Happiness from Research and Delivery. But while Research and Delivery meet in a daily basis, people from Headquarters almost never meet the other two departments. The line of work is HQ to R to HQ again and then to D. Headquarters give Research the name and basic information about the addressee, Research write down everything they can find about the person, and then Headquarters create the desired letter. Then Delivery makes sure the letter gets to it's place. Hope is the main character of the story. He's sixteen, and the sunshine of the group. He's a proud mailman, delivering letters of hope to their addressees. As the embodiment of hope in the company, he has a tendency to day dream of endless possibilities. Hope doesn't remember much from his life before he started working in Spirit Express, but that doesn't matter! He likes his job and his roommates, and he has everything he needs in life!

Longing is nineteen, and a mailwoman. She is considered the dreamer of the group, although when you get to know her you find she can be rather sassy and even harsh. She knows she was engaged or married before, because of the ring on her finger. But she figured that, if the girl she was before chose to give it up, it was probably not worth it. Still, sometimes she finds herself looking at roses and longing for a life she never knew.

Dread is twenty-two, a mailman, and a Jew. He knows that only because of the Kippah on his head, and he tries to learn about his culture. Just for scholar reasons, of course, nothing more. He's not really sure why he's the embodiment of dread, but he's sure Headquarters have their reasons. For now, though, he just tries to do his job best and make sure all letters of dread reach their addressees.

Trust is eighteen, and a workaholic. She works as a researcher. Trust is very thankful for only being responsible for the letters about her emotion, because even now she can hardly keep up and has to pull one all-nighter after another. She always says that she would trade her position with one of the mailmen in a moment, but actually enjoys her job. And she knows that, somewhere in the company's archive, there's probably an essay someone wrote about her old life.

Rage is kind of a mystery to his roommates. He's nine, and doesn't talk much at all. All they know is that he works in Headquarters, but since he leaves before they wake up and comes back after they're fast asleep, they don't meet him much. He makes them pancakes every weekend, tho.

Send questions!

[101maverick]

Hearts Intertwined

< Chapter 2

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: violence, mention of drugs and drug use, mention of overdose, mention of child and domestic abuse, attempted sexual assault.

Summary: Red Hood spends his Easter Sunday patrolling crime alley and finds some interesting (preoccupying?) evidence about a potential problem that might mean teaming up with his family. Jason Todd finds someone in need of help.

Word count: 3374 words

‼️⚠️REMEMBER TO REBLOG!!!⚠️‼️

Jason wasn’t having the best of days.

Easter Sunday was always a more quiet day crime-wise in Park Row, what with most of the mobs being Italian and culturally Catholic, and most of the smaller gangs not wanting to cross them.

Still, that didn’t mean Jason didn’t have his fair share of work to do.

He’d done a good job of claiming Crime Alley as his territory over the years since coming back, especially in the beginning, when the Pit Rage was ever-present and aided him in his shows of intolerance towards anyone who crossed him.

He knew full well that no one had forgotten about the duffel bags and the bodies lying in the alleys. He knew full well everyone worth their salt knew Crime Alley was his, and that it was best to follow his rules lest they end up like their rule-breaking predecessors.

Alas, that didn’t mean there weren’t still people stupid enough in the world to disregard every warning he broadcasted in his career as Crime Lord to try to pull shit he had expressly forbidden.

That made him mad.

The Green edged into the corners of his vision but he quickly stamped it down. He had work to do, and needed a clear mind for it to not hit the fan. After all, while he wasn’t exactly buddy-buddy with the mobs that operated in Crime Alley, he needed to keep things as civil as possible if he wanted to be able to take down the competition as he planned, and that meant not making too much of a ruckus during one of their most important festivities.

He obviously had their demise in the plans. For now though they presented powerful and useful connections and, unlike what good old B seemed to think about him, he was a smart guy and knew when to play nice.

That was why he was out in the first place, witnessing some low-level drug dealer offering some dodgy shit to what was clearly a struggling teen.

He had made it clear he didn’t tolerate drug dealing to kids, and seeing someone disrespecting what was one of his golden rules had him taking a deep breath, counting from one to ten and thinking about how he didn’t want to waste even a single bullet too-many on the waste of space in the alley below him.

With the grace and the stealth he had acquired from his years of training, he made his way down the fire escape of the building he had been perched atop of, stopping on the first-floor level to get a good look at the scene.

The kid was clearly in a bad place, clothes ill-fitting and worn thin from overuse, hair dirty and slightly matted, his expression hardened in a way a kid’s never should be.

He reminded Jason of himself.

The desperation laced in every look the kid gave his surroundings with flittering eyes reminded Jason of that scrappy street rat who tried to survive on the streets of the East End with nothing but the clothes on his back and a tire iron clutched close, grip white-knuckled on the rusted metal.

He too had been a dirty street rat, gloom clinging to him like a stubborn raincloud.

He too had been the target of dodgy individuals who accosted him at the mouth of grimy alleys, offering him stuff to numb the pain in exchange for cash or loyalty.

He too, was given the choice to ruin himself and forget the pain, or persevere with a lucid mind through the horrors life liked to throw at Crime Alley kids.

He didn’t want to see this kid, nor any kid for that matter, make the wrong choice.

The choice his mother had made.

Something akin to sorrow made way through his thoughts, taking control of his nerves and plastering a grimace on his masked features.

He dropped down noiselessly, merging with the shadows albeit the bright crimson of his apparel, and came to a stop a little ways behind the dealer.

The pungent smell of body odour assaulted his senses through his mask’s respirator, disgust and pity filling him. Everyone had a reason for turning out how they did, he wasn’t so shallow as to disregard that, but he also knew that struggling people should know better than anyone else how it feels to be vulnerable, and taking advantage of that was unacceptable in his book.

Getting into motion, he took another step forward and came to a stop behind the dealer, seeing the kid widen his eyes just as he put his hands on the man’s shoulders.

“Ya really should’ve known better than to pull this kinda shit here of all places.” The modulated voice interrupted the man’s talking, stopping the spiel he had launched into to butter the kid up into buying his product.

Red Hood didn’t even give the man time to turn around before he flipped him on his back, a sickening crack reverberating through the air, cutting through the stench of rotting garbage in tandem with his shrill scream of pain.

While keeping the man on the ground even through his thrashing, Hood bent down to whisper in his ear, voice scathing and rough.

“You’re lucky the kid is here, it means you get a head-start,��� he seethed, modulator crackling and tone steely cool. “Better start running, bud.”

With that he let the dealer go, roughly pushing him down as he got up himself, turning around as the man stumbled to his feet and broke out into a mad dash, ignoring his cracked ribs.

As the sound of harried footsteps faded from proximity, Hood faced the teen. He was trembling slightly, having taken a few steps back in the few moments the scuffle had lasted.

The vigilante levelled the kid with a look through his mask, his posture loosening and his shoulders hunching slightly.

He had been a kid just like that, years ago, wide-eyed and frantically searching for safety anywhere he could, always coming up empty in his quest. Just because that kid was six feet under didn’t mean he had forgotten how it felt.

From behind the mask, his modulated voice came out with its distinctive roughness, but lacking any anger. Only understanding made its way out. “Kid, daylight or not, it’s not safe out here. You should get back home.”

The teen looked up at him, sorrow etching onto his features before he could get them under control. That expression told Hood everything he needed to know.

He sighed, taking a moment to breathe deeply, and moved to take out his wallet.

He hated how used he had gotten to this song and dance. Finding a kid in need of help in his territory, finding out they didn’t have anyone- or anyone reliable, at least,- and giving them a wad of cash and the address to the only people he even somewhat ‘trusted’ these days.

“Here, kid, take ‘em,” he said, voice calm and gentle despite the scratchiness. “Get yourself something to eat and then get to this address. Ask for a girl called Dollie, tell ‘em I sentch’ya.”

The kid hurried to take what was offered and nodded quickly, looking at him with wide eyes as his expression morphed to one of awe and slight disbelief.

After blinking rapidly a few times, he stammered out a quick “Th-thank you!” and made quick work of getting out of the alley and disappearing in a side street.

Jason silently watched him retreat, thoughts swirling and mixing with exhaustion. His mind wandered.

In the midday quiet, he found himself suddenly face to face with his mother, looking at him with mirth in her eyes and exhaustion in her shoulders.

Her voice was soft, amusement lessening the effect of her chiding tone. “Jason, we have to say Grace before eating,” she said, holding the palm of her hand to him. “It’s how we show our thanks for the food we are given, especially today.”

He looked up at her with a slight pout on his face, features crumbling into a smile as he tried to keep up the act. “Sorry, mama,” he put his hand in her roughened palm. “I promise I’m thankful!”

She laughed, timbre high-pitched and gleeful. “Don’t worry baby boy, I know you are.” Her smile coloured her words.

He smiled up at her, and together they said Grace.

A loud crash jolted him out of his stupor, the indignant mewl of a stray cat cutting the air as used beer cans clattered on the floor of the alley.

For a few seconds his gaze was transfixed on a point far away, his mom’s radiant smile imprinted behind his eyelids.

He briefly looked at the ground, his eyes zeroing in on the baggie the dealer had dropped in his haste. A bright orange powder sat inside, something he had never seen before.

He bent down and picked it up, putting it in one of his many pockets to study later.

With a stray tear and one last heavy sigh he turned to the mouth of the alley, straightening out and readjusting his stance.

In the haze, he had almost forgotten.

He had a hunt to get to.

—————————————————————

Jason walked at a leisurely pace, his footsteps the only thing reverberating in the early evening air.

It was always like this after a Red Hood patrol, Park Row quiet and still after the ruckus of the hunt.

It was in that quiet that he heard a noise pierce the air, a cut-off scream coming from somewhere around two hundred feet away.

Muffled screams and rustling clothes guided him to the mouth of an alley, where he saw a man trying to undo a young woman’s coat one-handed, the other busy trying to shut her up.

He was decently sized, around 5’8 and with a worker’s build, appearance unkept and clothes dirty.

She, on the other hand, was a pretty small thing, 5’3 by the looks of it and not very muscular.

He skidded to a halt, chest heaving as arsenic-green rage ran down the walls of his mind, scorching every rational thought away.

“HEY!”

His voice cut through the air, lifting itself into the air deep and rough and fiery and angry, the scratchiness of it the aspect he knew made every criminal he went against tremble.

The man turned around, brusque features pulled into an unpleasant scowl. “The fuck ya wan’, man?” He slurred, clearly drunk.

All of his self-control was spent not leaping to tear the man limb from limb, the knowledge it wouldn’t have helped the victim making its way near the logical part of his mind.

“For you to get out of here, and fast.” He grit out, fire in his throat scathing his words.

The drunk kept looking at him for a few moments, and Jason could see how his eyes widened in confusion and his brow creased in badly-concealed fear, no doubt recognising some of the fire in his voice as Red Hood’s. Jason knew he couldn’t see his features though, which was a relief.

He watched as the man took his hands off of the woman without even glancing in her direction, muttering something unintelligible from where he was standing. He kept his stance looming, gaze pinched and eyes narrowed to maximise the threatening effect his appearance already had.

Once the drunk passed by him while on his way out of the alley Jason gave himself the satisfaction of shoving him, hard enough to make him stumble, and enjoyed the sight of him breaking into a sprint to get away from him. Red Hood would certainly hunt him down first chance he got, but for now there was a victim Jason had to take care of.

He looked at the young woman left in the alley. She had frozen in place the moment he first spoke, tears streaming down her face and trembling like a leaf. She was staring at the spot het assaulter had last been, somewhere next to him.

He started slowly making his way toward her, the crunch of glass under his boots the only sound making company to the woman’s shallow and rattling breaths.

The roughness in his voice was something he could never control, his vocal cords mangled by months and months of screaming. Despite that, every time a situation like this came about his voice found a way to become gentle, almost soft. It was one of the only things that he still had from Before. From Jason Todd, malnourished 15-year-old that went around proclaiming ‘Robin is magic’ with stars in his eyes, who always knew how to comfort and nurture.

“Hey.” It reverberated through the night. “Are you hurt?”

After a beat, the lady shook her head. Her breathing was still shaky, and through her trembling she lightly swayed from side to side, like a blade of grass in the breeze.

“Can you walk?” He gently prodded.

Another beat passed and, after a moment, she slowly shook her head no.

Jason stayed silent for a few seconds, considering his options. Leaving her here was out of the question, Park Row was already dangerous in normal circumstances but especially for a lady at night and after such a traumatic event, plus she looked a breeze away from toppling over. The nearest police cruiser was outside of the East End all together, so moving as fast as possible was the priority. Even after a Red Hood Holiday-Special patrol, as he had just witnessed, people were still lurking. However Jason wasn’t entirely confident in the idea the lady in front of him would’ve been able to make it that far even with his support, so bringing her to the girls he knew and relatively trusted that worked the street corners was the best option.

With his decision made, he took a deep breath and steeled his resolve, slowly raising his hands to show his empty palms. He had to admit he was pretty rusty at the whole comforting-victims shebang, due to his threatening appearance and everything that had happened to him, but it still came somewhat naturally.

He looked at her, expression calculatedly calm and relaxed. “I’m gonna come towards you, ok? I swear I won’t do anything, I just want to make sure you’re okay and help you walk if you’ll let me, alright? It’s not safe here at night, I don’t want to leave you alone like this.” His tone was still soft, his voice careful.

The woman jerked her head in a quick nodding motion, and with that he proceeded, slowly making his way toward the victim. He kept his shoulders hunched and his hands up at shoulder height still, splayed to show his rough but empty hands. He was trying to make himself appear as small and non-threatening as possible, despite the fact he knew of its ineffectiveness. It still helped telegraph his intentions and movements, so he didn’t stop. Plus, he saw the woman’s shoulders lower a bit, the muscles un-tensing slightly and tears stopping, even if she continued to tremble.

He stopped a few feet from her and slowly lowered his hands, letting his arms go slack at his sides. The young woman’s gaze wandered around his face, studying him. He held her stare through all of it, her study stopping to fix her gaze into his eyes. He kept his features gentle, in tandem with his tone throughout the interaction.

“Can I help you walk?” He asked. “If you say yes, I’d just put my arm around your back and help steady you, nothing more.”

Jason watched as the lady tried to speak, opening and closing her mouth a few times. He then watched as her breathing picked up once again along with the flow of tears, her eyes fixed somewhere on the ground of the filthy alley.

At your reaction he initially froze up. Gosh, he felt absolutely awful. He should’ve known it would’ve been overwhelming and downright scary to have such a thing proposed after an attempted sexual assault.

As much as Jason felt bad, he knew he had no time for self-deprecation right now. He swallowed down his panic, turning it all into concern. He didn’t come any closer, but he did lower himself to a crouch in hopes of catching the lady’s eyes.

He decided to shoot his shot, speaking up. “Hey, are you okay? Please, follow my breaths.”

As he asked this, he slowly reached out to gently touch her hand, which hung limply at her side.

The moment Jason’s hand made contact, the young woman jolted out of her haze and fixed her gaze on him, before taking a rattling breath with him.

He stayed like that, crouched on the ground and concentrating on his breaths and keeping eye contact with her, until her trembling subsided as much as possible.

With getting out of the alley probably off the table, he thought about an alternative. He could have waited with the lady to make sure she regained enough composure to go on her way and then follow her from a distance as Red Hood to make sure nothing more happened to her.

He spoke up, then. “I’m sorry if what i said upset you. Do you not want help with walking? It’s fine if you don’t, we can wait here until you’re fine enough to go on your way. I won’t let anyone bother you.” He kept his voice low, to not risk bursting the bubble of relative calm that had settled over the himself and the unknown woman.

Her eyes shone, a strong glint in them that looked to be almost anticlimactic in comparison to her frame and her trembling. It steeled her, in a way. Showed a window to a complex personality. It interested Jason, in a way.

She once again tried speaking, and this time succeeded. “Thank you.” Clumsily tumbled out of her mouth. “I’d a-appreciate the help.” Her voice was feeble, oscillating between a whisper and something barely above that, pitched high and slightly trembly, no doubt from the residual panic.

That… gave him pause. Jason’s eyes widened and his lips parted slightly,his expression opening into one of surprise, the control over his facial muscles slipping. He wasn’t sure what exactly you were thanking him for, he just did his duty. Any sane person would have.

The words were out of his mouth almost out of reflex, voicing his opinion. “You don’t need to thank me. I… I just did what was right. You needed help, so I gave it.”

His voice wavered slightly, faltering mid sentence, but the sentiment was all there, sure as ever.

The words were said many times by him and other vigilantes when comforting victims, but this was the first time Jason was so intimately sure of them. It wasn’t the sureness with which someone repeated an axiom, but the tone of someone who had just had an epiphany. And for all that Jason knew, he might have had one. In that moment he realised just how open he had been with this lady, and how easily his walls melted from just six words from her.

His vulnerability in the face of a stranger suddenly hit him, but it didn’t bother him. Nevertheless, he broke out of the moment. He got up from his crouch and came up to the woman’s right side, lifting up his left hand and setting it just under her left arm, in order to support most of her weight.

Her trembling had dialled down to little tremors wracking her body, probably a mix of cold and residual shock, and they were even more evident with her body so close to Jason’s.

Their size difference struck him also, and he realised how uncomfortable it must be to be so close to a virtual stranger in a situation like this.

Once again, he spoke on instinct. “My name is Jason, by the way, Jason Todd. You know, in case it helps you feel a little less uncomfortable with being so close to a stranger.”

The young lady looked up at him then, a spark in her eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

She gave Jason her name.

PREV. CHAPTER INDEX NEXT

[selodka-pod-shuboy]

I think 3rd life is somehow the best plot&system-wise. It's not based on anything, just my humble opinion. I have so much thoughts and they are all so tragic. Like. It was my first ever interaction with theese CCs, I went there blind reacting. It was amazing then, it was even better after getting to know them. Every perspective tells such a drasticly different story. You've got alliances formed throu death, loyalty and sacrifices, broken or cherished till the very end. You have 3 lifes, and that's it. No tricks or some help or twist from the gamemakers. Go apeshit or stay nice, nothing changes it. All your enemies can start from something as simple as a random punch or a shot or a pice of paper. So can friends. No one knows how the server operates, they all come from somewhat-friendly spaces, so every simple fact is a new surprise - everybody kills animals, and ends up suffering with lack of food&lether for books afterwards. They put effort into builds, bother with decorating(not to say they didn't in later seasons, it's just the attachment I'll talk later), fill the places with love and care, get attached to pets and trees, banners of all things. PROTECT THEM and feel sorrow and grief, once they enevitibly get killed or burned or blown up or DESTROYED. The rage is so innocent in it's belive, that they were wronged, that they should be avenged, and not that this is just the reality of the server itself, that that's just - what heppens. The story tells so much about betrayal, about broken trust, and friends that go mad, and almoust no one follows the "all alliances are broken after you're red" rule. You are allowed to kill now, yeah, but there was nothing in PARTICULAR, stopping you before. It is proven by the first death, that it was just a prank, that lead to all the following chaos. Scar gives Grian flowers after his second death, and Grian STAYS. Cleo sticks with Bdubs, calling his castle a toilet, kidnaps the desert lama, burns Joel's home. She goes for the king and dies in the blind rage . Bdubs makes and gives Impulse the clock, that will doom their hearts in the end. Impulse promises his trust to the Crastle. Bigb makes the cookie. Martyn hears voices, and Ren asks him to take his head. He takes so many lives. The Red Winter Comes. Tango saves the cows, only for them to be stolen, he gets shot stuck behind the fire. Etho's dark oak gets burned, he builds a woolen castle, for it to get burned multiple times. Timmy gives Scott a poppy, starting their marriage. They build the flower valley. Timmy DIES FIRST and aquaeres the Canary curse. Scott follows full of sorrow. Skizz dies second, full of rage, and creates the boogieman curse. Joel stays alone, with his dog army, and dies, leaving his pack wandering the desert. The cactus-ring fight. The siege of dogwarts. Battle of the Red Desert. All the monopolies. The state, that everyone leaves the server, the contrast with the start. It's like watching the 1rst anual hunger games, from a perspective of people, who know and love each other, but no matter their efforts, end up slowly spiraling into violence and distrust, spreading pain and destruction. Mu soul loves and aches for it, even though it was the very same thing that broke it in the first place, that took a pice of it and so it will never be whole again. It's so tragic. All this blood was never beautiful. It was just. Red.

[wexhappyxfew]

WOMEN OF SILVER BULLETS

the OCs of B-17, Silver Bullets (featured in MOTA-verse writings) and various masters of the air adjacent writings

all these OCs will be featured in various one-shots and prompts in the coming months. can be found under tags with all their names or #mota writings or #silver bullets. please enjoy!

ANNIE BRADSHAW

-> replacement 1st lieutenant and pilot for Silver Bullets, fresh in from Fort Des Moines, trying to patch up the holes in a crew suffering from the loss of their beloved captain birdie faulkner. hailing from mankato, minnesota, she is a wonderfully receptive listener and stoic presence - but don't go overstepping it with her crew. makes it her very mission that the women of Silver Bullets and captain birdie faulkner are remembered. can play a tune on a trumpet (if warranted).

FRANCIS MONTEZ

-> copilot of Silver Bullets grieving a loss she is taking harder than she thought, wrapped in sorrow and guilt that she tries her best to hide. a good-hearted californian, she wrangles with this new era of her life with the help of replacement pilot, annie bradshaw, and steps up in more ways than one. carries a cigarette pack around like it's strapped to her very being. will give you a nickname that she'll call you any chance she gets.

BESSIE CARLISLE

-> navigator for Silver Bullets, with the brightest smile the sun's ever seen from the skies (says her boyfriend). hailed all the way from queens, new york with the intention to get her hands working on the mechanic floor of a factory and got a gig flying planes instead. got placed in navigation one day and ever since then, has made it her duty to make sure every mission goes right down to the degree.

CARRIE ACHTERBERG

-> german-american bombardier on Silver Bullets making sure the enemy pays in any way they can for the costly damage of a horrid war (enter: norden bombsight). grew up in brooklyn, new york, had some run-ins with bessie carlisle and the two became thick as thieves when working on planes. blowing the enemy to shreds seemed to be the cherry on top.

MARJORIE ‘MARGIE’ HARLOWE

-> flight engineer on Silver Bullets who grew up in a large family with at least four dogs all named after flowers, on the shores of lake michigan, wanting to go to school for physics ever since she felt herself get the knack for mathematics. only up until then, did she find herself on a plane with her cousin (who nearly crashed it) that she then got herself in line for flying in B-17s and looking to the skies above (and calculating vectors from the ground).

PAULINA STAGLIANO

-> italian-american radio operator for Silver Bullets, who came in from philadelphia, pennsylvania with radio operator experience in the WAC before getting the call for a job with captain birdie faulkner, and finding herself up in B-17s on the regular. she's passionate, a loyal friend and if you talk bad about the phillies -it's on sight (usually has sports arguments with kennedy farley - they keep bickering to a minimum).

VIVIAN RATCLIFF

-> hailing from fort collins, colorado, viv ratcliff comes with a wealth of knowledge and experience as a gunner on Silver Bullets, with a father who was in the army and her boyfriend in the navy. 'calm, cool, collected' are the best words to take her in as, usually found collecting flowers after missions for the boys who didn't get a chance to make it home. keeps a tally of german fighters that go down on the wooden pole beside her cot.

KENNEDY FARLEY

-> irish-american gunner on Silver Bullets, opposite viv ratcliff, coming in from boston, massachusetts, raging red sox fan with a family of brothers going on to military or sports (much of the same). close friends with margie harlowe because she 'softens her up a bit', and always willing to stick around for a drinking game or two. passionate friend (margie told you so).

JUDY RYBINSKI

-> polish-american farm girl and turret ball gunner for Silver Bullets from hot springs, north carolina, growing up near the french broad creek, summers spent on the river, catching fish and milking goats for her families business. went hunting with dad a few times, and grew up with her older brothers going off to the military or college and wanted a hand at it all. captain faulkner was her opening (and the person she needs most now).

MARIANNE SALINGER

-> french-american aspiring painter from rochester, new york, now a tail gunner for Silver Bullets. thought she was signing up to paint planes, but ended up finding a knack for guns on turrets and credits captain faulkner for her 'in' on flying. has a pet cat that roams the base as he wishes (he's named frank, after her one true love, frank sinatra), usually getting into trouble by pissing off a husky named meatball.

[darthjess-writing]

Beauty and Rage

SUMMARY: Set at first in the immediate aftermath then five years after the events of Revenge of the Sith: Padmé Amidala came very close to death but managed to survive. With the help of Bail Organa and Obi-wan, she fakes her death and goes into hiding to raise her children. When Inquisitors come looking for the Force-sensitive twins, Padmé realizes she has to fight back against the Empire to protect them. The Emperor's Executioner, Lord Vader himself, stands in her way.

Read Chapter 1 below or the entire fic HERE on AO3 (mind the tags on AO3) ❤️

Chapter 1

     Darth Vader screamed as his body was repaired without anesthetic. But the pain and the rage were the only things that had kept him alive.

     I will kill you, Obi-wan.

     He repeated the mantra in his head, over and over and over until the words had no meaning, until they were sounds in oblivion.

     His body thrashed on the table as droids cut away tissue burned by Obi-wan's lightsaber. Losing his arm to Count Dooku had been painful. Losing both of his legs to Obi-wan had been agony. The fact that he had not fallen into the river of lava or been burned beyond hope of recovery was nothing short of a miracle.

     I will kill you, he thought again, each time the pain became unbearable.

     A mask- no, a helmet was lowered over his face in two parts, and as it sealed him in, he took his first breath. The sound echoed through the cold chamber.

     He felt caged.

     But he did not have the energy to fight it.

     The operating table shifted, angling downward so that he could stand.

     He realized he was locked down to the table for his own safety.

     As gravity pulled at him, his legs screamed in torment at the joint where metal met bone for the first time. His Master had made him taller.

     Vader breathed, feeling the presence of his Master next to him.

     "Lord Vader, can you hear me?" The Emperor asked. And for the first time, Vader felt fear in him.

     "Yes, Master." His voice was low, much lower than it had ever been. "Where is Padme?...Is she safe? Is she...alright?" Vader's memory was blurred with fury. He knew he'd hurt her, knew he'd gone too far. It was Obi-wan's fault that she had turned against him, he had poisoned her with lies.

     "It seems..."

     His Master's hesitation forced a burning cold into the pit of his stomach.

     "...in your anger..."

     No.

     No. He would not say it.

     "You killed her."

     Agony stunned him, consuming him like a river of fire.

     "I...I couldn't have!" Vader's mind scrambled for an answer. "She was alive! I felt it!" And yet, when he reached out in the Force to find her...

     There was only emptiness.

     The darkness closed in around him. This anguish, this sorrow, this suffering wormed its way deep into him, into every part of him. Everything he'd fought for was gone, and all that was left was rage.

     His connection to the Force was strengthened with his anger, and he shattered everything around him. He couldn't be restrained. He broke free of the cuffs that held his arms and legs down and stumbled forward.

     The pain that echoed across his body was nothing.

     All of it was nothing compared to this.

     Vader screamed into the rain. "No!"

     And he meant it.

     He would defy fate.

     Would find a way to bring her back, even if it destroyed him.

***

     She was drifting over a dark ocean.

     Beneath the surface of the glassy water, she saw herself lying in a hospital bed. Doctors surrounded her, pressing on her chest, inserting tubes into her frantically.

     Why were they so worried?

     It didn't concern her that she was watching all of this from above herself, separated from herself by the clear ocean. In fact, she felt completely at peace.

     You have a choice.

     No one said the words, but she felt them inside her.

     You may remain and become one with the Force.

     A deep desire pulled her. If she had any physical form at all here, she would cry with relief. Yes, she wanted that. To become one with the Force, to be at peace. To join the flow of energy that bound all life together in the galaxy. How beautiful and wonderful that would be.

     Or you may return to your life.

     Her life...

     What had it been like?

     Flashes of memory came to her.

     Blue eyes.

     A desert.

     Blades of light.

     A war.

     Red-gold eyes.

     An empire.

     None of the memories made sense. She couldn't connect them to real things that had happened to her. But what she felt when she saw them... pain.

     All of it was just pain.

     Let go.

     Stars, she wanted to let go.

     Beneath the stillness of the ocean, she saw the doctors backing away from her, removing all the tools they had used to try to save her life.

     It's okay, she wanted to tell them.

     And then she saw a man.

     Did she recognize him?

     He held two tiny bundles, one in each arm.

     The bundles squirmed.

     Her children.

     She had not yet held them in her arms, but she knew them immediately. And with the memory of them, her choice had been made.

     She plunged into the water.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hi!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️⚖️

Hi!

39 for ⚡️

---

“Your scene, Diaz. I’m here if you need me, but you’re calling the shots.”

Which is the first time that has happened. Eddie is sort of terrified actually. Going from a player on the board to the one moving the pieces. From soldier to commander. So personal feelings actually could be a problem. He has to keep them in check. 

He puts the 118 and the 114 on opposite sides of the operation. The 114 is evacuating a lesser damaged area. The 118 is rescuing victims trapped in a duplex that, apparently, isn’t up to code. 

“Tell me how you chose the assignments,” Yardley asks. “You put your husband in the most dangerous situation we’ve got today.”

Yeah. He feels bad about that.

“I trust Hen, uh… I trust Captain Wilson to do the hardest job the best. To make the right calls, even if they’re hard. I’ve seen her in worse situations.”

Yardley chuckles a little. “Good instinct. I’ve seen people keep their buddies on the lightest task in the field.”

“Oh, they’d hate me for that,” Eddie says. “Especially my husband.”

For the first hour or so, it’s all going fine. Most of the street is evacuated. People are safe. Except the people in the trapped house. The 118 is working as quickly and efficiently as they can, but the house is poorly constructed. Not kept in great condition. And while they’ve got three of five renters out, a couple is still trapped in a room that was added without proper exits. The 114 is the first available house to help. Eddie has no choice but to send them to join. 

“114 and Captain Bowman are coming to assist,” Eddie says into the radio. He hopes Buck hears. Anticipates it and holds himself together. 

“Copy that,” Hen replies. “Appreciate it.”

She’ll come to regret saying that.

---

39 for 🌲

---

He wipes tears from his eyes with the back of his hands. “So, uh… Why don’t you put the pencil down, and we’ll go?”

“Okay,” Chris says. He drops the pencil. It clatters on his desk. 

Buck looks around the room for his crutches. Finds them propped against a wall. Vines have grown around the bottoms. Buck grabs them and shakes them free. There’s one that just refuses to relent until he steps on it, snaps it. The dead remaining tendril falls free. 

Chris is standing, but he does look so tired. Unsteady on his feet. Buck’s heart clenches in his chest. She did this to him. To the little boy he would have died to protect. Who means more to Eddie than life itself. She said she was a safer home for him, stole him away, and hurt him like this. Buck feels sorrow as deep as he feels blind rage. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” Buck asks. “You can sleep until we get there.”

“In the car?” Chris asks.

“Yeah,” Buck smiles. “We have your dad’s truck.”

“Okay,” Chris blinks heavily. He’s speaking so softly Buck is struggling to follow. “Yes, please.”

Buck tucks the crutches under one shoulder and moves to lift Chris. He’s heavier than the last time Buck would have picked him up. He’s been too old for that for a few years now. But today he’s just a little boy again. He melts into Buck like he did when he was eight, head slumping over Buck’s shoulder.

“I got you, okay?” Buck whispers.

“Okay,” Chris yawns. 

Buck adjusts Christopher’s weight in his arms a little, figuring the best way to hold him and the crutches and make it out of the house. 

---

39 for ⚖️

---

Regardless, he can rest easier, knowing that Bobby is well enough to joke. Knowing that he’s not responsible for anyone’s demise anymore. 

Except, he can’t rest long. He wakes up well past midnight, like a dog that has caught a scent. His scale tattoo is going haywire. The feeling of being pulled is more intense than ever. He feels hungry. 

There is someone nearby who needs punishment. 

Not could be punished. Not should be, even. Needs to be. Like the balance of the universe will be wrong if it’s not done. Buck can feel that now; the wrongness. 

He gets up and out of bed, leaves his apartment without even changing out of his pajamas. He follows the pull, as if in a trance. Lets it guide him without a single critical thought. He’s wearing those flimsy Nike slides, crossing the street in the dark. Middle of the night traffic. Not a care in the world. Cars honk and someone even shouts. Buck hardly hears them.

He lets this compulsion lead him right up to another apartment complex, where a man is pacing out front the entryway, yelling into his phone. 

“You need to fix this!” He’s shouting. “I am not going down, this company is not going down, because some little whore is making up lies, okay? I’m just not!”

Buck’s tattoo is aching. His whole arm is pulsing. He doesn’t even feel like he needs to see this guy’s past to know what to do. He just wants to jump. Just wants to make the choice. His whole body is telling him it’s right. 

Buck makes like he’s going to enter the building. Like that’s where he lives, too. He stumbles. On purpose. Trips and bumps into the guy. 

“Watch where you’re going, you fucking idiot!” The man shouts. “Are you high or something?”

[exoticalmonde]

The Evealia Guide Through Babel (event) - Part III

Last time we left off, things are going absolutely terrible. There's a Sarkaz that is gone insane with sorrow for his comrades and his son, so he's taken it with himself to go destroy the Leithanien he's noticed lurking around Kazdel.

Leithanien. From Babel.

I'll just let you read this part on your own for cinematic value.

GOOD GOD ALRIGHT

Damn it... Ugh.

He is sent to Theresa, but he's so out of it that he doesn't even realize what is going on. He very happily tells her that he killed the traitorous Leithanien and has avenged his son, along with all the others who died in battle.

He's taken away since Theresis doesn't want Theresa to be the one meting out punishment like that.

It's strange though, because he doesn't use Arts, but the guards were hypnotised. Somebody on the outside is at fault for this. Yet, the Military Commission refuse to investigate, because the victim is just an outsider to the Sarkaz.

Babel is to remove itself from all political activity too and finally make some clear boundaries between what it can and cannot do on Kazdel.

In a different light, we get to see Theresa and Theresis as caretakers for Ascalon.

Theresis gives her knife back and teaches her, briefly, about how she should sharpen it since warriors should treasure their weapons, while also being considering on who it gets to cut.

Theresa is much softer on the approach. Asks her about what she likes in the city.

Despite that, Ascalon feels like she can't really hate the gentle Sarkaz. I SCREAMED when Theresa offered Ascalon to touch her horn. Is it a way to show affection? Vulnerability? Whatever it is, WHY did I not think of this sooner. That's so heckin adorable.

Theresa cleans Ascalon's wound and teaches her that weapons can't heal these - only time and medicine. So one day she can wake up and learn that it doesn't hurt anymore.

That much, Ascalon agrees with.

Babel Classroom, Kazdel

…

Well, nobody showed up to class.

Except Theresis, who is there to confirm that the casualty report from the Military Commission states a lot of children have gone. Those who survived - their parents refuse to let the outsiders of Babel teach them. Plus, many of the Babel teachers left - out of fear.

Even if Theresis thinks Theresa is wasting her time, he waits with her upon her request.

IT WASN'T FOR NOTHING!!

Down, Dog.

ARRRGHBFEUSUGIH MY HEART.

I hated him, okay? I hated Manfred in the way you'd hate a handsome scrimblo, in the way where I'd be ashamed to say that I like him; like how people who love stinky cheese don't want others to know, they just sit in the corner eating it and hope that nobody is going to notice the smell.

I liked him for his perseverance before and because he was so very 'aware' unlike other leaders we've seen in the past. Meanwhile, I'm being set up with this charming little creature that just wants change for the better, wants peace, and wants to help.

HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME ADMIT I LIKE HIM?!

Now I suddenly wish he does not die. Now I get upset when I remember I derogatively called him Milfred out of rage. I never managed to pass CC 9 or 10, I forgot which one was Ashring, but now??? I'm mean to NOT be upset???

I hate it here.

Within Kazdel, Goodluck and his son are… either waiting for the worst to happen or they're morning the loss of their third family member. Goodluck can't really stand sitting around, doing nothing, so he is planning to become a mercenary and make the people who hurt his wife pay.

Before departing he gives her name to his son - Odda. And promises to teach him how to fight with her weapon once he returns.

---

BB-3 Before

Silent Crack

[Today, though, we face the tragic reality of disunity and betrayal.]

Eight Years Ago...

Summer, 1086

Classes are being held in Kazdel, secretly. Kids have to keep their voices down and they're not allowed to tell anybody about what is happening inside their secret little base of operation.

The war between Kazdel and Leithanien never stopped, so for 18 years they've been pursued. A lof of people feel into despair, either from the ghost of war or the infection.

Within the Scar Market, Goodluck picks up a commission - some teacher in Kazdel has been saying too good a thing about Babel. Somebody is willing to pay to shut them up.

We learn that it's been a while since Goodluck was in this part of Kazdel. Although Goodluck doesn't remember a lot of things, he remembers the look of his front door - the address where that supposed 'teacher' might be hiding.

Inside, said Teacher is really doing good. He's teaching the children that the Sarkaz blame Babel for their misfortune since they have nobody else. Babel brought the enemies, Babel's medicine makes Oripathy worse, Babel this and that-- and children nod along, because they probably hear that from their parents a lot.

It's not quite so, though; they can't take things at face value. That's why they have to see, learn and think for themselves.

Odda notices somebody at the door. Everybody scrambles to hide before he opens it and sees...

Surprisingly, it's Ascalon.

She scans the sparsely furnished room and understands.

...

She says 'Thank you for sheltering him. But you must leave'.

It's clearly a warning for oncoming danger. The teacher has to go. Odda stays by the door - a habit of his since he was little. As if he was waiting for someone familiar to come back home.

From the shadows, Goodluck recognises him immediately. He's unfortunately already bound with his own mission and knows there's only one way to ensure his child gets a better life.

Ascalon makes the decision for him. Her mist shrouds the corpse, erasing all traces of its existence.

[The passing of a life in Kazdel is akin to a speck of dust falling to the ground, unheard, unceremonious, and unnoticed.]

[His luck ran out.]

Manfred seems to also have been in the area at the time of this occurrence. They fight a little, both at friendly terms, though they serve different sides of Kazdel.

It drives up a memory of another time they were sparring.

THEY EVEN LAUGH TOGEHTER, because Theresa helps Manfred down by levitating him to safety.

Though adorable, we're back in the present with Ascalon and Manfred fighting. There's a misunderstanding between their approaches I think. Manfred has remained by Theresis' side because he thinks there can be a different approach to the future they're looking for. Since the start Theresis has been hesitant with Theresa's plan, so now they have parted ways.

On the other side, Ascalon has turned her back on Theresis out of anger that he'd allow the others in Kazdel to badmouth Her Highness and her choice to stick with Babel.

Manfred is more understanding than ever though. It's not really the twin sovereigns who had to make the decision of parting. It's just circumstance. Perhaps the prophecy.

They're so caring for each other though... These four care about each other so much I want to put them in a box and keep them together forever.

Sadness isn't over by the way~

Because Manfred appears on Odda's door with his dad's... remnants. Odda doesn't really remember him, but Manfred doesn't make much of it as he presents the items and explains:

[There have been some disturbances in the city, and I'm afraid your father... I'm so sorry.]

[Wh-Where did you find them? Was there...?]

[There was nothing else left at the scene. I'm sorry.]

[...]

[What's your name?]

[...Odda.]

[If you need any help...]

[No... no, I'm very grateful that you brought these back. It's been a long time since I last saw him... this is enough. I don't have to wait anymore... He's not coming back...]

[Do you have family? Or friends you can count on?]

[I can take care of myself. Besides, we see things like this every day in this city, no?]

[...]

[I-I'm sorry I gushed, sir. I just feel like I know you, somehow... I'm sure you're busy. I won't keep you any longer.]

[My condolences.]

THIS IS NOT FUNNY

WHAT THE HECK ITS NOT FUNNY, YOU'RE NOT ORIGINAL?!?!?!?!?

I've never cried so hard in my life, oh no I'm broken.

---

BB-3 After

There's been an accident - feelings are mixed.

A father beat his child for trying to defend the Teacher, and the Teacher fought back with the father to defend the kid. In the end, both of them were going to die from their injuries. He was set upon by the angry crowd and it escalated from there. The turmoil dragged in everybody - Civilians, Babel, mercenaries, even the Military Commission.

Somebody blew up the Babel office building, so then Royal Court troops were involved.

Theresa has made the decision to remove Babel from Kazdel. It's become way too dangerous for any of the personnel to stay any longer, since they're now completely unwanted. Odda immediately signs up to leave with them.

Out on the streets, the dying teacher is mocked by the Sarkaz soldiers, but he's actually seeing an invisible to others little banshee - Logos. He was there in the classroom and learned a lot from the Teacher.

Even if others did not believe it so, the Sarkaz Teacher is welcomed by the myriad of souls and he's guided to them with the little banshee's song.

[It is an elegy that commemorates the passing of an ordinary Sakraz.]

['You were talking about the future of Babel in the lesson, but you didn't get to the end. What were you going to say?']

['I believe... that Babel will die someday. I hope I'm wrong.']

In the court, Laqeramaline is saying goodbye to Theresa. It's a sweet conversation they have, with the Banshee Queen being as truthful to her beliefs as she is supportive to Theresa. She also knows there is no other way, so all she can do from the position of a mother is hope for the best.

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 12

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Hunter thought he was going to lose everything on Tantiss. Instead, he got something back.

AO3

Hundreds of missions completed with a one-hundred percent success rate. And in the end, they lost.

Or… thought they had.

Their infiltration into the base had gone awry almost immediately, their progress halted by a team of Imperial operatives just as well trained as the Batch. They were outnumbered and outgunned.

Hunter had been knocked out before they even had a chance.

He awoke in one of Hemlock’s labs, already in the throes of whatever machine he used to break the other clones. The insidious pain wormed its way into his skull, tried to pry him open and empty him out, like a burrowing creature that wouldn’t stop until he was a hollow husk.

And even through all of that, the throbbing in his head and Hemlock’s victory speech, which Hunter flagrantly ignored, he spotted Crosshair. Unconscious and trapped in another machine, his right hand ended in a stump that the medical droid finished cauterizing.

Sorrow buried deep in his chest, and then it ignited into rage as he watched Hemlock’s progress with a furious need to tear him apart. But he couldn’t break free before the machine sent him into a blinding, consuming hole where only agony existed.

It seemed to go on for an eternity until Omega freed them, only to be taken away by Hemlock. Hunter tried to follow, but he was unsteady, off-balance, his head a hive of angry hornets. A high-pitched ringing persisted, the planet wouldn’t stop spinning around him, and he distantly wondered if he was going blind, the edges of his vision dark.

He’d never felt so helpless. He hadn’t even sensed the operative behind him, poised to shoot, until Crosshair kicked him in the shoulder and knocked him off-balance.

Hunter saw the opening and took the shot.

Only after the electrospear was in the air did he glimpse what he’d first felt in the hanger. This was the closest Hunter had been to the assassin that had followed them like an ill omen.

Something was wrong.

The spear punctured through the middle of the assassin and pinned him to the stasis pod behind him.

Hunter couldn’t move. The electromagnetic signature, the heartbeat, even the hint of a faint scent that couldn’t be covered by the uniform.

But that heartbeat was fading. Hunter stumbled forward, grabbed the assassin’s helmet.

Please no, please no, pleasedon’t—

The helmet unsealed with a hiss, and he lifted it away.

Hunter was going to be sick.

He turned to Crosshair, whose own expression had gone abnormally pale.

“Help me,” Hunter pleaded. Not knowing himself if he meant getting him down or keeping him alive or—

“Here.” Crosshair grabbed Hunter’s vibroblade from where it was clipped to the assassin’s belt and held it out to him. “Use it.”

Hunter stared at him in horror.

“On the spear,” Crosshair instructed, his voice steady as he gripped his good arm around the assassin’s chest. “Cut through it. I’ll catch him.”

It was that calm, even tone that cleared some of the panicked haze from Hunter’s head. With great care and deep, slow breaths, Hunter sliced through the small space between flesh and metal. The spear separated from the pod, its edges glowing from the vibroblade, and they carefully set him on the ground. The spear was still impaled in his stomach, and before Hunter could reach for it, Crosshair’s words stopped him cold.

“We can’t remove it. It’ll kill him.”

He’s already dying, Hunter didn’t point out. Crosshair didn’t need him to.

Hunter could feel the assassin, or who they thought was the assassin, slip further and further away. But Hunter’s senses were also clearing, and he realized they weren’t alone.

“The others,” Hunter croaked. “They’re nearby.”

Crosshair immediately understood what he wanted—he called out Echo and Wrecker’s names, all while Hunter focused on the wound he had caused. They didn’t have any bacta left, and even if they did, this would need more than what they carried around in their supply packs.

And Omega needed him. Hunter was torn in two, hunched over the figure as he stared at his pale, bloodless face, praying to the Force or whatever deity would listen that he would open his eyes. Hunter needed to see them, proof that this was real.

Their other two brothers joined them, leaning against each other and looking worse for wear. Echo favored his right shoulder, and Wrecker had been shot at least once, but those injuries were forgotten when they saw the motionless figure.

Wrecker stumbled forward, his expression its own kind of fatal wound.

“…Tech?”

Echo pulled off his stolen helmet, his own expression brittle.

“We need bacta,” Hunter said, not addressing what they all could see.

“Hunter…”

“No,” he bit out and glared up at Echo. “He’s going to be fine.”

Echo didn’t say anything, but his expression said enough. Hunter ignored him, ignored everything, his only focus on the brother who needed them. There was no mistaking him for anyone else. The same stern features softened and slack in unconsciousness.

Hunter didn’t know how it was possible, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t lose him again.

But Tech was too still, too quiet, and his lips were turning purplish-blue.

“He’s not breathing.” Hunter looked up, desperate for answers, which instinctively made him look to Crosshair. “We need a bacta tank. There has to be one somewhere on this base.”

“Not enough time. My guess, his diaphragm is punctured.”

Before Hunter could insist they do something, Crosshair’s frown went focused and he left Hunter’s side to search a side cabinet. He brought back a black case and knelt opposite Hunter on Tech’s other side. He opened it, revealing several compartments, the bottom one revealing a long syringe containing some kind of solution, along with what looked like a battery pack.

“We have to wait for his heart to stop,” Crosshair said as he lifted the syringe and examined the liquid inside.

“What?”

“Otherwise, it will just send his heart into an abnormal rhythm.” Crosshair gave Hunter a grim look. “I’ve seen Hemlock’s doctors use it enough times. The reconditioning process is… harsh.”

Hunter couldn’t think about the implications of that, how Crosshair himself might have… No. He couldn’t think about it. Not when he was so close to the edge of something he feared he wouldn’t return from.

“Wrecker.”

Their brother took a moment to respond, his face streaked with silent tears, and he looked at Crosshair with a pleading sort of confusion that was painful to even look at.

“Grab that cart over there, the one with the tubes. Once we restart his heart, we’ll need to do his breathing for him.”

Wrecker obeyed without question, quickly bringing over the equipment and setting it up next to where they knelt. Crosshair grabbed the mask but didn’t put it over Tech’s face yet, and Echo hovered nearby, also ready to help. He looked even paler than usual, and it couldn’t be easy seeing a place like this, with his brother being used in a painfully familiar way.

Hunter grit his teeth and looked up at Crosshair, determined.

“What do you need me to do?”

Crosshair met his eye with the same determination.

“Tell me when his heart stops beating.”

Hunter paced in front of the door to the surgery bay, which remained solidly shut despite how much he glared at it. It had been a long time since he’d been on a Republic medical station, and finding out Rex had a decommissioned one hidden away had been a lucky break. Maybe the Force had heard Hunter, after all.

He ached all over, his head splitting, and he could still smell the faint acrid stench of ozone and singed flesh from his own time spent in Hemlock’s machine.

But no one would be hurt by Hemlock again. He was dead, and even Hunter didn’t know who delivered the killing shot with how many bolts he and Crosshair filled him with.

Rampart was also dead, and Hunter’s only regret was that he hadn’t done the deed himself. Crosshair just seemed relieved at the news, a weight lifted off his shoulders that he’d hidden well but seemed so obvious now that it was gone.

Hunter was glad of that, he really was. He just couldn’t… settle. Couldn’t stop moving, and he continued his pacing in front of the door.

Crosshair eyed him from his spot on the bench, a toothpick in his mouth as he watched Hunter’s restless progress.

“You haven’t slept in three rotations,” he drawled. “Sit down.”

Hunter didn’t respond. How long did it take a medical droid and combat medic to finish three-hour emergency surgery?

“Hunter. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine. How long since they started?”

“Twenty-six minutes. Sit.”

He almost growled a response about how he wasn’t a damn dog, but then he caught sight of Crosshair’s arm. The stump was wrapped in a medical brace, one that would provide pain relief and further healing after the cruel cauterization done by Hemlock’s droids.

Hunter let out a breath and allowed himself to sit next to Crosshair. Just the act of getting off his feet was enough for exhaustion to grip him by the neck, but he fought off its heavy weight. He wouldn’t rest until it was over.

Crosshair, apparently, had other plans.

“Come here.”

He pulled Hunter down onto his shoulder, and Hunter gave only token resistance. He naturally sought out Crosshair’s neck, burying his face there and breathing in his scent.

“Can’t sleep yet,” he mumbled but didn’t pull away.

“You’re not sleeping. You’re resting your eyes.”

Hunter let out a huff, too bone-weary to laugh. All he wanted was to pull Crosshair into his bed (their bed?) on Pabu and sleep for a week. The kids were being looked after by Echo, Rex, and Wrecker, and probably any other clone that happened to wander by. Maybe Hemlock had a point about clones being paternal, but it was the only good point he’d ever made in a long line of terrible ones.

Including what he’d said about Hunter having lost a member of his squad and history was about to repeat itself. He’d practically rubbed it in his face that Tech had been his operative this whole time.

Hunter didn’t know how Tech had survived the fall, or what he could remember, if anything. What was left of him after Hemlock’s torture? Hunter hadn’t been in that machine for long, and he’d felt strange for hours afterward, like his skin didn’t quite fit right.

Uncertainty plagued Hunter like a ghost, a shadow, not unlike how Tech’s absence had lingered over every decision he’d made since Eriadu. And now here he was. Crosshair had managed to restart his heart with the syringe filled with bacta, adrenaline, and some kind of experimental concoction that no one but Tech would have understood. The syringe had also been equipped with a battery pack that shocked his heart directly through the needle, and Hunter had to try very hard not to think about Crosshair enduring the same brutal procedure.

But it had worked, and Echo and Wrecker had carried Tech back to the shuttle while Crosshair and Hunter caught up to Omega. Hemlock had been waylaid by a group of freed clone prisoners who had managed to subdue and stun the clone commando he was always with.

Without his bodyguard, and a little help from Omega, they’d stopped Hemlock for good. Omega was finally safe, and she hadn’t let go of Hunter or Crosshair the entire journey away from Tantiss. They’d all returned from the mission, including some unexpected additions, such as the clone scientist Emerie, and a group of “Jedi tubies,” as Wrecker had taken to calling them.

They had survived. Hunter couldn’t quite believe it, and he knew part of that was due to the lack of sleep. They’d been trained to endure long periods of sleep deprivation, but this was pushing it even for them.

And with his pauldrons removed, Crosshair was very comfortable. He gently stroked Hunter’s hair, and he was so out of it he couldn’t remember when that started. He drifted in and out, fighting to stay awake. Tech still needed him.

He couldn’t fall asleep. Had to… be there when he woke up…

When the door slid open, Hunter sat upward so fast he almost headbutted Crosshair in the jaw.

Kix gave him a look of poorly hidden amusement, but there was softness there too. That had to be a good sign, right? He wouldn’t look like that if Tech was—

“How is he?” Hunter asked as he got to his feet too fast, his vision spinning. He shook his head, indicating he was fine when Kix tried to approach him, but he needn’t have bothered. Crosshair was right there at his side, looping an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

If Kix was surprised by their odd closeness, he didn’t show it.

“Stable. The surgery went well. No complications. He’s still out, but I think that’s best for now, keep him sedated and in a bacta tank.”

“For how long?” Hunter pressed, sensing something more than what Kix was saying.

“At least another three days, then I’ll reassess. It’s… not just the abdominal injury. There’s nerve damage to his spine.”

Hunter had tried to prepare himself for that. It was a lucky shot all he did was graze Tech’s spine with the spear, but still, Hunter wavered. He only remained standing because Crosshair’s supportive arm kept him that way.

“How… bad?”

“There’s a good chance of partial recovery. He may have some mobility issues, but I think he’ll do well with physical therapy.” Kix paused, as if to carefully choose his words. “That’s honestly not my biggest concern. It’s the brain damage he sustained while in Imperial custody. It’s extensive. And no, I won’t know how severe or how permanent until he wakes up.”

Hunter knew there were questions he should ask, but he couldn’t voice any of them. He simply stood there, trying to process Kix’s words.

“He might not remember us?”

Crosshair’s voice was quiet, and Kix’s gaze was sympathetic.

“He might not remember anything.”

They were silent for a long moment, and when he thought Kix might end the conversation, he gave Crosshair a curious look.

“But you went through the process, and as far as I know, you don’t have any memory recall issues. I would like to ask more about that, and the reconditioning procedure in general. The more I know about it, the better equipped I’ll be to ease him through this transition period.”

Before, Crosshair always shut down or changed the subject when his imprisonment on Tantiss was brought up. But he nodded at Kix, mouth pressed into a determined line.

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Kix glanced between them both, a brow raised. “But that can wait. You both need sleep, and I seem to have found myself with a whole medbay full of brothers requiring my attention.”

“Wait,” Hunter said as the medic started to turn away. “Can we… see him?”

Kix’s smile was soft.

“Figured you’d ask. He’s down the hall where the bacta tanks are stationed. Tank two, though I’m sure you’ll have no trouble picking him out.”

“Thank you, Kix. Really.”

The medic put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“We’ve come a long way from Anaxes, eh?”

Hunter let out a tired chuckle.

“A lifetime.”

It really did feel that way. Hunter wasn’t the same person he was then, but that could be said of all of them.

Especially their brother suspended in the tank, Hunter and Crosshair watching him, side-by-side. He looked peaceful, slightly curled as he floated in the soft blue light, and Hunter was suddenly reminded of the clone incubators on Kamino. Something sharp twinged in his chest, settling into a dull ache.

He leaned against Crosshair, barely able to keep his own feet between the exhaustion and imbalance that Hemlock’s machine had caused. He’d have to have Kix look at him later. For now, he just wanted to see his family together again, in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

Worst case, Tech might not remember anything, but he was still Tech. Hunter was sure there was some part of him that would fight its way to the surface. Tech was just as much a soldier as they were, and he wouldn’t give up. He was too stubborn for that.

They would just have to wait.

“Think we can find a spare bunk?” Crosshair asked quietly, his eyes still on their brother suspended in the bacta solution. “At this point, any horizontal surface will do.”

Hunter considered it. He was far too tired to do anything, but if Crosshair wanted to just… well, use him, then—yeah, Hunter was fine with that. More than fine with it. He found himself wanting to touch Crosshair, reassure himself they were both still there. Crosshair still smelled too much like that place, and Hunter wanted to claim every inch of him until Crosshair smelled like… well, him.

At Hunter turning his head to nose against his neck and pull him closer, Crosshair gave an indignant noise.

“For sleep, Hunter.”

“Oh.”

He might have been embarrassed if he was more awake, but as it was, he was now exhausted with a confusing half-erection.

Crosshair sighed and tugged Hunter by his waist. Hunter looked back one last time, reassured himself that Tech was still there, and let Crosshair take him where he wanted.

Next Chapter

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 056 / DAYSPRING

All prompts taken from the novel Dayspring by Anthony Oliviera. Adjust as needed.

"Tell me a story."

"This bedtime story sucks. Tell me a better one."

"You came back."

"Will you come with me?"

"Break my heart as many times as you need to. I am yours."

"That is not my problem. Let me have a little longer."

"Ah, fuck it. Let's do a miracle."

"Okay, but definitely don't tell them where you got this. And if you could not mention me in particular, that would also be super."

"My mind is not what it was. Let me try again."

"And I know now that love sometimes makes a promise it cannot keep."

"Sometimes you must say 'yes' when you mean 'no.' There is a kindness that you never learned in the lie."

"What you ask for you will get. What you look for you will find."

"What if we ran?"

"What would it profit a man to lose his soul just to save some petty world?"

"We run. If they kill us, they kill us, but we run now."

"I have loved you more than I have loved anything. You can't forget."

"Look, here. Ascend and transcend all you like; this is the wound that will not close."

"How is it that they could kill him, but I am what died?"

"God always gives us more than we can handle."

"Love is what ruins. Love is what costs."

"Where you go, I will go. And where you stay, I will stay."

"Love is as strong as death, passion fierce as the grave."

"I am lost. But even in the wilderness, I would know you."

"What kind of God would let a world come to this?"

"Do a little evil to do a greater good."

"I was utterly lost. I was utterly yours."

"It is not reasonable. Let us, then, be the end of reason."

"Are you the one we have been waiting for?"

"Sometimes I am scared of forgetting the sound of you."

"Among the first things they learn of God is that his rage is inexhaustible."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me."

"Where is your faith?"

"Grace isn't just. That is the point of grace."

"If you could see the way out, it wouldn't be much of a miracle."

"God, look at you. You're disgusting."

"Surviving is easy. It's the other thing that's hard."

"Nothing is housed in churches and temples and holy places that is not housed in you."

"Why do you fear those who can only kill your body and after this are powerless?"

"This is how you treat your friends."

"You move, as ever, in mysterious ways."

"Resurrection leaves its scars."

"I am who you say I am."

"I have not had much use for gods of any kind."

"Maybe I will let you wait for me this time."

"I've never been in a proper fight before. Does a beating count as a fight?"

"Please, I know another bottom when I see one."

"I can tell you're going to be the one that's a problem."

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."

"Please do not ask me stupid fucking questions."

"Before you try to kill the king, make sure your sword is sharp."

"I never knew you as anything except an operative of cruelty."

"Your life served your own malice and not me at all."

"How can I unless someone teaches me?"

"To know the world but not yourself is to know nothing at all."

"Do not try that one on me. I was there, remember? I remember."

"Accident or sorrow? Despair or joy? How strange: that they should look, in the end, so completely the same."

"Honestly, I would rather you not mention this to anybody."

"The world costs nothing except your soul, but there are no returns."

"To follow me is to set your teeth upon the curb."

"But patience and nuance were never really your strong suit."

"I wanted to see you."

"How come you never kiss me when we're awake?"

"If even God can die then death is no indignity."

"If even God can love then love can be no sin."

"This is not a place of honour. No gods live here."

"If I lost you, there is nowhere I wouldn't look."

"There was a time you knew every inch of me."

"Someday there will be happiness again and a joy that none can take from us."

"How long must I wait for you?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Are you— you're not trying to get rid of me."

"This isn't going to end well. For me, for any of us."

"I don't mind dying. I was born to die. But you—"

"You can't protect me from the world."

"That's really not how this works."

"I only ever make you sad."

"It's never going to be the happy ending you want. You know that."

"You could come. You could forget about all this and be with me."

"Let there be no longer any secret what you do to me."

"Would you rather be forgotten or hatefully remembered?"

"Let them hate me all they want. But you and I know the truth."

"It's only death, that's all. What is that to love?"

"Wait. If this is the last, if this is the end, I don't know how to say goodbye to you."

[doorrobloxstuff]

MAIN AU LORE - REVISED (PART ONE)

Alright, so, after some thinking. I’ve decided to blow up my old au and rework it :)

After all, it’s two years old and it’s lore has been kinda blown around in the wind. So, resetting everything.

I’m doing the ones I have lore for, as I don't have all the energy in the world anymore.

Important stuff:

Seek’s family + the other entities are trying to escape the hotel. Their family was sealed away by the guiding light nearly a couple thousand years ago.

The entire hotel was pissed off at humanity for destroying their old home, killing Seek’s mother (A-250.), Killing Depth, Some of Rush’s and Ambush’s children, permanently disabling Ambush, potentially killing Silence (they never found their body), and causing Greed to die from a grief induced heart attack.

The guiding light was an angelic being sent to stop them. It built the hotel entity and gave it life, she had no malice towards them, but they needed to be stopped.

It made their prison as humane and as comfortable/natural as possible. Intending for it to eventually return to earth and become their replacement home after their rage cooled and grief healed.

…But never made it inescapable until then, rip.

The other entities work for Grumble and company in various positions.

Jeff betrayed Grumbles and chose to side with the guiding light after seeing that its basically blinded with hate and was making a monster out of its son, Seek.

The upper hotel is the living quarters for the worker entities to stay in except they have their own large suites behind doors inaccessible to humans.

The lower floor is a busy multiplex of pipes and productivity. The pipes are meant to feed into Seek’s mass and get it to a powerful enough state to escape the hotel.

Entities names are actually quite long and complicated! A mixture of sound-words from entity language. The names we call them as are shortened versions or not accurate to their true name! They also have names chosen at the time of their birth, and names they choose. Those change very frequently.

So..let’s get to the hotel’s denizens, shall we?

- Canon characters + lore (in order of sort of importance) -

Grumble:

Grumbthinkle von tentacle:

The ring leader behind this whole operation

Pretty mean and grumpy to be honest. The human-translated name is very accurate.

Jeff’s brother, Seek’s uncle, parent to the giggles. Screech’s GREAT uncle.

Disowned and reverted to its natal name after what happened with Jefftholomew. Wants nothing to do with him.

Imagine a pot of pure, unadulterated rage and grumpiness and resentment and spite and every other negative emotion stewing in a pot. Behold, GRUMBLE.

The boss man :tm:

Okay okay headcanons now.

..and also perhaps with a smidge of sorrow.

Aro Ace :)

Brilliant at engineering and construction. Built a labyrinthine network of pipes and mines to try and get more resources.

May have..once taught humans how to build aqueducts.

Also really, really likes gardening.

What can I say? It’s really good at digging with those tentacles.

Its favorites are gardenias.

Eyes loves it lmao those two have entire cork boards dedicated to their plants and what they want to plant this “season”. (Sunlight is rare in the hotel dimension.)

Would probably be caught dead with a garden trowel in its hands singing in the worst goddamn voice you have ever heard.

Really close to its nespring, Seek..though..it also may see it as a tool necessary for it and the others to escape and take their revenge.

Often lazes about in its nest when it exhausted itself from working on pumping raw ore and metal into Seek’s mass.

Does give a flying fuck about its underlings..but its number one priority during work hours is GETTING OUT and its second one is GETTING REVENGE.

So..certain things have..flown under its radar.

Adores its children the giggles and often cajoles them + the hotel’s children with tales of its inventions and adventures long past.

Loves to read to them in its deep voice.

It’s nickname is grumby :)

Its stories are long and complicated, sometimes hard to follow but very entertaining if you manage to stick along for the ride.

It frequently dreams of home..sometimes of a certain someone to.

Seek:

Grumble's Nespring (nonbinary term for neice/nephew), Parent of Screech, Snare + one more.

Married to Figure. <3

Twins w/hide

Still the spiteful little british guy I want to write more of, just huge(r)

Built like something out of vita carnis, think the harvesters with tendrils that suck the everliving shit out your blood and liquidify your organs in an agonizing display of unnatural brutality.

..a bit..err, peeved with the fact that its uncle pretty much is using it to get their way out, sometimes forgetting the fact that Seek is not, just an object for him to use in its escape plans.

Veeeerrryyy particular in the placement of it’s mass.

Hates how much its grown, almost to near dysmorphic levels.

*GRITS ITS NON-EXISTENT TEETH* “I JUST..WANT..TO..LEAVE.”

Sick of it all, not gonna lie.

Figure is it's rock and sanity.

No more winemaking rip. But still loves drinking wine and will often be seen sharing a sip or two on a romantic night out with Figure.

Still wears its suits. Still does the fancy thing.

Screech:

Mischievous lil guy

Plays with the giggles.

Has a more humanoid form, just doesn’t take it.

Is growing quite strong mass wise (see what’s in the nest lol), but Seek FORBIDS grumbles from getting children involved in its plan.

Grumbles concedes, because it kind of agrees, but also because Seek could turn it into an albinistic stain on the wall.

Screech still loves to listen to its to it’s auncle’s stories.

Eyes:

Extremely anxious sometimes to the point of near-neuroticism.

Talks like this this! This! Meant to be disconcerting! disconcerting and all over place! Place.

(There will be translations so people with screen readers can still read! )

Sometimes feels ignored, despite being older then Hide and Seek combined.

Secretly heartbroken about it, but doesn’t say a thing..but they’re boiling over..ohhhh they’re boiling over.

Their emotions are a complicated and LOUD mess.

Besties w/halt they both yap.

Misses their father. Sometimes visits him when they..gets really bad.

Teleports around when their thoughts are everywhere and they want to talk.

Can be dignified..when they want to be.

Don’t look at me! DON’T STOP LOOKING AT ME! Don’t look at m- PICK A LANE GODDAMNIT IT.

Dating Jack, it’s casual and going steady tbh.

Kinda frowned upon that they’re doing so because Jack used to date hide and that was cringe for all involved.

Kinda just is around, likes to cook :) Chef eyes.

Do not bother them in the kitchen they will scream and go crazy.

Giggles + (older giggles/big giggles)

There’s a 100 of them.

Four large ones, and a bunch of increasingly smaller ones.

The four older ones were alive when the hotel collapsed.

Three of them are getting very. very. Tired.

The forth is uhhh..complex.

I’ll do “fourth x reader” fics with the fourth fully grown adult giggle I just want don’t want the aromantic grumble (their father) in any romantic fics lol.

That’s my compromise to you so you do get find romance with one of the nest entities

The four large ones meet every night.

Hide:

Twins w/Seek

Dating Glitch.

COULD be as strong as Seek, but would never even consider increasing its own mass after what happened with Seek.

Extremely close w/Seek

Much more reclusive.

Afraid of its uncle and hates what he’s doing.

light-based in mass that can become much more gooey when distressed or nervous.

Sometimes looks like a weird abstract painting.

Also grieving its home and mother.

Loves to paint.

Used to a lot of paintings of their old home, which tend to be misinterpreted horrifically by Grumble and would further its resolve and/or be used as an example. So, it stopped painting that.

Instead it’s gotten a bit more..secretive about what the meaning behind the paintings it makes are..some are more obvious then others. (Nudges the paintings of shadow/depth.)

The paintings are mostly used to jab at grumble/show better futures without going through his insane ass plan.

Those who truly know and are be to interpret them correctly and figure out their meaning are their friends lol.

It’s sort of its little artistic rebellion against Grumble.

It may ;) have painted ;) a few ;) familiar friends. ;)

Jeff:

Seek’s and hide’s + eyes dad lol

A couple of thousand years old, created alongside his sibling, Grumble.

Used to live at the bottom of the ocean with him before both of the siblings chose to travel the world in search of a home entity.

It took them awhile, those two going on many adventures, finding treasure, fighting other entities, discovering fascinating creatures, meeting friends along the way (some of whom joined them), procuring knowledge.ect

Whole ass dnd campaign with those two.

Jeff gained a deep understanding of humans and respect for them. Viewing them as friends and kin while Grumby kind of just- 🤷

They eventually, did find a home entity. One large enough to house them and their friends.

They all moved in and it was a very happy life for awhile. :)

Found a wife. Had Eyes and later Seek and Hide with her.

Then well..

The humans came.

Centuries later he still doesn’t hate them.

Betrayed grumbs and worked with the guiding light to use his knowledge of the archaic and magical and help Guide create the crucifixes.

Was disowned and is now violently hunted alongside Dread and El-Goblino so they will stop murdering humans.

He also managed to place a spell upon his shop so it’s always concealed.

A bit of a silly guy, loves to play coy.

He’s good at drawing magic runes and ancient languages but utter dogshit when it comes to writing in english.

The money (knobs) is magic too.

Help how do I describe him, goddess of everything else vibes.

Is extremely depressed on the inside though, but DARES not to show it.

Is hurt that Grumbles has pretty much turned his entire family against him and (to him) very few actually see that what he’s doing is insane.

More furious then hurt that he’s using SEEK of all entities.

Glad to have to have Dread, Hide, Gobby and Guide so he’s not too early.

He’s also dating dread lol

Dread:

Toad entity :)

Has pores in his skin and poison in his blood that is extremely deadly.

He can also squirt it in your face.

Also Jeff’s personal spy and pair of eyes.

NO ONE has a clue that he's working with Jeff and except those who are close to Jeff.

Kind of just stands there and pretends to take little naps while secretly spying on others casually.

He's very friendly, so if someone comes up to him while he's listening to others he'll just go about chatting with them.

He also bakes pastries and cooks with Eyes.

Rush and Ambush trust him a lot! He's one of their buddies :)

Him and Bushy are both aquatic entities :)

Tries his best NOT to hurt humans, but given he's older and disabled (Post-traumatic stress disorder + missing an eye.) usually, the other entities will hunt any humans for him so, it's not much of an issue.

However, if a human being IS in his proximity, he is expected and obligated to try and kill them as to not blow his cover.

He prays this will never come to fruition. ^

He's not expected to participate in any active hunts!!

He's the one he least expect.

Overall very well trusted by the hotel's denizens.

Considered one of the hotel's best singers (though to humans he just sounds like a toad)

Yea get that old man.

El-Goblino

Pretty much the same as canon.

Just fluffy :)

Outcasted from the hotel AND separated from his wife after what happened with the humans.

Just happy to be here.

The lovely pair of speeding soulmates. + everybody else I actively have the energy to write about.

Rush:

Married to Ambush! <3

They have had many litters and raised many children over the centuries, but the notable ones are the rooms entities and the Sally + Dupe (who are twins.)

Bonded pair do not separate.

One of Grumble's most violent and ardent supporters.

Still very, very mad about what happened.

Doesn't mean it like it very much, though......Grumbles is very grumpy and disgruntled alot of the time.

Ambush's better half.

Both work as miners/line workers. Whatever is the necessity for the day, but Rush primarily works with the handling of larger ore chunks due to it's strength.

Constantly exhausted and very achey.

Very touchy around the topic of humans, dislikes their situation being discussed. Will get into violent arguments with those it disagrees with, sometimes ending in minor fights that Ambush has to drag it away from.

Hangs out with Blitz sometimes, but doesn't talk a lot, (esp since the backdoor entities are scheming against Grumble).

Flirts w/Ambush while they work. It's like those two are still dating.

Still loves to knit, sometimes does it when its worried.

Ambush:

Bonded pair do not separate

Permanently disabled, it's jaw was twisted in such a way that it could never heal and is in constant pain because of that.

Some days are better then most, but sometimes It's left in bed twitching in pain.

Also super loyal to Grumble, even if the guy can be..mmm..

Smokes a lot to help cope with the pain, and unfortunately is very depressed after losing its sibling and some of its children.

Very tired...just.. very tired.

Is on the verge of quitting working, but doesn't.

Those weird ass flies:

Just a prey item the entities will gobble on

Kind of like flying popcorn chicken to them

Rush and Ambush both love catching them and frying them.

They’re very territorial and will kill someone and then suck their blood.

Flying evil parasitic popcorn

Y/N:

You! That’s right, you’re canon to this au! (Sort of.)

You’re a bit subjective, but depending on your POV, you can get a lot done learning about the lore of this au :)

sorry guys i am very tired, i'll finish the rest later.

[loudlittleecho]

Too Late to Save Them: Frozen in Time Offshoots: Vlad

Set after this prompt

If Daniel hasn’t come back out, he can stay in the zone for all he cares. Vlad resigns as mayor. It doesn’t matter anymore. Goes back to his manor in Wisconsin. A month goes by, and he has a jolt of guilt and attempts to search the ghost zone for Danny. He’s made a lot of enemies, so he has no luck. Goes back home, tries to wash his hands of the whole ordeal. Shuts down the MADDIE program. 

Months go by. He’s lonely. He’s tried to go back to being a mind controlling villain, but it doesn’t really. . . do anything for him anymore. 

He wallows. 

Then;

It was The Nasty Burger that did this. Why are they still operating? 

He’s not going to shut them down the legal way, no. His frustration, his rage, his sorrow fuel him as he systematically destroys every and all Nasty Burger Restaurant. Messes with the lives of every stockholder and worker. Anyone involved with The Nasty Burger and it’s Nasty Sauce. 

It soothes him for a while, but. . . 

He’s so lonely. 

Where was Daniel? Had he really. . . 

Something in Vlad snaps. 

Maddie had DIED.

She was gone.

He was a scientist. He could bring her back. 

- - -

It isn’t working. He has some of Maddie’s DNA, but it. won’t. take! 

It’s incomplete. 

Fails.

He throws some of his own DNA in.

He works on it in a haze, a year going by with the outside world passing him. 

Failure. Failure. Failure.

He can’t stop his obsessive spiral. He needs this to succeed. Needs her back. 

Needs at least a PART of her back.

He stays in his ghost form; his human side needs to eat, needs to sleep.

His ghost side will need to rest, but it will wait.

This has to work. 

- - - 

The infant is alive, stable, floating in an artificial womb. 

All of the machines give the same output. 

The experiment is a success. 

He sits in a stupor.

Collapses. 

- - -

He checks on her often. This is their child. His and Maddie’s.

He begins researching how to care for a child. How to raise a child. 

A child.

A daughter.

- - - 

She’s ready. 

He gently removes her from the container.

She cries at the change of temperature.

He cleans and wraps her in a warm blanket.

- - -

Madeline is his whole world. Vlad has someone who loves him in return. 

The fractured part of Vlad’s being begins to heal. 

He is able to mourn Maddie’s passing, mourn the friends he had lost, and their children that he had been antagonistic with. 

He had been a fool.

But little Madeline was here, and he needed to do right by her. 

She gets sick at three months old; she’s not exactly a clone, but his halfa DNA gave her trouble. He had to make them both invisible and sit in the ghost zone so she could get better. 

He does a few tests. 

She’s not a halfa- she might get some of his powers, might not. Very unlikely. He would have to keep a close eye on her to make sure she was healthy and safe. 

No matter. He would do anything and everything to keep her safe. 

His daughter, his dear one, 

Madeline Masters

[memes-soul-dna]

The monster in the attic part 2: The light in her darkness.

“I am a monster, Sammy..” Charlotte, broke down before her brother, the differences in their body and appearance were more drastic now. One in a body made out of metal and plastic, the other still in a body made out of flesh and bone. She is way taller than Sammy now, she is sure that if she ever stood at full height Sammy would barely reach her waist. Her hands a three-fingered hand ending with three sharp claws… There’s so much more to list! And the more she thinks about it. The more she just wants to…

All she is now is a monster, she looked at her hands. It's not the hands of a human, three-fingered hands, black as charcoal and connected to long arms sleeved with black and white, faced her cursed eyes. She couldn't feel her hair and her body was now far too tall to be that of a child, yet slim and lean enough to be folded up and stored into a box. 

Charlotte remembered what Henry said “You are just a machine… With the voice of my daughter recorded in it…” How could something so painful and callous come out of the mouth of someone like him? Charlotte cannot understand it, her heart now burns with the stabbing agony of the knife through her gut, then through her chest in where her now broken heart used to be, agony… Persists… Still racked through her “body” like lightning upon a live wire. And the pain only intensified because her father rejected her.  

Charlotte began to weep, she wept and cried, and her nonexistent tears fell to nowhere. How could the world be so cruel? The betrayal she felt at that moment was immeasurable and her existence was ruined, she screamed as her hands clawed at the ceiling of the box she was trapped in. The pain of her wounds, the sorrow of her aching heart, the anger of her end, and the fear of being trapped here forever drove her to do this. 

Charlotte broke out of her cage, screaming and crying with the tears of betrayal, she launched herself forward towards the door. Howling like a monster, she slashed at the door with her claws with all the pain, hurt, and sorrow her nine-year-old brain could muster.

As time went by… Her howls were reduced to soft whimpering sobs. “Sammy…” She cried for her brother, the only person who didn't reject her…  Charlotte looked at the door, now adorned with deep grooves from her tantrum, yet still standing strong indifferent to her actions.. To her rage… To her sorrow… To her pain….She collapsed forward, lying face down just like she did on that dreadful night.

The clock struck midnight and Sammy still remained awake, he swore that he heard someone crying and screaming… Sammy crawled out of bed, the scream was from above… Sammy knew that there was an attic above him, it was a storage room. “The scream doesn’t sound like dad… Who could it be?’  Sammy thought to himself, for as far as he knew there was only himself and Henry in the house. He could write it off as that he is still stressed out over Charlie’s death, however… The crying continued.

“It’s from the attic.” Sammy thought to himself, like a snake slithering through the dark he stealthily slipped his way out of his bedroom and into the hallway, It’s dark around him. Trying to rely on his memory, his hand reached around in the darkness, trying to locate the light switch in the darkness. Sammy pressed his hand against the wall, feeling the small bumps of dried paint on the wall, he walked slowly with his palm on the wall. 

Sammy felt a series of bumps, larger than others yet smoother. “It must be the switches.” Operating on instinct now, he clicked on one of them and two ceiling lights came to life, bathing him in light as stark white floods his retinas. Sammy winced as he shielded his eyes with his left arm. 

As his eyes got used to the light, Sammy looked around, finding the small staircase leading up to the attic. Sammy went up the staircase. At the end of the staircase is a door leading into the attic. The crying is coming from the attic… Sammy doesn’t know what lies ahead of him. What lies beyond the door… His hand clutched on the doorknob gripping it tightly with a chill of excitement. Fear? And perhaps a combination of emotions ran down his spine. Sammy gave the doorknob a twist and opened the door.

Sammy stepped in as a paleface streaked with purple tears rose up and faced him. “A puppet…?” Sammy gasped in surprise at the being in front of him, he recognized this model. Three buttons lined vertically on the pitch black chest of the puppet, limbs too striped with black and white. Then something happened that made Sammy flinch. “Sammy…?” A voice came from the puppet, It sounded like a girl, not just any girl but one that Sammy was very familiar with. It sounds like Charlie. “Charlie?” He addressed the puppet thing, the statement sounds more like a question if anything. Sammy’s eyes stared into pin-pricked white dots of the puppet’s eyes. The brother’s eyes carried surprise, disbelief then sorrow, while the sister’s eyes carried anxiety, desperation, and pain.

“I am a monster, Sammy..” Charlotte, broke down before her brother, the differences in their body and appearance were more drastic now. One in a body made out of metal and plastic, the other still in a body made out of flesh and bone. She is way taller than Sammy now, she is sure that if she ever stood at full height Sammy would barely reach her waist. Her hands a three-fingered hand ending with three sharp claws… There’s so much more to list! And the more she thinks about it. The more she just wants to…

“I look like a freak…” she wept with much sorrow, she knows what she is now, an unholy fusion of life and nonlife. Her body is something that is not alive, and she is already dead. She remembers how it feels to die.

Does she even deserve to be loved, when she is something like this? 

“I am a monster, Sammy…” Charlotte sobbing now, crying like a witch. As she drowned herself in the ocean of her sorrows. “I can’t be lo-” She tried to continue, but was cut off with a sudden embrace, a pair of arms wrapped around her body, embracing her as much as they could. Her brother Sammy is embracing her. “What are you talking about?” Sammy replied, his voice quivering, warm tears spilled onto Charlotte’s body, Sammy was sad for her. The boy tightened his embrace. 

“You are my sister, Charlie…” Sammy muttered, his voice tight with sorrow, pain, and a tinge of rage. “No matter what…” Sammy said, his voice still quivering, but tinged with a certainty stronger than steel. There’s no logical reason as to why or how the puppet is his sister, but somehow, on an innate level, he could feel that it is her. Charlotte gasped softly, incredulous and surprised that someone would love her.

Even when she is something like this… Charlie hugged her brother back, the points of her claws resting on the boy's back. They stayed together in the embrace of each other. Charlie couldn’t help but weep, in the first few days of her new unnatural existence she endured loneliness, abandonment, and rejection in the cold dark world she found herself prolonging her stay in. 

Sammy is a warm fire against the cold blizzard of the cruel world around her, the world that made her… This…  At the very least. She could trust her brother to accept her in spite of her current form. 

“Thank you, Sammy… Thank you so much.” Charlotte thanked her brother, and much gratitude filled her heart, It filled her heart so much that it was practically overflowing and her tears were a sign of that. “I will take you to our bedroom, I am not going to leave you here…” Sammy said to Charlotte, he broke the embrace, then with his hand holding onto her wrist gently, he stood up and guided her out of the darkness and into the light. 

It’s almost blinding, how did she feel that? She doesn't have actual eyes. Charlotte put her arm over her eyes as she crossed the hallway with her brother leading her.  Then darkness again, accompanied by the soft hum of the air conditioner above her. Charlotte blinked, once then twice, her “eyes” adjusting to the lighting conditions around her. How did she even see? Charlotte looked around, recognizing her surroundings. Two beds, blankets, and plush toys… This is her bedroom, the familiarity of her surroundings strikes against her current inhuman form. Charlotte looked at her bed, she thought of a memory….

“Goodnight Charlie… I have work to do tomorrow.” The gentle voice of Henry Emily told her, a gentle exhausted smile on his face. “But…! I want to hear bedtime stories!” Charlotte protests, her voice childish and demanding, she loves to hear about the stories that Henry reads to her and the various tones of voice he puts up while reading to her. “What story do you want me to read for you?” Henry asks.  

“Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,” Charlotte answered in turn. Henry gave his daughter a thumbs up, smiling softly, then he took out a book from a small bookshelf, opened it up, and began to read, “Long ago, there’s a kingdom. In the kingdom, there’s a princess who is fairer and more beautiful than anyone else in the kingdom….” Charlotte listens to Henry’s words. 

“The king married a woman, who is too fair and beautiful, her beauty is comparable to that of snow white. Yet her heart burns with an insidious desire… Everything seems fine until… One day the old king fell ill and gave his authority to the queen, that’s when the true colors of the queen began to show.”  Henry narrates, reading the lines of text in the story and his eyes looking at the drawing beneath the text. He continued to read. 

“Mirror, mirror who is the fairest woman in this kingdom?”  As the evil queen, Henry questioned the mirror. “SNOW WHITE.” in a mechanical voice the mirror answers in return. Charlotte knew what that voice sounded like. It sounds like those machines that he is working on. “Fuming with rage, the queen banged her fist hard against the table.”HOW OUTRAGEOUS.” She screamed in anger.” Henry continued narrating.

As time went on, Charlotte slowly fell asleep to the soothing voice of her father while swaddled with a soft blanket. She is safe, loved, and cared for by him. 

Charlotte thought of the memory wistfully, looking at her bed, then back at Sammy, as if hoping for him to say something, Sammy is looking at her too, he too is thinking what he wants to say. “Do you want to sleep with me?” Sammy asked his sister. Charlotte mentally shrugs her shoulders, she doubted that she even could sleep now. Sammy crawled onto his bed and covered himself with his blanket, he looked at her waiting for her to join him.  “Sleep well Sammy, I will protect you.” She replied to her brother. She sat on the edge of her bed looking at her brother, seeing him attempting to fall asleep. 

Sammy didn’t fall asleep, he twisted and turned in his bed, sure! Charlotte is now the puppet thing, but what made her like this!? If she is a ghost in a machine, then who made her a ghost? Who killed her? Question after question floated in his head, it’s hard to fall asleep when there are unanswered mysteries so close to his person, when there’s someone who hurt his sister probably still running around loose like this!

“Why are you?” A question darted out of Sammy’s mouth, Charlotte who was looming over her brother at the time, blinked at him curiously, she waited for the complete question that he was about to say. “Why are you possessing the puppet?” She heard the question as her stare darkened, if she could frown, she would. The scabs of her recent wound on her heart and soul will be ripped away. She should have seen this question coming from a mile away. As traumatizing as it is, this is the elephant in the room that needs to be addressed, that needs to be investigated to uncover the truth behind the massive anomaly that was her current state.  

The sting of betrayal was still fresh in her heart she remembered how it felt to die under his hands. 

Under the pouring rain, little hands banged against the wooden door. A young girl cries, begging for entrance with mocking laughter coming from the other side of the door. “Why!?” She cried as she kept banging on the door. There was no answer, the door stood firm and unyielding, locked shut and indifferent to her tantrum. She was shut outside and there was no way for her to get in. 

The rumbling of an engine approaches her, and around two feet away from her a car park, the door opens and in the darkness of the night sky and in the cold of the pouring rain a “savior" appears. “What are you doing all alone outside Charlie?” It’s William, his voice sounds so sweet and friendly… “I can’t get in… The door is locked.” Charlotte replied, her voice sounding slightly relieved this time, William is here, she could get in and… Not be left outside in the freezing rain! 

The tall man approached Charlotte, a friendly smile on his face. “Poor thing you are locked outside…” He spoke assessing the situation, “pity” dripping all over his words, he reached his hand into his pocket. Charlotte looked at William, her face went from a relieved, wide-open smile into a gasp of horror upon seeing what he took out instead,   A cold glint shone with much predatory intent in the dark. “It’s perfect for me to kill you.” 

Charlotte screamed as she banged on the door. Much faster and harder this time, panic burned through her veins as her heart beat at an alarming pace, she felt the skin around her tightening as an overwhelming dizziness befell upon her. “SOMEONE! ANYONE! PLEASE!” She cried but her cries were left unheard, a force tugged at the back of her shirt, pulling her away from the door, she struggled with her hands tugging at the collar of her shirt hoping to tear her away, free from William. 

Unfortunately for her, William’s grip remained firm and strong. A mere child like her can never hope to overcome and overpower an adult. She is dragged away into the darkness of the back alley. William threw her against the ground roughly like a child playing with a ragdoll. Charlotte’s heart was broken with disbelief and betrayal, she tried to sit, stand up, and run, however, William caught her. 

A hand caught her by her throat, the hand strangled her, choking the life out of her as her mouth fell open gasping and wheezing, her hands scratched at the wrist of the older man uselessly for it is protected with sleeves. William pinned Charlotte on the wall, on his face is a giddy smile, twisted and malicious. “Blame this on the misfortune of your birth.” William smiled, readying himself.

Then William stabbed her, the knife piercing through her skin, ripping into her flesh, as the girl screamed in silence, her legs kicked and convulsed as William looked into the girl’s eyes - filled with tears of agony and betrayal as if she was saying “How can you do this to me?” 

Crimson red seeped into green, and the knife tore in even deeper into Charlotte's body, in a slow and painful pace, the man ran his knife down the girl's stomach, she was being gutted alive like a fish!

She is bleeding profusely as strength slips away from her fingers like fine sand. “Getting sleepy? I will put you to sleep permanently…” In her bleary vision filled with agonized tears and her ears ringing from pain, he stabbed her again. Her strength fades away as the knife cracks through her sternum and pierces her heart.  She was thrown back on the cold ground of the dark alleyway. Through her eyes, blurred with tears she could see William walking away, as she was left to die in this cold dark world… This isn’t how she would let it end…

The moment she opened her eyes again, her limbs were long and her hands were three-fingered claws…  The tall, lanky, and spindly body of the security puppet is her vessel. Her face was fixed on a wide permanent smile, even though there was nothing for her to smile for. When Henry opened the box, she was ecstatic with hope. However, his words broke her heart. She is left alone and unloved. 

But, for now, things are different and she has a brother who still loves her and hasn’t betrayed her. “Will you believe me, if I say who is it? I can barely believe it is him too.” Charlotte speaks to Sammy, and the gears in the boy’s head begin to spin. Who could it be? Who could’ve done something so cruel? Fear, anger, and sorrow begin to rise in his heart. 

“It’s William… Uncle William did this to me.” Charlotte continued, her voice came out quivering and shaky, the pain of that day struck her again as she fell on her knees. Sammy got off the bed and sat beside his sister, He wrapped one arm around her narrow shoulders as his mind wandered. “Why did he do this? And is there a way to punish him?” 

A fire lit up within him, burning away his intention to sleep. He stayed by her side until morning, when Henry found them together. Sammy confronted him with a question. Why did you seal her away Dad?” The veil of denial was tore away violently.  

[8o8o8o8o8]

Au where Sisyphus lives but Minos gets primed

He was mildly interested in Minos since the early days of his first death, this dogmatic judge of hell so catatonic with grief and sorrow at his fate that he's barely a person outside his job

Sisyphus slipped out of Hell. Came back years later to find an angry man, frustrated with the rules he has to operate under, the unclear definitions of sins. Now this is fun. Sisyphus ended up in an hours-long argument about exactly where he's gonna go. Ended up learning more about Minos' personal opinions, too. This would be the point that they could be considered to be dating

Sisyphus got out again. Came back to Minos actually missing him, and with ideas of building a city in Lust. He has his own. Tries to love him despite the building disagreements.

God left. They each put their plans in action.

Gabriel came for Lust first. Sisyphus nearly didn't notice the insurrection's victory in the rage and grief.

Taking down the Flesh Prison, seeing Minos' very soul form before his eyes. But it's not the same man. The prime soul is as much Minos as it is his city as it is his love for his city.

He's not...less loving. But it's different. New habits, new anger, new shadows in his voice. Same eerie soul-piercing stare, though.

Minos has changed before. The benevolent King of Lust is barely recognizable as the man who casted the Minotaur into Violence. Sisyphus simply resolves to learning his lover all over again

[janustheeighth]

I am deeply sceptical of the current use of AI, with all of the plagiarism-by-proxy and ethical concerns. However, this excellent post mortem by the BBC has made it clear that we finally, allegedly, have a true, all-out AI huckster on our hands, Billy Coull. He has also 'written' 'novels', according to the BBC potentially with substantial AI help.

This story has delighted me, as it has so many others, partially for the inexplicable madness of "The Unknown, an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls" and partly the sheer *Scottishness* of it. The actors doing their best to "be the sparkles on shit" and make the best of a bad job, the Glasgow crowd knowing precisely who to get annoyed at (ie, not the poor souls in costume), Wonka going to the press and *fully* understanding the brief (per The Independent, he says "in some ways, it was a world of imagination, like 'imagine that there is a whole chocolate factory here'", and "I didn't know where I ended and Wonka began"). We have excellent journalists and (allegedly) Billy Coull to thank for this.

And how better to thank him than with some dubiously ethical AI. I for one wanted to know much more about that beloved Roald Dahl character, The Unknown. And so...

Let ChatGPT sing you a song of moving and yet curiously generic and oddly-phrased heartbreak:

In the heart of a vibrant town filled with the scent of cocoa and the laughter of children, there existed a boy known only as "The Unknown." Abandoned at birth, he was left to fend for himself in a world that showed him no kindness. With no family to call his own, he wandered the streets like a ghost, his heart heavy with sorrow.

It was within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory that The Unknown found solace, hidden away from prying eyes and judgmental whispers. There, amidst the whirring machinery and the intoxicating aroma of chocolate, he discovered a sense of purpose, a reason to keep moving forward.

But behind the silver mask that obscured his face, The Unknown harbored a deep-seated pain, a childhood marked by trauma and neglect. Raised in the shadows of the factory, he had known nothing but cruelty and hardship, his innocence stolen from him at a tender age.

As the years passed, The Unknown's bitterness grew, festering like a wound that refused to heal. Consumed by rage and resentment, he vowed to claim the factory as his own, to exact revenge upon a world that had abandoned him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by darkness, The Unknown descended into madness, his dreams of redemption twisted and warped by the scars of his past. In the end, it was not the sweetness of chocolate that defined him, but the bitterness of his own tragic origin, a haunting reminder of the pain that lurks within us all.

What was next for this poor soul, you may ask? Well...

After a couple of tweaks...

...the AI lovingly generated this string of approximately human-like words:

In the heart of the town, where the scent of cocoa mingled with the whispers of the wind, there lived a man named Billy Coull. He was a cunning and deceitful soul, preying upon the hopes and dreams of innocent families with his schemes and scams.

For years, Billy had operated under the guise of a philanthropist, promising to help those in need in exchange for their hard-earned money. But behind his charming smile lay a heart as black as coal, his only motivation driven by greed and a thirst for power.

One fateful day, word reached the ears of The Unknown, the enigmatic figure who dwelled within the walls of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. It was whispered among the shadows that Billy Coull had swindled countless families out of their savings, leaving them destitute and broken.

Filled with a righteous fury, The Unknown vowed to mete out justice upon the deceitful man, to ensure that no more innocent lives would be ruined by his wickedness. With silent determination, he set his plan into motion, his heart heavy with the weight of his purpose.

Under the cover of darkness, The Unknown emerged from the shadows, his silver mask gleaming in the moonlight as he confronted Billy Coull in the dead of night. With a voice like thunder, he condemned the man for his crimes, his words echoing through the empty streets like a solemn promise of retribution.

But Billy, arrogant and defiant to the end, scoffed at The Unknown's warning, dismissing him as nothing more than a mere figment of imagination. Little did he know that fate had already sealed his doom, his reckoning drawing near with each passing moment.

In a swift and decisive move, The Unknown unleashed the deadly chocolate hounds, creatures born of darkness and tempered by the fires of vengeance. With gnashing jaws and eyes ablaze with hunger, they descended upon Billy Coull, their voracious appetite sated only by the taste of his treachery.

As the hounds closed in on Billy, The Unknown uttered a single phrase, his voice dripping with contempt and disdain, "get it up ye, ya bampot," a final testament to the justice that awaited those who dared to cross him.

And as the first light of dawn broke upon the horizon, the town whispered tales of the mysterious figure who had emerged from the shadows to right the wrongs of the world, a silent guardian watching over them from the depths of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, his justice swift and merciless.

THIS IS CANON.

All #Unknownfic should be written by AI, human imagination has no place where The Unknown is involved.