#said they might not use magic one day he just wanted them to not die if they had to fight and cori’s like well. wistful glance into

[scionshtola]

currently cori has the emperors new fists for their mnk weapon bc the whole idea behind mnk cori is estinien was like “you need to learn to throw hands in case you can’t use magic or your gun.” but i’m kind of enamored by the idea of them engineering themself a pair of gloves or aetherically charged brass knuckles or something after enw

[vivwritesfics]

Amortentia

One particularly bad crash lands her in hospital, out for the count. Max, Lando and Charles visit her every single day. While she's out the reader lives several different lives. The one thing they all have in common? Her boys

Max Verstappen x Reader, Lando Norris x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader

The First Part The Third Part

Huge thanks to @amatswimming @landossainz and @honkyscats for all your guys help on this one! It wouldn't have been possible without you

Her car had gone into the barrier two weeks ago, and the boys hadn't left her side. She hadn't yet woken up, and Lando, Max and Charles were trying their best to be patient. But they missed her so damn much.

Lando dropped his bag by feet. It made an audible thud. "What the hell have you got there?" Asked Max as he sat back in the one seat available in the room. Charles was sat on the floor, visibly distressed.

"You remember she made us watch Harry Potter maybe a hundred times?" Lando asked as he unzipped his bag. He pulled out a book.

"You brought those all the way from Monaco?" Max asked as he took the the philosophers stone from Lando's hands.

He nodded his head. "Of course I did," he said, pulling out the rest of the box set. First editions. They had been incredibly expensive, but it was worth it.

Charles looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"I was thinking we could try reading them to her. It might wake her up, or something," Lando continued.

Max looked across the room, looking straight into Charles' eyes. "You wanna read it, Charlie?" He asked, holding the book out towards him.

Charles nodded his head. He took the book from Max's hands and opened it to the first page. He looked at Y/N as her chest gently rose and fell, and began reading.

***

He was back, and he wanted Charles. The only place he was safe was Hogwarts, but even that wasn't a guarantee anymore.

Just the year before in the triwizard tournament Charles saw him return. He was the only one meant to be there in the graveyard, not Pierre. Pierre didn't have to die, and it was all his fault. He'd been killed, and his assailant didn't care.

Returning to Hogwarts for his fifth year, Charles was terrified. Professor Hamilton believed him though, and that was the most important thing. There were people, like his housemate Carlos, who didn't believe him, but Lando, Y/N and Max did, and that was the most important thing.

Max had been the only one of their quartet receiving copies of the Daily Prophet through the summer, he was the only one seeing what Bernie Ecclestone, the minister for magic, was saying. Awful, terrible things that Charles couldn't defend.

When he arrived at Hogwarts, Y/N was the first to throw her arms around him. She squeezed him and Charles wrapped his arms around her. This was the only comfort he allowed himself at this point. She was the only comfort he allowed himself at this point.

Max and Lando stood behind her, Max in his green tie and Lando in his yellow one. They offered him sympathetic smile as he looked up from her shoulder. "Come and have something to eat," she said quietly and pulled him into the great hall.

The whispers started as Charles walked between the tables, heading to his house table. Y/N went with him. She ignored her own house, left Lando to walk back to their table on his own, as she sat with Charles.

Nobody said anything to him at dinner, not unless they wanted to deal with the wrath of his Hufflepuff best friend. It was when he got to his common room, when Y/N wasn't there, that people started.

Carlos was the first to approach him. "My mother says you're lying," he said, cutting through the noise in the common room. All conversation stopped as they stared between the two.

"You listen to everything your mother says, do you?" Charles challenged, annoyance instantly bubbling up inside of him. He couldn't make Carlos believe, he knew. But Carlos didn't see the things he saw every time he shut his eyes.

***

Professor Danica Patrick was new to the staff, the new defence against the dark arts teacher. And she was the worst. She smiled at her fifth year class in a sickly sweet way, but it was patronising. "Ordinary Wizarding Levels. OWLS," she said as she pointed to her blackboard. "This is what my class will be all about. In here I will be preparing you for your OWLS."

Y/N frowned as she looked at Charles sat beside her. He too was frowning as he patted his wand in his pocket. "So, we're not learning how to defend ourselves?" Y/N called as she turned her attention to Professor Patrick.

Professor Patrick didn't let that smile drop from her face. In fact, she smiled wider, but it was only more patronising. "Miss L/N, what could you possibly need to defend yourself from?" She asked as she walked over to her desk.

It wasn't Y/N that answered her. No, Charles piped up. "Oh, I don't know, maybe Jos?" He suggested, but it wasn't in a friendly manner. No, Charles was clearly pissed.

Professor Patrick cleared her throat and sat on her desk. "Mr Leclerc, I can assure you that Jos has not returned." Y/N couldn't help but turn to Max, who's knuckles were white as he gripped his quill. "The minister has stated-"

"I don't care what the minister has said," Charles suddenly said. "How do you think Pierre Gasly died?" He challenged.

The smile finally dropped from Professor Patrick's face. But she quickly replaced it with one filled with sorrow. "Mr Gasly's death was a tragic accident," she said slowly.

This only further fuelled the rage in Charles. "It wasn't an accident!" He suddenly shouted as he stood up. "I was there with Jules in the graveyard. I watched him die." His voice cracked at the end and Y/N grabbed a hold of his arm, pulling him back into his seat.

"Detention."

"Fuck," Charles whispered under his breath.

After weeks and weeks of Professor Patricks useless lessons, Y/N knew he had to do something. "Jos is back," she said as she led Lando, Max and Charles into the Hufflepuff common room. "If professor Patrick isn't going to teach us to defend ourselves, we need to find somebody who will."

All eyes turned to Charles. He looked between his friends, eyes going wide as he held up his hands. "I can't," he said as he stepped back with his hands up.

"Yes you can, Charlie," Y/N insisted as she walked towards him. "I mean, who else? You're the only one of us who has faced any real danger before."

"Yeah," Max agreed as he stepped forward, stepping inline with Y/N. "We've all see what you can do in that Ferrari."

Suddenly Y/N turned to him. "What did you just say?" She asked him.

Max rolled his eyes. "C'mon Y/N. You were there! You must remember when he saved himself and Jules from the dementors."

Suddenly she was very short of breath. "That's not what you said," she said as she sat on the sofa in the Hufflepuff common room. "Why are you talking about Ferraris?"

Lando, Max and Charles ignored her. Or they couldn't hear her.

"What if we got together a group of students who want to learn from you? Would you teach then?" Lando asked as he sat beside Y/N, his arm on the sofa behind her.

"Nobody wants to learn from me," Charles said as he sat on the window ledge.

Y/N looked up at him, all thoughts of Ferraris leaving her mind. They were wizards and witches, not race car drivers. "I do," she said to him. "I bet half the people in the common room do."

Nobody else in the Hufflepuff common room agreed, but mainly because they weren't listening. But Lando stepped up. "I do too," he said as he sat up straighter. "And I know Max does."

Max grinned at his best friend. Of all of the people in Fifth year, Max wasn't one who needed Charles to teach him. He was brilliant in his own right, he just hadn't had a chance to prove it yet.

"Are you sure?" Charles asked as he looked directly at Max.

It was a tricky subject. The person that they wanted to defend themselves from was Max's father. But he didn't want anything to do with his 'blood traitor' son. Max wanted to fight him now. It had taken him a while to come around to it, hadn't wanted to believe his father was bad. But, after spending the last four years at Hogwarts, everything hit him all at once. His father was bad, dangerous, and Max wanted to be the one to stop him.

Max nodded is head and they began drawing up plans. Weeks later they were in Hogsmede, gathered in the forgotten Hogs Head pub. It was surprising the amount of students that showed up. Even Carlos Sainz was there, asking Charles about the night that Pierre died.

After a rousing speech that, upon reflection, was more frightening than encouraging, they had a plethora of students signing up. And then they just needed somewhere to practice their magic, somewhere Professor Patrick wouldn't find them.

It was Oscar Piastri, a young Ravenclaw that found them somewhere to practice. Daniel Ricciardo, Lando and Y/N's housemate, had been hunting him down, trying to get him to do his homework, so Oscar hid himself away in a room he had never seen before. That was because, most of the time, the door wasn't there.

"Brilliant, Osc," Y/N said when he showed the group. The door to the room of requirement opened and she led them in, Charles close behind her.

Every other day a large group of students met in the room of requirements. Under Charles's leadership they practiced spells, learnt how to defend themselves. Charles taught new spells, such as the Patronus charm, and allowed them to practice on each other.

There was one particularly brilliant moment where Lando and Max stood opposite each other, ready to practice the stunning spell, stupefy. Lando was filled with far too much confidence, and Max knocked him down a couple of pegs. Lando's sisters giggled as he got up and walked over. "I let him do that," he muttered as he straightened out his uniform.

Charles had a favourite student. Of course it was Y/N. A few of the other students noticed that he spent the most time with her, holding her wand in the right position as he had her practice the charm his body pressed against hers.

But, at the stares of the other students, they stepped apart and cleared their throats.

Before long Christmas was rolling around. Y/N knew how much Charles wanted to stay at Hogwarts. As he said his goodbyes to his other students, she hung back, looked at the pictures they had stuck up.

There was one of Pierre, smiling down at them. Next to him was Professor Hamilton's original group, Hamilton's army. They could see Professor Alonso in the picture, along with Professor Rosberg, Professor Vettel and Professor Button.

"What're you still doing here?" Charles asked as he approached her. He stood himself behind her and looked at the pictures over her shoulder. Pierre was a hero, Charles made sure everybody knew it.

Y/N turned to him. "I know you don't want to go home," she said, stood so close they were chest to chest.

A sad smile crossed Charles's face. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her flush against him. "None of this would have been possible without you," he said as he looked around the room of requirement. "You're wonderful."

"I know," she mused and laid her head against his shoulder. "I don't want to go home either," she said, her eyes shutting.

Charles gently rocked her from side to side. He kept her tucked against him and leaned down to kiss her head. But that wasn't enough for Y/N. She lifted her head from his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed his lips to hers.

***

It took a matter of days for Charles to get to the Order of the Phoenix. It was his favourite of the Harry Potter books, the one he read with the most passion.

Lando and Max stayed and listened to him for most of it. But they sometimes went home, fed their cats and got on with things. He stayed with her through this though, under the promise that Max was going to read the next set of books to her.

"What house would you be in?" He asked the boys as they walked into the hospital room. The last book was open in his lap and he had taken a break from reading.

Lando shrugged his shoulders as he sat on her bed. "Y/N always says I'd be in Hufflepuff with her," he said as he patted her leg.

"Slytherin," Max answered and Charles and Lando gave him a look. "What? They don't have to be the bad guys! They just happen to be the bad guys."

"I'd be in Gryffindor," Charles said confidently. He began reading again, and Max and Lando were only happy to listen. Max was going to read the next set of books to her, they'd decided.

They listened until Charles finished the book. That was when they sent him home to finally have a shower. "Goodbye chérie," he said and kissed her head. "I'll be back soon."

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Taglist: @hollie911

[sodamnradd]

The lock snicked open and the rusty metal door groaned as Draco entered the room flanked by two Azkaban guards. His eyes were cold and guarded, his posture tense. He sat across the table from Hermione, looking unsettled without his magic. When the guards were satisfied with the state of calm, they left them alone.

“It’s nothing,” she said as his gaze lingered on the left side of her face. An inmate had hit her simply because she could, leaving an ugly crescent-moon bruise around Hermione’s eye. Part of her cheekbone was swollen. She twisted her hands together, handcuffs dragging loudly on the steel table bolted to the ground.

Draco stared at her weeping wrists in horror. “How did this happen?”

“I angered the wrong people,” she said vaguely. Then in a no-nonsense tone asked, “Will you represent me?”

“Why me, Granger?” He was clean-cut in his suit and tie, his expression glacial. “There are more suitable barristers willing to take your case.”

“I trust you,” she reasoned. “You know the bastards who are after me better than anyone. I need a pure-blood on my side, and you’re the most notorious one.”

“Wouldn’t hiring me go against everything you stand for?”

“Who cares what I stand for if I��m incarcerated and soulless?”

He scrutinized her, a grave expression on his face. Lowering his voice he said, “And if they find out about us?”

“They won’t.”

“It could negatively affect your trial.”

“It was a stupid teenage fling. Nobody even knew about it.”

The way he was looking at her confirmed that it was more than a ‘stupid teenage fling’ to him. If she hadn’t been through hell and back in the last few days, she might have mirrored his sentiments. But she was tired and in pain and desperate.

“Draco, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t let me die in here.”

Her plea seemed to spark something in him because he sat taller and gave her a nod, his cool grey eyes meeting hers with steely determination. He clicked his monogrammed briefcase open and withdrew a blank scroll and self-inking quill. She was relieved to find that familiar look of ambition on his face. If anyone could outsmart the corrupt pure-bloods who wanted her out of politics, it was Draco Malfoy.

It wasn’t just that Draco was intelligent and crafty, but he would go to war for her. A stupid teenage fling was putting it lightly. If it weren’t for Hermione’s plans to move to Australia after graduation, and Draco’s acceptance to the American Law Mastery he’d coveted, they might still be together. Sometimes she wished to go back to the start and tell her younger self not to let him go. That people like Draco didn’t enter her life as often as she’d think. Never at all, really.

She stared at his naked ring finger. Seven years later, he still hadn’t settled down. Neither had she. But Draco had familial obligations.

“I was waiting for you,” he said in a low voice, noticing the direction of her gaze. He formed a fist with his left hand and released. “Came as a shock when I found out my future wife was in Azkaban.”

Warmth bloomed beneath her skin for the first time since she’d arrived, fuelling her need for freedom. “If you get me out of here, I’ll marry you.”

For a second, he smiled, and his eyes turned into the same liquid heat she’d fallen for when she was eighteen. And then he schooled himself, pressing his quill on parchment and giving her a pensive look. “Tell me about the morning of your arrest, Miss Granger,” he began in a level-headed, professional voice, and she knew he wouldn’t let his emotions slip again. Not until she was free.

(630 words, prompt: Azkaban, Forbidden Love, "I wish we could go back to the start" from this prompt builder)

[yuriisclumsy]

HELLO !! I SEE THAT YOU WRITE FOR CALE HENITUSE :d you've got good taste that man makes me feral i love that unbelievable idiot :D

Whadoyyathink about Cale being with someone who's weaker than him but she's kinda useful (one of pookie's powers is to boost someone's abilities, it generally doesn't matter if the one she's aiding doesn't have magical powers, they just have to be good at something like for example, painting and swordsmanship—she can enhance their ability and knowledge temporarily).

She's a mage that's dying the more she exploits her mana. She tried to not use too much, but in a reality where she and everyone suddenly got thrusted into war? She couldn't help but use, use, use.

None of em knew her degrading lifespan until one day she just told em casually when the gang asks wtf is wrong w u why do you look like u r boutta die and why do you keep passing out sometimes

If this is too much feel free to ignore, though thank you for reading :D

Will you stay by my side forever?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,443

[Authors Note]: This thing took me so long to make because I couldn't figure out what setting to write it on. Besides getting a bit tired of only writing for Cale back when I was consistent with the requests. But, hi! I'm back! At least just for this one. This request is back from May 💀. I still have two more, one from June, the other from July. So I might come back and do those. Do people want a part 4 for Love's Dance?

»»►Ouuu, what a fun scenario.

»»►Apologies in advance if it’s a bit weird, haven’t read or written for Cale in a while, so I might have lost my touch.

»»►Warning (I never really do these, but I thought it would be appropriate): could be inaccurate to the Henituse War Arc because I have yet to read it.

»»►Also, the POV is different on this one.

Dragons.

Powerful beings, capable of destroying us all if they wanted to.

One thing they weren’t meant for was to let humans ride them and control them like animals. They had far greater intelligence than any being in existence. 

So why should they submit to us?

The skies are filled with erratic bat-winged lizards; their flames and roars were scattered all over the field.

This was a war.

Dragons…What pesky creatures. I already have one to deal with, I don’t need more.

“Choi Han!”

“Yes, Master Cale?” said man came within seconds and kneeled in front of him.

“I need you to scout out the area in the east for me,” I commanded.

“On it,” and with that, he left as fast as he came.

I already know how all of this will pan out, but a little safety never hurt no one…

“Master Cale!”

“Hmm?” I turned to see one of the city guards running in a hurry towards me. “What is it? Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I-it’s lady [Name]! S-hes…” the guard gasped for air from the run.

“Easy, calm down… Now tell me, what’s wrong with [Name]?” I patted him in the back.

Recuperating the lost oxygen, the guard went serious and looked at me. “Lady [Name] has lost a great deal of blood and fainted..! S-she just started to cough and— M-master Cale–? Where are you going?!” The Guard shouted at me, but all noise was shut down by my mind.

That instinct to check on those you care about kicked in the moment I heard the word blood being uttered.

I ran.

Ran, and ran, until I was able to see the camp where she had been stationed at by me. A camp far from the battlefield, but close enough for me to constantly check-up on her.

How could a thing like this happen to me? I had just checked on you a few hours ago, so why? Why are you suddenly bleeding?

The men there stood aside as I ran past them. They understood not to be on my way with the expression I wore on my face.

“Where is she?!” I yelled to the men crowding a tent. I already knew my answer when they looked at me  and then at the inside with sad expressions.

I burst in and scanned the area to look for the woman I ran miles to see. I paused. There, on a bed on the far corner of the shelter, was her. [Name]. Medics surrounded her with yet more sad faces.

I walked slowly towards them, not wanting to know if what I had in my mind were to be true. “Is she alright?” I asked when I was a mere few feet away from the bed.

The head doctor looked at me with furrowed brows and sighed. He then gave me a smile when he saw my eyes, filled with worry.

“She is fine,” he said. I let the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “But she has lost a great deal of blood. I need her to stay in bed for a few days, and another more of pure rest until I see her health back up again.”

“I see… Thank you.”

“No need, it’s my job,” the doctor looked at the other two, who I believe to be his apprentices, and gestured to them to exit with him. “I’ll leave you alone with her,” he patted my shoulder as he left.

I stood there for a bit, before I went and sat on the bed right next to hers. I stared at her face; the face that made my heart jump from excitement wherever I saw a smile; the face that l would look at and made me feel better instantly; the face that made me fall deeply in love with her.

“...Cale?” a voice rang in my ears which made me snap out of my trance. My eyes meet with hers.

“[Name]...you’re awake,” I let out simply. She smiled at me, relieving me from the aching I had in my heart moments prior. “Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. Her eyes were filled with a love I can’t put in words, stared at mine. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she said sadly.

My eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What are you sorry for? None of this is your fault.”

“...” she stayed silent. She turned her head to the other side, blocking my view of her expression. I knew this move of her’s. She did this whenever she was hiding something. And then I realized something. I hadn’t asked what the cause of the blood was.

“[Name]...” I called to her, “..this wasn’t your fault…was it?”

“...I’m sorry,” she apologized and let out a low sob. “I didn’t want for any of you to find out this way….”

I was in disbelief. What possibly could she have done to cause such blood loss other than a stab wound…had she...?

“[Name], tell me… You didn’t cut yourself, have you?”

She quickly looked at me, “no, of course not, I would never do something as bad as hurting myself!” She reassured me.

That’s good…but that doesn’t answer how she had lost a lot of blood.

“Then…why were you bleeding?”

“...That’s..a long story.”

“I have all day,” I crossed my legs and rested my head on the palm of my hand.

“...”

“...”

She sighted thinking I would give up on the subject, but I’m far too stubborn to give up. “I lost a lot of blood because…”

“Because…?”

“Because of my ability…” she finally said.

“Your ability..? The ability to enhance abilities?” I asked in thought.

“Yes.”

“How exactly does your ability work then?”

“Well, you know that I can upgrade someone's abilities, yes?” I nod, and she continues, “but what I didn’t tell you was the toll it comes with.”

“Toll? Wait, have you been hurting yourself while using your ability?” I accuse her.

“No! Well…yeah, but exactly how you think…” that wasn't very convincing. “Whenever I use my power, it takes energy from my body. The more I use it, the weaker I get.”

“...”

“Please don’t be mad at me…” she pleaded with puppy eyes.

“...I’m not mad.”

“I feel like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” I straightened my back, “but I will have you permanently stop using that power of yours.”

“What!?” She sat up at lighting speed, and groaned out of pain.

“Don’t sit up so quickly,” I got up and held her back.

“Y-you can’t just…prohibit me from using my power! How else would I be useful to you? How would I earn money!?”

I didn’t say anything. Then an idea came to mind. My ears were burning at the thought.

Taking courage, I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat at the word I was about to say.

“...I’m firing you,” I said.

“...Huh?” She looked heartbroken. Oh, how I can’t see you like that. “no…No, no. Please, let me work for you. Please, Cale!” She grabbed my arms in an attempt to make me rethink my decision.

“No, my choice is final,” she was at the brink of crying. “Instead… I want you to stay by my side.”

“What..do you mean?” Her eyes gawk at me with tear drops threatening to spill out.

“Let me rephrase myself so you can understand,” I cleared my throat, “I would like for you to be mine.”

We stared into each others eyes. She shed a tear from before, but not out of frustration, or grief of a lost job, but out of love and affection. She chuckled.

“Is this your way of courting me?”

“Is it bad?”

“No! No, it’s…interesting,” she lowered her head to laugh at my proposal.

“So?” I placed my index finger under her shin and tilted her head to look at me. “Are you going to accept?”

“Hahaha… Yes. I accept,” she gave me the happiest smile I had seen from her.

And in that moment, I knew I was the happiest man alive.

Fin

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Master-List

[alrawabi-imagines]

Witches

Tw:Stabbing/SH

You couldn’t have let your girlfriend Elphaba go to The Emerald City to meet the wizard of Oz all by herself. And your worry proved to be true as the wizard only wished to use her power,Eplhaba revealing that he couldn't even read the spell book let alone have any magical abilities himself. Elphaba was concerned by getting out of there and dragged you through the corridors with her into a tower. Barring the door which wouldn't last but would buy you time. Running up the stairs to the top,using a spell to create a flying broom. She extended her hand to you “Let’s go” But before you could take her hand you were pulled backwards by the guards.  Struggling against the guards as you reached out for Elphaba but you couldn’t fight them off. 

“No, leave her alone, she hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one you want, I’m the one you want, it’s me!” You struggled as you were held back by the guards. 

"Elphaba!" you cried out her name. Her eyes were full of despair as she looked back and forth between you and the men holding you. Tears streamed down her face, she desperately looked for a way to get you out.

"Go!" You shouted, she shook her head, looking at you like you said the most ridiculous thing in the world. She couldn’t just leave you, you were her girlfriend, and she would never forgive herself if something bad happened to you because of her.She was torn, she wanted to stay and fight so you could be safe, but she knew the only way you would be safe for sure was if she fled. 

"I'll be fine,go!" Tears streamed down her face,she was worried what could happen to you once she left. She didn’t trust The Wizard, she knew he was a vile old man that did not care who he hurt to get what he wanted. But this was her only chance to escape him and she had to take it

"I'll be fine" you promised,she wanted to believe you too but she couldn’t help but still worry. She hated leaving you behind, and she knew that she would never forgive herself if anything bad happened to you. "Go" you said but this time it was a whisper. She turned to leave, not daring to look back because if she did, she knew she’d never be able to leave

The wizard immediately tossed you into a dungeon,locked up with no chance of escaping.You are tossed unceremoniously into a dark, damp cell and shut in with heavy iron bars. You are now left alone in the cold, dark room with nothing to do but wait for whatever the Wizard had planned for you

Several days later you were brought before the Wizard,Elphaba had resurfaced and started to wreak havoc across the land. The wizard fully aware you were her only weakness and intended to use you against her. You were forced to your knees before the fraud of a wizard.

“Ah, look what we have here. The green girl’s love interest. Such a pretty thing to use against her, don’t you think?” He said with a smirk

"I'll never help you,I'll never hurt her"

“Oh, I think you will. Elphaba values you very much, and she’ll do anything for you. So yes, you will give me what I want, whether you like it or not” He snapped his fingers and one of the guards grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to look up at The Wizard. He held your chin in his hand, his eyes narrowed as he leered down at you “You don’t have a choice in the matter. You see, Elphaba has become quite the nuisance as of late, and I need her stopped, by any means necessary. So, if you cooperate with me, you might have a chance at surviving this” You were sent up to her castle with one mission from the wizard,kill her or you die. 

You made your way into the castle, the sound of your footsteps echoing through the empty halls.It was silent and cold. You looked around, the sight of the place abandoned, made you feel even worse about what you had to do.

"Elphaba" you called out,"it's me" You call out into the silence, your voice echoing off the stone walls. There is no response at first, but then slowly, from somewhere ahead. You could hear a faint sound, the shuffling of footsteps against the floor. The footsteps get louder as Elphaba steps out of the shadows, a look of confusion mixed with surprise on her face. She stops suddenly as soon as she sees you, her eyes going wide with shock. You ran up and wrapped your arms around her,she froze for a moment but then quickly returned the embrace. She holds onto you tightly, like she’s afraid you might vanish any second 

"I'm so relieved you're okay. I was worried sick they’d hurt you. I was so scared I’d never see you again…” She put her palm against your cheek for a moment before she buried her face in your neck as she cried. You comforted her,one hand on her back tracing circles as the other clutching the knife you were given. It was a beautiful moment, but it was over all too soon as you shifted and she felt the cold, sharp edge of the knife against her skin. She knew what was coming. She knew what you had to do, and yet she couldn’t help the tears that flooded out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry,he's forcing me to do this" tears streamed down your face.

“No, darling, no. I-I understand, it’s not your fault, just… I trust you”

"I-I Elphaba it's either you or me" your hand was shaking.

“I know. I know, darling. I love you, you know that right? You have to do this” She held your hand,steadying you. The knife you were given was enchanted and it would only set you free when it came in contact with blood.

“Just… promise me one thing…” Elphaba could feel your hand shaking as she took it in hers, steadying it slightly. She looked into your eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks. Elphaba knew what was about to happen, and even though it was going to kill her, she wasn’t scared. She trusted you, and that’s all that mattered right now. You looked up at her,meeting her eyes.

“Please don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault, okay? None of this is your fault, remember that” In one move you twisted the knife and plugged it into yourself. She was frozen in place for a moment as she realized what she did.

“No-no, oh no, NO!” Elphaba was frozen for a split second, completely stunned by what just happened. You looked up at her.

"I I couldn't do it" 

“You- you chose death over hurting me. You-“ She could hardly believe it. You had chosen to die rather than hurt her, even if it meant your own life. She looked at you with tears streaming down her face, completely overwhelmed. She never thought someone would care about her so much, that she was worth such a sacrifice. It was too much to wrap her head around. Elphaba grabbed her spell book immediately, frantically flipping through pages, trying to find a spell that would heal you. Her hands were shaking as she desperately searched for a solution, knowing that every second counted. Finally finding one,without a second thought, she started saying the incantation, letting the magical energy flow through her as she desperately hoped it was enough,and the spell worked,she pulled out the knife and your skin closed itself around the wound. She held onto you tightly, her body trembling with emotion. For a minute she couldn’t even speak, all she could do was hold you and let out the occasional sob of relief. She had never been so afraid in her life, and the thought of losing you was almost too unbearable to think about.“You’d really sacrifice your life just to save me?” She looked at you with tear-filled eyes, taking in every detail of your face, as though trying to memorize every line and freckle. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes.

"I love you,of course I would"

“I-I don’t even know what to say to that! I don’t deserve you, you’re too good to me, darling”

"Don't expect me to do that again,it hurt like a bitch" you joked,trying desperately to make her laugh.Elphaba let out a snort of laughter, and then suddenly she was laughing for real, a mixture of relief, amusement and amazement, and she couldn’t seem to stop.

“Oh, I-I wouldn’t ask you to do that again even if my life depended on it! And don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to make me laugh”

"You're cute when you laugh"

“Oh, stop it. I am not cute. I’m supposed to be the scary witch”

"Oh,sorry you now have a reputation to uphold" you joked again,struggling to sit up.She reached out and helped you sit up, a mixture of concern and amusement in her eyes. 

“Yes, that’s right. I can’t allow myself to get a reputation as a gentle, kind witch. I have a fearsome image to maintain!”

"I guess I'll have to uphold that too,as your.." you pulled your shirt down to show off your necklace which was a chain with a black ring around it. You hoped she'd realize what you meant.

"You... You really want to marry me...?"

“I practically killed myself for you,I think if anything that proves my love for you"

"I suppose it does, yes. I… I still can’t believe everything you’ve done for me. You never cease to astound me" Elphaba’s heart melted a bit at your words. She reached out and touched the necklace gently, a soft smile on her face

"So is that a yes?"

“Of course it’s a yes, you fool. I would never say no"

[alipeeps]

Hah!! I knew it!! (I'm onto your storytelling tricks now GJM!!)

Yeeeah you coulda acted a little quicker though Zhuo Yichen... like before Pei Sijing got thrown into a pillar... (although on second thoughts, no, fuck her traitorous ass, as you were Zhuo Yichen, you're good....)

Oh god, the angst of it all...

If he were to die, the burden would just be passed to someone else. He would be condemning someone else to the pain and self-loathing that he feels.

Oh dang, the bottle he drinks from all the time is a liquid that helps suppress malicious energy!! He's literally dosing himself all day every day to try and stay in control!!

Shit, he is visibly shaking with effort, struggle to keep even a smidgen of control, and begging Ying Zhao to kill him before it's too late

Wait, what's grandpa gonna do? Why's he telling Ying Lei goodbye?!!

Did he... did he just fucking sacrifice himself to help suppress Zhu Yan?! Did he put his... spirit?... into Zhu Yan to help suppress the malicious qi?

That might save everyone's lives but jfc that is NOT going to help Zhu Yan's guilt/self-loathing problem!!

Oh GOD the usually carefree and silly Ying Lei outright SOBBING over his grandpa is fucking killing me!

Good god, his FACE. He looks happy at first... I guess that the blood moon is over and he is in control? But then he looks up and sees... sees the aftermath... of what HE has done...

My poor fucking boy. He is so tormented. 😭

He is indeed grandpa

So they've got a month where the malicious qi won't affect him...

I'm still not sure I understand what it is he's done to himself to get those scars? Was he being literal about lightning strikes? And secluding himself *after* the blood moon... why? To let the malicious qi levels lessen?

God the visuals of this show!!

Sure ya do buddy.

Why are you no match for Li Lun? I thought you were badass demon? Oooh wait up though... the subs on iQiyi said "I'm no match for Li Lun"... but the subs on the my downloaded file say "I can't kill Li Lun". Which is it? Because one is can't as in not able to... and the other might mean can't as in can't bring myself to...

Oh wait what? It can?

Oh god Ying Lei's grief has me genuinely crying.

No she hasn't, they're having to take turns at the scenic moping spot and Zhu Yan had it most of the night...

Yeah you DESERVE to be hated girl cos Zhu Yan didn't have a choice... you did. He was literally being controlled by malicious energy. Regardless of what Chongwu camp used to get you to spy for them, you made the choice to.

WHO? Who should have almost completed his great mission by now? Cos that did not sound like you were talking about Zhao Yunzhou there...

I STG if you fuckers pull the rug out from under me by making Xiao Bai be a fucking spy too I will cut a bitch...

Aaaaand the next scene jumps straight to Xiao Bai. Don't you do it. Don't you fucking dare!!

Oooh they've somehow all magically got furry winter clothes now...

Oh dang, my boy's had a mountain god makeover.

Awww he's leaving the gang to stay there?

Oh god damn don't give the magic travel device to the fucking spy. She'll land you all straight into the middle of Chongwu camp instead of where you want to go...

Yeeeeeaaaah that ain't all it means mate... 😂

They're all having protracted heartfelt goodbyes... and where is my poor Zhu Yan?

Group hug!! For everybody except the Great Demon Zhu Yan... 😭

Ugh that was an emotional rollercoaster and I am exhausted.

[yaoireview]

review sockathan ! 👻👻👻

woah how'd you make that green

SOCKATHAN YAOI REVIEW

Disclaimer: This will contain spoilers (kind of) for Welcome to Hell 2 Part 1 and Welcome to Hell. You should probably go watch that. Its made by Erica Wester and its PRETTY cool.)

My Yaoi Entrepreneurs, I'll be blunt with you. I know we've ALL seen gay people, maybe in the streets, maybe at the park. You might even see one in your home now, so lets be honest with ourselves. Sock is DEFINITELY gay, bisexual at LEAST.

The OTHER one on the other hand.. its a little bit harder to say.. I'll probably find something though..

Lets make one thing clear, when I say Yaoi in this review. I don't mean ANYTHING inappropriate. Its just my special way of saying gay people.. I'm kinda magical in that sense.

Lets just get the first one done and over with a simple section I like to call:

EVIDENCE 1: SOCK IN GENERAL

okay so FIRST of all the FIRST time we see sock, they call Jonathan "hot stuff" while being in a fridge. I'm not sure about you but that's love if I ever saw it.

After that they introduce you to Sock killing his parents. One key point after another. If Sock being gay wasn't important, then WHY was it shown BEFORE telling us Sock's (other) main trait. Checkmate liberals.

Sock would then get the report from Mephistopheles, and you COULD say its just because the camera zoomed in, but its literally the most light ever seen in Sock's eyes.

And then Sock went on to ruin Jonathan's day, making him look crazy, and Jonathan SOMEHOW got blamed for knocking down that desk, I swear I think the teachers just hate him. I'm not sure about you but I certainly cant KNOCK over a desk thats right next to me.

He was WRITING too.. would a guilty man of desk flipping WRITE?? NO!!

And not to mention that Sock made Jonathan look DUMB in front of the faceless brothers which was probably the closest time that Sock did their job right.

Sock absolutely ruined it today.. but can you blame them? They're new to the job, give them some SLACK.

But the upcoming days, Sock was so whimsical.

Yeah SURE. Sock is still telling Jonathan to kill himself, but they just don't want to get fired!!

Not to mention the fact that they stared at Jonathan while they were taking a piss, but there's nothing odd about that.

And also near the end, Mephistopheles calls sock out on liking the guy, and Sock stutters. You just have to take my word for it.

SOCK IN GENERAL 2 [PART 1]

If you saw Welcome to Hell 2 [Part 1], you already know what I'm gonna comment about. Sock went on to call Jonathan's mother, hot. They then went on to say "Must be where you got it from, huh? You definitely got her butt at least."

When Jonathan goes on a walk and Sock follows them and says after Jonathan says he doesn't wanna be friends with them. (We'll get back to that)

"Oh wow, come to think of it, You don't really have ANYONE do YOU? What's that feel like? Knowing you're gonna die alone." to which Jonathan snaps back with "I dunno Sock, you tell me."

Now at first, this looks like a scene of ANTI SOCKATHAN propaganda, but think with me here, yaoiers. How would Jonathan know that Sock died alone??

I understand if he just guessed, since sock DOES look like someone who would die alone, or he just said whatever comeback that came to his head but if not, Sock ALREADY told Jonathan about their past life.

If what I KNOW is true, Sock VENTED to Jonathan about their life before they died in LESS than a week, since Sock just now sees Jonathan's mother in the first part, and due to a comment made by the creator.

Sock REALLY trusts this guy, maybe Mephistopheles didn't want to hear them vent, but maybe its JUST because Sock wanted Jonathan to do the same. but they probably didn't.

And then near the end, Sock says to Jonathan when he snatched his employee manual

"Jonathan, if something happens to you-"

Actually, I think this is pretty weak evidence but I thought I'd include it, since a teacher would say the same thing if a kindergartener was up on a high shelf.

That segment was PRETTY lengthy, but I PROMISE you, the others will be shorter, I just.. didn't expect there to be so much for Sock...

EVIDENCE 2: SOCK SUCKS AT THEIR JOB.

Jonathan was DEAD ON when they told Sock that they suck at their job. And quite honestly.. I could've done it better.. I could've got Jonathan to kill himself (theoretically) on the FIRST day, and if you wouldn't use my strategy, I promise you that there's probably several other you could use for the teenager that you want them to kill themselves at home.

STEP 1: GRAB A WEAPON

Since Sock is seen to be able to flip over a desk and they're able to HOLD Jonathan's journal (Shock or not), I should THEORITCALLY be able to grab a weapon, now for this strategy, I suggest you pick a nonlethal option, only to have a lethal option around, for this example, I will be using a sledgehammer.

After swinging that at the noggin, Jonathan would drop unconscious, probably with brain damage (that don't matter though)

STEP 2: POSSESS THE TEENAGER

Now it MAY not be like this in w2h, but Mephistopheles was able to possess Jonathan when he was DEAD (Probably), so It should hopefully work when they're out of consciousness.

STEP 3: KILL YOURSELF.

Alright now I KNOW that sounds bad.. but it wouldn't be MY hands to kill him. Grab the nearby lethal and SHOOT. THAT. TEENAGER!! Your boss may not agree with the logistics of this, but you get the job done.

This simulation was to PROVE that Sock atleast CARES a bit about Jonathan to want to get to know him. and to not kill him on the spot. Now if It was the other way around.. I'm not exactly sure..

EVIDENCE 3: JONATHAN KINDA HATES SOCK

(he looks like hes standing up to a school bully)

At the beginning of Welcome to Hell, hes clearly annoyed and STILL is annoyed by some of Sock's actions by the end, but he atleast isn't mad enough to NOT act like he could put up with Sock. I think the closest thing to gayness from Jonathan was when he moved the backpack for Sock to sit down.

In Welcome to Hell 2, he IS PISSED at this guy, and honestly, if Sock kept on knocking down those desks, i CANT blame him..

Maybe Sock kinda ruined the vibe when they expressed their love for Jonathan's mother, its hard to say really..

Jonathan makes this very clear that he DOESN'T even wanna be Sock's friend, I mean HAVE YOU HEARD THE THEME SONG?

SUMMARY:

Sock wasn't able to win Jonathan's heart, making him tonight's biggest loser.

YAOI: 6.5/10

[otomiyaa]

Day 2: Accident

Chilchuck x Senshi | Nim's Lovely Tickletober

Word Count: 1.3K

Accidents in the dungeon. They weren't really uncommon. Dangers, monsters, traps, the dungeon was full of them.

However this.... Chilchuck could cry in embarrassment. This was the literal worst!

"Can't you use your magic?" he heard Laios' muffled voice.

"Too dangerous. I don't want to hurt him," Marcille answered.

There was a tiny accident, Chilchuck... Well yes, to put it bluntly, he got stuck. And for what!

The one to blame, Senshi, hadn't said a word so far. When they found a dirty hole in the wall, apparently used for taking cover by some tiny dirty monsters, with dirty slimy remains in there, he had asked Chilchuck to get in there to retrieve them. Who knows they might be edible.

It was also Senshi's fault that Chilchuck agreed to it. It was because Senshi was so sweet, charming, and convincing that Chilchuck said yes to such a ridiculous request. And now he was stuck! He struggled heavily but found he couldn't get himself out.

"I have an idea. If we try to rub some slime on him, right here," Laios said, and Chilchuck yelped when suddenly he could feel him try to wriggle a finger between him and the rock wall.

"Like, all over him, and then try to pull him out, maybe it'll go better."

"Stupid plan! Just pull my legs!" Chilchuck yelled, but he was ignored as Marcille agreed.

"We saw some slimes in the previous room, didn't we? Should we go get them?"

"Yes, let's go. Senshi, guard over Chilchuck please!"

Chilchuck couldn't believe that Laios and Marcille didn't come up with a better plan. Slam the wall? Sure he might get hit by some rocks and possibly die if his head got crushed, but it was better than dying of humiliation here. Yank him out with Marcille's magic or brute force? It'll hurt, probably, or rip him apart, but why not just try?

There was a brief silence while Chilchuck continued to struggle. Then Senshi's voice could be heard.

"I'm sorry, Chilchuck. I was greedy and did not consider your safety."

Chilchuck could hear Senshi felt guilty, aww. He didn't really blame him.

"....It's not your fault," he sighed. "It was my poor insight too. Usually I fit into holes like this. Oh well, those two are probably going to take ages and it doesn't smell nice in here. Can you try to pull my legs?" Chilchuck asked.

He heard Senshi hum. "I don't want to hurt you, Chilchuck."

"You won't. Just try!" Chilchuck demanded. He felt two big and gentle hands on his legs, and he blushed. Oi, why blush though?

"It doesn't work," Senshi said after a few very poor pulls.

"You're being too gentle. Pull harder," Chilchuck said.

"I can't. You're in too tight," Senshi said, and just like Laios had done, he tried to wriggle a thick finger between him and the wall. Chilchuck yelped.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" Senshi quickly apologized.

"No! It just tickles! Try to pull my legs again, it's gross in here!" Chilchuck whined. He made the mistake to flail his arms and planted his hand accidentally in the slimy monster liquid he was supposed to get out of here. Ew, Senshi wanted them to eat this?!

Senshi was quiet for a moment before he spoke again: "So it tickles. You are ticklish, Chilchuck?"

"It wouldn't tickle if I wasn't ticklish," he answered.

"Hmm." Senshi hummed again, and all of a sudden, Chilchuck felt his fingers wiggle deliberately against his exposed sides.

"HEEEHE! Sehehenshi!" he cackled.

"I see," was Senshi's dry answer. Chilchuck's eyes widened as Senshi's big fingers continued to prod against his helplessly exposed tickle spots.

"Wahahait! Why ahahare you- eeehehee!" Chilchuck squirmed and struggled as much as he could, but damn he was as stuck as he could be!

"I think if you're feeling ticklish enough, you might loosen up and be able to struggle free," Senshi said. "It is worth a try."

Chilchuk clenched his teeth and continued to giggle. "Nohohoh wahahait- ehehehe that's- AAHhah!" he cried.

Senshi's touches were gentle but also... so ticklish. He wasn't sure if this was going to be any better than covering himself in slime in order to get out of this. But there wasn't really a way to tell him if he could only laugh and snort like an idiot.

"Ah, here too," Senshi said in this 'eureka'-tone when he moved his hand under Chilchuck to tickle his tummy.

"AAHAH! Sehehenshi! Not thehere!"

"It doesn't hurt, right?" Senshi asked.

"Nohoho but it tihihickles!"

"That's good. Keep it up," Senshi encouraged. Chilchuck was dying in here. He kicked his legs and struggled, he laughed hysterically and - OH. He felt movement. His body twisted slightly.

"There you go. Keep moving," he heard Senshi's comforting voice through his own embarrassing cackles.

"GAhahaah! Naha- I cahahan't!" Chilchuck howled. Such humiliation. He was a grown man! Stuck in a hole! Tickled to tears!

"I think you can get out soon," Senshi said, and he grabbed both sides of Chilchuck's waist and tickled him with a few gentle touches, his fingers wiggling slightly, while at the same time pulling carefully. Chilchuck felt himself move. It was working, but he was also still laughing like a stupid fool.

"Ahhaahalright! N-no mohohore tihhickling!" he warned, but somehow Senshi might have heard 'more tickling' instead since the tickles only increased, and Chilchuck struggled and jerked so violently that he just popped out all of a sudden.

"HWahe!" he squeaked as the force of his sudden release caused Senshi to topple back, with Chilchuck right in his arms. Ending up on top of Senshi, Chilchuck covered the both of them in the green sticky monster liquid.

"You're out. That's a relief," Senshi said, rubbing Chilchuck's back as he gasped for air. He was still embarrassed but also too tired to struggle out of Senshi's strong grip, so he just rested in his arms and breathed slowly.

"Y-yeah. Thanks."

He then jolted when Senshi swiped a finger down his back, and he yelped. "EEEP!" he cried.

"Ah, sorry," Senshi apologized. "Did that tickle? I swear that was by accident," he admitted, and he showed his finger that had picked up some of the monster liquid from Chilchuck's back. He then put his finger in his mouth to taste it.

"DON'T!" Chilchuck warned, but Senshi already licked his own finger clean and nodded.

"It's not that tasty. Don't worry, I don't think it's poisonous," he said as Chilchuck gaped at him in horror.

"It might be more tasty if I mix it with - oh, they're back," Senshi said, and they both looked up to see Laios and Marcille arrive.

"Chilchuck, you're free!" Marcille dropped the slimes she was carrying and hugged Chilchuck, sandwiching him between her and Senshi, accidentally covering herself in the green monster stuff as well. She made a face as soon as she realized.

"Oof. Yes, yes, I'm free now," Chilchuck mumbled with a blush, and he glanced over Marcille's shoulder at Laios who gathered the slimes.

"Well, we've got plenty of slimes now. Should we make something for dinner?" he suggested. Senshi nodded.

"We can try to mix some of this too," he said, rubbing with his finger against Chilchuck's side to get more of that green stuff. Chilchuck let out another yelp and quickly covered his side.

"S-sehenshi!"

"Ah yes, Chilchuck is ticklish," Senshi said when Marcille and Laios looked up in shock after hearing his little yelp.

"Senshi!" Chilchuck whined, but to his horror, Marcille and Laios both wiggled their fingers eagerly.

"Oh he is~?"

"Chilchuck is... ticklish?"

Chilchuck backed away. "N-no stay away! I'm dirty! I'm- noooooo!"

He fell back against Senshi and once again began to laugh his head off as both Marcille and Laios attacked him with tickles. This was so completely unfair! R.I.P.!

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

Lord Jon and Prince Damian is a funny combination because just imagine Clark never managed to conquer all earth because magic and magic user, Talia basically built a huge kingdom to protect her people from the Lords and also accepts some others who are fleeing.

Years past and Jon has always been curious about that place and laughs when he faces Talia's youngest soldiers. He falls in love deeply hard about that boy with green eyes, then Jon starts to try to seduce that cute and smol boy (and Damian hates him deeply)

Just imagine:

Jon: *throws a body at his door like a cat*

Damian: ... Some guys bring flowers

Jon: I'm not 'some guy'

And also

J: "i've killed for you. how many other people can say that?"

D: "... Multiple, actually"

Basically: Lord Jon's love language is being annoying

Took me a while to figure out how I'd write the Super Lords, but eventually I was inspired by another work. I might write a sequel to this but we'll see. Fic under the cut.

Jon was scrolling on his phone, looking to find people talking negatively about him or his father so he could send them death threats. He could probably find them easily and make good on those threats, but then he'd have to get up, and he was comfortable where he was. He was getting a little peckish though, so he might run through a couple if he got up to eat.

His dad came into the room looking flawless. “Jon.”

“Hey dad, can you get me something to eat?”

“What? No. Get it yourself, or better yet, ask Kelex.”

“I thought you took away my voice commands after I killed the wrong general last week.”

“Oh, right. Have the knowledge crystals not taught you how to hack yet?”

Jon groaned ”I hate the knowledge crystals dad, they take so much time. I don't see the point in them.”

“The point is they would teach you how to solve problems, like how to reinstate your voice commands in Kelex’s code. Now get up, I have something important for you to do.”

Jon got up and stretched. “Oh I'm way hungrier than I thought. Hold that thought, Dad.”

“Jona–” Kal started sternly as a gust of wind blew past him. He could hear Jon ferociously consuming junk food from the pantry in superspeed. When he was done, he ran back up to his dad.

“Hey Dad, I'm back. What's up?”

“What do you know about Talia Al Ghul?”

“Oh that's easy. She's like, your archnemesis. Her family's got really strong magic so she can kill us if she gets close enough. She controls the last stronghold of human resistance. She's older than you so she's, what, a million?” He grinned cheekily “Just kidding, Dad. You don't look a day over 500.” He laughed. “Kidding! You should see the look on your face.”

“Jon, I'm being serious here.”

“‘kay.”

“She's just crowned her heir, Prince Damian. He's your age.”

“Oh?”

“He's an even more powerful mage than his mother, and trained in martial arts. He is a serious threat, one that needs to be neutralized.”

“Ok, but how am I gonna do that? You said he's more powerful than his mom, and you can't kill her.”

“He takes his group of soldiers into the Himalayas every month to train privately. I want you to ambush them.”

“Kill them, right? How do you want them dead?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Alright. I'll be right back.”

Kal grabbed his arm and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise. “You could die today, Jon. Take this seriously. Run away if you need to. You're no good to me dead.”

Jon nodded. “Got it.”

Jon flew to the mountains and looked for them with his heat vision. He found them fighting each other and flew down and started snapping the neck of the closest person to him. Unfortunately, this was slow enough to draw alarm from the other assassins, who all knew magical attacks. Still, Jon was quick and he fought dirty, letting out a deafening shout and causing an avalanche. The teens fought him with martial arts married with magic, sacrificing their lives so that the final assassin could defeat Jon and place him in magical bindings.

He spat blood. “You're lucky they can be brought back to life, or I wouldn't have spared yours.”

“I didn't ask you to. But thank you– not for sparing my life, but for beating me. I've never lost before. It was exhilarating! Can you do it again?”

The boy looked at him strangely. “What?”

Jon grinned manically. “You're a great fighter. I want you to defeat me again. And again and again until I get bored. What's your name? I never even lose to my dad.”

“... I am prince Damian Al Ghul.”

“Oh no way! I came here to kill you! Well, I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Clearly not.” Damian said, gesturing to the chains around him.

“Oh no, not cuz of that. I meant cuz like–” Jon cut himself off as Damian took off his mask and piercing green eyes met his own. “Wow, you're really pretty. I've never seen anyone as pretty as you in my whole life. Definitely not prettier. I think I was saying something?”

Damian blushed. “Tt. You were saying why you're not going to kill me.”

“I think I'm in love with you.”

“What?!” Damian squeaked.

“That was so cute! You're so cute! You're so small you look like you'd fit just right in my arms!”

“Go back to the ‘I love you’ part because I'm not understanding!” He shouted.

“I'll say it as many times as you want! I love you, I love you, iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoui–”

“Stop! You can't love me, you just met me, and your dad is superman!”

“Um, I'm pretty sure I can. Love at first sight is a thing, and I've known you for longer than that already.”

“So what, just because you think I'm pretty and I beat you for the first time, you're in love with me?”

“Is that not enough? Ok well, I really like the color of your eyes, and you're really powerful, and you make me feel so many feelings I have never felt before! Fear, excitement, curiosity, admiration, respect, awe, happiness, arousal–”

“Stop talking.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.”

“That's talking.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Still talking.”

“I don't know how you want me to stop talking if you keep talking to me. Oh but uh, don't stop, I like it.”

Damian facepalmed. “I'm taking you back to my mother.”

“Oh I hope she doesn't decide to kill me after you went through the trouble of sparing me, that would be really embarrassing for you.”

Damian was quiet for a few minutes. “...You've never felt curious? Or excited, or afraid or happy? Really?”

Jon shrugged. “Maybe once. But nowadays I'm always either bored or bloodthirsty. Except right now, I'm neither. You're the most interesting person I've ever met and I just killed 5 people. That's like, 1 more than I usually do in a day.”

Damian set his jaw hard. “Why do you kill so many people?”

“Why do you think, assassin Prince? To feel alive.”

“...Who do you usually kill?”

“Dissidents and criminals. My dad's okay if they're dissidents or criminals. There's not, like, a ton of those out there anymore, though, so I've taken to scrolling back really far on Twitter. Oh, and jaywalkers.”

“Tt. Typical.”

“Who do you usually kill?”

“Political enemies, soldiers, criminals.”

“I guess everyone's a political enemy when they're aligned with us and not you. That's a lot more people you can kill. I kinda wanna join your side now.”

“We don't kill frivolously.”

“Why not?”

“Because we value human life.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Why does your father care about order if not to preserve human life?”

Jon laughed. “My dad doesn't care about humans! He just wanted to tidy things up. He gets mad when I kill other people because it messes with his system. It's one of those dumb parent rules, like keeping your socks in the sock drawer, or cleaning the fortress on Sundays even though we have robot servants.”

“... You're completely insane.”

“Do you want me not to be?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I want you to get what you want! You deserve to get anything you want, way more than my dad does. I bet you could with your magic! Cast a spell on me, make me sane for you. If you want that, I want it.”

“It's Jonathan, isn't it?”

“Yeah, or you can call me Jon. Or you know, whatever you want. Even if it's mean, I can take it.”

“...Jonathan. I don't want to take your agency away with my magic. That wouldn't be right.”

Jon shrugged against his chains. “If you say so, my prince.” Damian was quiet for a while, and Jon slipped free of his chains to help Damian cart back all of the bodies. “You should let me carry this.”

“What– Jon?! How did you escape my bindings?”

“Magic interacts completely unpredictably with me.”

“I don't– why are you even still here?”

“Why would I leave? It's not as if there's anything more interesting on TV. Twitter says all the shows are boring cuz of Dad. Well, you know, the dead side of Twitter. God do you know how perfect you look? From every angle?”

“Jon, I think you should just leave.”

“Well, my dad is expecting me home soon. What do you think I should tell him about you not being dead?”

“... Is he going to hurt you if you go back?”

Jon shrugged. “If I let him. Which I probably will, so I don't get grounded. But I might be grounded anyway since this meant a lot to him. If I don't get grounded, can I see you again?”

“It's best if you don't.”

“I'm going to be honest, I don't like that answer. If you want me to stay away you'll have to use your magic to harm me.”

“Tt. Do you have a death wish?”

“No. My biggest wish is for you to spar with me and win.”

“What if I lose?”

“Then we'll go again until you win.”

“...Hm. You're very… persistent.”

Jon grinned. “Thanks. Wow, it feels really good when you compliment me. Do it again.”

“Um… you have really unique eyes?”

Jon beamed. “This is great, keep going!”

Damian blushed. “I'd rather not.”

Jon pouted. “Pleeeeaaase? I'll do anything.”

“Will you go home?”

“Fine, yes, after… 3 more compliments. Then I'll go home, for now.”

“Tt. Your curls look very nice, your hair makes a nice contrast against your skin tone and you– ah… you… that is, you're very strong.”

“I already knew that last one.”

“I meant muscular.”

“That's not a compliment, that's just a fact.”

Damian’s ears burned. “...I like it. I like that about you. I like that you're muscular. It looks… visually appealing.”

“Oh, I'm definitely in love with you. I'd love to stay and compliment you back, but I said I'd leave, and I want you to trust me! If you ever need me, or just want me, all you have to do is call. I'll come.”

Jon flew back home. “Dad? I ambushed him, caused an avalanche, and killed his squad, but he still beat me.” Jon called out.

Kal walked out to see his son. “You look unharmed. Why did he let you go?”

“Honestly? I think I annoyed him too much. But I'm going back tomorrow.”

“I see… an ambush didn't work, so you'll have to gain his trust and then betray him. I was going to punish you but your tenacity and cunning deserve a reward, so it is simpler to do nothing.

“Oh, yeah, psh, that's totally why I want to go back. I totally want to murder him in cold blood. I mean, you know how much I love murder.”

Kal frowned. “I do know. It gets in the way of your studies. However, this time I approve.”

“‘kay. Thanks. See ya.” He went back to his room to watch Damian with his X-ray vision.

The next day, Jon went to Nanda Parbat and watched Damian from the sky, waiting until he was alone to approach him.

Damian’s hair was slicked back with sweat and he was flushed and panting.

“Prince Damian. You look somehow even more incredible than last time.”

“Spare me the mockery.”

“What? I'm not mocking you. The way your skin flushes and glistens is as enchanting as any of your spells, my lord.”

“Hn. You know most humans find sweat repulsive?”

“I'm only half human. Also, you smell great. Musky. Can I lick you?”

“Definitely not.” Jon pouted. “Do you want something?”

“Yeah. Can we spar?”

“After lunch. Would you like to dine with me?”

“Can I? Won't the servants see me?”

“I cook for myself.”

Jon gasped. “I get to try your cooking?! Yes!” He pumped his fist in the air.

Damian chuckled good naturedly.

Jon leaned against the island as Damian cooked. “What did your dad say about you failing to kill me?”

“Oh I told him I was going back today and he thought I meant that I was going to gain your trust to kill you.” Damian stiffened. “So I'm going to let him think that so I can spend more time with you.”

“Try this.” Damian said, handing Jon a spoonful of sauce. Jon tasted it.

“Hm, that's pretty good! I've never had this before.”

Damian tasted it himself and nodded. “It is good.”

Jon ate at his usual impatient pace and spent the rest of the meal talking at Damian.

“Alright, Superboy, follow me.”

“Anywhere.”

“Tt.” Damian led him to the training courtyard. “Here we are. Remember to be quiet.”

Jon rushed to tackle Damian but he predicted it and dodged, casting a spell to slow down Jon’s movements. It was a lot stronger than the spell Damian intended to cast, and he moved like a sloth. “Wow prince…” he began as Damian took his time pinning Jon to the ground and immobilizing him with a spell. The first spell wore off quicker than expected. “...Damian you're so fast! Oh, it's already over!” Jon giggled. “You did even better this time! I suppose it's to be expected since it wasn't an ambush. You're really impressive…” Jon sighed dreamily, looking up into Damian’s eyes with a lovestruck gaze.

Damian coughed and looked away. “...You wanted me to beat you. Did you go easy on me?”

“I can honestly say that didn't even occur to me. I don't know why I would do that. Would it have made you happy?”

“Hell no. It would have made me angry.”

Jon smiled. “I'd like to see you angry. Maybe I will next time. Though I don't know if you'd even notice, considering how well you beat me this time.”

Damian looked confused. “Why would you want me to be angry?”

Jon raised a brow. “‘Cause I wanna see how you look when you're angry. I've never seen it before. I wonder if it would make me angry, too. I never get angry anymore.”

“You're… impossible.”

Jon grinned toothily. “Is that a good thing?”

“... I haven't decided.” Damian got off of Jon, much to the younger teen’s disappointment, and did a nullification spell on Jon before helping him up. Jon smirked and flipped Damian over his shoulder as he stood, but Damian landed on his feet and cast a sleeping spell on Jon. He woke him up with a water spell, sitting on his chest.

“You got me again! I love you.”

“You're weird.”

“Is that bad?”

“I haven't decided.”

Jon smiled, crinkling his eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Damian laughed. “Sure. I've not even worked up a sweat yet.”

The next time he came to Nanda Parbat he threw down a corpse in front of Damian, face still splattered in blood.

Damian sighed. “Most guys bring flowers.”

“I'm not ‘most guys’”

“Who was he?”

“He criticized your looks so I killed him for you.”

“Jon, I don't care what anyone says about me.”

Jon's eyes flashed red. “I care that he said that. Now he can't say anything like it ever again. What do you think of my technique?”

“Messy, but efficient.”

Jon smiled “Thank you. Do you want to spar?”

“Jon it's 11:38 at night.”

“... Is that a problem?”

“I was sleeping.”

“Oh. Can I join you?”

“Tt. No. Go home.”

Jon pouted. Damian held firm.

“Okay. I'll miss you.”

“Tt. You say such embarrassing things. Goodnight.”

Jon smiled, then quickly leaned in to kiss Damian’s cheek. “Good night, my love.”

Damian slammed the door in his face.

It became somewhat of a pattern for Jon to ambush Damian when he went out on missions, and Damian learned to expect it. Jon was getting faster at killing Damian’s compliment.

“I killed them, so we can be alone!” Jon said cheerfully, gently touching Damian’s cheeks with his bloody fingers and looking at him adoringly.

“Jon. Keep your hands to yourself before I cut them off.” He said, drawing his rune-encrusted sword slightly out of the scabbard.

Jon pouted but removed his hands. “As you wish, my lord. So, what are you out here for today?”

“I was planning on retrieving a magical relic from a temple to the east of here, until you showed up. You’re like a gnat.”

“I can get it for you!”

“Tt, I’m sure you can’t, there are magical booby traps.”

Jon pouted. “I want to do this for you. Please?”

“Jon, I am certain that if you were deathly injured my mother would not permit me to put your body in the lazarus pit.”

“Not even if I died saving your life?”

“Likely not. I shouldn't even be talking to you, you are the enemy.”

Jon grinned. “I guess we both like to do whatever we want.”

“It is human nature to desire freedom.”

“Well yeah but I'm not human.”

“You are as human as you are kryptonian. I wonder, did your father have the same disregard for your mother as with the rest of humanity?”

“I dunno. I was cloned from her dead body and my dad. I never saw them interact. But I know he loved her, and I know he misses her. He's told me it's the only reason he puts up with me.”

“It does not sound like you are very close.”

“We aren't. But he's the only other kryptonian other than Kara Zor-el so y'know, he's important. Not as important as you, of course, but he was previously the most important person in my life.”

“We're here. Don't follow me.”

Jon floated after him. “But I wanna keep you safe! Let me carry you.”

“No– Jon, put me down!”

Jon grinned and flew Damian in. “What's it look like? I can look through the walls for you.”

“Unneeded, I have a map.”

Jon swiped the map from him and read it. “I have a great sense of direction, don't worry.”

“You are infuriating.”

“We cause strong emotions in each other~ how lovely. Okay, hold tight.”

Jon flew quickly down the halls, before being knocked into the wall by a magical hammer. Damian rolled off of him as Jon groaned in pain. “You idiot. Where are we?”

Jon grunted and pointed to their location on the map.

“I can’t even cast a healing spell on you as I have no idea how it will effect you.”

“Don't worry… I have super healing… so the side that hit the wall will be fine. The wall isn't magic, right?”

Damian checked. “Luckily for you, it is regular stone.”

Jon grinned. “Help me up? I wanna help you finish this.”

“It's a bad idea. We need to get you out of here.”

Jon shook his head. “I'm not going. I'll be right behind you. You can handle the magic traps, and I can fly in front of an arrow for you or something.”

“And what if it's a magical arrow?”

“I'll die for you. Did I not mention that?”

“Tt. You're dangerous to have around. But if you're not leaving…” Damian got out a rope and tied them together by their waists with a length of rope in between them. “Stick close to me.”

Jon floated to his feet. “Mkay. Let's go!”

Damian sighed and pulled along a floating Jon. He disabled the traps as they went until they reached the chamber with the artifact. Damian picked it up and the room shook with a deep voice.

“To get out of trouble, face your double. Return the staff to the rack and it will end the attack.”

Smoke billowed out of the air vents and coalesced into shadow versions of Jon and Damian. Damian sighed and took out his katana.

Jon and Damian fought back to back as their shadow versions worked independently. Damian took out his double and Jon defeated his own. The smoke dissipated and Jon cheered.

“We did it! That was awesome! They didn’t stand a chance against our teamwork! Imagine if you came in here with your whole squad! That would have been so much chaos, I really did you a favor by killing them.”

Damian growled and pressed his sword to Jon’s throat, backing him up against the wall. “No. Killing.”

“Mhn, so it's fine if you kill me but not if I kill your squad, who as we've previously established can come back to life whereas I will not?”

“I will kill you if I have to.”

“I would expect nothing less, my prince.” Jon smiled slightly. “So this is what you look like when you're angry. I love the intensity in your eyes.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Are you really trying to de-escalate the situation by flirting?”

Jon shook his head as much as he could. “Just saying what I think, my lord. And I think you look beautiful.”

Damian sighed and withdrew his blade. “You're an idiot.”

Jon smiled cheerily and let Damian drag him along by the rope still attached to his waist. Damian escorted Jon back to the entrance of the temple and cut the rope. “You need to stop killing my team every time I leave the palace. It makes me look incompetent.”

“Do you get in trouble?”

“Not exactly, no–”

“Then it's fine!”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen to me carefully. I am telling you that I want you to stop killing my team. Did you not say that I deserve to get what I want?”

“You're turning my words against me! I just want to be with you. Your assassins would never allow it. If I don't defeat them, I'll die.” Jon whined.

“Then learn non-lethal techniques of taking people down. Practice on those criminals or whatever.”

“You want me to… not kill a criminal?”

“Yes.”

“I can try… can I still be violent?”

“I would appreciate it if you did not scar my team too badly. But outside of that, you can be as brutal as you like as long as they do not die.”

“Okay. I will practice not killing and come back to you. Farewell, my prince.”

“Farewell, lord Jonathan.” Damian said as Jon lifted off into the sky, the cut rope rippling in the wind with his cape.

Jon stormed through the palace towards Damian, knocking people out of the way like flies. “Prince Damian! I came back, as I said I would.”

“Yes, I can see that. Are you here to kill more of my people? You know I cannot allow that, Lord Jonathan.”

Jon cocked his head. “Why would I do that? I don’t care about humans.”

Damian quirked a brow. “I am human.”

“You’re better than everyone else, though.”

“Is that so?”

Jon giggled. “Yeah, I think you could even kill me if you tried. That’s so hot. Look at you, not attacking me right now… so romantic...” Jon sighed.

Damian tutted. “I’m beginning to regret that.”

Jon giggled. “Some days I think I love you so much I'd just let you. Would you like me to do that? Or would you want a fight?” He came closer.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A genuine one. Oh… If I tried to kill you, I hope you’d try to kill me too… maybe we could die at the same time. If I am going to die, I want it to be by your hand. And no one else deserves to take your life away but me, and only if you asked me to.” He giggled, twirling his hair. “I really like having you around, so you would have to convince me first, or else I wouldn’t even let you kill yourself.” Jon hummed. “But I don’t see you convincing me that this world is so terrible as to deserve to be ridden of such beauty.” He stroked Damian’s cheek with a gloved hand, and Damian smacked it away. Jon sighed. “I love you.”

“You don’t know what love means. Your father never showed you.”

“I don’t? Well then, you’ll have to teach me. No one else will do.”

Damian tutted, before sighing as if greatly put upon and offering his ring for Jon to kiss. He did so gladly, kneeling at his feet.

“My prince.” Jon held Damian’s hand by the wrist and turned it over so he could nuzzle into his palm. Damian allowed it. Jon locked his violet eyes on Damian’s emerald ones. He kissed his fingertips one by one.

“You are so devoted to me. It’s perplexing.”

Jon kissed his wrist. “It’s simple; the whole earth should bow to you. You are perfection. Every moment you spend with me is pure gold; my greatest treasures.Or maybe it is that I can take anything in the world that I want, except for you. You are the only thing I could ever rightfully earn. The only goal worth pursuing. Everything was meaningless and dull until I met you, my Prince.”

Damian cupped his cheek. “And what if you got me? What then? Do you truly believe that to be love?”

“I would work to keep you and to serve you, to make you happy.” He smiled. “To annoy you, to pester you, to laugh with you, to see you cry. To hold you. To learn everything there is to know about you until you’ve changed so much that I have to learn you all over again.” He sniffed Damian’s wrist, at the cologne there, and deeper at all the smells that made up Damian. “Intoxicating.” Jon puffed out a laugh. “I don’t know what love is supposed to be like. Have I got it wrong? Do you think it matters? I ask out of curiosity, ‘cause even if it were really something completely morally unacceptable to you, I wouldn't care. It feels better than anything ever has. It’s what I live for.”

Damian’s lips parted in surprise. He schooled his features to ask his next question. “How many people have you killed since I last saw you?”

“None.” Jon smiled. “I’m learning, see? I can do better. I must be of some use to you, haven’t I?”

Damian got a strange look in his eye just then, and Jon became excited at the prospect of learning that expression. “Get up.”

Jon wilted. “Have I offended you, my Prince?”

Damian shook his head. “Stand up. Don’t. Float.”

Jon bowed his head obediently and stood up. Damian stepped close and put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, pulling him down into a slow and gentle kiss. Jon did not know his heart could race so fast. Damian pulled away with an unreadable look in his eye. “Alright, Jon. I accept. I will teach you how to love.”

Jon beamed. “Oh, this is so much better than murder.” He whispered.

Damian smirked. “It is, isn’t it? A lot of things are.” Damian took his hand off of Jon’s shoulder and put both behind his own back.

“Could you excuse me for just one moment? I feel the urge to go fly.”

Damian nodded, and Jon flew off, laughing brightly like a child.

Jon returned a moment later. “I love you! It feels so triumphant!” Jon gasped. “Does this mean we are dating? Boyfriends?!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes. My mother will not be pleased.”

“I can kill her for you, if you wan’t.”

Damian glared at him. “No. No Killing.”

Jon looked at him for a long time. “Okay… Okay. But if someone tries to kill you, I won’t spare them. Even if you get mad at me. Even if you don’t believe my explanation. Even if you can take care of yourself. I promise, I won’t let you die.”

Damian scowled. “Just…kiss me, you idiot.”

Jon flew to his side in an instant, but was much more apprehensive about actually kissing him, so Damian grabbed his head and dragged their mouths together. Jon purred and pulled him closer. Damian nibbled on Jon’s bottom lip and he gasped. “Damian!”

“Yes?”

“You’ve done this before! And I can’t kill whoever you did it with!”

“You don’t have worry, they are already dead.”

“Woah, do you kill people instead of breaking up with them?”

“Tt, no. They betrayed me. I made an example of them.”

“Wow, I can’t imagine killing you if you betrayed me.”

“Hm. I can’t say it was pleasant, but— we are supposed to be kissing right now, Jonathan.” He pulled him in for a few more smooches.

“Is this part of learning how to love?” Jon asked dazedly.

“No, this is for me. I’m just glad I found a way to shut you up.”

“Dami! That’s–” More kissing. “That’s mean. I love it when you’re mean to me.”

They had their arms wrapped around each other by now. Damian rubbed between Jon’s shoulder blades. “You really shouldn’t.”

“Nobody is ever mean to me but you! How could I not like it? I love when you give me attention.”

“To have everyone afraid of you, your whole life… Let’s change that, hm? You are terrifying in the way that you move, talk, smile, laugh, and behave… But we should be able to change at least two of those.”

“Am I so scary, even to you?”

“No, not to me. You’re even… cute.”

“Isn’t that a bad thing?”

Damian furrowed his brow. “No, why would it be?”

“My father always told me to stop acting so cute, that it was distracting.”

“Everything about you is distracting. You’re currently distracting me from my work. I didn’t think you cared.”

Jon smiled. “You’re right, I don’t. And like I said, you can be mean to me, as long as you don’t ignore me. Well, even if you tried to ignore me, I’d cover your eyes until you had to acknowledge me. Or… maybe I could bite you, like Krypto used to do when I was little and I’d ignore him. Hm… come to think of it, you did just say I was distracting, I’m sure there are lots of ways I could get your attention. I like being distracting.”

Damian arched a brow. “Surely you’ll allow me to get my work done.”

“Well, that’s not ignoring me ‘cause you’re mad! So it’s fine. I can just watch you.”

“Do you watch me when you leave?”

Jon nodded. “And I strain my ears to listen. I love the sound of your voice, my prince.”

“Oh Jonathan, your life cannot only be me. I want you to stay in the palace so I can show you other things you might find meaningful.”

“Like what?”

“Friendship, learning to cook, making art. Things that are worthwhile because of the struggle. I think you will enjoy pottery.”

“What's so interesting about making pots? Plenty of people can do that.”

“They can do it because they put in the work, and they are better than you at it. Don't you want to impress me with an excellent piece of pottery?”

“You would like it if I gave you something I made?”

“Jon, the only person who can make the art that you would make is you. If you do not make it, it will never be known. You can give me something no one else can.”

“Who cares? Everyone will say they love it so I don't singe their eyebrows off…”

Damian arched a brow. “I won't.”

Jon blushed and smiled at Damian. “That's right, you're not afraid to tell me what you think. You're my equal.”

“I may even decide to encourage you with kisses.”

Jon rumbled a purr. “I love you. I'm going to make you the best pot ever.”

Damian kissed him again. “Good. I eagerly await it.”

[snackbyte]

arknights originium notes

with the release of babel, i just wanted to finally write down my own messy personal notes of arknights concepts that fascinate me

namely, what IS originium? what does it do

a lot of these thoughts aren't from CN, and mostly through our own notes and theorycrafting with my best friend.

So let's go through what we know:

Originium can have a host. - People can get infected. - Mephisto can make Originium Zombies by having them animate corpses, even if they are no longer alive.

Originium speaks. - Earthspirit: I think one of the first instances of this is Earthspirit, she can hear the voices of rocks, minerals, and originium in particular. This was further expanded with the introduction of Mudrock, who literally talks to said rocks. - Specter hears voices in her head. - Ifrit: very early on, also talks about how she hears a voice in her head. The Diabolic Crisis is only hinted at at this point, but there's a clear short story with her hearing this voice.

Originium has memory. - Originium stores information and has memory, like a computer.

Originium causes "natural" calamities. (Catastrophes) - They make storms, droughts, sandstorms, blizzards, you name it.

Okay, so here are the theories / notes with some rambling:

1. Originium is meant to terraform using past humanity as a blueprint. - Originium causes catastrophes, can have hosts, and weirdly gives control over different elements or magic. Heat, fire, ice, light, thunder, etc. - The idea that originium goes out of its way to create natural calamities, infect things to make them rapidly evolve, and have powers seem like its main purpose was to recreate Earth by rapidly evolving wildlife. - Through human memory imbued in itself, originium rapidly attempts to recreate Earth in the state it was in before it ended. In Terra, technology rapidly progressed but culture did not! - But the rapid evolution isn't perfect. The reason why old races exist might be because Originium cannot distinguish between real animals and the mythical beings from human culture! Thus we get the Pegasi and Draco!

2. Originium is sentient and contains human memory. - Ebenholz: In Lingering Echoes, we learn about how the Witch King was pulled out of Kreide just by having a fraction of him within him. This same Witch King also continuously haunts Ebenholz. - Ifrit: The Diabolic Crisis turned a young Savra girl into a burning superweapon by imbuing her with Originium that contained the memory of the Diablo, an old Sarkaz king. - Surtr: I think one of my favorite things about Surtr is the amount that's unsaid about her. Her stand/persona/golem is headless with an originium halo. She has extremely powerful arts. And she has no memory. You know who else has fire powers? The Diablo. The Diablo's boss mechanics are incredibly reminiscent of Surtr. He summons a [Stand], he refuses to die, and he does a whole lot of arts damage and fire. My guess is that when the Diablo King was finally defeated by the old King of Sarkaz, he was not killed, but his memory was destroyed, and returned to the Sarkaz Originium Hivemind Network. And poof, we get Surtr. AND POOF, WE GET IFRIT.

- Passenger: Many of Passenger's lines imply that Elliot Glover, is dead. And not in a figurative sense. The Blue Originium imbued in him literally killed the child that day, and his animated skin implies that Passenger is exactly that, a Passenger in Elliot's body. - Another note I like about this one in particular is that Mon3tr, a creature made of full Originium, is wary of Passenger. The Blue Originium is alien to him because it's not of the same network. - Specter: When we got Specter the Unchained, we didn't get a "sane" Specter, but instead we got two characters: Laurentina, the original host, and Specter, the originium infused into her. For a long time, Laurentina was out cold, and Specter is the originium mind. The entire idea of Specter's character is about how two people share one body, and I'm really fascinated by this concept. - On a side note, this also says a lot more about Aegir, but we'll get to that later. - Executor: Executor is a cold, emotionless character, to a point where even his decision making is really interesting. He NEVER, and CANNOT break rules, like a robot. But my favorite thing about his character is that even with the way he speaks, his actions will always reflect "good". It's a huge contrast to his sister Arturia, who revolves around emotions. My guess is that there is no Frederico to begin with, only remnants of the Originium network forced to learn how to become human. - Amiya: Amiya holds the power of the King of the Sarkaz and all of their memories. But she also gets access to the Sarkaz Hivemind. The most interesting thing about this is that the most powerful Arts is one that has to do with memory. Because controlling memory means controlling Originium directly. 3. Originium is not compatible with Aegir. - Because Specter and Laurentina exist as completely different entities, Laurentina is not ACTUALLY infected. The fish people living in the sea have much less animal features than on land, so it's possible that the rapid evolution of the Aegir is on a completely different branch of induced evolution from Originium. A lot of Caerula Arbor also implies this. - The Originium Hivemind is completely different from the Aegir hivemind. No rocks involved.

4. At the heart of Originium lies the Boundless Master of All Creation. Which sounds pretty Evil.

Both Kal'tsit's (apocalypse) skin and Laurentina's skin imply that Originium has a link to this master of all creation, which may or may not be originium itself. It's the harbinger of the end, an entity that will consume everything.

4. Originium is NOT the only Terraformer. - AEgir: The rapid fishy evolution and high incompatibility with Originium feels like it's a completely different branch of tech that attempted to do the same terraforming to ensure humanity's survival. - Sankta Network: If the Sarkaz Originium Hivemind are 5G+ internet, then think of the Sankta Network as a localized network. It's a stronger, faster reception to spreading thoughts. This hits a little harder considering the Sankta were originally Sarkaz. - Nearls: The Nearls have perfect "blood" compatibility with Originium, but Maria's is the purest. They aren't "infected" in the same way the others are, but they have control over Originium in the way other people don't.

5. The Doctor and Kal'tsit are just Doctor Who lol - Regeneration, big box for time travel, companions

tbh im surprised a lot of this was discussed during Babel and i can't wait to see more. my favorite thing about Arknights is that they say just enough for you to figure things out by following the crumbs, and it's such a lovely storytelling format

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.7k

Part 7/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

"My bones are smoldering And my knuckles are bloody. Forgive me. Forgive me." - Aloud (20/365)

Masterlist

Every piece, every atom of your soul was ripped apart, shredded like fine vellum beneath the Hexcore’s unnatural power. The runes on your skin burned as they changed in rapid succession, pain lancing across your skull like it would crack in two from the pressure. Your limbs stretched and ached as your magic wrapped around your wrists, your ankles, anchoring you against the power of the Hexcore swirling in a vortex of blue and violet, electric charges spreading and crackling. 

Where was Viktor? He’d disappeared when your magic had consumed and drained those men. Had it taken him too? 

A metal hand, charged with blue light, broke through the vortex, straining against the force of the wind. Terror and relief struck you all at once. He was alive, and yet, would he remain so? 

His hand pushed farther, his arm, and his shoulder following, metal sparking with magic, zapped by the electricity in your current. 

“He will die trying to save you,” the Hexcore gloated. “His death will be on your hands.”

Horror seized you, your breathing rapid, your lungs burning with the charged, thick air that slid down your throat like hot coals. He hadn’t let you heal him in days, he’d weakened, and yet he pushed on anyway. 

Viktor's head bursts through the vortex, his eyes wild with determination, gritting his teeth against the pull of magic. You gasped, relief and terror warring within you as he struggled to push the rest of his body through. With a final push, he tumbled, landing hard on his knees beside you, crutch falling to his side - having used it to leverage himself through.

You whimpered as his chest heaved, each breath a ragged gasp that sent a fear tingling through your limbs and up your neck.

"I'm here," he croaked, pushing himself up to stand, crutch held tight to his side. "I will not let it take you."

The Hexcore's laughter echoed around you, setting your teeth on edge. "Oh, how delicious," it purred. "Your panic is exquisite. Can you feel your control slipping away?"

You could. Your magic was unravelling, tendrils of power escaping your grasp like water through a sieve. The runes on your skin flared and sputtered, their patterns shifting faster than you could track. You tried to focus, to reign it in, but Viktor's haggard breathing and the Hexcore's taunting laughter shattered your semblance of control.

Your mind felt like it was cracking, like a stone that had been smashed with a hammer one too many times. People flashed before you - those you cared for, Viktor, Sky, Jayce - and they screamed and they burned as your magic shredded them apart. 

You just wanted them to leave you alone, let you burn in peace. Save themselves and let you go. 

Distracted as you were, Viktor had managed to get close enough to grab one of your outstretched wrists, tugging himself closer until he stood directly in front of you.

His flesh and blood hand cupped your scarred cheek. Would this be the last time you felt it? The soft feel of his skin and the roughness of his calluses. You could see the pain etched in the lines of his face, the trembling of his limbs as he fought to stay upright. But there was something else there too - a determination that burned brighter than the Hexcore's violent light.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice gruff but steady. "You are stronger than this. Your magic is not meant for destruction. It's a force of good, of love - a reflection of you. Do you remember the first time you eased my pain? I’d never felt anything so sweet before. That came from you, Milá."

You choked on a sob, how badly you wished that to be true.

“I-I can’t, Viktor, I can’t do it!” The magic was too strong, like a tornado of will and might and an avalanche of anger and grief, it pulled you down, tore at your skin, pulled you apart piece by piece. “You need to go!”

“And abandon you?” His voice, lilting and soft - too soft for the gripping terror that squeezed your throat. “Never.”

You whimpered, low, like a wounded animal caught in a trap of its own making. “The Hexcore, it won’t stop, I can’t get it to stop.”

A laugh echoed in your ears, taunting, teasing you with its vindication. 

“I have never seen you allow anyone else tell you what to do.” His smile, so kind, so patient, always for you. You didn’t deserve it, yet he gave it freely. “Why start now?”

A dark red stain beneath his nose caught your gaze, your heart freezing in your chest, the roar of your magic fading beneath the rush of white noise in your ears. Even as he smiled, blood trickled at the corners of his mouth, crimson tears falling from his doleful eyes. You were killing him, and yet he made no move to flee. He simply stood with you, cupping your cheek, hand around your waist. His crutch, wedged under his arm, seemed to be the only thing supporting him as he stood there, waiting for you despite knowing that you were the one causing him harm.

“Please, Viktor. Please, go, I’m begging you!” you cried, eyes and throat burning, a stinging wetness on your cheeks.

“And I am begging you to fight this. I have faith in your abilities, miláčku.” Viktor leaned his forehead against yours, the heat from his skin seeping into your icy flesh. “The Hexcore does not get to decide who you are and it does not get to take you from me.” 

You gritted your teeth, Viktor's words igniting a spark of defiance within you. All you had wanted was for him to stay with you; how could you not do the same?

With every ounce of strength in your body, you willed your hands towards your chest, battling against the binds of magic that held you in place. Every muscle in your body screamed with effort, tendons straining as you pushed through the pain and forced your limbs to obey.

The Hexcore's laughter faltered, its confidence wavering as you struggled against its hold. The magic around your wrists started to give, like elastic bands stretched to their limit. Inch by agonizing inch, your hands moved closer to your sternum.

Viktor's grip on you tightened, lending you his strength. "That's it," he said, his voice strained but encouraging. "You can do this.”

With a last, valiant push, you held your hands to your chest. The magical restraints snapped with an audible crack, sending shockwaves through the vortex surrounding you. The sudden release nearly sent you stumbling, but Viktor's steadying hold kept you upright.

Panting, you pressed your palms flat against your breastbone. You could feel the Hexcore's energy pulsing beneath your skin, a writhing mass of corrupted power. Clenching your jaw, you began to pull, imagining your hands sinking into flesh, grasping the foreign entity, and dragging it out.

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, you felt something give, like pulling a thread from a tightly woven tapestry. One strand came loose, then another, and another. The Hexcore's hold started to weaken, its tendrils retracting from your limbs, your organs, your cells.

Hope surged within you. It was working! You redoubled your efforts, pulling harder, feeling the Hexcore's essence start to pool beneath your palms. The vortex around you flickered and wavered, its roar diminishing to a dull whisper.

But as you continued to extract the Hexcore, a creeping sense of dread overtook you. Something wasn’t right. The energy you were pulling out felt wrong, incomplete. It writhed and squirmed in your grasp, desperately seeking what it was missing.

With a sickening realization, you understood the truth. The Hexcore had become too entwined with your life force. It could not exist independently anymore. It needs a living vessel. You couldn’t destroy it without destroying its host in the process.

Your hands faltered, and the extracted energy snapped back into your body like a rubber band. The vortex surged anew, and the Hexcore's laughter returned, triumphant and mocking.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" it taunted. "I am a part of you now. You cannot simply cast me aside."

You slumped in Viktor's arms, despair threatening to overtake you. It would never work. The Hexcore was tied to life itself - your life.

Part of what made him such a great inventor was Viktor’s innate ability to understand the subtlest of details with only a single glance. He had a remarkable knack for uncovering the hidden potential, the true meaning, of anything he encountered. He’d always been able to read you, as if he could hear your thoughts, and when you gazed up at him with a fresh wave of tears brimming in your eyes, he gave you a sad smile. 

“I feared that would be the case,” he said, his thumb tracing soothing lines over your cheekbone. “It wanted you for your magic, and now that it has had a taste of life, it will not be parted from it. But if it was within a body that did not have access to the arcane, I believe it could be…malleable.” 

“No,” you spat, pulling your face out of his grasp, swallowing back the surge of energy that flayed your spine. He didn’t need to say it for you to understand his meaning. “I am not subjecting you to the Hexcore. I would rather die.” 

And though death scared you, his death frightened you more than anything that could ever and would ever exist in any universe. 

“And I will not leave you.” He countered, wiping the back of his hand across the blood that ran in rivulets over his lips, down his chin, falling in droplets to the floor. “It would seem we are at an impasse.”

Salt, wet and hot hit your tongue as tears streamed down your cheeks. Hiccups disrupted your already scattered breathing. “But—“ a hiccup, your chin trembling, “but you’ll die.” 

“We both know I was dying already, I have been for some time.” He was right, of course, you’d felt his life force slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. No matter how hard you tried to pick up those minuscule pieces and put them back, you always missed some - more and more every day. Your power alone couldn’t save him, even with the fraction of the Hexcore you’d used. “But we do not know for certain that the Hexcore will kill me, as it will surely do to you.”

You couldn’t go on like this, and neither could he. 

“I love you.” Your voice caught in a sob around his name, your muscles tensed as you held yourself back from falling apart. How could you do this, how were you supposed to throw this…horrible, violent being into the man you loved? But you also couldn’t stand by and let him die.

“From the moment we met, there has not been a second that I was not yours.” A bittersweet smile curved along his bloodstained lips. You wanted to scream, to beg someone, anyone, to help, to avoid this fate. But there was no one except the two of you, no help to be had. With trembling hands, you placed your palms against your chest once more.

"I’m so sorry, Viktor. I’m so, so sorry,” you choked out, teeth barred.

"Don't be, Miláček,” he said, thumb painting smooth lines over your cheekbone, wiping at your tears. “This is my choice."

With a tortured, gut-wrenching howl that tore from the depths of your soul, you plunged your hands into your own chest. Searing, all-consuming agony shredded through every nerve as you grasped the writhing essence of the Hexcore. It writhed and fought, its sharp edges scraping against your bones, hooking into your organs, desperate to maintain its hold. But your love for Viktor, your need to keep him alive, burned brighter than any of it, giving you strength you didn't know you possessed.

You ripped the Hexcore from your body, a pulsing mass of energy crackling between your hands. With no room for hesitation, you shoved it into Viktor's chest, sinking into his metal flesh as if it were clay beneath your fingers.

For a moment, time stood still. You saw the shock in Viktor's eyes, the pain, the love. Then, everything erupted in a blinding flash of purple light.

The force of the explosion threw you backward, your body slamming against an unseen barrier. The air was ripped from your lungs as waves of energy pulsed outward, shattering windows and bouncing off the walls. The very foundations of the building seemed to groan under the strain.

Through the confusion, you caught glimpses of Viktor; his body suspended in mid-air, arcs of violet electricity dancing across his skin both natural and enhanced. His back arched in agony, mouth open in a soundless scream as the Hexcore's power surged through him.

The light grew more intense, forcing you to shield your eyes. The air crackled with raw energy, making your hair stand on end. You could feel the Hexcore's influence diminishing within you, but at what cost?

As quickly as it began, the light imploded, collapsing in on itself with a thunderous crash.

Blinking rapidly to clear the white spots from your vision, you scanned your surroundings. The house was in ruins, debris scattered everywhere, walls caved in. Your heart pounded in your throat as you searched frantically for Viktor. 

There - a glint of metal caught your eye.

You scrambled to Viktor's side, throwing debris out of your way like it weighed nothing, your heart pounding so hard you feared it might burst through your ribcage. He lay motionless on the floor, his body now a gleaming expanse of gold and dark grey metal. Gone were his worn clothes, replaced by a glinting and grooved metallic frame that seemed to have fused over his remaining flesh. Only his face remained human, though even that had changed - tendrils of metal crept up his cheeks like silvery vines. The violet magic of the Hexcore leapt across his body, hissing, but unable to do any harm.

"Viktor?" you whispered, your voice cracking and hoarse. You reached out with unsteady hands, afraid to touch him, afraid of what you might not feel. But as your fingers brush his chest, you detect the faintest rise and fall. He was breathing. He was alive.

A cry of relief, quickly followed by another, and another, until you were weeping uncontrollably over his limp form. You gathered him into your arms, cradling his head against your chest, uncaring of the cold metal pressed against your skin. His breath puffed against your collarbone, each tiny exhale a miracle. The sparks, ever-present, danced around you both, their light pulsing in time with your broken bawling.

Time lost all meaning as you sat there, holding Viktor, watching for any sign of consciousness. Minutes blended into hours, and hours into days. You drifted in and out of awareness, your exhausted mind unable to fully process the magnitude of what had happened, caught in a haze of disbelief and grief.

Would he ever wake up? Or had you sent him into an endless slumber?

To make it all worse, Viktor was not the only one affected by the transfer of power. Where the Hexcore had once been, Shimmer took its place. It had lain dormant, fuelling the Hexcore so that it did not bother you, but without an outlet, it sought another avenue to consume. 

You. 

Try as you might to hold onto the last vestiges of your sanity, without anything but Viktor’s quietly humming body to anchor you, you began to drift away. 

You did not eat, you barely drank. Your body was stiff and cramped from sitting in the same position for so long, but you refused to leave his side, despite the sparks pulling at the hem of your cloak. The world outside that room ceased to exist. There was only you, Viktor, the sparks, and the agonizing wait for him to open his eyes. At some point, you’d wrapped him up in the blankets, though you couldn’t remember when, and laid his now twisted and warped crutch at his side in case he needed it.

Yet even then, your mind refused to allow you peace. Going through the same motions over and over again, with a relentlessness that seemed never-ending.

You blinked, and the room was filled with shimmering butterflies. Their iridescent wings caught the light, casting rainbows across Viktor's body. You reached out, mesmerized, only for them to dissolve into mist at your touch. A sharp crack echoed behind you and you whirled around, heart racing, magic crackling at your fingertips. But there was nothing there - just shadows dancing on the wall.

Sky's laughter rang out, clear as a bell. "Over here!" she called. You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over Viktor in your haste. She was right there, by the door, waving and smiling just as she had when she’d lived. She’d died, hadn’t she? The fog in your mind wouldn’t part, and you didn’t care. She was your friend, and you needed her now more than ever. You ran towards her, arms outstretched, but just as you reached her, she faded away like smoke. Your hands grasping at empty air and you choked back a cry.

A hand landed on your shoulder and you lashed out, a bolt of wild magic flying from your palm. It sizzled past Jayce's ear, singeing his hair. He looked at you with furrowed brows, mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear his words. You blinked, and he was gone too, leaving you alone again.

You stumbled back to Viktor, collapsing beside him. His face was peaceful, human, the face you fell in love with. But as you watched, it shifted. Metal crept across his skin, covering his features until all that was left was a cold, expressionless mask, no flesh left, unblinking golden eyes. You screamed, scrambling backward, your nails scraping against the floor. You blinked rapidly, and his face was human again, then metal, then human. Like you were spinning around and around in circles, nausea churned in your stomach, bile writhing up your throat.

A shadow flitted across your vision and you jumped, whirling to face this new threat. Your magic surged, ready to defend, but it was just a piece of paper caught in a draft. You laughed, the sound high and hysterical, bordering on a sob.

The remaining walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like lungs. You pressed your hands against your eyes, trying to block out the impossible sights. When you looked again, everything was normal. But for how long it would remain so, you did not know.

How many times had you gone through those hallucinations? Were they even hallucinations, or rather visions? You couldn’t tell them apart.

You curled up next to Viktor, clinging to him like he was a buoy and you were adrift at sea. His steady breathing was the only constant in your fracturing world. You closed your eyes, praying for sleep, for sanity, for anything to make the hallucinations stop. But even in darkness, the visions came, unrelenting and terrifying.

Sometimes, in rare periods of lucidity, you found yourself talking to him, your voice raspy and barely audible. You told him about the sunlight filtering through the broken windows, painting patterns on the floor. You described the way the dust specks danced in the air, stirred by your breath and his. You confessed your fears, your hopes, your unwavering love.

Other times, you simply sat in silence, your fingers tracing the new contours of his face. You memorized every detail - the way the metal seamlessly melded with his skin, the soft whir of unseen mechanisms keeping him alive. His eyelids fluttered occasionally, rapid movements beneath delicate skin that gave you hope he was dreaming, that somewhere in there, he was still Viktor.

But the hallucinations always had a way of worming themselves back in, of striking fear into your heart. Of making you feel horribly, and completely alone.

Curling in on yourself, your head tucked between your knees, you rocked, back and forth, back and forth. It’s not real, you told yourself. But it felt so real, tangible in a way that nothing else had ever been. Your friends, Viktor, they were all a part of you, and seeing them as they were before everything changed, even fleetingly, made the chasm of your grief open wider. You’d only just managed to help Viktor survive, and then he’d been taken so cruelly from you, and by your own hand. 

No, he was alive, he was breathing beside you, wasn’t he? You couldn’t look, couldn’t bring yourself to check. For if he wasn’t, if he truly had ceased to breathe, you were not sure you’d be able to stop yourself from taking the whole of Runeterra down in your anguish. 

“Milá.” Though hoarse and metallic in quality, you would recognize his voice anywhere. But your mind had been playing so many tricks on you as of late, to allow yourself to believe only for it to be torn away when you looked up to find him unmoving…

“Milá,” he said again, this time with more force. You clutched at the sides of your head, pulling on your hair, pinpricks of pain shooting across your scalp. 

Go away, go away, go—

The floor creaked, the shifting of metal on wood. “So soon? I would have thought you’d be slightly more excited to see me awake.”

One moment you were curled in on yourself, tearing at your hair like you could pull the distressing thoughts from your skull, and the next, you were launching yourself toward Viktor, who had just propped himself up into a sitting position. You flung your arms around his neck, taking in deep gasps of air as your hands gripped onto his head, his back, his hair - anything to feel that this was real.

“Is it really you?” Even to your ears, your voice sounded pitiful, hoarse like you’d been screaming for hours - had you? You couldn’t recall. 

Viktor chuckled, that sweet, beautiful sound that always set your heart to singing. “Who else would I be?” 

Pulling back, you held his face in your hands, Shimmer, pink and vibrant coursing through the veins in your arms. The sparks darted down your shoulders, bouncing over each other until they reached Viktor. They trailed across his cheeks, leaving a warm, glowing trail, before coming to rest against his neck like tiny fireflies snuggling against him.

He had changed, yes, but he was still Viktor. 

“I was so afraid that you’d…” You swallowed thickly, death sitting heavily on your tongue. 

His hands settled themselves on your hips, pulling you towards him. “I was fairly certain I would survive, but I am sorry to have worried you. If we had been given more time, perhaps we could have figured out a, ah, safer way.” 

You laughed, too shrill to be anything but hysterical. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

You crashed your lips against his, tears streaming down your face as you poured every ounce of fear, relief, and love into the kiss. His lips were warm and soft, the taste of salt tears mingling with the familiar sweetness of Viktor, and you drank it in greedily, desperate to convince yourself that this was true.

Your hands roamed over his face, tracing the delicate patterns of silver and gold that adorned his cheeks. They were smooth beneath your fingertips, almost silky, and you marvelled at how seamlessly they blended with his skin. Viktor's hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. The sparks danced around you both, creating a shimmering cocoon of blue light.

As you broke apart for air, a sob pushed past your teeth. You rested your forehead against his, your noses brushing. His breath fanned across your face, warm and alive, and you closed your eyes, savouring the feeling. Your tears fell freely, landing on his cheeks and sliding down the metallic edges.

“How do you feel?” you asked, breathless, but needing to know. 

Viktor's eyes met yours, and you were struck by the suddenness of seeing their iridescent colouring, shifting and swirling like a muted rainbow. "I feel…alive," he said, his voice filled with both wonder and uncertainty. "It's as if every nerve ending is singing, every cell vibrating with energy. The Hexcore, it's not just a part of me now - it's become me."

You watched, transfixed, as he flexed his fingers, tiny jolts of magic dancing between the joints - no longer blue from your magic, but a vibrant shade of violet from the Hexcore.

"I can sense everything," he continued, his forehead creasing in concentration. "The air currents in the room, the minute vibrations in the floor, even the electrical impulses in your body. It's overwhelming, but also exhilarating."

"The pain is gone," he said, a note of disbelief in his voice. "For the first time in years, I feel no pain. But more than that, I feel…whole. Complete. As if this is what I was always meant to become. A final evolution, if you would.”

Your heart swelled with relief at Viktor's words, but a nagging worry still gnawed at the edges of your mind - something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t figure out what exactly. The Shimmer coursing through your veins pulsed erratically, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

His gaze returned to you, filled with worry that you could see like waves lapping at the shores of his thoughts. "And you, miláčku, something is different about you.”

"I'm…I'm not sure what’s happening," you admitted, your voice shaky, afraid to admit your fears. "Everything feels so strange. Like I'm both here and not here at the same time." You gestured vaguely at the room around you. "I keep seeing things that aren't real. Or maybe they are? I can't tell anymore."

Viktor frowned, his new iridescent eyes scanning your face intently. "What do you see?"

You laughed, a brittle sound that bordered on panic. "Oh, you know, the usual. Butterflies made of light. Sky calling for me. Jayce trying to talk to me. The walls breathing." You paused, swallowing hard. "Your face turning into a metal mask.”

His eyes softened around the corners. "Ah, I see. The Shimmer is affecting you more strongly now that the Hexcore is gone, correct?"

You nodded, grateful he understood without you having to explain further. "I don't know what's real anymore, Viktor. I'm…scared."

Viktor's arms encircled you, pulling you to rest against his chest. The cool metal was so different from his warm face pressed against your hair. "I'm real," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. "This, us, right here - it's real."

You clung to him, trembling. The Shimmer in your veins pulsed again, sending a surge of disorientation through you. But Viktor's steady heartbeat anchored you, a rhythm to focus on, to distract you from yourself.

"I will try to help," Viktor said softly. He glanced around at the ruined walls, the floorboards stained with traces of your magic, of the Hexcore, his own blood. It was a miracle it was still standing, and you were sure you would have been attacked had it not been for the wards you’d put up. 

You sucked your lips between your teeth, staring at the electric blue wall surrounding the house. When had you done that? 

“But not here. We should go. It is no longer safe for us.” He looked towards the wall that you’d thrown the attackers against. “If it ever was.” 

“I’m sorry, Viktor,” you tucked your chin to your chest, “this was your childhood home and I…” Ruined it like everything else you touched. 

Hooking his index finger below your chin, he angled your face up towards his. “It is just a place. My home is with you.” 

Such a sweet, simple statement made your teeth ache. The sparks that had nestled into his chest glowed their approval, emitting light humming noises, creating a high-pitched harmony. 

You placed a kiss against his palm, the cool metal greeting your lips with a spark that made them tingle. “Then we go together.” 

He smiled, soft and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Always.”

When you left that house behind, your hand tucked tightly into Viktor’s, you prayed to whatever gods were listening that you hadn’t made the wrong choice, that giving the Hexcore to Viktor had been the correct option. 

But if it was right, why did you feel a deep sense of dread clinging to your heart like a thick layer of frost? 

Next Chapter

A/N: And you're on to a new destination!! Is everyone ready for Jesus Viktor?

[darlingshane]

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

[ahllohehn]

Scott lore please? 🥺

This might be more Xornoth lore than anything, but it counts.

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

The gods used to mock of HaTO!Scott's and HaTO!Xornoth's story by calling them "The Gemini"

Scott wasn't, at first, planned. He was given as a blessing to his mortal father by Aphrodite the same day his mortal father's wife gave birth to Xornoth.

They were twins, in the most confusing sense. With one being a demigod and one being full mortal.

Due to them spending so much time together in childhood, Xornoth was slowly introduced to the godly side of the world despite being mortal.

Of course, he'd be jealous of Scott in the end, given that his brother was given the opportunity to directly interact with said magical world while he can't.

When Scott left for Camp Empires, Xornoth striked up a deal with Eris who found him in the most vulnerable state. Selfishly, he even tied his life to Scott's just so he could take over his body as soon as he takes over everything.

After all, it's not like he wanted to stay a spirit forever.

Scott could only color himself surprised and heartbroken when he realizes the "Daimon" that had started terrorizing the camp during his first year there was actually his brother.

During the defeat of Xornoth, Zeus offered the dying twins a decision; for Scott to either give up the rest of his mortality to save Xornoth, who will be immediately imprisoned into Tartarus after, or for Xornoth to give up and let himself dissipate into the void of Chaos.

It was either one of them only lives to suffer in imprisonment or it was both of them left to die, with one bound to be forgotten by the world. It was obvious both decisions were hated by both twins.

So, instead, Xornoth chose to give up. Just in a way the gods wouldn't expect.

He gave up the rest of whatever's left of his immortality to save Scott himself as his first and last apology.

So Scott could almost be counted of equal standing to the lesser deities now as he carries a part of a forgoteen spirit with him, but at what cost really?

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.5

Skitter is now one for three on interacting with New Wave kids without making them hate her.

Also fun fact I actually hit the image limit while making this post so I had to nix a few of the smaller observations made, there's just that much shit going on

Neat to meet more of New Wave, but boy I wish it was under different circumstances

Also Taylor you were so close to making that descriptor of their anguish work, you shouldn't have acknowledged it

How fucking harrowing must it be to let your daughter go anywhere near the fucking thing that killed your son.

Also I like how even as Skitter realizes that this is not the time or place, she's still indignant at being called "the girl."

What an awful fucking day for all of them. What can even be done, what can even be said?

Just a wet fucking cat of a girl, being carried through the air.

Oh hey Coil, bet your asshole is clenching really fucking hard rn

I wish there was a way for Coil to drown down there without killing Dinah too, but alas

Also absolutely insane that this has all been in the span of, what, an hour? Maybe a little more? What the fuck

And here's Parian proving that she's actually a huge badass

"Why manipulate cloth" honestly my first assumption is that it's bc her power is cloth control

Really fucking funny that people apparently keep thinking that superpowers are magic, though

We hardly knew ye.

I did learn that this is a retcon; Browbeat survived in the initial version of the story, although he quit the Wards in the wake of this attack and never comes up again. The retcon was in... 2019? Reasoning is speculative but I guess people kept making stupid jokes about Browbeat and he got tired of it?

Hey you know what though, really good showing overall, better than a bunch of other capes today

Okay so did this attack go through Leviathan? What the fuck is going on with this Flechette girl, that is utterly fucking cracked. Armsmaster's fucking nanothorns couldn't hack that, what is she doing where her shots do this kinda damage.

Leviathan likes playing with its fucking food, which is weird as hell

This dramatic fucker

God that's so cool, just opening up a fucking chasm in the middle of the battlefield.

...I wonder if it was trying to get into the bunker like Coil was afraid of. I know enough about Noelle to know that could've gone really fucking poorly.

Laserdream is cool, does she get much love in the fandom or is she too peripheral a character for that?

This is kinda funny ngl

That's a lot of fucking dead people, Jesus H

Taylor you are genuinely being too cool about this, your arm is still broken

He can do anything he wants down there, it's terrifying

Very funny that Armsmaster's brand-spanking-new halberd is being put to better use in this fight by people who aren't him and for purposes he didn't intend

Haha, wuh oh!

First indicator that Coil's got some pretty remarkable commercial ties considering he managed to sneak his own fucking Endbringer shelter in for private use and nobody noticed.

Also, god that's gotta be fucking terrifying

...I think like 99% of things that have come up in this arc are fucking terrifying if we're being real for a second but I'm gonna keep saying it

Seeing someone who treats you like dirt and have a happy life outside of treating you like dirt is a certain kind of agony. Also fuck Gladly on principle tbh.

Ah fuck

She could have so easily given into spite and let them all suffer and die. She was under no obligation beyond her own drive to be good, to be better, to be better than Gladly. And that's why she's among the best of these fucking people.

And so the bug girl, both creepy AND wet, goes in there and saves everyone left standing by shoving the Halberd up Levi's nonexistent asshole and baiting him back out the shelter

She's a bigger hero than so many of the others

This might be one of the most intensely and personally terrifying moments of all. Paralysis and drowning hand in hand. A slow and insidious kind of horror.

Rachel Lindt MVP

Well hey, cool of Rachel to be concerned though

They should be giving Bitch the key to the fucking city for this, honestly

This poor girl sacrificed the closest thing she has to family to buy even a fraction of extra time for this asscrack of a city

And then there's this fucking asshole

Imagine if God thought you, personally and specifically, fucking sucked. What a weird feeling that must be.

Skipping past the downturn in the fighting and the teleportation bc we have to get to the conclusion of the chapter

Taylor did more to save this whole city than any of these people can even imagine, and they manhandle her into a cot and cuff her broken-ass arm because y'can't be too careful with villains, can you

This is going to go so poorly

Current Thoughts

Taylor did more, in the moment-to-moment breakdown of tracking, fighting, and responding to Leviathan, than like 90% of the other capes in this whole fucking deal, and nobody will ever know the full extent of it. She might have honestly saved more lives than Armsmaster, because he was too busy fucking grandstanding in the moments leading up to his, ahaha, disarmament.

Skitter is a hero, idgaf what anyone says. She earned better than what she's about to be fucking put through, that's for sure.

[ryololart]

Father like Son

A WIP with Simon and some Angst

(tw abuse and religious trauma)

 December 7th, 1996, Manchester, England.

Simon hated Tuesdays. However, maybe it didn’t matter what day it was. Everything always sucked, anyway. It seemed though that Tuesday were just the worst. He smelled like raw beef, unable to take a shower after he got home from work. He still wore those rancid school clothes, too tight and short for his tall body, that his mother made him wear because ‘wearing a uniform made him proper’. His face hurt as a bruise started to form on his cheek, nearly missing his eye, after a fight with his father started as soon as he opened the front door. He couldn’t block out the ringing in his ears from the sound of a smashing bottle on the counter top. The sound of broken glass was an underrated on the list of things that made you want to rip out your own ear drums. His thoughts stopped, considering how many days till Sunday it was, counting it out in the head. Only four more grueling days, and 96 long hours. Sunday was the promise of a new week, the one day that things might actually go well.

The famous day of Sabbath his father preached about, when the lord took a day of rest after creating the world. It is the one day his father holds himself back from drink, as if a magical fairy man would come down and thank him for his abstinence. If one day a week of right would forgive the other 6 of wrong. Simon didn’t believe in God for that reason. If this God of his father’s was really real, then his life would have been much better. The world would be much better. God wouldn’t allow wars in his name for centuries. God wouldn’t allow for thirst and hunger of those who can’t provide for themselves. God is a hypocrite if he calls himself a loving father because if Simon’s father was created in his image, and that was telling enough of this fairy’s true nature. 

His teacher tells him that we suffer because it allows us to be in Union with God, feel what Jesus die for us on the cross, allow us to find redemption, and develop hope and perseverance. To Simon, that was bullshit. If he was God, he would only allow for people to be decent people, not perfect, but decent. If he was God, he would not allow for a man to beat his kids in his holy name. Simon’s dad told him that the abuse was good for him, to make him a man worthy of such love. If this is love, he didn’t want it. 

He managed to avoid getting hit by another flying thing that he couldn’t make before he got to his room, quickly pulling the door shut, putting his back against it with his feet planted on the ground in case his father kept coming. After a few minutes, he was sure he had gone away because his heavy footsteps stop stomping around the house. Instead, now he had the time to dwell on all the worthless things that were shouted at him. “I wish you died!” He could hear the resentment, in his father’s voice. Then the words Simon said back himself came to the surface. “Don’t you think I wish the same?” That is when the punch was thrown, that somehow Simon was ungrateful. How can you be grateful for a father that doesn’t want you. Maybe that is why his father turns to God, only a father like that can love a son that is a reflection of himself. The floods, the plagues, the wars, all up their alleys. Let them love in destruction and leave Simon out of it.

[rabbitshat]

I have such a devious little idea, imagine with me if you will.

RiseTMNT and Arcane AU

Theres no Rise Mystic/Magic, its all Arcane cannon magic

The hidden city becomes the Undercity/Zaun and NewYork is replaced by Piltover.

Humans are first class citizens, Yokai live in the Undercity as second class citizens and Mutants are third class.

Donnie(20) my beloved with spinal issues bcs of some accident in his youth working his ass off to gain footing in Piltover and trying to make the world a better place for the people in the Undercity(a Viktor replacement in a way). He left the Undercity about five years ago.

The rest of the turtles have to steal from humans, as one does, to survive. But when that stops being a reliable source of money for food (necessities in the Undercity are suuuper over priced, even to Piltover standars, but what are they gonna do? Go up top and buy there? Thats a joke.) Raph(23) goes to work for Big Mama and gains her as a patron in a way. Hes still massive and a scary bastard, he has a side hustle in the BloodDome as one of its best fighters.

Leo's(20) leader of the Firelights, a real revolutionary that one. After Raph started to work for BigMama, Leo took the reigns as Mike's(17) big bro. He started to gain a sort of street rep similar to Raph's, but in a much more "family man" kind of way. He is known to have loyalty that kills, the family comes first and if someone --even if they themselves are a part of the family-- threatens his family (especially the younger ones) they will face a painful death.

Mike's(17) know as the Icarus but simultaneously the Sun of the Undercity. He's a dreamer and almost all teens his age in the city love to hate him. The kids love him and his art of course, he even might teach you how to run the rooftops. But the teens hate how untouched by the cruel life in the Undercity he seems, there's a lot of prejudice in those thoughts in the "how dare a mutant be so care free". Of course they cant really DO anything to him, what with Leo and Raph's reputations on the streets (even if BigRed isnt around all that much) but they go to extreme lengths to ostracize him.

Splinter, a very reputable and beloved Council member that got mutated by ~mysterious circumstances~ that runs away to the Undercity only to find the four brothers.

Imagine with me, Donnie on the bridge that connects the Undercity Leo beside him begging him to cone home. He tells him how isolated Mike is, how Raph has been working and fighting for BigMama. How he needs to just come home so they can finally be a family again. A lie he knows all too well, he tells it to himself everytime he catches a glance of Raph on the more seedy parts of the Undercity standing over a beat up yokai, the pink glow of BigMama's drug enhancements reflecting off the alley's walls. He repeats it every time he sees the other teens ridicule Mike as if he were some sort of vermin.

If Donnie, his brother, his twin just comes home everything will be ok again. Its been so long and his back looks so much worse, and please just leave it all behind and come home.

Its an unfair ask, he knows that, its selfish but he cant do this anymore.

"I cant, i have a lot left to do still. I promised you id only go back when i found a way to make life better for everyone. And i did! I just need time-"

"How much time do you STILL need Donnie?! Its been five years! Mike's not a little kid anymore- hes seventeen! I almost cant recognize Raph anymore, Dad's gone and it feels like im losing YOU. What? Do you think you fit better up here?! Are you better than us now that you 'made it' up here?! Are you one of the good ones just because you have something to give them?!"

Its an ugly fight, words were said and their already fragile bond feels like someone took a serrated bread knife and cut into it a thousand times.

Leo has never wanted to die more than the day the news of the Council being blown up reaches his ears, the day the people of Zaun celebrated the start of a battle for freedom. The day he thought his brother was dead and the last thing they did together was fight.

(I haven't watched the new Arcane season but im very exited to lol)