#sorry I just read the prologue of the last hero

[wizardnaturalist]

I hate souji val akira so much it's unreal. "oh I cant stop now, it would disrespect shinyas sacrifice" shut the FUCK up, shinya didnt sacrifice shit. YOU sacrificed HIM

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[ironwoman359]

Our Own Villain Ch. 9

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10

Word Count: 5,570

Chapter Summary: Everything Roman has worked for threatens to crumble around him as Logan puts his plan to save his friends into motion.

Pairings: Logicality, could be read as romantic or platonic, platonic Moxiety

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, guilt, isolation and anger, overworking, fantasy violence, just generally unhealthy thought patterns going on for Roman.

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: IT'S HERE! As always, I cannot post this story without acknowledging the incredible @theinvisiblespoon, who helped me edit this and resulted in over 400 extra words of flavor for this chapter. They're the absolute best! Also, shout out to @teacupfulofstarshine for helping me get over some writers block with a few of these passages, she's an absolute darling <3

— — —

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

The captain of the guard bowed low before Roman, a faint tremor in his posture betraying his nerves.

“I’ve had my men up all night, searching the city from top to bottom,” the captain continued, “but there’s been no sign of the fugitive.” 

The man kept his head low, glancing tentatively up at Roman who paced back and forth across the floor of the throne room, arms crossed across his chest. He barely noticed the captain’s discomfort, lost entirely in thought. 

Where could Logan be? There was no way he could have left the Imagination, so how had the guards not found him yet? Roman supposed he could have snuck out of the city somehow, but there was nothing for him out there but wilderness, and it was cruel, even for Logan, to run away without even trying to rescue Patton and Virgil. No, he had to be hidden somewhere, somewhere that he thought was clever enough to escape Roman’s notice. 

“Keep searching, Captain,” he ordered. “He must be somewhere in the city. Perhaps he has enlisted the help of one of the townspeople and is being kept out of sight. Issue a decree that anyone found to be harboring criminals will face charges of treason. I want every-”

“Your Highness!” a new guard burst into the room, and Roman spun around with a glare. 

“What is it now? Are you men so utterly incompetent that you’re incapable of following the most simple of commands? I said that I was not to be disturbed!”

“It’s just, your highness,” the guard stammered, cowering in the face of Roman’s rage. “There’s an attack at the gates–” 

“What on earth makes you think I care about the gates right now?” Roman exclaimed. “There is a traitor loose in the city, corrupting the people and conspiring against me. Nothing at the gates could possibly be more important than finding–”

A roar pierced the air, and Roman went rigid, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Dragon Witch,” he hissed, and the guard nodded frantically. 

“She was spotted flying down from the mountains, your highness. The gate guard sent me to warn of her attack.” 

Roman slammed his fist down on the table. 

“Of course she would strike now, when we are distracted and unprepared. Captain, send criers through the streets to order your men to mobilize at the main gate. And bring me my armor! We must not let her take the city!” 

The soldiers scrambled from the room, and for a moment, Roman stood alone. After everything he’d done, everything he’d worked for, he now was faced with this. His oldest and strongest enemy, coming to challenge him when he was at his weakest. Did she think he would simply cave before her might? He was Roman, Prince of the Imagination, Thomas’s Hero, the last bastion of goodness left for the entire mindscape. He wouldn’t be overthrown by a mere construct. He laughed to himself. No one was around to hear it.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity, and soon Roman was on his horse, his silver breastplate glinting in the first red rays of sunrise poking over the horizon as he cantered through the city streets.  

The thought of Logan somehow escaping the city during the battle briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed the idea away. They would find the logical side eventually; after all, there was nowhere for him to run. 

Outside the city wall, the Dragon Witch let out another roar, and Roman urged his horse forward, drawing his sword. 

Right now, Logan didn’t matter. 

What did matter was making sure that his realm did not fall. He was Roman, Creativity, creator of this realm and Prince of the mindscape. He was a hero, the only hero Thomas had left after all the others had fallen prey to the wicked machinations of those accursed Dark Sides. 

And nothing, not the others, not the Dragon Witch, nothing, was going to stand in his way.

— — — 

Screams rang out through the streets as another of the Dragon Witch’s roars shook the city. Seth pressed himself up against the wall of the alleyway, peering out from behind a corner. The palace drawbridge lowered and Prince Roman and his guards in full armor appeared. The thunder of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and with the blare of the soldiers’ warhorns echoed all around Seth, and he ducked out of the way as the battalion rode past his hiding spot. 

The market was quickly emptying as merchants and shoppers fled the streets, and he intended to take full advantage of the chaos. Now that he had secured a place by the square, he hoped to pilfer enough foodstuffs from the merchants to be set for at least a week. Seth waited until the last terrified shopkeeper had disappeared from sight, then he crept out from the alleyway into the square. 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly pulled him back into the shadows. He spun with a cry, his fists up in an instant ready to strike, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had attacked him. 

“Maddie?”

“We had a deal, Seth,” the girl said, glaring at him. 

“But I saw you…the Arachnids…”

“Show me the servant’s entrance, please,” Maddie interrupted, folding her arms. 

“What, now? We’re in the middle of a siege! Come on, let’s comb through the market and see if we can get any–” 

“Seth, if you don’t show me that servant’s entrance right now, I will ensure that you spend every waking moment for the rest of your life fighting tooth and nail for that market spot. I said it was yours once you showed me the entrance, and unless you take me right this second–” 

“Okay, okay!” Seth said, raising his hands in surrender. “Sheesh, Maddie, what’s gotten into you?” 

“It is vitally important that I gain access to the palace. The reason why doesn’t concern you,” Maddie said as Seth led her up the street towards the palace walls. 

Luckily, the entire city guard had ridden out to the gates with the Prince to fight the Dragon Witch, and the barred gate where Seth met his contact on the palace staff stood unprotected. 

“There’s a door on the other side of the garden that the servants use,” he said, pointing through the courtyard. “Though I don’t know why that would matter to you, it’s not like you could get in. There are easier places to steal food from, especially since the city is under attack right now?” 

Maddie didn’t bother answering, she just pushed past him and pulled experimentally on the gate. It was locked and didn’t budge, but she didn’t seem put off by that fact. 

“Thank you, Seth. Our deal is complete. The spot by the market is yours. Now, I suggest you take cover; as you so aptly pointed out, the city is under attack.” 

“What about you?” Seth asked.

“I have something I need to do,” Maddie answered, pulling a small glass vial from her dress pocket. She uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops of its contents on the gate’s lock, and Seth stared in awe as the metal melted away like ice on a summer’s day. 

“Now go,” Maddie ordered. “I’ll explain later…if we ever manage to resolve this whole ordeal.” 

Part of Seth wanted to stay and see what on earth the girl was up to, but just then the very sky seemed to explode, bright purple lightning and blue streaks of light flashing all around as the ground shook. Seth became overwhelmed with nausea, and he fell to his knees, retching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddie still standing, seemingly unaffected by whatever strange spell had caused the world to fall apart around them. He tried to call out to her, but she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the palace grounds before he could force his mouth to form words.

As soon as it began, the lightning stopped, and after a moment of gasping, Seth regained his bearings. He looked at the open palace gate, but then another roar rang out, and he turned and ran back through the city towards his new market spot. Maybe after he scavenged what food he could, he’d risk the gangs and take cover in the sewers until this was all over. Whatever had Maddie acting all weird, he didn’t want to know about it. He’d have a hard enough time surviving the Red Sun as it was. 

The Dragon Witch’s roar echoed through the streets and Seth stumbled as he skidded around a corner. 

When would this madness end?

— — — 

“Prince Roman!” the Dragon Witch called out, her voice reverberating through the city. “Show yourself and face me!” 

She hurled a spell at the city walls, and they buckled and folded beneath the weight of her magic. She stretched out her wings and roared, the very sound of her fury sending a squad of guards who were approaching to draw back in fear. A few of the gate guards tried to stand their ground, but she batted them away easily with a swing of her tail. 

Slowly, she stalked into the city, giving the peasants in the streets plenty of time to run screaming from her mighty presence. The slower and more dramatic she was in her approach, the more time it would give Prince Roman to muster his entire guard and ride out to face her. 

After a few minutes of her lazy destruction, the sound of battle horns rang out in the distance, and the Dragon Witch smiled. Looking up, she caught sight of Prince Roman’s black and red banner fluttering in the breeze, signaling that her quarry was coming within her grasp.

“Ready, little hero?” she asked quietly. She felt the grip of the human sitting on her back tighten. 

“As I’ll ever be,” came the answer, and the Dragon Witch chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured. “Just stick to the script we practiced and you’ll be fine.” 

Prince Roman came into view then, and she had to give him credit where it was due. Even in this mindset, when the very fabric of her reality was changed because of his pain and anger and frustration, he was personally leading the charge against her. How many tyrant kings would send their armies out to die in a battle that they wouldn’t dare to risk themselves?

He wants so badly to be good, she thought as the prince stared up at her, his face twisted in a look of disgust. Not just good. Perfect. If only he could see the truth. 

“So it comes down to this!” Roman called up in a loud, clear voice. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you capable of this level of betrayal, Logan.”

He spat the name out like it was poison, and the Dragon Witch felt her passenger tense. 

You can do this, little hero, she thought. Save us all. 

“Prince Roman!” Logan’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the Dragon Witch couldn’t help the small swell of pride she felt at the sound. 

“Release your prisoners and surrender, or see your realm destroyed!” 

— — — 

Roman stared up in disbelief as the Dragon Witch sneered down at him. Of all the possible outcomes, of all the ways that he’d expected a confrontation with the last remaining free Light Side to go, he’d never expected this. 

Logan sat on the Dragon Witch’s back, staring down at Roman with a determined expression on his face. He looked almost comical, in his simple polo shirt, tie, and glasses while riding atop such a majestic and mighty beast, but Roman wasn’t in the mood to find humor in the situation. 

“Release my prisoners?” Roman repeated. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, we will destroy the realm,” Logan repeated simply. 

“If you think that I and my forces won’t be able to defeat the Dragon Witch before she destroys the city, let alone the realm, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Logan frowned, tilting his head. 

“You would risk your entire world’s existence, rather than accept defeat?”

“I’ve not been defeated yet!” Roman shot back. “Besides, I made this world. If it is destroyed, then I will simply make it again. Your threat is meaningless!”

“And the lives of the people living in it?” Logan demanded. “Are they meaningless too?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the world split apart. Purple lightning filled the sky, and he let out a cry of anguish as a wave of emotion slammed into the walls he’d placed up between his realm and Thomas. 

There was the same fear and anxiety from Virgil as there had been before, but there was also sadness, doubt, and guilt, manifesting in bright blue flashes throughout the storm. The guilt was somehow even more debilitating than the fear, and as he fought to keep the emotions from reaching Thomas, he could feel his grip on the realm itself slipping. 

No… he thought, desperately trying to hold on to his composure. No, no, no… 

— — — 

It has to be perfect. If it’s not perfect, then I’m just a fraud, I’ve basically been lying to my fans this entire time, and I can’t let that be true, I won’t let them down like that, it has to be perfect.

Thomas let out a gasp as his creative flow slammed to a halt, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. 

“It will be good enough,” he said aloud to his empty room, but the swirling thoughts of dread and despair only grew stronger. 

But what if it isn’t? What if you’ll never make anything worth watching again and all the sacrifices you’ve made, all the friendships you’ve harmed along the way, all of that will have been for nothing? Your dreams will never come true and your friends will all abandon you. You’ve never really been that good a person anyway, why on earth would they stay? You’ll end up all alone for the rest of your life, and it will be your fault.

“What is going on?” 

Thomas started to reach out for his sides, but he wasn’t sure who exactly to summon. Who could be responsible for this type of thinking? He’d never felt like this before, as though his thoughts were being forcibly pulled out of his control, except…

Except for that time when Virgil had ducked out. He hadn’t been as aware of it, but his thoughts had felt just like this: foreign and strange and fully divorced from what he was directly experiencing.

Thomas frowned, and decided that the best thing to do would be to summon all the sides together. He started to reach out with his mind, but before he could contact anyone specific, somebody appeared in the corner of his vision. 

Unfortunately, it was the last side he wanted to see. 

“Janus?” he asked. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I think you should take a break, Thomas,” Janus said quietly. “Put the laptop away and try to get some rest.”

“What? No,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I need to keep working on this, it’s my best idea ever. It could completely change the course of my creative career, I just have to get these feelings under control and then I’ll–” 

“Thomas,” Janus interrupted sharply. “You’ve been working for fifteen hours straight.” 

Thomas glanced at the time on his laptop and was startled to see that Janus was right; it was nearly three in the morning, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d stopped to take a break. 

“You need to stop,” Janus said, his voice firm. “Your magnum opus can wait until tomorrow.” 

“I guess…” Thomas said slowly. “But what’s going on with the others? I felt…strange, just now.” 

“Get some sleep,” Janus said. “If everything goes right, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Thomas frowned, giving Janus a skeptical look. 

“Is that my Deceitful side lying to me, or is it the truth?”

“At the end of the day, does that really matter?” Janus asked with a tight smile. “Either way, you need the rest.” 

“I suppose,” Thomas said, stifling a yawn even as he spoke. 

Janus watched as he closed his laptop and got up, a strange expression on his face. Thomas tried not to pay him much attention, quickly swapping his jeans out for some pajama pants before falling into bed. 

“Summon the others tomorrow,” Janus said as Thomas closed his eyes. “By then, they should have things straightened out.”

Thomas was already drifting off, and he felt more than heard Janus’s final words. 

“I hope.”

— — — 

Roman was losing his control. He looked up, and he could see the imagination around him beginning to crumble away. He noticed bits and pieces from his room, the bright white of his bedspread, the shine of the lights around his mirror, the blood red of his sash where he’d thrown it on the floor. The fantasy around him– his soldiers, his city, the Dragon Witch, even Logan himself– it was all flickering in and out of existence as the mental barrage continued. 

“NO!” 

Roman stopped trying to channel the emotions away and instead closed his eyes and pushed, forcing his mental walls back up, stronger and better than before. 

“You won’t take this from me!”  

He opened his eyes, only to see that the outburst of energy had reverted the Dragon Witch into her human form. She stood before him, leaning heavily against her magic staff, Logan now on his hands and knees at her side. Roman drew his sword, pointing it at the pair with a shaking hand. 

“You. Can’t. Take this from me!” 

Logan’s entire body was trembling, but he looked up and met Roman’s gaze, glaring at him even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“You’re insane,” he whispered. 

Roman let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“If you just now figured that out, then you’re…” he trailed off, looking down at the shaking side. 

He had begun to fade away as Roman’s control over the imagination loosened, but he was fully solid again now. His breath was ragged and his skin was pale, as though he’d just attempted to run a marathon while running a fever.  

“You’re…not part of this realm,” Roman said slowly. “You’re part of Thomas. You shouldn’t have disappeared.” 

Logan still looked ill, but at Roman’s words he pushed himself to his feet. 

“What was that word he used?” Logan asked, looking over at the Dragon Witch, and a small, triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked back to Roman. “Checkmate.”

Roman’s eyes widened, then the Dragon Witch lashed out suddenly, her staff glowing as she swung it towards him in a wide arc. Roman threw his sword up and blocked her strike, and her spell went ricocheting off through the city.

For a moment, all his attention was on the fight, on blocking and parrying and counter attacking, but he’d sparred with the Dragon Witch dozens of times, in both of her forms. By the third strike from the witch, he’d settled into a familiar rhythm, and turned his attention back to Logan…or what he’d thought was Logan.

“Who are you?” he shrieked. “You can’t be him! He shouldn’t have disappeared! So you must be–” 

“Meaningless?” asked a voice he’d never heard before.

Roman pushed the Dragon Witch away and took a step back, staring in disbelief as Logan’s form began to flicker, just like the rest of the imagination had, just like all the other characters Roman had designed to fill his vast fantasy world had done when he was losing his control over the scene. But he was back in control now; this shifting had another cause. He’d barely had enough time to form the thought before the image of Logan was gone. 

In his place stood a barefoot girl in a tattered dress, her hair a wild mass of curls and her fists clenched at her sides. She looked somehow…familiar, and Roman tilted his head. 

“Do I know you?” 

The girl didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He remembered now, for the longer he looked at her the more he recognized where she’d come from. When he’d first created the town surrounding the castle, he’d decided it needed citizens to make it feel more lived in. He’d made soldiers, peasants, shopkeepers, tradesmen and artisans, and then, to make the place more realistic, he’d made a handful of street urchins. 

He’d scarcely given the creations any thought after forming them and setting them loose in the city, and why would he? They weren’t meant to be important; the girl had no family, no backstory, no real role to play in his realm. So how on earth had she ended up here, fighting alongside the Dragon Witch and impersonating one of Thomas’s sides?

She looked up at him and he could see fear in her eyes, but there was a quiet strength too. The girl folded her arms and took a step towards him, and the Dragon Witch held out an arm, as if to shield her.

“Careful, little hero,”she murmured, and Roman looked back and forth between the two in disbelief. The girl ignored the witch and took another step, looking up at Roman with a determined expression.

“Like I said,” she repeated. “Checkmate.”

Roman turned and ran, knowing even as he did so that he’d never make it back to the palace in time. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should have known something was wrong! Why else would the Dragon Witch attack now when she’d never attacked during the Red Sun before? Why else, except to draw him and all his guards away from the palace, leaving the castle vulnerable to an unseen enemy, a more crafty enemy… 

A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up as he ran to see the witch in her dragon form flying along above him, the little girl on her back once more. She quickly overtook him, and landed in the market square, spreading her wings out and blocking his path to the castle. 

“You’re too late, Prince Roman,” the Dragon Witch declared.

“I’ve defeated you before,” Roman cried, shifting into a fighting stance. “I can defeat you again!”

“You can defeat me all you like,” the Dragon Witch replied, her mocking voice echoing his own inner thoughts. “But you’ll never be able to outsmart him.” 

— — — 

Logan had no idea what was causing Roman’s realm to fall apart, but he was exceptionally grateful for it. 

The few remaining guards inside the castle were too overwhelmed by the effects of their very fabric of reality unraveling around them to notice a small girl running through the corridors searching for the dungeons. 

He found the correct door after only a few minutes of searching; Roman’s penchant for the dramatic meant the one door that very obviously looked as though it led to a dungeon did in fact lead to a dungeon, and he pulled the vial of acid the Dragon Witch had given him out of his pocket. Technically, the Dragon Witch had described the liquid inside as a magical potion that would dissolve any substance besides its own container, but the ‘potion’ was functionally identical to a freakishly effective vial of hydrochloric acid. 

Tomato, Solanum lycopersicum, Logan thought as he poured a few drops onto the door handle of the dungeon. After a moment of sizzling, the lock dissolved away and he pushed the door open. 

The room was dark, faint torchlight flickering ominously off the stone walls. Six cells lined the room, and the two at the end of the row were occupied. 

“Patton?” he called. “Virgil?” 

The prisoners looked up, and relief flooded through him when he saw their faces. 

“Maddie?” Patton cried, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Who is that?” Virgil whispered to Patton, but Logan ignored the question. 

“Not Maddie,” he said breathlessly. “It’s me.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another vial, downing its contents in a single gulp. A strange tingling sensation enveloped his body, and he had to admit that in this case, he didn’t have a scientific explanation for the shapeshifting potion that the Dragon Witch had given him.

“Logan?” Virgil asked in disbelief. 

“Watch your hands,” Logan said, stepping forward to pour the remainder of the acid on the locks on their cell doors. 

“I knew you’d figure something out,” Patton said, his eyes shining with pride. “I just knew it.” 

In a moment, both cells were open, and Patton rushed out, pulling Logan and Virgil both into a bone crushing hug. For once, Logan didn’t think, didn’t analyze or worry, he just wrapped his arms around his friends and let himself slump into them. 

They were all safe, and they were all together. For one, shining moment, that was all that mattered.

“Are the two of you alright?” he asked when he eventually pulled back. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Patton shook his head. 

“We’re fine, Logan,” he said, and Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“My head will be a bit sore for a few days, but I’ll live. What about you? We heard the Dragon Witch attacking…” 

“I’m fine,” Logan reassured him. “In fact, the Dragon Witch attack is my own doing.”

“What?” Virgil exclaimed. 

“The potion…” Patton said, his eyes widening. “That’s where you got that potion that made you look like Maddie, isn’t it?” 

“Technically, the potion made me look like myself, as it was an antidote to the spell that she cast to make me look like Maddie–” 

“Hang on, where is Maddie?” Patton interrupted. 

“She’s with the Dragon Witch…pretending to be me.” Patton’s jaw dropped open, and Logan grimaced. “I know! I tried to tell her that it would be safer if she stayed behind in the cave, but she insisted. She said that the distraction would hold Roman’s attention for longer if I appeared to be aiding the Dragon Witch directly in her assault.”

“Back up,” Virgil said, holding up his hands. “You let the Dragon Witch cast a spell on you?” 

“She is Roman’s biggest villain,” Logan said simply. “Asking her to help us defeat him was the only logical choice left.”

“To be fair,” Patton admitted, “It’s not that much crazier than what we tried to do.” 

Logan frowned. 

“What you tried to do?” 

“We’ll tell you on the way out,” Virgil said. “Right now, we should move, before the guards come back.” 

Logan nodded, and the three turned and began making their way out of the dungeon. 

“Remember what happened on the bridge?” Patton asked as they climbed the stairs, and Logan nodded. “Well, I had a feeling that it wasn’t Roman who caused it…I thought it might have been Virgil. And it turns out I was right!” 

“You caused the Imagination to fall apart?” Logan asked, looking back at Virgil. “How?”

Virgil shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure. I had an overload of anxiety, but something was blocking me from channeling it away the way I normally do.” 

“Roman’s cutting off our access to Thomas,” Patton added. “I think that’s also why we can’t sink out. Reach out for him now; you can’t feel him, can you?” 

They’d reached the top of the stairs, and Logan paused. Normally, he was at least subconsciously aware of whatever external stimuli Thomas was experiencing, so that he could filter through the information and assist with decision making. He’d been so distracted by the quest to save Virgil and Patton that he hadn’t even noticed the lack of that awareness.

“I can’t,” he said aloud, and Patton nodded. 

“I can’t either. Whatever Roman’s done, it’s making him our only access point to Thomas. So we’ve been waiting for the right time to try overloading that access point.” 

“When we heard the Dragon Witch attacking, we thought it would be our best shot,” Virgil said. “And for a minute there I thought we would actually do it, but just before we could break through, the wall went back up again. Somehow, Roman was still stronger than the two of us put together.”

“Perhaps…” Logan mused. “But nonetheless, the two of you did have a strong effect on the Imagination. I wonder…would it be successful if all three of us tried to breach that barrier?” 

As they spoke, Logan led them outside and through the palace gardens to the servants’ gate in the side of the wall. The three stepped out onto the street, and Virgil looked around hesitantly. 

“So…now what?” he asked. 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a familiar roar sounding from the market square. He grimaced, and looked back at his companions.

“Our original plan was to try and sneak out of the city. But simply escaping from Roman isn’t actually going to solve this problem.” 

Patton glanced at Virgil, and at a small tilt of the anxious side’s head, he locked eyes with Logan and nodded. 

“You’re right,” he said firmly. “This whole thing happened because we’ve been ignoring this problem. The only way we’re going to bring an end to this is if we confront it head on.”

“Guess we’ll get a chance to test out your hypothesis, Logan,” Virgil added as they hurried towards the square.  

“If it comes to that,” Logan agreed. “I do still hope that we’ll be able to use reason with Roman, though after all we’ve done to reach this point, I don’t know if that will be effective.” 

“Probably not,” Patton said quietly, and Logan glanced at him. 

Patton met his eyes for a moment, and Logan was surprised at the amount of melancholy he saw there. All through their ordeal, Patton had maintained a level of optimism that bordered on recklessness. As much as Logan had found that to be unrealistic, he also had relied on it for strength more than he’d realized. That Roman had somehow managed to dampen that was almost more offensive than the fact that he’d locked Patton and Virgil up.

Before Logan could think of an appropriate response, the trio rounded the corner into the square, then immediately skidded to a halt. Patton let out a gasp and Virgil swore under his breath; all Logan could do was stand there blankly and take in the scene.

Guards in full regalia lined the square, blocking off every possible avenue of escape. The Dragon Witch lay sprawled out on the ground, a deep wound in her side causing her breath to come in quick, pained gasps. 

Roman stood over her fallen body, and the red sunlight shining down on his silver breastplate made it look as if he was bathed in blood. His face was twisted in a terrible mix of fury and triumph, and he brandished his sword at his defeated foe, as though daring her to stand and challenge him again. 

She was in her dragon form, but as her wound spilled blood down onto the cobblestones, that body fizzled away, revealing the humanoid woman Logan had first met outside her lair. Her robes were torn and bloody and her face was deathly pale, but her eyes still blazed with a defiant fire as she stared up at her opponent.

“Any final words, Witch?” Roman asked in a steely voice.  

The Dragon Witch opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a high pitched cry rang out through the square.

“Stay back!” 

Maddie darted forward, putting herself between Roman and the witch’s body, gripping Dragon Witch’s staff tightly in both hands. The thing was nearly twice her height and she brandished it clumsily, but Roman still paused in his advance. 

“Out of my way, girl,” he said, but Maddie shook her head.

“I said back!” she insisted, shaking the staff towards him. 

“Run along now, little hero,” the Dragon Witch coughed, reaching weakly towards the girl as if to pull her back. “Your part is done.” 

Maddie shook her head again, and Roman frowned. 

“I won’t tell you again. Stand. Down,” he said coldly. 

Maddie shifted her feet and gripped the staff more tightly, but she did not move, and Roman sighed, raising his sword. 

“Enough!” Logan shouted before he could bring the blade down.

Roman looked up, his eyes flashing with hatred as they landed on his three fellow sides. Logan’s confidence faltered as the full force of that glare landed on him and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not enough? I have no more tricks up my sleeve…if this plan fails, then what are we going to do?

Logan’s racing thoughts were pulled to a stop with a sudden, simple touch. He looked down and saw that Patton had stepped forward and intertwined their fingers. The moral side glanced up at him and nodded, a slight waver in his smile the only sign betraying his own nerves. Virgil stepped up beside them, locking eyes with Logan as he wordlessly took Patton’s other hand. An understanding passed between them, and Logan smiled, giving Patton’s hand an encouraging squeeze. He looked back to the square, and took a deep breath.“Enough, Roman!” he repeated, his voice steady and strong. “This ends now!” 

— — —

AN: So I know that LAST time I updated I said I wanted to update the fic more and then almost 5 years passed, but I can say with confidence that THIS YEAR chapter 10 at least will be released, if not the entire end of the fic (I won't actually know whether the conclusion takes one or two chapters to write until I, you know, write it, but it's outlined, I promise). I've been trying to finish this story for so long, and I know it looks like nothing happened between these updates, but rest assured, I thought about this story and how much I wanted to finish it often during these past few years. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and thank you to anyone who still has stuck around to read this, even after all this time. I love each and every one of y'all <3

(If you were on the Our Own Villain taglist, I will be tagging you in a reblog, tagging has changed so much in four years that my taglist copy-paste doesn't even work anymore)

[moog-rt]

ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.3]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter Two

➨ Chapter Three

Next: Chapter Four

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

A/N: And the moment we've all been waiting for!!

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER THREE

You staggered down the hall as best you could. The majority of your joints had been encased in hardened clumps of clay from your last match. It turned what should have been a mindless task into quite the obstacle.

Carefully putting all of your weight onto one leg, you would swing the other in front of you before transitioning your weight to that one. It was tedious, as there were a couple times your balance was off and you’d wobble for a few seconds before regaining your footing.

You felt like you were practicing for the next Lego movie.

Every few minutes, you would pause to hammer at the clay deposits with a metal water bottle you’d found on a bench. You didn’t know whose it was, but you’d be sure to return it once you were done.

Part of you hoped it belonged to the bastard student that put you in this situation to begin with.

You understood that the UA Sports Festival was all about competing and whatnot, but the guy could have at least removed the clay once the round was over. Now, you were stuck being somewhat incapacitated until you got it all off.

You were barely making a dent with the water bottle, so you prayed that the nurse had something in her arsenal that could at least help you wiggle out.

You leaned down once more to start battering away at the large clump around your knee. By the time you realized your footing was off, it was too late as you slowly began falling forward. You yelped and waved your arms around in hope of regaining your balance, but it was all for naught.

Your body thudded to the floor, and you could hear metal ringing as the water bottle bounced and rolled out of reach. Groaning, you rolled onto your back and sat up as best you could. It took a moment before you concluded that you likely wouldn’t be able to get up without being able to bend your knees.

Maybe if you pushed yourself into a split, you could slowly inch your legs closer and closer together?

No. Even if you could get into the position, you would only be able to push yourself up as far as your arms could reach, then you’d be stuck again.

Finally, you rolled onto your belly, deciding that imitating an inch worm would be your best bet. You were able to make some progress as you pushed your butt into the air and walked backwards with your hands.

You were almost to a 90 degree angle before the clay plastered to the front of your shoes lost traction and began to slide away. Cursing under your breath, you quickened the movements of your arms, but rather than pushing you up, you were pushing your entire body backwards down the hall.

Until your feet caught onto something behind you.

Tilting your upper body around to look, you saw a pair of legs, and your feet were lined up perfectly with theirs. Immediately, you dropped back down to the ground and turned onto your butt to face the teenage boy. Your face was already burning up from being caught in such an awkward position, and when your eyes met the stranger’s, the heat flourished to your ears and neck.

“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry…” You adjusted your arms to better support you sitting up while you showed off a lopsided grin. “I just had the–uh–sudden urge to do some yoga. No one was around so I figured there was no better time than the present.”

The boy, no doubt an upperclassman, with crimson eyes and jet-black hair stared at you for a moment before kneeling down.

“Downward dog?” he asked as he reached forward to touch one of the massive clay chunks engulfing your knees. “I thought that pose was supposed to be stationary.”

“I took some creative liberty with it.” You looked away for a moment before you quickly jerked your leg away from him. “What are you doing?”

His eyes were harsh as they flickered up to your face. He grabbed hold of your leg and pulled it back toward him, causing you to fall back.

“Hey!” you yelped. Pushing yourself back up onto your elbows, you shot a glare at the stranger.

He paid you no mind and cupped one of your knees with his hand. “Helping. You were clearly struggling.”

“I think you and I have different definitions of help—"

The clay began crumbling away as if it were made of sand.

“Woah…” You stared as he freed you from your earthen shackles.

You bent your knees and elbows once all the clay was removed. Standing up never felt so good. You turned to thank your savior only to see he was already walking away.

“Uh, hey!” you shouted and trotted after him.

He looked at you from the corner of his eyes when you matched his pace.

“Thanks for that. I was gonna go to the nurse, but I don’t think she would have been much help,” you gleamed, watching him with a wide smile.

“It was no problem,” he said while keeping his gaze ahead of him as you trotted along at his side.

♡ ♡

Your footsteps echoed through the ominous hallway as you kept pace with Shigaraki. You were certain he thought you were out of your damn mind after you regaled him with all that had happened to you. He seemed the most interested when you expressed your detest for the ‘heroes’ of this society.

“So…when did you dye your hair?” you asked to break the painfully uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye but kept walking. “Never, why would I?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” you said and made a gesture towards your own head. “But your hair used to be black. What happened?”

“I don’t remember,” he grumbled, scrunching up his nose. “That was a long time ago.”

“Your hair’s supposed to be black.”

He made an exasperated noise and began walking faster. You had been bouncing questions off of him for the majority of your journey. He had been patient with you for the most part, but you knew you could only push him so far before he got fed up.

“Hey!” You quickened your pace to catch up. “Tenko, wait—”

You thudded into him when he stopped abruptly and spun around to face you.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, piercing into you with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have to tell you again.”

Your gaze bounced between both of his eyes before you stepped back. The two of you stayed that way for a moment before he turned around with a huff and continued down the hall. You followed in silence.

Shortly after your public freak-out, he corrected you for calling him Tenko. He went by Shigaraki Tomura here. You weren’t sure why he took on the surname of your sensei, but that was the least of your concerns. He also insisted that the people who were heroes have always been heroes, and the same went for the villains.

You were beginning to come to terms with the fact you were most likely in some kind of alternate reality. It wasn’t comforting by any means, but it was the best explanation you’d come up with thus far.

\Your eyes bore into Shigaraki’s back. He was vague when you asked where he was taking you. However, the warehouse you were in now was the same one that filled the space your agency once occupied. It felt somewhat eerie. You were walking through the ghost of the building that should have been there with a person who should be dead.

In a weird way, it was also comforting.

He led you through another open corridor and stopped at a large set of double doors. He paused for a moment, trying to be subtle as he glanced back at you, before pushing one of the doors open for you to walk through.

You waited for him to go in first, but you quickly got the message he was waiting on you. He stared you down as you passed by him. You felt as though you were under a microscope, like he was analyzing even your slightest movements and expressions.

To be fair, you were staring, as well. He was clearly much different than the person you remembered, and you had yet to figure out just how much of him was the same. You loved Tenko, but you also knew he could be touchy at times, so it was best for you to test the waters before diving in.

Upon entering the dilapidated room, you froze.

You had dreamt more dreams of your old friends than you could count. And not even one could compare to what you were seeing right now. You never would have imagined you’d find yourself in a room with everyone all together again. But here they were.

Everyone looked a little different, but even so, the familiarity that rushed through your veins made your eyes prick with tears. Your heartrate was picking up as your eyes darted around the room.

Years. It had been years since you’d last seen half of the people standing before you. You’ve stood beside them countless times before, and you’d imagined it many times since. However, in this moment, you were at a loss for words.

How often is it that you get to be reunited with your late comrades?

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—when your eyes landed on Jin, and you choked on whatever words were about to come out. Your throat constricted. It felt like everything around you was fuzzy, but it was clear around Jin. He was all you could see.

His death was something you would never forgive yourself for. Had you been where you were supposed to be, it never would have happened. Instead, you were distracted and acting on impulse. By the time you’d finally gotten to his side, it was far too late. In the last few moments you had with him, he never blamed you, not once, but you knew. You knew that you could have changed that outcome.

The memory of the way he had clung to you and wept was haunting.

You took a shaky step forward, your bottom lip quivering. You would have embraced him, but he beat you to it. His arms were wrapped so tightly around your shoulders, and you had to stand on your tiptoes as you were raised above the ground.

He choked on a sob of his own. “I knew you couldn’t really be dead. Good riddance!” Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, dragging you down with him, and began rubbing his face against the top of your head.

“Jin…” you whispered.

“You really got us good. I totally fell for it! Worst prank ever!”

Another pair of arms grappled you from behind and their tear-soaked face pressed against the back of your neck.

“I couldn’t believe it at first…” you recognized the voice as Toga’s, “but you’re really here!”

“I don’t—What are you talking about?” you stuttered. Your body trembled under the weight of your friends, and your mind was reeling as you tried to comprehend what they were saying. “Why would you say that? Why would you think I died?”

“Because we buried you ourselves. That’s why.” You looked up to see Iguchi walking towards you, his face a blank slate you couldn’t read. “So that begs the question, how did you dig yourself out of your own grave?”

“Iguchi—”

“You’ve never called me by my real name,” he cut in, raising his chin to look down his nose at you. “Who are you?”

Your confusion vanished, and all you could see was red. Your body grew impossibly tense, fists balled so tightly your nails would leave crescents on your palms.

“That’s such bullshit,” you spat as you pulled away from the arms of your friends to stand up abruptly. Your glare was booring through his thick skin. “What else would I have called you? Spinner? We’ve never used our hero names outside of work.”

He drew his head back as a scowl etched across his face.

Maybe he was like Shigaraki, and he created a new name for himself. Like Touya, too, now that you thought about it.

“Let’s not get too heated,” Atsuhiro spoke up with his hands raised as if to break apart a fight. “The circumstances may be out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean we should be jumping down each other’s throats.”

“You don’t even look the same,” Spinner added, ignoring Atsuhiro’s attempt at abating the growing conflict. “There’s no way you could pass as a teenager.”

“Okay, well, that’s just rude,” you bit back after taking a solid blow to your self-esteem.

“Can we go back for a second?”

You and Spinner both looked over to Shigaraki, mildly surprised after he seemed to have taken a backseat in this reunion of sorts. He pushed off the door frame where you entered the room and stalked towards you.

“To the part about using hero names,” he continued, stopping just a few feet away. “See, what you explained to me earlier gave me the impression that you felt the heroes’ actions were akin to a villain’s. What you’re implying now sounds a lot more like—”

“We’re heroes,” you cut in. The fire that had ignited inside you—the hope that everything wasn’t as warped as you initially perceived—was dwindling. “You’re all supposed to be heroes.”

Your eyes became softer, not out of sadness but of exhaustion. You were tired of all the mental hoops you were throwing yourself through trying to piece this new reality together. You certainly didn’t have the energy to force these people to believe in you.

Your spirit was crawling in on itself, and you wanted so badly to turn your back on everything that distressed you. It wouldn’t be impossible to walk away from your current engagement, but you’d still be forced to come to terms with the rest of this messed up society. You were surrounded by stressors with no place to hide.

“What on Earth would make you think that?” Shigaraki glowered at you.

“You mean, like, heroes to each other?” Toga chipped. She wrapped her body around you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “’Cause you’re totally my hero! You saved Jin and me from those nasty gangsters!”

“The Hassaikai?” you asked. You were pretty sure that’s what she was referring to. You remembered when the three of you had to face Mimic and the pillars he tried to crush you with. They would have killed both Jin and Toga had you not frozen them in time. “That did happen.”

“Of course it did. That’s the whole reason we thought you died!” Jin said as he threw his arms out for emphasis.

You shook your head. “No. I would have died if you two hadn’t saved me.”

“Ah, yes, just as I remember! That’s not how it went.” Jin waved his arms in denial. “We tried, but you were too far away.”

“I was far, yeah, but you guys were able to get me out of the way in time,” you corrected, “I was hospitalized because of the injuries, but I didn’t die.”

Jin didn’t respond. His hands fell to his sides and his shoulders dropped. You could feel Toga’s embrace tense before she slipped away from you. You glanced back at her, but her eyes were covered by her bangs.

“Look, I’m not the same person you know,” you sighed and walked back a few steps so you could face everyone, “But I remember dealing with Overhaul and his people. It was years ago, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same as what you’re talking about. I was in a coma for weeks following that fight, so it only makes sense that I—she would be in a hospital somewhere…”

Your voice fizzled away as you reflected on what Spinner had said earlier. They never lost your body. You weren’t considered missing to them. If they really did burry you, then there would be no doubt about your condition.

And if they hadn’t found your body, they wouldn’t be so quick to claim you were dead. Granted, you were assuming they had similar mindsets to the people you remembered them to be.

“I can’t be dead, that doesn’t make sense,” you murmured, shaking your head and backing away further.

You had thought that everyone’s roles within society were the only things different about this new timeline. Magne died here around the same time she did when you had lived through it. From what you read, the ambush on the Shie Hassaikai was conducted almost exactly the same as you remembered. Everything else was the same. Everyone was alive at the time they should be, but you were the outlier.

What happened differently here that resulted in your death rather than measly mutilation?

“The fact you’re standing here is what's really perplexing,” Shigaraki remarked, looking you up and down before his eyes settled on yours.

“I think…I’m pretty sure I was teleported,” you said with a new firmness in your voice. Subconsciously, you were pretty sure you had come to that conclusion a while ago. However, the lack of evidence that Dai Uchuu could teleport people and things across timelines made you hesitant to fully accept it.

You expected him to write off your theory as nonsense, possibly even laugh at your outlandish proposal. But Shigaraki’s gaze on you didn’t waver, didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, it seemed as though he could see right “By a quirk?” he asked. His arms unfolded, and he raised a hand to his neck, the tips of his fingers grazing along the scarred skin.

You nodded. “I had a run in with a villain whose quirk allows him to teleport objects. We never considered it could be anything more than that, but, before that point, everything was still normal.”

“Quirks have become more complex with each generation,” he remarked, looking off to the side. “It’s unlikely for such an overpowered one like that to exist, but it’s not impossible.”

He looked back at you with eyes that were no longer harsh. Your chest became light as all the stress that had accumulated over the past day withered away. You needed to sit, but before you could even consider finding somewhere to relax, there was a tug on your arm.

Toga was staring at you with wide eyes and a grin that felt all too familiar. “So, like, does that mean you’re from the future or something?”

Your eyebrows scrunched, and a corner of your lips tugged upwards. Of course that would be what caught her attention.

“I guess so. I’ve probably gone back almost three years,” you hummed.

“Ooh! Ooh! What happens between now and then?” she beamed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “Do we win?”

Your stomach churned.

The question itself was simple and could easily be answered by a civilian or governmental figure. You defeated the villains and locked them away. Society was safe for the time being, and everyone could go on with their lives as usual.

Obviously, there were some exceptions.

“If she is from the future, telling you what happens could mess everything up,” Spinner pointed out, putting a hand on his hip. “In every movie and game where they deal with time travel, they always talk about the consequences of changing the past.”

“I’m just asking what happens. I never said I’d change anything,” Toga retorted before blowing a raspberry in his direction. “Besides, if we’re heroes where she’s from, I think things are already messed up.”

The two began to bicker over the topic. Eventually, Atsuhiro joined in, bringing up the issue of paradoxes, which favored Spinner’s side of the argument. Jin seemed to do his best to follow along, taking on a supporting role for everyone involved in the conversation.

Touya had kept silent for almost the entirety of your little reunion, but you glanced over in time to see him kick off the wall he had been leaning against. He walked towards you with a lopsided grin.

“You’ve grown up nicely,” he ribbed.

Your upper lip curled at his implication. “I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

He cackled. “What, do I start going grey?”

“I’d be a little more concerned with skincare if I were you,” you snipped, crossing your arms and turning your torso away from him.

Shigaraki was mostly keeping to himself on the sidelines. He looked like he was listening in on the argument between Toga and Spinner, but his eyes squinted after your retort, giving away his mild amusement. Touya followed your gaze and scoffed.

“You say that as if I’m the only one with skin issues,” he said with a raised voice, still facing Shigaraki.

At that, Shigaraki’s eyes shot over to Touya and narrowed.

“Do you have a preference for what I call you?” you inquired with a raised brow. You were heckled by two people about names at this point, so you might as well make it customary to check before offending anyone else.

“Dabi,” he stated in a flat tone. His teasing demeanor dropped completely. “If you call me anything else, you’ll be joining the fucked up skin club.”

Your lips pursed. “Noted.”

“What’s your plan until you go back to wherever you came from?” he asked, crossing his arms and turning away to face the intensifying commotion the others were causing.

That was something you still needed to work out. You couldn’t stay here forever, nor did you want to. Seeing friends of old was wonderful and all, but you still had a life you needed to get back to. You had a job to do and bills to pay. You weren’t sure if time was actively passing back home, but you didn’t want to take any chances.

Finding Dai Uchuu shouldn’t be too difficult with the right amount of research and public records. It would be tedious work, but you didn’t have many other options. Roaming city streets with your fingers crossed that you’d run into him would be like finding a needle in a haystack. He could have even fled to another country for all you knew.

“I stayed at a hotel last night. I’ll probably keep the room until I find the guy that sent me here. I was out to buy clothes and toiletries before—”

“You’re staying with us,” Shigaraki stated, walking up to the two of you.

Dabi cackled. “You’re really not wasting any time now that she’s your age.”

Shigaraki stood taller and raised his chin before turning to face you, opting to cut his comrade out of the conversation. “You said it yourself. We don’t actually know you, and it would be stupid to let you go off on your own. You’re a hero, which means you put the public’s best interest before all else.”

“I’m not so sure the public’s interest aligns with me here. Still, I understand where you’re coming from,” you conceded.

“Dabi, tell the others we’re done. You, come,” he demanded. He didn’t wait for a response and walked out of the room.

You found yourself, once again, trailing behind him. He led you back through the corridor and down a staircase to the basement level of the sketchy old building. You looked around at the various pipes that protruded through the cracked concrete walls. Some of them dripped, creating murky puddles that you had to dodge or hop over.

You got a bad feeling you were going to end up in a cell of sorts.

He did say he didn’t want you wandering freely…

The two of you stopped in front of a rotting wooden door that likely led to a closet or electrical room. However, he opened it to reveal a much larger space that appeared finished with painted drywall and linoleum flooring. There were no pipes to be seen aside from beneath a faucet that helped make up a kitchenette.

The room was clearly lived in from the wrappers, takeout containers, and stray articles of clothing that littered the ground around a beaten-up pair of old sofas. The cabinet door beneath the sink was missing, and some of the others looked as though one good tug could take them off their hinges. The countertops were also overdue for a good wipe down.

“Have you all been living here?” you asked, doing your best to hide your displeasure.

The closest you’d gotten to living with roommates was when UA forced all its students into dorms. Even then, you were all expected to clean up after yourselves and upkeep the place. 

It at least looked like everyone got their own rooms judging by the hallway that branched off of the common area. You didn’t count, but there seemed to be enough doors for everybody. A few of them were open, allowing you to see a bedroom that was fairly put together. Right next to it was a room that looked as though a bomb went off inside.

“You’ll share a room with one of us until you figure out how to fix your whole…situation.” Shigaraki went over to one of the couches to pull a balled-up blanket from between the cushions and threw at you without warning. You only partially caught it, most ended up draped over your head.

After a moment of befuddlement, you slipped the blanket off to see him standing in front of you. Your heart pounded as you watched his eyes roam over your face before looking down at your chest. You could feel an embarrassed blush begin to bubble in your cheeks.

He reached forward and pulled at the shoulder of your shirt. “I still don’t get why you’d wear something like this.”

You scoffed, swatting his hand away. “I thought we already went over this. My options were limited.”

“And that was really the best thing you could find?” he rolled his eyes.

“You know I was actively trying to buy something else to wear instead when you jumped me,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

“Toga has too many clothes. Go put something of hers on,” he demanded before turning away from you to plop himself on one of the couches. The creaking of the wood and springs under his weight made you cringe. It was only a matter of time before that old thing gave out.

“Or I can go back to my hotel to get my stuff, and I can buy a thing or two while I’m out,” you bargained as you paced over to him and leaned against the arm of the sofa.

“I told you, you’re not leaving.”

“Just go with me if you’re really that concerned,” you proposed, tilting your head with and equally crooked grin. “You owe me a shopping trip.”

Shigaraki had been trying to appear busy by fiddling with a TV remote, but his eyes flew back to you. He just stared until you raised your eyebrows expectantly. His attention went back to the remote. “We can figure something out later.”

♡ ♡ ♡

➨ Chapter Four

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff

[aesrryssa]

An Arranged Love (Bakugou x Reader | Arranged Marriage AU!)

Summary : Being left pregnant by her Ex-Boyfriend, to keep the good name and the reputation of the family, Y/N was arranged to marry Dynamight, The number 2 Hero in Japan. Will they found love for each other further in the marriage or will they hate?

Warning : Bad words, pregnancy, break up, arguments, fight, family issues & force marriage, brand names are being mentioned.

A/N : This is my first time writing a story so I’m sorry if there’s any grammar error. I just wrote the first part of the prologue first because I’m afraid that it’ll be too long to read😅 Enjoy!

Taglist : @xoxo-teddybear @citrustsuki @mymysenpai @abbylouamanda

Prologue: Part 1 | Chapter List🕊

I look out of the window, looking at the busy street in front of me. Sitting by the window really helps you to distract yourself from current time. looking at what people are doing.

Like a man wearing a suit walking to work, a group of girls talking to each other while carrying their shopping bags, a couple with their kid holding hands, people crossing the street, cars driving by and a lady walking her dog. It is a fun way to distract yourself for a while

It’s a Friday morning. I’m sitting at the end of the cafe, where it’s hard for people to notice me. I’m wearing an all-black attire today. I don’t to pull any attention so I put on a mask and a cap. The hoodie covering my hat

I was here since half an hour ago. I’m supposed to meet someone, but it seems like they’re late.

I was distracted from my thoughts when my phone chimes. There’s a messege from Sayaka Hayashi. We’ve became best friends since elementary school. It’s been a long time since we last met. We often call each other. But lately we’ve been more busy with work and our daily life.

Saya-Chan : I’m here.

I see the door of the cafe opens and Sayaka walks in. She see me and walk towards my table. Her expression have a mix of concern and curiosity. I stand up and hug her tight. It feels so good to have someone to hug, especially in times like this. She returns the hug just as tight.

“I’m sorry for being late.” She said apologetically. “It’s okay. I know you have something to do...”. We sits across of each other. A waitress came and ask for our order. “Would you like to order, Ma’am?” She asked. “I’ll have Iced Americano. (Y/N), do you want anything?” Sayaka asked. “No, I’m good.”. The waitress go and send her order.

“(Y/N)…” Sayaka called my name. I looked at her and the looked of concern is still on her face. “Tell me, you’re not joking, right? Because this isn’t funny.” She asked worriedly. “It’s true Saya-Chan. I’m not joking.”. She’s asking about the new discovery that I just made. It’s really unbelievable, I almost didn’t believe it at first. “Oh my god…this is a lot to take…” She sighed. “Ho-How did you found out?” She asked curiously. “I have my own suspicions for the past weeks…but I just ignored it… until I feel like I have to get It checked up…” I explained to her. “But it could be wrong...” She said, still denying it. “How can’t be wrong if I’ve went to the clinic and they’ve confirmed it.” I said.

Sayaka sigh and lean back into her seat. There’s a long silents between us until Saya-Chan breaks it. “Do you know how far along are you?” She asked. “Yeah. They said that I’m 4 weeks in.” I said.

“Have you tell him about this?” She asked. The concern expression never fell from her face. I take a deep breathe “No…not yet…I don’t know how to tell him…”. There’s a pause until I continue “How can I tell him that I’m pregnant?!” I said, almost yelled. “How would he react?! You know that he doesn’t like kids! What if he leaves me?!” I’m starting to freak out. Sayaka notices the tables around us are looking at us so she calms me down. “Hey-hey! It’s ok! Relax, calm down. Deep breathes” She said and I do as she told me to.

“I’m sorry… I’m just-..” Sayaka cut me before I can finish my sentence. “It’s alright! I understand. I know that this overwhelmes you and belive me, it does for me too. But it’s going to be okay.” She said with a warm smile and reassuring tone.

That warm smile that she have always worn since elementary school never fails to make me feel better. That’s one think that Sayaka have always been good at.

I take a deep breathe “Thank you Saya-Chan…” I pause “My head is messed up right now. I almost don’t know what to do…” I said to her. Sayaka reach for my hand and put hers on top of mine. “It’s okay (Y/N), I’m always here for you. If you need anything, just tell me.” She told me. There’s warmth in her voice that always makes me calm. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.

I sigh and look up at the ceiling. ‘What should I do?…should I tell him?…what if he leaves me?… I could tell my parents, but they’ll be disappointed in me…’. I look back at Sayaka and ask “Saya-Chan, should I tell him first or should I tell my parents?”

She pause and think. After a minute, she finally answers my question. “I think you should tell him first. If you tell your parents first it’ll make the situation harder and more complicated. Especially when your relationship with them is not that good.” She said.

Right, she does have a point. Well, my family is well known for our status and wealth. My father, (F/N) (L/N), owns a big modelling agency, EL Modelling. His agency is known for their super hot, beautiful models. He have worked with a lot of designer brands like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, YSL and etc. While my mother, (M/N) (L/N), owns an entertaiment agency called RUBY Entertainment. The company is know for their strong reputation of debuting many talented and succesful idols.

Me and my brother, (B/N), worked as a model at my father’s agency. Both of us have been a model since we were a child. Since then, we were always used for product advertisements. From clothing, food, appliances to cosmetics and skincare products. We also have participated three times in a runway show for Vogue.

Seems like a pretty fun life, isn’t it? But no. Despite having the same amount success as my brother, my parents seems to favour him more than me. They always say something like “Oh! (B/n)! You always makes us proud!” Or “You did a very good job, (B/N)!”. But whenever it comes to me, it’s always “You should do better! Why can’t you do it?!” Or “Doing great? Ha! Your work is never going to be great! Do better or else!” And “Can’t you be more like (B/N)?! Look at him! He always does his work perfectly!”.

It’s not that I’m not doing my job properly. In fact, I put more efforts into my work! While he just lazying around and doing nothing! He does do something but not as much as I am! It’s not like I’m saying that I’m better without prove but it’s fact! I always try my hardest! But yet, they’ll never see it… it really disappoints me.

Since I was a kid, they’ve always belittling me. Always point out the worst in me. And that really makes me sad and disappointed in them. But I bottle up the feeling. And I’ll never want to show it. So, I do as they say.

“Yeah.” I said. Agreed to what Sayaka said. “I guess I’ll do that…” I say as I look down at my lap and put a hand on my stomach. Sayaka squeezes my hand and I look at her. “Remember, I’m always here for you.” She said with that smile again. I smile back and nod.

Her drink arrives and we talk a little bit about work before we go to pay at the cashier. Getting out of the cafe, we hug each other in front of the entrance door before we say our good-byes.

We go our seperate ways. Sayaka said that she has something to do at work so she’s going to the office. I don’t have anything scheduled for me today. I’ve asked them to give me about a two weeks off from work. I’ve been really sick these past few weeks. And you can already tell what’s the cause of it.

I’m waiting for my car outside of the cafe. After 10 minutes of waiting, it finally arrives.

I hop in the car and it drives from the cafe. I’m heading home. I’m currently living in a Condominium I owned here in Tokyo. Living here makes it easier for me to stay away from my family. I got more privacy and space. And there’s no one besides me who lives here. No servants, not a single person live with me. Just my self.

The car stops as we reach the traffic light. I watch as people are walking using the zebra crossing and cars waiting for the light to turn green.

I sit here in the back seat, thinking. ‘How am I suppose to tell him?…How am I suppose to tell Ren?…’.

Ren Inoue…we’ve been dating for almost 3 years. We kept our relationship secret from the public and our parents. The only people who knows about our relationship is Sayaka and some of his friends.

I met him by a colleague. He introduces Ren to me. We became friends and not long after,…I realise that I have feelings for him. I confesses to him and he said that he also felt the same for me. After that, we started dating. Going to each other’s places, hanging out, going on dates. He makes me feel so happy. Feel appreciated. By someone else besides my friends, or family…

I was pulled out of my thoughts when the car stops. I than realize that we have reached my the condominium building. I get out of the the car and thank my driver.

I walk towards the lobby and towards the elevator. I press the button and waited. Soon, the door opens and I get in.

This building has 30 floor and my house is on the 20th floor.

Once the elevator reach my floor, the door opens and I get out.

The hallway is quite. I guess it’s because people are at work right now.

I walk towards my apartment. I reach down to my pocket for my keys and unlock the door.

I walked in and turn on the lights and walk towards the living room. The apartment was decorated with industrial designs. I’ve always been a fan of the style.

I take of my cap and put my bag down on the coffee table. I pick up the controller form the and turn on the TV and put it back down. This has always been a habit of mine since I moved out of my family’s house. I’ll listen to something while doing my work or chores. It kinda makes me feel less lonely.

I walked into the kitchen roll my sleeves up to wash last nights dishes. I didn’t get to wash it this morning since I need to meet Sayaka.

After I finished, I walk to my room and lay down on the bed. I reach for my pocket and take my phone out. I open my message and go to Ren’s contact and texted,…

“Baby,…can we meet tonight?…”

.

.

“ There’s something that I wanna tell you…”

.

.

[ehimemo34]

Authors note: hihi this is my first ever story (that will have multiple chapters) and I've never written anything super long before but I'm giving it a go. So here we are. I wanted to write something about hawks that was dark and angsty. Please enjoy. This is just the prologue and isn't the first chapter yet.

Please be kind and reblog

This story may contain things that may trigger you, please read the trigger warnings before preceding

Tw: angst, violence, blood, gore, death, fluff, use of characters real name, smut, rough smut, Dom! Hawks, Fem! Reader, toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting, mental abuse, emotional abuse, kidnapping, Pervert! Hawks, Mean/asshole! Hawks, Murder! Hawks, stalking. Yandere! Hawks

PROLOGUE:

Keigo Tamaki was a simple man in reality; he didn't like flashy cars or big events. He would rather be anywhere else than where he is right now. sitting next to Enji Todoroki, in some meeting about dumb hero shit he really couldn't care less about. "Hawks, pay attention," he turned his head to find his assistant smacking him on the arm, looking rather pissed off with him. "Sorry, sorry..aha," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes now trailing down his assistant's body. 

God, she was hot, especially in that pencil skirt of hers; he would eat her up if he could, but alas, he could not. 

She huffed and went back to where she was originally sitting, behind him. Keigo moved his attention to the front of the event, where the stage was being lit up by lights so bright you might as well be staring into the sun. "Ah fuck, this is why I wasn't looking up," Keigo thought, covering his eyes slightly with the sleeve of his jacket. Couldn't they find less blinding lights?

"Further, the deaths of civilians need to be less frequent; they are happening way too often for our liking," some man behind a podium speaking for the commission rambles on, "maybe you should try saving 100s of people at once, you fucking lunatic," Keigo thought. 

The commission has been on everyone's back since the number of deaths went up by five last month. It's not easy being a hero. saving everyone and doing their bidding at their beck and call. It's frustrating to deal with the grumpy asses who drank too much on the subway and let their quirks loose or some dumb villains thinking they would get away with robbing banks on the main street. 

Keigo didn't think it was his fault for this meeting; in fact, he thought he was doing a rather good job, but apparently not because next thing he knows, he's being called out for the deaths he's apparently caused. "Hawks, you're the best out of everyone here with only 7 deaths in the last 3 months, but it's still not good enough, you need to improve," the balding man said. Keigo let out a sigh, 'time to shine' he thought.

"Yes, I'm sorry. It's been so difficult these past 3 months, with villains rising more than ever. It's a struggle to keep up with them and all the people running around" Keigo said, putting on his best "of course I give a shit about these random people" face. 

Across the room, he could hear the other heros whispering, "He really thinks it's okay to blame "struggling" on not saving people?"

He scoffed quietly. "Yes, Hawks, we understand, but these deaths need to stop now. Do you understand?" Okay, yes, maybe he "accidentally killed" two or three people, but it's not like he had a choice; they were after HER. The man looked at Keigo, giving him the eyes as if to say, "We will no longer be covering for you." "Yes, sir, I understand," he said, leaning back into his chair. "You asses," Keigo thought. It's not like they didn't order him to kill villains on the daily, so why should it matter when he takes matters into his own hands now and then? Enji turned to look at him, his eyes narrowing, before moving back towards the commission. He always did that, like he suspected Keigo of something. 

Keigo's eyes narrowed in his direction, but as quickly as they narrowed, they disappeared. He has a reputation to keep.

Once the meeting ended, Keigo let out a sigh of relief. If he could, he would stop being a hero now and live a normal life, not having to worry about everyone else. Well, he would stay up all night worrying about someone—his beautiful little Y/N. God, she is perfect in every way in his eyes. 

If only she would notice him, and not just as the number-two hero but as HIM. He wished she would; he has been following her for weeks, months, and yet she still keeps him hanging by a thread. Can't she see how much he loves her?

Ah well, it won't matter soon enough. She will be his and only his soon enough. 

[karlcraft]

The villain has no where else to go and finds themselves on the hero's door step.

The rain falls down harder than Rue ever thought it could. Half drenched in blood and half drenched in rain they doubt they’ll ever feel clean or dry again no matter how many showers they take or how sunny the weather is.

The path is barely trod covered in roots and thorns thought it doesn’t matter

With a shaking hand they raise their fist to rasp on the door, once, twice and hesitate before a third time. Conventions have it that knocking should be a thing done twice over and stopped until an answer has headed your call but conventions do also have it that when looking for help you don’t find it in the hands of your worst enemy.

The door opens slowly, cracks of light shine out onto the dirt road from inside the wooden hut. A small glimpse of hope as the eye of Rue’s only chance looks down at them. Expressions are often hard to read when only a sliver is available to be viewed but the expression was clear. For a flickering moment it was confusion or maybe something akin to curiosity as the person behind the door attempted to decloak Rue with their gaze alone. All too quickly those unjudging eyes took on a harsh tone of surprise only to fall to the hands of hatred and anger.

‘Please’ Rue starts to say but all that comes out is a small whimper unbefitting of their own mouth. A sword is at their throat before they can even blink after their show of weakness and in that moment Rue is so sure that being slain on the spot would be a mercy. “I have nowhere else to turn” They mutter through a shaky and desperate voice.

“Then turn towards your god” The feminine voice seethed with such rage it felt like it could sear all of Rue’s wounds shut. “Surely if your actions are just as you’ve been claiming all these years you’ll find everything you’ve been looking for in whatever after life lays before you” The others face seemed to grow darker than the night time around them, not even the light behind the door illuminating a single part of their face only the glimmer of hatred in their eye was visible “And if your deity deems you unfit you will still find a more fair bargain than anything I would EVER offer you.”

Rue trembled at their feet. pleas attempting to fall out of their lips like a waterfall only to find their dam of words had run dry. “Go.” The voice says in one last act of spite “If you think I would grant you a painful death you are more delirious than I ever thought. Let the wild take you to your demise and may your soul forever rot so that you may feel a singular fraction of what you have done to me.”

This is the first draft of the prologue of a book i wanna write about a villain trying to seek redemption! :D I thought i'd post it here to see if anyone liked it at all or had any tips, i'm still really new to tumblr so sorry if I formatted anything wrong or smth.

[daisychainsandbowties]

what are your favorite pieces of sci fi and/or fantasy media? (can be either books/comics/movies)

i didn’t read many comics because i lived in a rlly small rural town & comic books were too expensive with my reading speed. i had to pick the biggest books i could to make them last or i’d end up reading the cook books again by the end of the month. also i added video games bc that’s where a lot of my fav universes are. 

books: (i could go on for 20 years but i’ll stick to a few)

wheel of time -

i got the first book i think when i was 8/9. it took me a week to get past the prologue bc i did not appreciate feeling confused but once i got to Rand & the road and the figure in the cloak i was HOOKED. i brought it to school that week & a sub teacher (legend, in hindsight) came up & was like ‘oh! that’s a great book’ and i mostly glared distrustfully at her bc teachers liked to take books off me or (hate hate) take me aside when the rest of the class were doing sums or whatever and make me read a passage to them, then drill me about the meaning of different words. i get they were trying to see if i actually had that reading level or whatever but it was mortifying. so yeah, glared at her, so sorry bc she was right. it took me years to acquire and read all of the books but been so so normal about them ever since. my favs are probably moiraine (shocker), lan, elayne (actually love her so much an unreasonable amount), mat (gender reasons) and siuan (obviously). 

the book of the ancestor -

THESE BOOKS. there are nuns in this too. they are badass ninja magic nuns and a lot of them are so so gay. it’s about the found family and a little girl called Nona who probably would bite you but she’s actually the kindest softest best person in the world. her friends are all kind of gay for her; she’s kind of gay for all her friends. there are two older nuns called Apple & Kettle who are just flagrantly massive lesbians and it’s so so funny. Apple is a poisoner & Kettle is a spy and they have just such a THING going on i adore them. this trilogy is wonderful & the magic is so cool & the character dynamics are !!!!! feral there’s a Judas character there’s rivals-to-lover/ friends-to-lover. it’s a meditation on where we find meaning and in whom and what we fight for. has everything i love love love. also like… can think of two men off the top of my head in a cast of like 40 deranged women. amazing. 

the fitz & the fool books -

got this on family holiday to Rome when i was 10. ignored rome in favour of reading this day and night. i read it three times in one week. barely stepped foot in the pool. it’s a gorgeous character-driven story. fitzchivalry farseer is ultimate himbo rep. also magical bonding with a wolf will get me every time. there are like two trilogies now. they r so good. 

the murderbot diaries -

ghdklskdsl killer robot gains sentience. just wants to watch their TV shows & be left alone. sadly, stupid humans get in stupid situation & secunit has to endure the mortifying ordeal of being known. SECUNIT i’d die for u. the novels are pretty short but there are quite a few now & each one has a new and awesome take on artificial intelligence and self-advocacy and found family and what it means to be alive. 

the broken earth trilogy -

these books ripped my heart out of my chest and i said thank you. gorgeously written. deals with rlly rlly interesting & important themes. the main character is just so cool, she’s also, like, an older woman with kids but she’s the hero and the main character and i think that’s kind of awesome. the magic SLAPS. it’s plate tectonics babey. 

the black magician trilogy -

these & wot were my gateway to the fantasy genre fr fr. my friend’s mom bought her the first one and she fobbed it off on me (we were 9. she was only interested in this webside called Howrse where you pretended to own horses??) i got locked outside my house after walking home from hers and spent two hours tucked into a narrow nook outside the back door while it bucketed rain down around me. best two hours of my life. first canon queer rep i ever read. there r a bunch of trilogies now. great stuff on healing magic & sonea is so stubborn i love that for her. don’t let anyone reason with you darling. 

movies:

star wars: yes yes yes we know that casper likes star wars. but casper LOVES star wars. obi-wan is my favourite character in the prequels. in the og trilogy probably han solo (i am not immune to THAT), but also as i got older Luke Skywalker too. c3po for that bitch boy energy. i owe him a lot. there is only one movie in the third trilogy & i love Finn. shame they never made the last two movies. 

pirates of the caribbean: ELIZABETH SWAN. we can all blame her for my lesbian behaviour. we can all blame will turner for my gender. 

the alien movies: 1 & 2 mostly, but i will watch the others with my eyes. i can’t help myself. lots of blood & gore = casper happy. blood + actual good storytelling is like porn with plot to me but i will take porn without plot. i am a simple creature. i loved NEWT because talking can be evil sometimes and also living for weeks in a deserted compound with a killer robot - what?? like it’s hard?? obvs Ripley is a legend. bush representation. 

lotr: i love the books too but i grew up on the movies & my uncle only loaned me his 3-in-1 version when i was 10. i don’t know what to say don’t ever talk to me about boromir don’t ever talk to me about gimli and legolas don’t EVER talk to me about sam or frodo. unless you are prepared for a sleeping-beauty type situation where you blink and your kingdom has fallen into darkness bc i’ve been talking for 35 years. 

i LOVE the movie Arrival: linguistics & aliens, non-linearity of the narrative. CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP. it’s the good tasty stuff. also mood when she arrives to teach & there are like 4 people and she’s like ‘hmm. okay.’ that’s every day of my life teaching obscure bs. i also kind of want her house. badly. and LISTEN the short story is also good but i rlly like the weird feral energy she had going on in the movie. sign me up so fast for a deranged woman in stem. (she’s in linguistics but let me have my joke. it’s basically math)

video games

mass effect: if you were here with me on tumblr in 2014 1. i’m sorry and 2. you know that liara t’soni is my wife and i’d die for her. these games gave me the most severe brainrot. no i cannot ever be mean to anyone ever but i do push that guy off the Dantius tower in ME2 because it’s funny. Aria t’Loak can [redacted] me if she wants. but yeaaaah. these games are amazing and i still genuinely burst into tears every time Leaving Earth comes on my playlist. there’s just something abt it. played the game on rec of my hot physics teacher. to nobody’s surprise. my favs are Liara (going to tell you humiliating anecdote now. one time i was talking loudly to my friend in my room while playing ME and i said ‘hey, that’s my girlfriend’ loudly and my mom burst in like !!!! YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND I WANT TO MEET HER. imagine her disappointment when it was a collection of pixels on my tv. she was like ‘…. cas. go outside.’) i also like Jack, Miranda (love a woman who is mean to me), WREX BOI, tali bc i want to smooch her helmet and because of that time she gets drunk it’s so funny. i like garrus too okay but my friend never shut up about him so i was sick of him in the same way she was sick of Brynjolf after the 500th time i said he could [redacted]. 

jak and daxter: aaaaahhh. the mild child neglect game. basically my mum got this when i was a toddler & one time got so engrossed trying to cross Fire Canyon she let me fall asleep in my walker. i was fine but my dad never let her or me or anyone forget about it. it’s his measure for how good things are. ‘oh, is it fall asleep in your walker good?’ i think i learned my motor skills playing this game. my hands were sucky clumsy bastards so actually it helped. i was bad at it for so long but now i can 100% the game without dying once in about 3 hours. not speedrun territory but still. it’s just!!! visually incredible. the story is so funny. whatever gender Jak has i want. Daxter was my comedic role-model so you can see how that turned out for me. it’s totally worth watching Jak & Daxter (the whole trilogy) on YT or playing it. the games of all time to me. the kind of fantasy worlds i create are still massively influenced by this. also Jak didn’t speak for the first game so he was autism rep to me as a kid even tho i had only bouts of being non-verbal & other times never shutting tf up. 

ratchet & clank: same vein as jak & daxter. made by naughty dog who yes also made TLOU. so funny, so visually stunning. A Crack in Time is the best game come and fight me. but also LOVED Rift Apart bc one character had a prosthetic limb & she was rlly rlly cool. idk the sci-fi world in Ratchet and Clank is basically a shitpost but it’s also so gorgeous and so fun and makes no sense but (Daniel Craig voice) compels me though. i love the second and third games also and ALSO tools of destruction. HAS AMAZING MUSIC. such bopping. best track is probably novalis imo. 

horion zero dawn: this is more recent. drives me insane. there are kind of mechanical dinosaurs and you have a bow and arrow and you fight them and Aloy is so sarcastic and so clever and so (looks into the camera like she’s on the office) about everything. it’s an amazing world & i love her little found family and the BIG ‘go the fuck to sleep’ energy she has. so stubborn love that for her. 

pokemon: like i said. neighbour wanted to play GTA on PS2 without traumatising me so gave me his red gameboy and pokemon gold. then i learned to read. got sapphire for my 7th christmas + the GameBoy Advanced SP. got every game since then & I JUST LOVE POKEMON. it’s THE autism game (sorry stardew. sucks to suck) you collect little guys and you battle and you walk around and you shiny hunt and there are like 900 different pokemon now. i mean we all know pokemon anyway but yeah i was obsessed my whole life. wanted to be ash ketchum i love his attitude imo he’s a very ava silva character and i like how he says “i like carrots and peppers and bugs” he’s so valid for that.

skyrim: hehehehe. 2011. got this for christmas based on the cinematic trailer (god’s strongest soldier i am not) and was so scared of the draugr i emerged out of my room at 3am on st-stephen’s day in a pose like i was holding a greatsword WIHOUT REALISING i was doing it. i git good at the game tho & learned to mod. aaaaahhhh it’s one of my fav worlds to get lost in. my mum sent me this text when i texted her a pic of the official skyrim guidebook

[anchanted-one]

Writer’s First Line

tagged by @jbnonsensework and @captainderyn​ . Thanks guys! This is a chance to go down memory lane. Sorry this is mostly swtor. I think I have a problem. A small one.

Tagging anyone who’s interested. 

edited slightly

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

I’ll be breaking the rules, since *I SUCK AT WRITING FIRST LINES*!

1. Children of the Storm, Prologue to the Records of Heroes Past.

The skies turned a pleasant shade of purple with the deepening dusk.

2. Book of Storms, Legend of Lightning

“Hold!” Lieutenant Taura Serris screamed at the top of her lungs. “HOLD, DAMN YOU! REINFORCEMENTS SHOULD BE HERE SOON!”

3. Book of Respite: Chapter ?: The Informant

Book of Respite is my book 2, which will be an anthology about my other leads. So although they’ll be one book, they’re each a separate story.

This one isn’t out yet, but it will be someday soon. I love how it’s come out; it’s a brief story about Cipher Nine set a short while before she’s dispatched to Hutta for the SWTOR Agent’s prologue (Okay this is crazy... just as I hit ctrl+v, one of the most badass Naruto Shippuden themes started playing on Youtube (’Martyr’). This is destiny. This chapter was meant to be written!)

Mercei Tanniels always took pains to arrive forty minutes before any meetings.

4. Book of Respite Chapter ??: The Poltergeist

This one’s about my Jedi Consular.

Devel Nirol always got picked last. 

5. Eternal War Part 1: Arcann’s War

The low hum of the Silver Pilgrim's Hyperdrive was as familiar and comforting to Arro as that of his Lightsaber.

6. Eternal War Part 2: Mission Scorpion

The bunker was nestled in the bowels of the Undercity.

7. Eternal War Part 3: Phantoms in the Ether

My mental health took a nosedive as I was writing this, so I abandoned it in favor of a full rewrite, which is Records of Heroes Past. You can still read this, but neither it nor its sister part ‘Wrath of the Dead’ will be updated. Not to mention, it will take a long time for me to reach this point in the rewrite. 

It was evening on the newly resettled patch of land on Ossus.

8. Eternal War Part 4: Wrath of the Dead

Jaesa meditated in the Force Enclave in Odessen. Something was calling her, something whose voice teased the outside edges of her hearing, and her gut told her it was highly important. But all her inner eye could see, for miles and miles, was an ocean, dark and deep, stretching out infinitely in all directions. It frightened her, but her resolve held.

9. Deciphered Diaries

This is from a one-shot for my Cipher Nine in both Eternal War and Records of Heroes Past universes. It’s set around the time of the Prequels. It ‘unveils’ my Cipher Nine, but at this point I’ve told everyone who’d listen who she really is, so it shouldn’t be a surprise.

Archivist’s notes: This cache of datafiles was discovered by the Jedi many years ago, in the abandoned command center of a military Outpost, of the planet named “Odessen”.

10. Shikar Company--The Exiled Hunters

This one is... A CLONE WARS FANFIC!!!!! How crazy is that?! Well... not very, since it’s behind Record of Heroes Past on my list of priorities. But still, this is a hint of what I have in store. Sorry for making this such a long exchange instead of one line, but it felt more appropriate. 

From Chapter 1: the Shame

“Aahhh… Welcome, my dear. At last you’ve arrived.”

“Dooku,” Sumana hissed. Her men surrounded both herself the cornered Count, who looked quite content to let himself get hemmed in.

“I admit, you knocked me off balance back there. Remarkable! I did not know there were Jedi quite like you. That controlled rage, that walk along the razor’s edge between Light and Dark, one which I thought was too blurred to see. Oh well. Forgive me, my child. But it ends here.”

Sumana shook her head in disbelief. “Is this your idea of a surrender?”

“No, my child. It’s my farewell. Captain Shikar? Execute Order Sixty-Six.”

[bowloficecubes]

Siren, Pt.1.

<prologue l masterlist l next>

Eraserhead had been in consistent contact with Sirius to get updates on the hunt for the trigger drug smugglers.

He wouldn’t normally be worried about a mission so out of his own field, especially with the number 12 pro hero, Gang Ocra and the hero and captain Selike being in charge.

That being said, his student had also been on board of the oki mariner for 14 days now, long after the hero work-studies have ended.

He knew it wasn’t good news when he received a a call from Gang Ocra in the middle of training Shinso on how to use his capture weapon, his only interaction with him had been during the Kamino raid.

"I'm taking Siren with me" announced a panicked, yet very deep voice. "we need them on a mission. Tentacole and Earphone are still at the agency, They should have the details. I'm sorry Eraserhead, i'll bring them back safely. I promise." he ended the call abruptly, not even allowing the sleep deprived hero to process what just happened.

He immediately darted for his car, not even bothering to phone the agency before going, just thanking the stars alignment that had the hero's agency be so close to Yuuei. Shinso, unsure of what was going on, tagged along, not wanting to leave his teacher alone in such a frantic state.

They arrived in a few minutes, in which Shinso saw his life flash before his eyes as Aizawa sensei drove at ungodly, definitely illegal speeds. Luckily, since Jirou and Shoji had been waiting for him to call or come, they wasted no time filling him in. " in our quirk range training, Gang Ocra's secretary runs in with a phone call from the hero Selkie, calling him in for backup and asking about siren. He had no idea Siren was interning with him so he asked for them too, apparently the ship he and Ryukyu captured was a decoy, and he decided to form a team to track them. Gang Ocra turned to Amagai, they just stayed silent and nodded after a few moments, then he called you and left for the harbor , and now we’re here."

And now here he was, noting the 10th day of them not being here after the return of the students. The entire class has been on their nerves, especially with the very limited contact they had with the ship due to service being nonexistent so far in the ocean. The one time the class got to hear their voice was when they happened to be on a rare, short break, with Sirius handing Amagai the microphone of the ship's VHS, "I hope all is well, what agencies did Jirou and shoji go to?", no one expected the question, Shoji was quick to react, wasting to time, "Ryukyu and Jirou went with Present mic for one-on-one, how are you doing? are you hurt?" he asked, hurriedly.

" Ah, those are some very compatible heroes. All is well, I've regained a bit of my vision in the last 15 minutes, we will capture them soon. I hope I am not disturbing lesson time, Aizawa-sensei?"

" Please don’t worry about that Amagai kun, how long had you been in the water anyway for your vision to-" a loud call from Selkie starlets 1-A, "WE GOT A COMPRESSION COORDINATE".

"Oh finally, I'm sorry I must leave immediately, goodbye"

" DON'T FUCKING DIE ON US DIPSHIT"

" I won't, Bakugo." said Amagai, a faint smile evident through the softening of their voice, then, brief static, followed by silence.

" Minimum 20 hours" an angered voice cut the tense silence of the room.

Everyone turned to the greenhead, who was now rapidly flipping pages through his hero-analysis notebooks.

"They told me it takes at least 20 uninterrupted hours of being underwater for their cornea to become completely opaque".

Thank you for reading!

[tcstoryfell]

TC! Storyfell chapter 1 part 8

Nehemiah: Alright finally.

Metta: It seems like we are at a stop. Welp let's go to the other room

Nehemiah: OK

* Goes to the other room *

Loox: O there you are

Nehemiah: Hey everyone

Loox: I have changed and told ya I would :)

Loox: I'm now a friend of all :)

Nehemiah: I told ya picking on him won't work:)

Metta: :(

Loox: But my brother is different

Nehemiah: ?

Loox: It doesn't matter.......................it seems like my brother has heard that a human has arrived and is trying to umm....get ya

Nehemiah:................A friend

Loox: No......

Nehemiah: Too change

Loox: No....

Nehemiah: How about a nice conversation?

Loox:......No

Nehemiah: :(

Metta: Welp I think we should go

Nehemiah: Ok

Loox: See ya

Froggit: Hello Human....I wonder how long it takes until you hurt someone

Nehemiah: What do you mean?

Froggit: I don't Believe you are here to help us

Nehemiah:....................I am

Froggit: Leave

Nehemiah: * Walks away *

Nehemiah: How much farther

Metta: About a bunch. Sorry hey you should have a weapon

Nehemiah: What

Metta: A weapon like to protect yourself

Metta: Here my chainsaw is helping you

Metta: It may be fake but it still will help

Nehemiah: No I don't need a weapon

Metta: You need to protect yourself

Nehemiah: I am not gonna hurt anyone

Metta: Well....wait what is that?

Nehemiah: What is what?...O a pan

Metta: That is a pan that a Froggit once used before

Nehemiah: Looks old

Metta: You should use it

Nehemiah: It will be useful for cooking :)

* You obtained the burnt skillet *

Nehemiah: Well this looks ok

Metta: Check on it

Nehemiah: * Uses check on burnt skillet *

" Burnt skillet " +0 attack +5 defense when used. A burnt skillet that was used by a person unknown

Nehemiah: Wow

Metta: Useless to attack anyone

Nehemiah: We are not gonna attack anyone

Metta: I don't understand

Nehemiah: * Goes to the other room *

Nehemiah: Another puzzle

Migospel: Not again * Switches the pets to annoy the puzzle *

Nehemiah:...... O no

Migospel: Bye

Nehemiah: Alright let's call Papyrus

Papyrus: HUMAN IT SEEMS YOU HAVE CALLED ME

Nehemiah: I need puzzle help

Papyrus:....YOU NEED PUZZLE HELP

Nehemiah: Thanks....I need help with the pet puzzle

Papyrus: Simple you touch the red, green, then yellow last

Nehemiah: But a flying clown-bug switched it

Papyrus: WHAT..... Simple just dance

Nehemiah: Why...... 😕

Papyrus: They like dancing and are able to read minds so if they read your mind they will be able to help you

Nehemiah: Ok

* Does the annoying dance *

Nehemiah: Alright the dogs did it let's go

Mettta:....

Nehemiah: * Goes to the other room *

Hey darling call Papyrus again

Nehemiah: Umm why but ok

* processes Nehemiah *

Metta: Hello darling 💕

Papyrus:....... IF THIS IS A JOKE THEN .....STOP

* Hangs up *

Nehemiah: Really.....

Mettta:...

Nehemiah: Alright let's go

Papyrus: * Picks up * HEY HUMAN I HAVE A QUESTION. DO YOU LIKE CATS? THERE IS A CAT ON THE LOOSE. I NEED YOU TO GET IT FOR ME

Metta: Yay :)

Nehemiah: Ok

Our hero

Nehemiah: Let's go * Goes to the other room *

Nehemiah: * Calls Papyrus *

Papyrus: YES

Nehemiah: Hey pops- I mean Papyrus

Papyrus: You called me Pops

* Hangs up *

Nehemiah: Ok let's go

Nehemiah: H

Migospel: * Jump attacks him * I got ya. It seems like you have reached the end of the prologue of the show

Nehemiah: Show

Migospel: The show we were practing until it actually happened but now it's time.....heh

Metta: He seems to be too much

Migospel: Welcome to the show. What show you ask? The DEATH :) show ha haha h ah hahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahaha hahahahahah hahahahahahahaha

* Jumps on the part of the stage *

Lights come on to the show. Action is about to happen. You are confused filled with confusion. Let the bloodshed begin

Nehemiah: He seems to be blocking the way so I have to go on

Nehemiah: Why are so many people here?

Loox: Go and start already

The crowd is waiting for this. Don't disappoint them :)

Nehemiah: What are we doing

Migospel: Simple it's a death show :)

* Encounter starts *

Migospel: Nye ha ha

[pep-the-artemis]

Prologue to Trininty

Placeholder name. 1676 words. this is the second draft of the prologue I've been writing. Not completely happy yet. All advice/feedback welcome.

cw. references to death

When I was a young child, I stacked a pile of boxes so I could climb into the attic; a mysterious place full of relics and oddities. A place unlike anywhere else, a world that felt alive once but is now left forgotten. I went up there to find an old friend, a book my father used to read to me—the book of heroes! The tale takes place in the holy land of Eden following the journey of mystical beings (led by the saintly angel Israel) travelling on a journey of self discovery to overthrow Tyranny. From me, the book only ever found adoration; it was marvellous, it was perfect, and nothing could ever come close.

The attic was cold, filled with old boxes. Carefully balancing across the beams and carefully pulling a box down from the pile before pouring through its contents, I began my search. Most stuff I found was uninteresting, and after looking through the never ending piles of boxes, I was beginning to lose hope until I found the box I was looking for filled with old army equipment, retro vinyls, and fishing lures. Hidden underneath all the contents was the Book of Heroes; Leather bound with gold lettering (which now had mostly peeled away) closed tightly with a long ultramarine ribbon—exactly how I remembered it. I really should have put the boxes all back neatly, but I was so excited that I rushed back down from the attic immediately, nearly tripping and falling along the way.

Before heading downstairs to my mother, I looked into my parents room and saw my brother Zayn (around 4 years my senior) sitting on the bed, curtains drawn, holding a small lighter, secluding himself in the dark. Walking over, he didn’t react; he was transfixed on the wall while he sat in mournful prayer. He was tense. Slowly crying but he didn’t appear sad, he was bitter.

I sat down on the floor by his feet and looked up at the wall. The room was very bare, most ornaments had already been packed away. Painted shortly after I was born, all that was left was the large family portrait of us four. Standing in the centre was our father, with his hands resting on the shoulders of my mother and brother while I lay there, bundled tightly in an ultramarine shawl, asleep peacefully in an antique cot.

Not understanding what Zayn was doing, my thoughts turned back to fathers book; I was excited to be able to share after many months of it being lost in the dark. Breaking the silence, I looked up at my brother and explained,

“Zayn… I was just in the attic, and I found fathers old book! You know, the one he used to read to us every night before bed… I thought, maybe, we could read it together?!”

Silence. 

“Zayn?... Look! I’ve got the book here, see! Don’t you think this is wonderful?! Isn’t this terrific?!— Zayn… don’t you remember? When it was late, and father used to carry me upstairs while you followed close behind and then he tuck me into bed then pull out his big book, this book, and unfurl the ribbon before opening and reading from were he left of last time and would continue until we both were fast asleep then we would have dreams of what it would be like, you know?! To live in Eden! To go on long adventurers fighting monsters, protect innocent people, and to risk it all for the greater good!”

More silence. 

“Zayn… I’m sorry—for bothering you.”

I then stood up, hugging fathers book, and began to walk off. I didn’t get far before Zayn grabbed my arm and pulled me into his tight embrace, still not saying a word. Confused; unsure what to do, I just stood there as he held me, listening to his racing heart. 

As he held me, his heart slowly calmed down then I felt him slowly loosen his grip around me. I pulled back slightly to look up at his face seeing that he didn’t appear angry anymore, instead he was weak, sorrowful, and staring distantly into my eyes. Reaching down, he pulled fathers book from my arms and walked off with it, not saying a word. In a daze, I just stood there as he walked off disappearing downstairs.

Shortly, I returned to my senses, and went downstairs looking for Zayn but I couldn't find him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or mothers sewing room. It wasn’t until I caught the smell of smoke and saw the back door agape did I think to check outside. 

It was cold. I saw Zayn standing there, illuminated gently by flickering orange light. His cold wraith masked by deep sadness had returned to his eyes as he stood straight and looked down upon fathers book burning! 

I rushed to the book wanting to lunge at it saving it from the flames but was pulled back by Zayn grabbing me by the shoulder. In a soft yet direct voice, he spat “Beth, don’t be stupid”. 

My brother disappeared after that, mother was so furious; she sent him to stay with our Aunties for a bit as a form of punishment and to keep us separated, at least for a short while. 

It was quiet without Zayn, the house felt empty. Most of our belongings were now tightly packed away in boxes so nothing felt real anymore. The house was like a shell, an uncanny place where everything is so similar yet alien. It was a lonely world.

Mother spent most of her time in the garden, it's where she found solace. She spent her time wandering around talking to her collection of rose bushes, orchids, and ivy. Occasionally she would stop and prune away at a part of the plant, cutting it into shape and contouring them to her image and grand design. 

Like me, she shared the common interest of fantasy, specifically the Lovecraftian horrors. She loved to talk about what it must be like to live as one of her plants and how she appeared very much like an eldritch horror akin to a god!

Eventually the day came. I was woken up very early in the morning and mother helped me get ready for the day while a team of strange men wandered around the house taking away all the boxes. Soon, we were on our way on a long journey, I wasn't sure how long though exactly, I had fortunately slept most of the way. 

When I awoke, I saw a new place… I didn’t like it. The buildings were all too tall, dirty and drenched in graffiti. There were so few trees everywhere and the ones that did appear were thin and sickly. Along all the walls with big bold red lettering was a canvas of missing posters, not that was weird, back home we had similar posters everywhere as well but here there really felt to be more.

Out of the car, my mother dragged me along through a busy city square, the sounds of cars still screaming out. I was told we were going on a journey to try and find my brother who had arrived a few hours later with our aunties. It had only been a week. 

I wasn’t pleased to be meeting my brother.

The sky darkened as unforeseen rain began to fall. Not wanting to get soaked through, we began to run. Luckily, we weren’t far from the restaurant and managed to arrive not entirely drenched. 

Inside, across on the other side of the restaurant, sitting alone at a circular table was Zayn, face darkened by shadows casted by his hooded jacket. Besides his feet was the backpack he took when he originally left and the aunties large handbags. The rest of the hour was a blur, Mother exchanged pleasantries with my Auties while me and Zayn sat in silence avoiding eye contact not saying a word. When the food arrived, I couldn’t eat.

I wished this would just end and after an eternity it did. For the last hour I had fazed out not paying much attention to anything, it wasn’t until I saw everyone else standing up did I know it was time to leave. Disappointingly, my mother didn’t want me to go with her, instead headed with Zayn and my Aunties to the new house while she dealt with the car and truck. I wasn’t to protest but I knew it would be in vain, so I just went along with it and headed to the door.

Standing by the exit of the building, I stopped and listened to the rain outside which had now become thunderous with the occasional harsh bolt of lightning. I was ready to leave into the storm when I felt Zayn drape his jacket over my shoulders. Surprised, I turned to look directly at him for the first time tonight. I smiled weakly at him as I put the jacket on properly zipping it up.

Zayn holding my hand, we began our walk to our new house being led by our Aunties who kept reassuring us that the walk wasn’t that far but that really didn’t help with how miserable it was.

Just over the bridge they promised, not too far now, you can just about see it. The bridge wasn’t long, spanning just across the river which was an aggressive torrent in the storm. Terrified, I tightly held my brother's hand and leaned closer into him. Through the rain and tears I could barely see but kept trusting him to keep me safe. Halfway across the bridge, when a thunderous bellow followed by a sharp bright light shocked me. Petrified, I turned to hug my brother tightly for protection…

The police say he must’ve tripped and fallen into the river but I couldn’t be true! I was there! I was holding his hand the moment it happened! He could not have fallen! He cannot be dead?! But people don’t just disappear.

[mandalhoerian]

Death Before Dishonor | 1

Pairing: darth vader x reader, anakin skywalker x reader

Notes: fem!reader, mandalorian!reader, inquisitor!reader

Summary: You have become the young war hero Anakin Skywalker's right hand in his pursuit to reunite the galaxy in Emperor Palpatine's reign. It's the rumored aftermath of the war between dark and light, but you are a Mandalorian, Jedi and Sith don't mean anything to you, in fact, they are the same existence that led to the destruction of your planet a millennia ago. Their war is something you don't care to know about, you're aware you won't understand anyway, there is a lot you're told to keep your nose out of as just a soldier to obey commands.

One of those things is the distinction between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker; you weren't told why they must be addressed as two separate beings. Who he is really and who he appears as to the HoloNet confuse you endlessly when they are the same in your mind: both look at you in secret mourning.

You can't afford to find out why.

Warning(s): the reader is fucking UNHINGED, like there's barely any fluff and plenty of dark stuff in there. mentions of death, violence, allusions to smut/sexual relationship. it's a vader/reader story and both of them are twisted. the bond between them is not funny haha its funny weird. ur kinda (!!!) emo yikes sorry abt that lmao but hey at least you have gaslight gatekeep girlbossed your way into inquisitorship, you also respect vader the same way markiplier respects lady dimitrescu, aka "its not a sexual thing its about power" . i love this dynamic hhh

Author's Note: this is like my first story/post on tumblr and the prologue got 60 notes, I'm so happy, thank you to all those who showed their support, honestly I did NOT expect it!

Please don't hesitate to send me any asks/submissions if you'd like to talk more, I would love to hear feedback and your thoughts! I hear there's something called "tag list" and everything, so if you'd like to be notified when dbd updates, please contact me! Happy reading!

Word Count: Over 10K im so fucking sorry

prologue | 1

You had fought by Lord Vader's side for as long as you can remember. It was the clearest memory you have in your life. Only through experience would someone come to know purpose is something this addicting, it really left nothing in a person unrelated to anything other than what it desired. And right now it desired to serve Vader until your last breath.

You didn't lurk in his shadow like a hidden tool to be used, no, but went out of your way to bare your teeth at any kind of threat he pointed his sizzling lightsaber at.

You slashed your way across the stars, blinded by the red bloody victories vibrating the ever-treacherous life in your veins, only to be satisfied with them in a span short as the blinding explosion of a supernova. Yet they seemed to be more addicting in the aftermath of a star storm, leaving an emptiness ravenous for more━━always hungry for more.

Even though being a prisoner of war has elevated you to stand with a strong warrior like no other as him, you believe it is an honor to be allowed not just a few steps behind him, but standing right by his side. Not everybody is strong enough to desire that position. Only the ones who don't owe anything to death itself would do what you do, and oh what an old friend of yours death is.

After Galactic Empire's foundation, the darksaber, the sign of the Manda'lor, has been cemented on your hand as the greatest mockery to your planet, crowning you as the one representing Manda'yaim, and keeping you as a hostage to ensure their loyalty. The Mandalorians may have been engaged in a never-ending civil war to bring the other party down for years, but they didn't take kindly to outsiders trying to bend the knee of another Mandalorian, even when it was their enemy. 

However, the outsider they sent to do the job was different. 

You remember Vader descending on your planet of desolation, to crush their necks into submission like a blackened god of war carved from soot-black diamond dissatisfied with his subjects; ardent, burning breaths branding the fear of oblivion on all of the clans. He was a mighty, volatile dragon.

You remembers the awe, the catharsis striking your heart like a bolt of thunder, that this creature of pure force and vigor is the true warrior you had been looking to fight for all your life. Most importantly, the honor.

You, despite your identity of a true Mandalorian, once upon a time might have been betraying that heart by keeping a dream of spring instead of wild flames of rebellion; you might have been having visions of a peaceful family tinkering in joy with laughter, with light━━however, those mirages were soon shattered by the ruthless claw of that black dragon the moment he set his eyes on you. The same dragon that clenched your respect and loyalty and in an iron grip, gave you the pain of having ambition and woke you up to the unnamed potential lying deep within you. The shapeless darkness swirling inside your guts like newborn worms turned into snakes, turned into basilisks, and snuffed out even the tiniest specks of hope and light you had for your clan. They didn't deserve your loyalty, they were nothing compared to the almighty strength he radiated like a whole galaxy burning away just like that.

And you happily knelt, instead of cowering in fear, you embraced the slithering, domineering dragon as the one who you wanted to serve, wore his mask as his Inquisitor and in the competition of being the best, stroke down every single Jetii he showed as a target. Your Mando'ade heritage gave you the best advantage of them all, and you fought not because you were told to serve the empire, but because you wanted to wage war under Vader's glory and honor your roots in your own way.

Now they sneered at your name, whispered traitor behind your back, yelled dar'manda at your face as they challenge you to duel after duel to take the darksaber back. They had turned their backs on you right after you were taken to Coruscant, and yet they saw the righteousness in themselves to smear your name in the dirt? 

Wear your anger as you gird on your armor, says Vader, and you do, you never forgive them, give them the fury of a thousand dying, screaming stars and continues to maul the galaxy for fugitive Jedi. Every time you succeed, you can feel Vader's respect growing ever so slowly, and that feels like a rare treasure every bounty hunter, pirate and scoundrel is after in the galaxy.

You may have been just a failure as a Mandalorian in the eyes of your clan leader Pre Vizsla, but you will bring no dishonor to Darth Vader.

Inquisitorius was silently protesting you.

What a shocker.

The hidden part of you seeking for acceptance wanted so badly to get to the root of the problem and discard it entirely upon solving it; however, the current you who had bathed in the flames of your master's enlightenment desired to crush those who even dared to attempt disrespecting you —— and that dominant part was feeding off of the shadowy, putrid abomination of a thousand years old primeval suffering of the former, mutating the weakness into something monstrous.

Even though you had shed your skin like a snake and had become a completely different kind of reptile, it still hadn't changed what remained inside and it would never change the attitudes people were going to have towards whatever you liquified yourself to take the shape of. What more did they want from you?

It felt degrading to admit that you would be forever hurt over never being acknowledged, all you ever knew was shame over rejection and homesickness for something more after all. Having bled into your shadow, it was still haunting you to this day like an archaic curse.

Nobody would listen to your voice back at Concordia, you always felt like weak embers of a trampled campfire, barely able to lit yourself back on again with the help of an occasional gust of wind. The loneliness of an entire galaxy —— the empty blackness that laid between stars and planets would fall upon your shoulders, and you would feel as tongueless as The Force, ever-existent but never able to directly make yourself be heard.

Being entirely powerless against a society you were secretly a nonconformist in crumpled your already defeated heart, it was always hell under the sky for you on that Force-forsaken moon. Not only were you a muted oracle, but you had to witness your people perish at the hands of what you had constantly warned them about as well —— had to see your closest family's head roll off his shoulders with what he stubbornly refused to let go of.

Now seeing you were stuck in a cycle just frustrated you. The reality that you still got the same treatment like it was out of some dumb history repeating itself cliché from a holodrama stung you unexpectedly when you had first noticed it, but all it did at the moment was to pour hot oil on your anger. Especially when you finally had someone who accepted you for who you were and more, a person who you harbored unbreakable respect for and would follow to the ends of the galaxy with inexhaustible loyalty.

And some silly childish boycotting by power-hungry ex-Jedi was enough to tip the glass of your sanity and make you plan an entire massacre, just because they were a possible threat to you bringing honor to this man.

Vader looked like an obsidian statue with his unmoving black-cloaked figure standing right in front of the entire window wall, facing the black vastness outside, gazing at the planet engirdled by his hive-like fleet. The Emperor had ordered a siege, and as much as you majorly operated as an Inquisitor, you were also Vader's right hand, meaning your aid was consistently needed aside from Jedi hunting conquests. However, you couldn't even solve one single problem to give your full attention to the current case on your hand.

Your helmet under one arm, contempt-flushed girl that you were tried your darnedest to stop your teeth from loudly gritting as you voiced the unnecessary question as an affirmation of his already established rules. "We are still working on dealing with the holo-faker, my lord."

A couple of heartbeats long of time filled the silence in Vader's headquarters in the spaceship before he slightly turned his head around as if he wasn't sure he heard you correctly. "The holo-faker? He is supposed to be six feet under at this very moment. My orders were crystal clear. What is the meaning of this?"

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole at how his eyes narrowed at the irrelevancy - because he was right. Former golden politician of the previous Galactic Republic, the marvel woman of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, had kicked off the decision to close all the military bases the empire had on capital grounds, thereby triggering the emperor's impatience over silly power games. They were to stand their ground until further orders came from the imperial senate and block all trade and travel routes.

And you were talking to Vader about the holo-faker they were already done working with.

You weren't fretting over having had not obeyed him, but because of not having control over the other inquisitors even about getting the smallest job done —— it affected and delayed everything.

If you were hiding under the cooling steel of your mask, it would be easier to hide the exasperation you were trying to suppress in front of Vader —— even though he always seemed to be aware of what even you yourself didn't know were feeling, as if they were color-coded and were displayed with labels right in front of him waiting to be read aloud. Yet, you still tried to hide away the displeasing details you found would be gum under his heavy metallic boots, so that you could deal with them on your own and your lord wouldn't bother himself with them at all.

He was meant for the glory of the battlefield, the ashen scented blood-red victories waiting for him across the galaxy, Vader was made out of the infrangible amalgamation of sun-soaked gold and black Mandalorian iron —— he certainly was above the clownery happening in his ranks.

He turned to you suddenly. The little hairs on your neck stood on their end with a sudden, blinding flash of a spike in the Force, right after the realization dawned on him, he didn't need to hear from you what went down. Though an endless ocean of stars illuminated him from behind and reduced his form into a shadowy blur, you could easily tell his burning yellow eyes apart.

Shame cascaded down and you had to anchor your gaze down at your feet to remain stabilized. "My apologies, I shouldn't have dared to busy you with trivial matters such as this. I——"

You heard his loud footsteps slowly approaching, each sounding like pillars of concentrated iron thundering down on the ground belonging to a titan.

You didn't fear what his reaction to was going to be to your failure, an army of furies were batting their wings violently in your stomach at the very notion of disappointing him. "Forgive me for my ineptness, I should have done better."

His warning as he reached you felt too feathery for something meant to be alarming. "There is nothing to forgive. Raise your head."

Golden mist clouded your brain upon the close proximity, chilly air of the spaceship turning lukewarm on your skin like you had been resting in a sunbathed arbor for a while.

It was foolish to think this way about a man as lethal as him; bravery and fearlessness were two different things and you were sure you were neither of them.

Your heart betrayed you by humming sleekly whenever he was close and you sometimes wondered if it was because you had become as terrifying as of an abomination just like Vader —— perhaps both of you were tuned to a beastly kind of menace in your ways, who knew?

When you remained succumbed into silence, Vader put his non-mechanic fingers under your chin and raised your head to look you straight in your eyes. The rush of sparks spreading on the skin there shocked you slightly, flinching at the never-ending coyness that washed over you every single time something like this happened. "Never bow to me like that again. You aren't on the level of those incompetent fools."

Vader was nothing but a vengeful, flame-drowned dragon of darkness, extinguishing novas sprouting in the galaxy with void-dipped fingers tasting of sin —— yet, there was undeniable tenderness blossoming as asters and starflowers in his gaze, affection of a primeval being of colossal chaos trying to be so careful in his way of reaching out to not swallow up the subject of his deepest admirations.

It was directed at you and shook you to your core every single time.

You would drown in that bottomless well, not knowing what to call the waters, for never had anybody ever looked at you that way before, you didn't know anything like it, as if you didn't have red on your armor —— as if you were an entity created to be loved and loved only; a starseed of the universe, darling, beloved, dearest.

Like all things truly evil, born from pure star-white innocence.

"I won't idly stand by when petty attempts of competition are slackening my troops." Vader sighed, anger creeping back on his spine as he pulled his hands away from your skin, eyebrows pulled together in contempt.

His inquisitor found the decision unwise, not wanting him to exert himself with idle subjects, for he was a Lord of the Sith. "Lord Vader, you do not need to waste precious time with getting involved in this, you are above that. Leave this to me."

Something in the sentence ticked him off, and you knew very well that Vader never held back when he found disrespect directed at him, but you didn't understand whatever you could have said that upset him this much.

"Very well, then," he said, turning his body back at the glass wall, and both of them stared in silence at the horrid portrait of Naboo, resembling a dead animal surrounded by hungry wasps.

He didn't dismiss you, and he explained the reason why soon enough. "However, it seems that order needs to be brought to my chain of command. You know what you have to do."

Sometimes you couldn't explain some of your own behavior in a way that made sense. Like while sleeping, you always seemed to curl into yourself like an animal would preserve body heat, always clutching your abdomen to yourself instinctively. Acute longing for something so delicate would seep into the hard ice surface of your stinking rotten soul; sad, sad, endlessly melancholic for an unknown loss.

You mused it was for all the things you never had and what they turned you into; the regret it stank with. But that was not it. Your arms would itch to hold, your heart would expand like you had been a saint all along, but as the dawn brought the deepest darkness along with the cold, you would cast those pitiful vulnerabilities down to the hell of your sins and emerge as the newly appointed Supreme Inquisitor.

A durasteel fist of the Galactic Empire never wept, so you turned to scorching hot anger and let the flames evaporate them, relishing in the burning pain bringing sense into you.

Pain was the most uncomplicated emotion of them all, such primitiveness and simplicity eliminating anything that tried to get close, so you only allowed it to be a part of herself. There was no going back anymore. You had already made your choice and it was to fight for Darth Vader, rejecting your entire Mando identity and embracing being a dar'manda —— a state of not being Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who had lost your heritage, and so your identity and your soul, regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade.

You were a Mando'ad no more. To your people, you had no soul. Perhaps that was true, you had sold your soul to the dark dragon to gain power, yet you were still holding onto the darksaber which belonged to your people to spite them all, trapping the souls unfortunate Jedi and traitors to the empire in the pitch-black blade —— unconsciously trying to fill the void where your soul once shone like a lone star with them, but none of them fit. None of them ever would.

It only ever felt mended when you had him. When he had you.

All locked within those moments of heavy hot air, damp breaths, sparks popping on lips stained with burgundy and sin-heavy with unsheathed words, freezing dew clinging at the back of two intertwined bodies, earthquake tremors running down your limbs as you yearned and ached. Furnace hearts pumped lava into the cracks webbing your skins, purified black eyes with the universe captured in them clashed in the dark with a sky blue like it has never met one before —— like two suns crashing into each other and burning everything, melt any darkness, painting you with molten silver and gold so that in their journey the touch would sing and chime with murmurs of starlight.

It is the only light you know, the only light you have ever felt, all of them coming from a darkling; steely pristine skin that crackles with electricity when you touch, a lion's mane for hair and merciless pools of inflamed despair for eyes surrounded by tired black and purple —— an ugly fireborn dragon wearing a celestial's face.

Endlessly pained for something you can't look directly at.

It taught you that fire does not only burn, but it is also a source of light as well.

However, that last part was only for you, who (foolish, one might think) had never feared the flames and pain, who didn't hesitate to soar in the skies, aiming for the sun itself with wings made of feathers and wax, you persisted. And not even once did you feel anything other than admiration, respect and desire to be close for him.

Your eyes are not their former color anymore anymore, you knew, they are as sulfur as his, as if to reflect him somehow, to reach him —— yes, to catch up to him, you didn't want to lose that feeling of destiny, the immeasurable amount of raw strength pouring into your soul through the unexplainable yet tangible bond connecting you to Vader.

You couldn't name it, maybe it was delusional and drunken of you to feel like you were dipped in a novastorm whenever you fought back to back, ever the addictive sensation, but that thing enveloping you in a blanket of apricity and curiously, home, would make the unshaped words hanging about meaningless in the end.

It didn't need to be said out loud, monsters of the same kind would stay with each other nonetheless —— and you were delighted, it was serendipity that he found you, even his acceptance was more than enough.

So you got up, as long as you were needed by him, you would always get up, no matter how deep you had fallen.

Standing around a giant bulky holotable, three inquisitors of different races and genders had their blank eyes on the three-dimensional map of Naboo in front of them, having just been informed by an imperial attendant of the latest news. The silence fallen upon them was swallowed up by the near bustling stormtroopers and anxious military officers attending to their duties, going around the main bridge of the unmoving Star Destroyer one hundred kilometers outside of the planet.

First Brother, a well-groomed Miralian male with shimmery pink skin and diamond-shaped light purple tattoos scattered around his nose area, was the first one to shake off his speechlessness. The luminous blue of the hologram map glinted in his eyes, reflecting a welcome surprise. "The Supreme Inquisitor. Huh."

Third Sister retaliated, the iciness of all the metal surrounding them had seeped into her limbs, she stood motionless but her anger was an alarming red. "I can't believe this."

Eleventh Brother was playful, the shade of the hologram painting his mischief-holding yellow eyes blue like his skin. He was bulkier than the other two, however, the way he spread his palms on the edge of the table and put his weight on them and leaning over made him look smaller than he was. "How well do you think she screwed Vader to swoop the rank from him like hair out the butter? The man must have been to the neighboring galaxy and back."

The female inquisitor's frustration was dripping into the Force. "He is thoroughly blinded. I can't believe it. The Emperor must know about this."

The Miralian, however, was annoyed and uncomfortable in his own skin, imagining a thousand eyeballs materializing above their heads directing their unblinking gazes at them. It was a touchy subject. They were treading on thin ice by talking about it in an open space like this, he knew very well of the infamous temper of Vader when he even felt like his decisions were being questioned. "You metalhead, of course he already knows about everything. Who do you think Darth Vader is?"

The Pantoran tilted his head comically to agree with him, while the sister crossed her arms, taking a more defensive stance. It had fueled her forward, not even close to stopping her. Third Brother had to press on. "You're also forgetting who she is."

Her fingers were twitching slightly. "She charmed you as well."

"Charmed?" His voice got unconsciously higher and he heard Eleventh Brother taking in a long, exhausted breath, this was quickly turning into a heated conversation. "All the girl does is completing the missions she is given. Why are you so agitated?"

Third Sister suddenly opened her arms wide. The respect for Supreme Inquisitor obviously ticked her in the wrong way. "Because she gets undeserved favoritism!"

"I just told you why it's not undeserved. You're really letting your reason fly away like that?"

Eleventh Brother, then, physically came between them at the disdainful non-verbal mention of dark side, eyeing the officers slowing down to take a look at them now fully shouting at each other. "Come on, don't get heated up both of you." A lazy smile spread over his face. "Let's agree to shag Skywalker and get ourselves some well-deserved vacation, huh?"

But it did nothing to calm Third Brother's nerves, he wasn't overly relaxed like the other guy. "Ssshhhhh! Do not address him like that! You're going to get blasted in the head."

"I don't think he's that strong in the Force to pick up whatever comes out of people's mouths. At least not yet anyway," was his response. The Miralian knew he was doing his best to lighten up the mood so this didn't end up as a mistake getting one of them in trouble in the end, but calling Vader by that name anywhere, even in secret, meant a direct death sentence, it wasn't something to be joked about.

"It's Lord Vader to us, be careful."

"Relax, I'm not that dumb." The sudden emotion showing itself towards the end and curtaining over his face shocked the other inquisitors. "It's just. . . I find it hard to get used to. He was someone else before, you know?"

They were all flashing back to the same day, who the most called Great Jedi Purge. The silent Third Sister had been the one to speak first, after a while of solemn quietude. "New meditation techniques not working for you?"

"Not in the slightest. If he found out I am behind on this, Vader would chop off my left hand as well. . ."

"That is meant to teach you loss and pain, it's not a punishment," Third Brother intercepted, ignoring the slight humor his fellow inquisitor was using to mask his weakness. He was a guy that followed orders, and it was very pristine to the eye. Dark Side hadn't been able to purge that out of him.

"I think we've experienced enough loss and pain, don't you think?" It was a throaty murmur that came from Eleventh Brother. "The absence of a limb means nothing."

When a surge in the Force came the Miralian's way, it was too late for him to stop Third Sister from continuing to ramble on. "Speaking of which, did our Supreme get any of her limbs cut away?"

"Oh for the love of —— drop it."

"No, listen. This is not fair."

"It's about individual progress, you can't put her and yourself in the same equation, it doesn't work like that," he whispered, getting hurried and irked with each word mainly out of fear. The holomap was already forgotten. They looked suspicious, huddled up together like that. "We were Jedi, it's hard for us to leave the old ways behind. She only has been exposed to the dark side. It's natural that her advancement is different."

It was logic. Though it penetrated her ears, the meaning never reached her completely. "The way she fights —— I can't wrap my head around it."

Her eyes moved left and right, erratic as she remembered, countless battles coming one after the other, lining up in her head. Each one of them focusing on one pair, always together, never going the opposite way in a clash. Moving in complete harmony and sync, reminiscing one superior mind controlling two separate bodies. "She completely parallels Vader, it's like they are parts of the same machine and I think I'm going crazy sometimes when I think about it."

One hand was holding onto her elbow tightly, the other hand moved up and down, vertical to the ground, to emphasize her words. "There's no way she could have picked up on the technique that fast without getting special treatment is what I'm getting at. It's the main thing that infuriates me."

"Is it?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"It is because she became more masterful in a matter of months isn't it?" First Brother said, not holding back in the slightest, calling her out on it. The way her chin moved in a circle with a completely closed mouth gave her away. "Her achieving that level of skill and leaving the rest of us behind pisses you off because you're envious of that power. It's the greed talking, not you."

"But you can't say that I'm wrong," she shook her head, raising her eyebrow with a smile like she was proud of a secret. "The Al'Verde, Unifier of Mandalore or whatever the kriff her other titles are, I don't care. She can't be capable of this much."

In the corner of his eye, First Brother saw the burly Pantoran getting very shifty on his feet, a sign of anxiety from him.

Then he noticed why, as the sign hit him too, a chip in the force, like a faraway warning.

Third Sister was getting too vexed to notice it as she didn't stop talking for one second, and Third Brother was lost in the moment once again. "She's meant to be a pawn to the empire, a hostage, because all those helmetheads only seem to get smart when it's about war. The idiot had it coming for getting involved with the Rebellion. Everybody knows this, yet we still have to pretend."

She was talking about how Mandalore was forced to make a treaty with the Galactic Empire. This event, even though it led to her eventual arrest and recruitment into the military, had made way to Imperial Initiative in which the newly started empire went on a treaty spree to collect all the Separatist, Neutral and rogue planets without violence. This was of course a plot to force the planets into peace, but it was still effective.

"Now, compare that to me, do you get the picture? I deserve to be in a superior higher-up position, don't you think?" Third Sister almost commanded, the corners of her eyes crinkled, eventually turning into a full-on glare. "Even if we leave this all aside, she doesn't even know how to use the Force that much and here she is, the great Supreme of Inquisitorius. This is not fair."

"It doesn't matter. Do you want me to flash the headline on HoloNet or something?" Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. "The number of successes you bring to the empire decides your worth. Last time I checked, Mandos were on a different tier considering the warmongering past."

"So? That doesn't prove that she isn't privileged."

"Maybe because being a political figure requires the empire to make her look good." Once again, Eleventh Brother tried to sweeten both of the worked up Inquisitors. He thrust his fists into the air in a caricaturish, slow victorious manner.

Third Brother wanted this conversation to be over, the unrest pooling in his stomach was too alarming to be ignored. "It's because she's better at our job than you are. Face it. There is nothing else to it."

Third Sister's arms, untangled from their lock earlier, now dangled down her sides. She gave a bitter laugh. "It's not exactly encouraging motivation-wise when you feel like you're disposable."

Eleventh Brother snorted, his usual mocking still there, but now molded with irony. "I thought you already knew we are expendable to the empire."

But the person who responded wasn't either one of the three. "You are."

They didn't even feel her coming, gliding up to them from the shadows. And suddenly, the famous darksaber was peeking out from just beside Third Sister's neck, the inquisitor's face contorted in raw shock before she dropped to the ground, trembling and clutching the raw burn. It was the loud sound of her hitting metal that made the other two scramble back in panic, their hands hanging afloat.

"Stars!" was the only thing coming out of the Miralian before he had literally jumped out of his skin, the Force hadn't even poked one of them, not a last-second warning at all too. Third Sister was about to be executed just like that.

Inside of his skull was white. Void of any thoughts. Nothing came to mind. Third Sister literally laid violently trembling at their feet.

Supreme Inquisitor's force signature slammed on their faces much later, like the heel of a foot descending on a bug, the faint crunching sound got to him in his imagination and he looked at Third Sister once again, sprawled out on the floor. He felt an entire wall of frosty fury pressing down on his body, and not even a smudge of remorse was there for almost taking a life.

Eleventh Brother was just as horrified, his cowering stature resembling a frightened child's, which was ironic because the woman in front of them, standing silent and mute while waves of danger rolled intensely out of her through the Force, was much smaller compared to his species.

The Pantoran and he held eye contact for a fleeting second. The former's face held a fear of death while Third Brother was still thinking about the current overwhelming presence being entirely missed by all three of them, how long had she been listening to them for?

Her T-shaped eye lenses, contrasting with the black of the mask she had on was hiding her expression; but the almost glowing red, accompanied by the white glow darksaber flared, was more terrifying than any emotion her face could contort into. "Get up."

Third sister stammered, none of her previous vigor present. "What?"

"Get up. I see you have complaints, I want you to walk me through them."

First Brother had to do something. "Supreme Inquisitor, please overlook her childishness just this once - "

"I am not talking to you." The blood red lens of her helmet stayed focused on her target. "Sister. Take out your lightsaber and feel free to test my skills to your liking. But know this. If you do, I will treat you like as you'd like me to, and we will go at it until the end. You know our ways."

Stuck right where she was lying on the floor, her eyes momentarily met First Brother's, who mouthed, "Don't," at her behind clenched teeth without any sound.

She ended up saying, "Forgive me." The haunted look in her eyes was avoiding directly coming to contact with the Mandalorian woman. Upon the crackling silence that followed, Third Sister tried again, higher-pitched and a slight panting in her breath. "Please forgive my impudence."

"Anyone else that wants to question my credibility further?" was what Supreme Inquisitor asked, not a declaration of Third Sister's death sentence, thankfully. When she was met with silence, she turned off the darksaber, yet didn't put it away. "Anyone else that wants to stay and gossip instead of doing their jobs?" 

Silence. 

"Anyone else that volunteers to do as they were ordered and get rid of the holo-faker?"

Third Brother and Eleventh Brother stood straight. "We will get to it," the Miralian said shakily.

"You better."

A bottomless pit of abiding nothingness was expected to be cold, but sometimes you would think it could be a bit warmer because of the stars it was pregnant to burned with all their might.

Myriads of stars and suns, withering away and blossoming at the same second were furious in their hearts beat to the rhythm held the balance together, yet the universe remained colder than beskar still.

It was proof no star could ever be enough to warm up their home, not even the supremest of them all. And perhaps in their sorrow, they all ended up as black holes, swallowing up anything in their way to fill the hole where their burning souls once stood brightly as the hearth for the planets under their wings. 

But you could never be cold. Not when even the spaceships were perpetually freezing. Your fire sang too vigorous for that. There was a furnace akin to a star at its prime nuzzled inside your ribs constantly keeping your palms unusually warm, especially when you were sent to planets with chilling climates for a mission. Your peculiarly high temperature made so you uncomfortable sometimes that you wore so little while physically training. It was unnerving for those under you that you could withstand icy environments so easily. Some even thought you were half-robot as Lord Vader and couldn't even feel physical contact anymore.

No, you experienced pain on a different reality than others did. You were sure Vader did as well, it was your fuel to the Dark Side. So much so that it was addicting at times to inflict it to other people and yourselves. You fed on it as if you were one of the Anzati preying on the life source of others to survive. It was necessary. It was vital. One could never get used to pain, but to accept it as a fundamental part of the path to the dark side had done the trick for you.

That's why you could understand why Lord Vader bit back complaints about his steel arms and legs never seeming to fit and holding him back from his full potential. They hurt him immensely,  although his face in plain sight didn't even wince you could feel it; his yellow eyes didn't sour over with pain yet nevertheless, you felt it in your own body - even when he kept it from pouring into The Force itself, you felt it as if you were being hurt.

But while you didn't know what to do with it, Vader used that agony, he internalized it and brought forth an entirely different kind of might that terrified down to the bone whoever dared to cross him. 

Vader always knew what to do.

But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the things you had heard the last day. Rebellion was ringing in her ears wherever she went and whatever she did. Mand'alor.

Among other insults hurled at her, nothing had bothered her as much as nobody disagreeing with the late Third Sister. All the briefings, all the reports, all the patrols during this past couple of days were all spent on thinking about what in the hell they were talking about. You were none of the things Third Sister had claimed her to be.

You were the last remaining kin of Pre Vizsla he had adopted into the clan, wasting away in your atelier with your stupid idea of reconciling with the current government of Mandalore, daydreaming about it while fixing weapons and armor. The girl who had never been able to become a full-fledged Mandalorian smelled of oil, dust, metal, shadows, and underground, she was too weak to even talk back to her blood. She wanted to run and fly but was chained to a dustball of a rotting planet moon. She was nothing before Lord Vader had found her. 

However, you couldn't forget about it. It was constantly in your head, like a damned bug crawling through the curves of your brain and scratching away at the flesh walls of the organ, it kept slamming its way right in front of your skull, pounding in her temples as a persistent headache.

Why did they call me that? Why did they say that?

Was it sarcasm? No, it couldn't have been.

It was scary how obsessed you had become with a tiny minute detail when it meant nothing at all. You had sat down and thought about what you were expecting but there wasn't anything you could grasp at. You just couldn't get it out of your mind and that was it.

So you trained. For hours and hours a day, you practiced and meditated. There was nothing else to do. You were ordered to lay low and wait at Naboo's door, no one could go anywhere, so you did the best with what you had.

There was only so much you could do in the limited area of the training ground they were spared in the main spaceship. The floating metal monsters were made for combative military purposes and not military drill ships used for education and field practice after all. If they were informed of a blockade of this kind beforehand, the preparations would be more suitable for their situation.

Therefore you ended up requiring a partner to work with, granted that training equipment was not present.

A partner, being the partner, who had always been the only opponent you had sparred against, Darth Vader of course. 

Maybe you couldn't tell him what had you fearfully hypnotized for so long, but you could use him as an anchor to clear your thoughts and achieve lucidity that way. Vader was an in-and-out kind of one-man army with no distractions whatsoever and that had inspired you in your own way of handling work. Not only did straightforwardness find a new meaning in him, but you felt closer to clarity by his side as well, it gave you a refined sense of strength.

When you came together blade-to-blade instead of back-to-back, you and Vader were identical if not paralleled, one the hands and the other the legs of the same body, you were like the complementary halves of a single warrior. Vader, due to his overly bulky cybernetic limbs, moved with the power of roaring ocean waterfalls, he was unstoppable; meanwhile, you were the shadow and the wind, the sacrificed speed and mobility completing him in a different body - you appeared out of nowhere, struck, and disappeared.

Despite having the chance to spar with Vader himself after a long time spent with deeds for the empire, you didn't manage to clean her mind off the noises repeating over and over again right in the middle of your nervous system. It was reflecting on your motor and reflective abilities, you couldn't keep up with him today.

"You came here to clear your head but your mind is still distracting you," was Vader's eventual response after wiping the lusterless steel floor with your backside for the nth time.

You always got up whenever you fell, having a feline's agility and swiftness akin to lightspeed but he was not having any of it this time, it was obvious from the dismissive frown distorting his youthful face. The red glow of his lightsaber was gone in an instant.

Calling your own lightsaber back, you didn't have any difficulty in extending the Force as a limb to retrieve it whenever it had flown off to. As soon as the hilt caressed the skin of your palm, your fingers closed down on it as if you wanted the crush the useless thoughts plaguing you.

Darksaber's idiosyncratic sound was higher pitched than any other used by the Jedi and the Sith, but it had the peculiar ability to respond to its wielder's emotional state. You had noticed the erratic electrical effect pulsating like a heightened heartbeat, but you didn't want to stop due to accumulated frustration. If you were indeed a machine, there would be smoke surrounding your burning limbs from clashing with the cold atmosphere. "I can keep going."

There was no way Vader was not aware of the emotional storm raging inside of you, he even sank his hook into the tiniest of specks you went out of your way to hide, yet he was calmly observing at where he stood. "I'm not enjoying myself anymore, this is pointless. So how about you tell me what's been bothering you instead?"

Of course he goes for that, you sighed. Always straight to the point. You couldn't confront the root of her problem at hand, you didn't even know what was bothering you this much. It was obviously speculation on their part of something. The whole Inquisitorius may have been informed that way to help you assert your superiority, but you still couldn't bring yourself to at least investigate it.

You had forgotten this part of you existed at all. It had been buried deep down the seven circles of your soul where even the Force itself couldn't shed light upon it. Your weaknesses: hesitation, coyness, pudency, dastardness - your old needy self who was always pushed into the shadows. Remnants. They deserved to rot in darkness; crumble away until they were nothing but ash and dust under your feet. The old you of Clan Vizsla, who would tremble and scream and grieve in terror if she ever knew the person she would become was the infamous tyrannical Supreme Inquisitor, needed to die.

A warm campfire singing with the dancing fireflies wouldn't stand a chance against a devourer wildfire raging against the night; it just didn't work that way. You needed to kill it.

Your head twitched up when the darksaber turned off by itself. You felt Lord Vader's extended power return back to his shadow after lingering for a little while, thinning the oxygen around her by its mere presence. "You know I'm not one to waste my time."

"Too much waiting," you blurted out when it became evident if you were to stay silent, he would try to pry into your mind, he kept staring at you without moving a muscle - like he was one of the unsettling ginormous milky alabaster statues standing tall in front of the Imperial Senate Building.

Vader rarely ever did disturb the privacy of your inner world, he didn't need to, he just knew you like the inside of his palm, and you never hid anything from him either, you trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

Your obstinacy tended to keep things away from him whenever failure stamped itself right on your forehead - because you were ashamed.

But this was different. You could tell Vader had noticed as well.

You were simply very tired, the black spandex of your training wear was sticking to your skin because of the sweat and the braid you always kept long to wrap around into a circle at the back of your head so it could fit inside your helmet was a messy bird's nest. You couldn't find the strength in yourself to weave an intricate web of lies to keep Vader away from your worries, so you opted to only reveal some of the truth as you took a few steps back to wipe your forehead and the back of your neck with the towels neatly folded and laid right beside a variety of weapons ranging from target blasters to melee weapons such as techblasters.

Later on, as two black silky cloaked-figures stormed through the deck like flowing gravity-driven drops of ink to get to Vader's quarters, tearing seas of white armor and black uniforms apart as they glided along in sync, you finally voiced some of your worries but not the entire truth. Your mask caused your voice to sound artificial and monotonous enough to hide the intent behind. "Why is Naboo special? There were other planets to try the boundaries just like this before. What are we doing here?"

The man's booming steps didn't falter, he kept on power walking as he usually did. The only giveaway to his surprise was his golden gaze immediately getting drawn to your frame. "That's unusually curious of you."

"I suppose it is."

Corridors of the metal maze they were in curled in different directions as you talked, occasionally wrought with artificial white, red and blue lights blinked and streamed past you in streaks. It was all in the background, as you were only awaiting Vader's response. "The Emperor has not said anything yet. We are to stand our ground."

He was tight-lipped when it came to The Emperor. Tenuous shadows obscuring his reflection in The Force, meticulous and ten times more intimidating.

Beings with no force-sensitivity perceived it as Vader holding their necks tight in a noose, or perhaps an unsteady sword floating right above their heads. He was at his most merciless when he was escorted by The Emperor's words. It was hard for even you to speak your mind freely, not because of the fear, but because deep in your soul, you sensed a fresh, gaping wound, and it had The Emperor's handprint next to it.  

Not lingering on it, you uttered your evergrowing uneasiness snowballed with the word Rebellion about the task given to them. "Lord Vader, this looks like a false cover-up for an intended invasion to me. Why else would we be here?" Your job didn't end with supervising the Inquisitorius as Darth Vader's right hand, you also participated in keeping the order in the empire. Those required having to always keep moving and never stopping in one place for too long. Even Vader couldn't stay at his castle in Mustafar to rest for more than days between the duties. The wait for something from Naboo had been unnervingly delayed. It had rightfully taken its toll on your agitated state of mind, and you thought maybe relieving herself from at least this distress might give her more control.

"No need to think about those things. We will do as we are ordered. The battlefield is our only concern." An automatic response, usually given to his inferiors. What followed after was not. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

You started speaking only when you arrived at Vader's dull grey quarters separate from the superior officers at the bridge tower, it was similar to an antechamber in emptiness and size, the only difference was the massive cell-like cut windows circling in a flat arch showing the blue-green and occasionally violet planet of Naboo. "Queen Amidala should pose no threat to him, but for some reason he doesn’t trust her now that she is not present on the Imperial Senate and is out of his reach, there’s something going on here," you pondered, taking your mask off and staring at it for a while. "It goes against the relatively peaceful route he has trekked on until now, but I don't believe we are here for another treaty."

"I was not aware of your interest in politics. This was what had you so scatterbrained you couldn't even focus on combat." Vader slowly approached the glass window closes to him and stood still, his eyes on the planet. He had his hands folded behind his back. His side profile was illuminated by the faint translucent lights of the space from where you were. "Why the sudden curiosity, have you received intel?"

"It's not like that. I‘ve just had more time than necessary to think."

"And the thing you chose to think about was the Emperor not trusting Queen Amidala?"

"I’m thinking about how a possible invasion would go. The Emperor looked for the perfect opening to do so, and now that he has it, he won't let go. It feels like the era of treaties is about to be over." After placing your mask on the table where Vader usually kept the tools he used to modify his limbs, a feeling of nakedness washed over you as you looked at the view it created, it was not the Supreme Inquisitor talking at the moment, but simply you. "But I do have a bad feeling about everything in general, I can't get it out of my mind."

"Is that what The Force tells you?"

Gloved fingers gliding on the smooth arch of the top of the inquisitor mask, you kept your gaze on the T-shaped lens. Your lashes were heavy on your eyes, the words were weighing down on your entire face so they couldn't escape you it seemed. As ironic as it was that you were covering your real troubles with half-truths, you had never been this honest about your opinions before, only ever obeying whatever Vader had asked you of. "I'm not sure. I can't distinguish my instincts from the will of The Force yet. I don't think I ever will. Precognition is beyond me, I am but a Mandalorian, physical use is the only thing I really am good at. Still, there are times in which even I can feel it physically in my head. I know we are only soldiers, I know not to concern myself but The Force is. . . weird these days. That's why I'm not dismissing these thoughts."

"Perhaps what you used to call instincts is The Force talking to you. You are still fighting the Dark Side, that's why it's constipating you like this. Let the power guide you. Don't be afraid of too much."

"I have dedicated myself to your ways for a reason, I know what I have to do. I'm just a slow learner, but I do learn. Even if I can't fulfill your expectations, I won't ever disappoint you, Lord Vader."

Tingles traveled down your spine in warm waves, Vader's stare was definitely on you. "I will look into this as well, you keep focusing on the present." Then, a soft sigh dissolved in the air, so unnoticeably gentle that it had your eyebrows pulled together in surprise. "Anything else you wish to inform me about? I still feel heavy conflict clouding your mind."

"I don't wish to bother you with insigni—"

"When I ask questions I expect them to be answered."

He had seen it. The certain worm clogging your brain. Something was pushing you to squish it back in the darkness so he would forget about it. Not knowing what it was made you try to cover it up, words you‘d kept to yourself all this time poured out like hot-flowing blood out of a raw wound. "The thing is, why would Queen Amidala make a predictable and unnecessary move such as this when she is aware of the emperor's intentions in the first place? It doesn’t make sense."

"What do you know about his intentions?" It came sharp and quick. When you let go of the mask grounding you and turned to him, Vader's stiffness and slight tenseness caught you off guard; just as he had never heard a single peep of doubt from you, you had never seen Vader defensively alarmed as well. "You're basing this all on a single assumption. According to that then, how would Queen Amidala be aware of this so-called everything?"

"I told you it was insignificant."

"No. Explain it."

Hurried steps brought you right at Vader's side, aestuous eyes of his followed your almost apologetic state. The stars were witnessing a rare occurrence that day, the ice-breathing iron dragon was reduced into a young man, simply because he allowed anxiety seep out the cracks of his persona of The Dark Lord Darth Vader. Yet, they were merely only talking. You were pulled to him like a piece of metal caught into a magnetic field, wanting to clear his face from shadows. What had him this tense was a mystery that piqued your worry as much as it did your curiosity. 

"I meant absolute control when I said intentions, it wasn't something mysterious at all." You said, fighting the instinct to comb his wavy locks away from his face when you noticed his arms twitch forward towards you in a split second, stilling quickly right after that. "Queen Amidala, well at least Naboo has been cooperative and obedient so far, it is the Emperor’s home planet. It's illogical for them to make a move, without even sending a report of protest first about the Stormtrooper bases." Your voice was calculative and calm so that Vader would remain composed as well. "To be honest, every bone in my body is screaming trap at me. But I don't know what they would gain from laying a trap for us — or the empire."

A blank look.

Then a weak smile so twisted and bitter that the hairs on the back of your neck and the baby hairs framing the shape of your face stood up.

"I do," Vader said, triumphantly. Catharsis was etched into his tremulous voice, his pupils were dilated. "Have spy droids decode their hologram satellites immediately. I especially want the transcriptions of ghost calls, doesn't matter if it's from the palace or not."

At a loss for words, you couldn't catch up to his thought process but you had your orders, Vader's word came first. "Whatever we're looking for -- what if they chose to transport it manually as a message rather than transmitting it?"   

"I hope they did." The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes, his tone was low and dangerous when he answered. "Then we get to use the easy way to restore the peace."

When you retired for the day, the shadows whispered all that you have been reduced to, and all you will ever be is eternal yearning chasing your tail, forever stuck in a circle, doomed to be your own destruction.

They swirled heavy and languid around where you laid folded into yourself, in your most vulnerable state —— closest to the ghost of the girl fron Clan Vizsla, the girl with tender flames that couldn't and wouldn't burn. They pooled in the hollow of your stomach, filled your womb with molten tar, and blotted your veins; until you became nothing but a vague shape in the dark.

The moderately average resting chamber in the giant Star Destroyer closed in on the you, only armored with a thin layer of sweat covering your heated skin. Darkness was a place you were your most comfortable in, but shadows drowning you were the servants of light —— the light that flowered from the warmest, the most cowardly of fires that was afraid to burn people.   

"Remember," the shadows murmured. The smell of beskar and ash was sticky on the wall of your nose, thickly dropping down to the lungs. Within the withering clouds of duskiness, two little marbles with the color of abysmal space stared back, the tiniest of shine reflecting like miniature novae. Black eyes like obsidian. "As no star is enough to light up the galaxy. As no star is enough to warm up its home. Remember who you are."

Supreme Inquisitor killed that treacherous girl every single night, but shadows were immortal nonetheless, you couldn't possibly reign victorious over them. The girl of Clan Vizsla, aware of that mostly overlooked knowledge, had always hidden her essence in the shadows; and now even her biggest nemesis was unable to snuff out the weak embers left of her. The ashes somehow managed to rekindle their spark.

The girl just refused to die and turned herself into invisible heavy shackles on your ankles.

Shadows caught up to you in oddest circumstances these days. Contrary to Imperial Officers and most of the Inquisitorius like the fallen Grand Inquisitor, respect out of obligation and orders did not sit well with you, you enjoyed proving yourself someone to be dreaded over and over again just to smell the satisfying presence of horror, yet sometimes you (momentarily) felt unaccomplished when people couldn't look you in the eye as they spoke.

The Mandalorian in you wanted to earn respect instead of forcing it out of somebody —— annoying, really, it was like an itch right in the middle of your back where you couldn't reach to scratch, and it never went away either. No matter what you did, you couldn't get rid of the leaden disappointment and dejection shooting up your spine at the sight of forehead-on-the-floor submission even if it lasted shorter than a blink.

The moment of humanity made you sick. You enjoyed being feared and bowed to, that meant you were stronger than them, that you were better, yet the tiny itch made it seem like you were some kind of noble character deep down when your aim, in the end, was establishing strength and demanding respect in exchange —— not honorably gaining it through charity work.

That's why you were feeling grumpy at yourself as you left First Brother behind in hurried steps after the report given to you in trembling fingers hid behind his waist in a grip, and a voice strained to control a slight shakiness. The Miralian was covered with a thin layer of sweat across his pink skin, the purple diamonds etched onto his nose area almost appeared a dark ultramarine as he stood with an imaginary walking stick shoved down his throat, he didn't move from his position until Supreme Inquisitor had completely disappeared from his sight.

He was your favorite Inquisitor to work with, mainly because he knew respect. You knew it was a Jedi habit, but you were in no place to complain about it, only focused on getting results and finally, your patience was rewarded —— not even the annoyance at your prolonged unstable emotions could get in the way of your enthusiasm. They were one step closer to ending this blockade and you were itching to return to your routine of hunting Jedi and getting rid of this mess of a state of mind. Things would soon return to the way they were. They had to.

With that in mind, you all but rushed to deliver the news to Vader, practically running to the safety of an end goal having formed in your mind. He was receiving some kind of report in the bridge part of the Star Destroyer, but immediately dismissed the two officers when he saw you approaching him with hurried steps. The T-shaped visor of her matte black helmet was reflecting light like flashes due to your speed.

Vader had the tendency to have conversations with you alone, even when you absolutely had to be in public he would maneuver to the most isolated place where they could speak privately, and his utter discontent at people coming at their way would immediately have effect in making them go the opposite way. If he was just done with having to deal with Imperial Officers and saw you as an escape, you did not know.

"It's done, Lord Vader," You reported with a datapad in your right gloved hand, the other was clutching the hilt of darksaber tucked away in your belt as you retreated to the giant windows looking directly at Naboo. Crowds would part at the sight of you together, as if leaving you to your solitude was a rule, so nobody was in the perimeter to hear the conversation. "Spy droids are on the job right now. The decryptor team is simultaneously working with incoming data. The droids can only do so much, so for the sake of both speed and efficiency, the only solution I had was this."

You handed him the datapad, his yellow eyes were dull as he scanned the incoming information. "Nothing looks particularly off as of now."

"I told them to look out for suspicious behavior as well. Could be a part of their cipher system."

"I would rather have direct contact with the senator, per protocol." Vader's hawk-like gaze turned almost condescendingly to the mostly purple planet as if he could spot the object of their conversation right away. The corners of his lips twitched upwards for a millisecond. "Compared to the queen, he is surprisingly easier to crack."

He peculiarly allowed himself to be human around her, occasional boyish grins and smirks found their way to his face often when you were near. It wasn't a first-time realization but very much a reassurance every time it occured. The thought, this time also as well, managed to ease your overheated mind and you allowed herself to relax a bit, removed your hand from darksaber, and clutched them on the back of your waist. "Which is why Queen Amidala insists on being the mediator."

A scoff came from him. "She knows even the person they chose has certain weaknesses."

A wave of bitter taste washed over your mouth. "We do have to wait for Emperor Palpatine's orders about entering their planetary space. . . to exploit those weaknesses."

"I don't need to be right in front of him to do that."

He was capable of doing unspeakable things to people deeming they were safe from him just because they were seperated by monitors and screens, there was nothing surprising about his ominous declaration. Yet, something akin to an irritating feeling peeling away from your skin and an itching weight being lifted off of your gut made you blink strongly. You had to swallow because inside of your mouth felt like you had just stuffed a handful of sand down your throat. Of course. This was it. This was why Inquisitorius had to be here. How could you have been so oblivious?

"How inconvenient," you said, fully turning to him sharply. An excitement that would put the one you felt when you got the report from First Brother to shame was pulsating in your temples and ears. "It would have been better to have the excuse to see him directly."

Vader's eyebrows twitched downwards slightly. He must've had noted the change in your demeanor. "Why?"

"Because I just figured out why we're here." Your hands jerked to point at Naboo. It was clear as day to you now. You were so buried in your own mind to see what was right in front of you! "To give The Emperor an excuse for the order. This is our mission."

Vader, contemplating your discovery, hummed before speaking. He didn't look baffled at all. "You're saying this is an investigation."

"Disguised as an embargo." You nodded. Even the voice warping planted in your helmet could hide your emotions. You were more than happy to push all of your turmoil this far on this reason alone. "I can't believe I figured it out so late.“

"You weren't supposed to figure anything out." Vader, opposed to you, was very discontent with your state and you had failed to notice it from how his eyes had narrowed before he spoke. "Our input in political matters is not needed. It isn't our place."

In this light, he almost looked like he was leering down at you and that made your heart jump to your throat. Maybe you shouldn't have expressed your mind so openly like this. You weren’t one to mix personal opinions with orders in the first place. This... The chaos you were in as of late had made you slip up. You had had done your best to remain as a blank slate while putting only your lord's agenda and wishes before anything, and it truly was the only thing you cared about — that you should have cared about.

You had to pull yourself together.

"I apologize," you said, now more focused and professional to show you didn't mean any disobedience by your words. "Of course I will follow only orders, Lord Vader. I haven't forgotten my place."

That earned you an unexpected tut. "That's not——" He shut his mouth with an audible click coming from how hard his teeth had snapped together. Your eyebrows, not visible from your helmet, shot upwards at Vader's incomplete sentence. The Dark Lord of the Sith would have never held his tongue back in any occasion and he never entertained idle chit-chat, yet. . . He had briefly lost control there. He did manage to school his tone back into place, but you were already too shocked. "Just remember we will only do what is necessary. The Emperor always has a higher purpose we're not meant to know."

You had forgotten you were surrounded by the crew of the bridge, the mention of The Emperor brought back some clarity to you, as the rehearsed words of self-evaluation slipped past your lips. You had autopiloted into a submissive soldier stance. "I see now that lack of clearance has got the best of me. I meddled in matters simply not my business at all."

You didn't dare to look up at him, too immersed in trying not to spark his anger. Direct defiance was never your intention and deep down, you were already ruthlessly scolding yourself for it. You should have never opened your mouth. That's right. You were never supposed to open your mouth ever. You would only be good to go when you listened and followed orders. Opinions and thoughts were not welcome. Not that you had problems with them in the first place, but you did have to teach yourself again.

You hadn't noticed Vader's silence and his golden gaze scanning you up and down as if you were a book to read, it only became apparent to you when he started speaking again, his voice was heavy and gravelly. "This kind of thing will put a target sign on your head. You must stay out of The Emperor's sight, I will handle everything. All you have to do is follow orders."

This was the perfect chance to both change the subject and deliver the other updates you got from earlier, and you took it. He would be displeased because of the delay, but you couldn't skip on your duty either, it was with heavy heart that you gave him the news. "Speaking of orders, First Brother reported to me before our meeting. The holo-faker will be dealt with shortly. They are working on locating her."

"You mean to say she’s not dead yet?" As expected, sourness had immediately settled on his face.

"Unfortunately."

"Shortly doesn't cut it. You and I both know these adverbs only exist to buy more time." An exasperated huff, like burning steam on your skin, cut his sentence. His artificial hand's fingers had started flexing and you knew from this that his first instinct in handling this was violence - and rightfully so. If it was up to you without any interventions, the holo-faker would have been dead for the seventh time now. "Who is this holo-faker, why is it taking so long? We have more pressing matters at hand."

Your chest swelled up with the acidic breath she took in for that answer. "Her name is Bo-Katan Kryze——"

"What?" His blaster shot of an interruption was almost high-pitched and even further, your heart rate picked up because of how Vader's normally controlled Force presence had crackled like a sudden whip lash against the air. "Repeat that name."

The way he said that was stone cold and had sunk on your chest as dead weight.

"Bo-Katan Kryze." It was too hard to keep your voice in a flat tone, so it appeared very tense in return. He can misunderstand, you thought to yourself, and fumbling words pushed through your filter without warning. A loss of control on your part, no matter the form it took. "A Mandalorian like me, I know. However, my judgment is not affected. I will have her eliminated."

"We will speak no more of this here. Come."

Everything happened in a flash. His unwarranted, lightning anger blended in with their literal teleportation to the official meeting chambers reserved for the inquisitor team aboard the ship. It was like you had been wounded, but the adrenaline and shock holding your body together was holding the pain back.

You had killed fellow Mandalorian kin before. You did it every time one cane to take darksaber away from you for honor. Vader knew you didn't hold any affection or lingering attachment to your roots. Your only relief would be accepting you were uninformed, or simply not smart enough to understand what had him angered like a dragon preparing to wreak havoc over his gold hoard having been barely disturbed by an outsider.

After the sliding metal door closed behind them and trapped you in a dimly steel, ever-shrinking room due to his sizzling Force presence, with only a giant holotable to display maps in the middle, his heaving back slowly regained back a stable breathing rhythm, and he turned to you much more composed, the powerwalk they had here probably having taken some of his bottled up agitation. "Did you have an audience with her?" he said, the sentence more of a domineering demand than a question. There was a distant fire in his eyes.

You did your best to remain calm to not provoke him in any way, and obeyed. "Yes, it was required."

"Did you speak with her directly?"

"Yes, since I had the recordings of the Jedi had to deliver them personally." One of your canines caught the inside corner of your mouth. "Is something wrong——"

He ignored your remark. "Has she said anything to you?"

Have I failed? How have I failed? Why am I being interrogated right now? "Apart from business, no."

"That can’t be it. Are you lying to me?"

That sentence was straight up a punch to your ribcage, you were breathless as you answered that question. "No."

But that did not satisfy him. He was a predator pacing left and right upon hearing it. The lampdisks were full on and the meeting room eerily bright, but his darkening presence was casting a shadow over everything. "Out of all the beings in the galaxy, how did she end up being——" He was mumbling to himself in a mildly manic state, and when he suddenly shouted, the already panicking you almost jumped out of your skin. "Damn it!"

Vader's entire self-control was gone like the wind, a catastrophic hurricane in the Force is what he was. Rumbling and roaring with no restraint, no restraint. It made your hands tremble uncontrollably and sucked the strength from your core entirely. And all it took for the leash to snap was not The Emperor, not the missions, not the imperial officers and not the incompetent inquisitors, but a single name of an insignificant Mandalorian holo-faker.

You had to fix this somehow. You had to do something. You didn't understand your mistake but you had to put enough effort to get back on your feet. "Lord Vader, I don't follow——"

"Don't call me that!" You had never heard him yell before. Always the silent and obscure, actions-over-words commander that he was, Lord Vader did never need to raise his voice to get what he wanted, he simply didn't bother with that. Yet that was a broken shout at the top of his lungs; a shattered clap of thunder, yet it was a piercing shriek of a wounded animal enough to make your ears go numb for few seconds. Bleeding. A cascade of emotions were bleeding out of him.

Silence fell between you like the hammer of a giant.

Your insides churned and twisted and crushed until all you could feel was just a mash of mixed goop flesh filling you like cotton and only a void in the middle of your skull, as if you had jumped out of hyperdrive with a damaged deceleration equalizer.

A shiver shook your shoulders.

There was a man in front of you, not Lord Vader, and certainly not a Lord of the Sith. An upset, disturbed and disordered hot mess of a young man, with eyes  the color of cold dark blue before the sun appears in the horizon, swimming in the agony of an entire sunken star, was despairing over his subordinate addressing him as the superior he was.

What did he want from you exactly? How did you end up in a conversation webbed with lines that should never be crossed?

"Call all the inquisitors involved in the operation and leave us."

"As you wish." You kept your voice carefully blank and monotone, but the emotions were as scattered as a star cluster. Despite that, as Supreme Inquisitor, your instincts knew the need for professionalism to be restored back, but it was actually cowardice that made you lean entirely on respect to gain much needed stable ground. "Do you want me to send out a scouting team to find out if she has reached Mandalore? They could look for a way to cheat the treaty."

"No. You're off the holo-faker case."

It was a small command, a simple order, a rightful decision really, but that still felt like stun blasts exploding inside your brain that left it ringing and the room spinning around you. "Why? I can fix everything, I can go personally——"

"No." To your own ears, to your heart, the voice that came from his lips didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of the Dark Side he tapped into whenever he was facing enemies and allies alike. It didn't sound like him at all, he didn't direct that tone —— that stance to you ever, and it smoked with fury. "You'll remain here with me."

You stood welded to the floor, motionless. You weren’t even truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were using your mouth. "I have met her face to face, I'll get it done faster, let me go to Mandalore——"

"I said no! That's an order!"

A hiccupping gasp rose out of you that the mask didn’t pick up.

And, now, finally, you recognized the voice that had came out of you in utter desperation.

It belonged to the shadows. It belonged to gentle melodies of the benevolent hearth. It belonged to the girl who was afraid of being cast away.

You could only stand there, sick at heart, stunned with helplessness, the fatigue in your guts turning heavier and heavier.

". . . Understood."

Lord Vader passed his flesh hand over his eyes and drew a long, heavy breath.  In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said, "You won't get involved with her. Promise me." He looked thoroughly miserable, but you felt too numb, so numb that you were looking at the world behind iced glass. It stung even to stand here.

"I have received your orders.” Your lips, conditioned only to speak of duty, fulfilled their responsibility. "I'm calling the inquisitors immediately."

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

[godofdystopia]

RWBY Gaming: Who would play what faction in Total Warhammer 3

So with my depressive funk now gone, and my most anticipated game of the last year now released, i decided to get back into writing with just a quick and fun little thing I've been thinking of the last few days: If Warhammer Total War 3 existed in Remnant, what would they play? This is literally just a self-indulgent little thing i wanted to do so here I am doing it.

Ruby: Ruby would play the prologue campaign first and get heavily invested in Yuri’s descent into evil. She’d probably play as Kislev to try and defeat the Daemon Prince. She would play Tzarina Katarin, both because Kislev are the good guys here (as far as she can tell) and she likes their weapons and artillery. She will absolutely drop Kislev like a hot potato once the Chaos Dwarves are released.

Weiss: Weiss would also play Katarin, but for different reasons. Namely, Weiss would be enamored by Katarin and would project a little due to the similarities between the two. Plus, the Elemental Bear reminds her of her own summons, which would make her project even more.

Yang: She knows that it would play into the stereotypes about her and her semblance, but Yang would probably play Skarbrand the Exiled One. His whole thing about fighting as hard and as much as possible, and using any and all damage to fight even more, is pretty much Yang in demon form. Plus, his blood thrones and skull cannons look cool as hell (something she will say out loud to many groans)

Blake: Is a little annoyed that there aren’t any Faunus around (refuses to acknowledge the existence of Beastmen) she then decides to play Kairos Fateweaver because of the magical aspect of it as well as enjoying the general aesthetic of Tzeentch in general. Yang jokes it’s because cat’s like birds, Blake refuses to respond.

Nora: Would play as Chaos Undivided, name the Daemon Prince ‘Renny,’ and then proceed to conquer the entire map alongside a bloodreaper hero she names Nora. Because they’re together, except not together-together, well they are but not li- (Repeat ad nauseum until they finally make out.)

Pyrrha: Absolute powergamer. Puts it at the hardest difficulty as a challenge and plays Miao Ying as a one unit doomstack. Regularly watches Okoii in order to find more doomstacks to play.

Ren: Once he got over the general ick factor, would play Ku’gath the Fettid Brewmaster. The slow measured pace would allow him to grow and dig in, and he’d be impossible to uproot.

Jaune: Complains that he can’t play as Gelt for the ten millionth time. In all honesty, Jaune would probably play as Zhao Ming or Miao Ying because he strikes me as an Empire player and they’re the closest he can get to Helstorm spam till the mega-map. Regularly watches Legend to find more cheesestrats. Jaune would be an absolute nightmare to play against in multiplayer. 

Ozpin: Would decide to play a few turns as each faction to see which one he likes... a decision that lasts right up until he reads the in-game lore of Tzar Boris. A dead warrior-king brought back to life by a distant god to save a world gone mad from falling into inescapable ruin? Ozpin would project so fucking hard.

Qrow: The nanosecond he starts up the game the motherboard catches on fire and melts the whole computer, causing a fire that spreads across the entire room and burns all his clean clothes. Qrow trips several times and breaks at least one bone trying to put out the flame.

Winter: Katarin as well, sorry Kostaltyn. Atlas is just future Kislev but in the sky and Winter would project onto Katarin just as, if not more than, Weiss. Plus, Winter would crush hard on Katarin. Though to be fair, who doesn’t?

Oscar: Pre-possession he’d probably be too poor to play. Post-possession Ozpin forcibly hijacks his body to play more Boris even though Oscar wanted to play as one of the cool dragon people.

Roman: As much as it pains him to admit, he has the most fun playing as Greasus Goldtooth and turning the Mountains of Mourne into a massive criminal empire that attacks every caravan that enters. He’s swimming in gold, metaphorically speaking at least. So long as no one compares him to an Ogre he’s fine. Neo absolutely compares him to an Ogre.

Neo: Neo wants only three things out of life. She wants lots of ice cream, lots of money, and lots of incredibly hyper-violent battles. Even though she wants to play as Skarbrand, she decides to play as Skrag the Slaughterer out of solidarity with roman... which is what she’ll sign him when he finds out she deleted all his saves to do so.

Emerald: Pre-redemption she’d play whatever faction she thinks Cinder likes the most. After she’s joined and befriended the remains of team JNPR she’d probably play Kairos Fateweaver because his use of illusion, trickery, and playing people against each other plays pretty well into her own personal fighting style. Plus she thinks Tzeentchian daemons look cool. She and Blake bond over this.

Cinder: Daemon Prince, hands down. The ability to play actual gods against each other, steal their followers, conquer the world, and declare your soul for yourself? That’s basically Cinder’s power fantasy.

Salem: Literally anyone but a chaos faction. She’s had enough of gods messing with her life in the real world, she doesn’t need it in a video game too, thank you very much. Though she is tempted by the fact that the Daemon Prince campaign ostensibly ends in killing a god...

[mommyofkittens]

Hello! It is the very first time when i am uploading something on this account. The story is set in ACoTaR universe. I don't know if you like the idea, but I wanted to make a story about Azriel and my own original female character. I will update on Archive of our own, the title is " A Court of Fallen Heroes ", so here is the summary and a little sneak peak.

P.S.: English is not my first language, so I am very sorry for any type of mistakes. Fell free to tell me if something is wrong. Thank you!

Summary

It was a well known fact: the veil between the worlds grew thinner and thinner, so the possibility of a crashing was already a certainty. The rumours started a long time ago, but no one did anything to stop it. Luckily, time has passed, we went through wars and race eradications, but Faerie Realms and Mortal Lands stayed almost the same, some richer and some poorer.

Nobody was talking about the fallen, untill now, when the fates started working their old, wicked magic and gave us an early Summer Soltice gift: an unprepared girl who was sent tumbling from the sky.

Tumultuous and dangerous,

Bitter and heartbreaking.

This is the story of the Evening star.

About the young woman who holds the Sun as her weapon,

And the Moon as an ornament.

About the Cursed Crown, who chooses its own master

And about the man in the shadows, irreversibly bound to her, by the tongue of death.

And, after all, about us, the nothingness who catches a goal.

I am the Bloody Blade, former leader of the first legion, last of my kind, banished and tormented by dark memories and here is the beginning of our story.

Prologue

        I know it’s hard to believe, if I had heard the same story from someone else, I would have thrown him a few silver coins and asked him to stop telling me stupid lies: parallel universes, worlds that intertwine towards the edges, the feelings of deja-vu and the absurd sense that you are being watched when you stand with your back to the door.

          Nothing new, right? Your neck is probably tingling right now and you need to look back. Did you notice anything out of the corner of your eye? There's nothing there, stay calm. Well, even if they were, they wouldn't be able to touch you through this thin veil that covers your world. Oddly enough, just like this dusty pellicle protects your soul from being stolen by… oops, I'm not allowed to say his name. He might come back for me, and I've already made a living here.

          So I'll just say this: watch out for witching hour, when the energy layers crack. Be careful not to read, not to think deeply and not to get lost in the subconscious, otherwise you will end up like me: lost in this world that I barely knew.

          What did I do wrong? I was awake, a little drunk, too thoughtful and willing to do anything to get rid of stress. Anything. Including an absurd bargain that appeared to me in a nightmare. Who started the bargain? I'll tell you, it sounds silly, but his name is Samael, a kind of obscure deity, a double-edged sword, demon or angel. He only asked me what I wanted, and I replied on impulse that I wanted something new, an adventure.

          And I received it, a double-edged sword, a world I barely knew from books, but about which I had forgotten much, a world that was about to change with my coming.

My name is Vesper, the titles that come after my name don't matter anymore, but once upon a time, I was called different, I used to be someone else.