#temporary character death mention

[starryeyedjanai]

so i saw this post a few weeks ago and had some thoughts. so here is 350 words of angst about what happens after a time loop ends:

Steve - having just survived and gotten out of a time loop where he had to watch Eddie die over and over and try to save him, after getting closer and closer to Eddie each loop, after sharing things with him that he’s never told anyone before, after falling in love with him - is looking at Eddie with stars in his eyes when he’s finally able to save him.

He’s holding him, like he did the first time when he died in his arms, when he kisses him. He kisses him and Eddie kisses back.

It feels like a declaration, or maybe a celebration, of finally getting through it, of finally getting it right. They finally survived- he was finally able to save him.

Things should be good after that, right?

Except Eddie doesn't know him. Eddie kissed him back, but he doesn't have any of the context that Steve does. So of course things are going to be strained.

He says to Steve one day, “You kissed me, but you were thinking about loop number 49 who told you about his parents, or maybe it was loop number 20 who held your hand! You were thinking about them, not me. Those other versions died and I’m the only one here. I don't know how to be them.”

And Steve doesn't know how to reconcile this. Because Eddie always refers to the other versions of himself as ‘him’, never ‘me’. He thinks of them as different people, different entities or iterations that aren’t him.

But Steve only sees Eddie.

He only sees the person who told him all those intimate details about himself, who he shared the same intimate details about his life with. He sees the person who he fought so hard to save. He sees the person who listened to him every single time and believed him, and believed that he could do it, could save him, every single time.

How do they move forward when Eddie’s insecure about not living up to these other versions of himself? How can they move forward when Steve is blindly lumping all versions of Eddie that he’s known together?

Can they move forward?

[clickerflight]

3 for you, 12 for kai, 28 for joanna

Thank you for the ask, my friend!

3: What are your favorite tropes?

That's a bit hard. I like a lot of whump tropes. I like stories with the slow revealing of what a whumpee went through, I love hair pulling, can't get enough of betrayal (especially when the villain is disturbed by it as well) and I love whumper turned whumpee. There's something so sweet about the whumper becoming intimately familiar with what they put Whumpee through and regretting it. There are certainly more that I love, though I cannot think of all of them right now.

12: What is your least favorite punishment?

Kai wrinkled his nose. "Wasn't really punishment, was it? I guess I was punished sometimes for struggling too much, but I stopped that pretty quickly and the deaths never got any more merciful.

"Still, I think the worst time was..... well, guess you could say I was drawn and quartered in my second month there. That's where most of the blood in the office came from. Leshy was having a particularly bad day, I think. He wouldn't stop laughing. I think.... before I died I remember seeing him waving at me with my own arm."

28: Have you ever gone too far? If so, what did you do when that happened?

Joanna stares at you, a reporter without a face, it seemed, a cruel smile on your lips. She looked down at the cuffs around her wrists and her prisoner's outfit. "I guess I have," she murmured. "And I.... doubled down, I suppose. I've never been good at taking a step back and.... well, you see where that's gotten me.

[onsideramen]

One Step Away.

DRAGONS RISING SEASON 2 PART 1 SPOILERS AHEAD.

Also, quick TW: Choking, Death.

This is a little silly fic that I'll be posting to AO3 later probably ;3

(KAIS FEAR SCENE IN THE CAVE REAL OMG???!?!?!?!?!? Character study :3)

Kai stared ahead, determined to reach the end of the cave- he needed to, after all. The flame in his hand flickered, faltering before extinguishing itself into small puffs of ash.

The Fire Master turned his attention to his hand, snapping it a few times in a fruitless attempt to get the flame back. He groaned when it didn't work, turning around to the others and-

...Where were they?

Kai squinted, seeing nothing but a cloud of darkness. He took a step forward, worry squeezing his heart tightly. He didn't need to worry, not yet- but how could he not? A few months would never be enough to meld that torn piece of him back together, that piece of him that wondered if he'd simply finally given to insanity, seeing nothing but hallucinations.

He shook his head quickly, not letting his thoughts drag him under. This moment was real, he was certain- and he was certain his family was not within his sight.

"Lloyd?" Kai called into the darkness, voice steady despite the worry dripping from him in borderline solar flares. He frowned at the lack of response, moving his flameless hands to cup his mouth. "Nya! Lloyd!"

Again, no response.

The worry was practically tearing him apart inside out now- something he would likely never admit. Kai walked further back into the cave, attempting to locate the others. If he was mildly frantic about it, no he wasn't.

Kai came to a halt at the sound of what could almost be called a scream.

One that he was far too familiar with.

Kai whipped around, already falling into a defensive stance as he watched Lloyd run to him, tears streaming down his face. The Fire Master didn't comprehend how young he looked in that moment, as if he were a confused and scared 11-year-old again.

It didn't matter how he looked, not at all- and it never would. It was Lloyd. His brother. Someone he swore he would always protect. Pulling Lloyd closer to him before adjusting his stance to be semi-in front of the younger came almost as second nature.

Kai watched closely as something slunk out of the darkness, towering over him. The thing smirked, a hand coming out from behind it.

The thing held Nya by the neck, she flailed around for a moment, trying to pry the thing away from her neck so she could, most likely, breathe.

The Fire Masters eyes widened, stance faltering for just a moment before his expression hardened. Sparks filtered from his fists.

"Let her go."

The thing sneered at Kai, its devoid face crinkling into something akin to disgust before tightening its grip. Nya squirmed for a moment before beginning to wheeze, her attempts to pry the things hand from her neck growing weaker and weaker.

Kai stared, pulse buzzing violently under his skin.

His blocked flames bristled, a blazing inferno deep in his core.

And he lunged.

He lunged for the thing, anger in every grab and tear at the monster.

Rip.

Tear.

Rip.

Tear.

"LET HER GO!" He screamed, eyes burning as his attacks grew more and more helpless.

The thing snickered despite its current state, amusement in its unforgiving eyes.

Kais' anger only grew, the inferno raging until it obscured any rational thought he could've had. Unshed tears clogged his eyes, limbs trembling as he tried to withhold himself from killing the thing. A mercy it didn't deserve.

And then he was on the other end of the cave, gasping in gulps of air, dizzy, with an unbreathing sister beside him. His inferno sizzled out, water dimming it to a few half-hearted sparks. The shaking of his limbs increased tenfold, his tears finally boiling over and burning his cheeks.

"KAI!" Lloyd- oh, oh FSM wasn't he protecting him-

Kai threw himself onto his feet, looking a complete mess as he watched in what felt almost like slow motion as The Thing dragged his younger brother further into the darkness, a snicker echoing the cave before something zapped him.

Kais' mind had to do a double take on that last thing, actually. He was staring at the stone floor of the cave, shaking mildly- but there were no tears in his eyes, as if they'd been boiled away.

He was zapped.

Zapped?

Was Jay nearby? Oh, FSM. How would he ever explain all this- he couldn't handle The Lightning Ninja right now-

No, no. It would be a good thing if he was there now, wouldn't it?

Kai was pulled to his senses by the sound of the others talking. The others. Lloyd and Nya. His family. His siblings.

He inhaled shakily, trying to wipe what must have been a horrified expression off of his face, then stood up.

They were alive.

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour... Masterlist

PEETA MELLARK X GN!READER

You wake up with a migraine, surrounded by forests and kids that are more than willing to kill you. What have you fallen into the middle of? And why can't you remember getting here?

Arena fanfiction, cannon-typical violence, descriptions of blood injuries and death, descriptions of a panic attack, temporary memory loss, mentions of familial abuse, depictions of mutated creatures, established relationship, romance, kissing, fluff and angst, minor character deaths, action/adventure

Table of Contents:

Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT (FINALE)

[half-deadmagicperson]

How Danny Broke His Favorite Star Projector

Hey y'all!!! This is my fic for @ecto-implosion on art by @midnightectosnack ! (WHO DID AN AMAZING JOB!)

Crossover: Danny Phantom, Hades (Videogame)

Rating: Teen (To Be Safe)

Characters: Danny Phantom, Zagreus (Hades), Cerberus (Hades), Cujo (Danny Phantom), Clockwork, Persephone (Hades), Charon (Hades)

Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Psychopomp AU

Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Death Mentioned, Cannon-typical Violence

Summary: It's been a long time since Danny became a half-ghost. After the fights in Amity ended, he began a new job: guiding souls to their respective afterlives. One day, Danny stumbled upon a strange soul he's never seen before, a soul from the House of Hades.

Link to AO3

Next Chapter

Link to Midnight's Artwork!!!

   It was a pretty normal day in the Infinite Realms, well as normal as it can be. Danny had just finished up his day at work and was making his way back home. He floated in the Zone for what felt like forever. His fatigue caused his surroundings to blur. Islands, doors, staircases, a bluish spirit looking thing, more islands. Danny stopped in his tracks. He must've forgotten one.

   About seventy years ago or so, before Danny left Amity, Clockwork showed up to Danny's house with a new job. He asked Danny to help guide souls to their respective afterlives. The boy accepted the offer and began shortly after. 

   Danny walked with thousands of spirits. Some were strangers, others were a little close to home. It started with Sam's grandma, then Tucker's parents, then Sam's, then his own mother and father, then Tucker, then Sam, then Valerie, then Jazz. Eventually, everyone he ever knew passed away. Amity Park moved on, and so did Danny, well he's trying to.

    Now Danny was staring at the Blue spirit in front of him. It was definitely a soul, but it looked different than the ones he's seen before. Its face was a dark void with yellow eyes and kind of reminded him of a blob ghost, but more sentient. He should probably go to Clockwork. 

   The ghost boy floated around, soul in tow, until he approached a large clocktower.

  “Hello? Clockwork?” Danny called out into the dark entryway. He glanced around until his eyes landed on a familiar purple cloak. The boy’s mentor, currently in the form of a baby, turned around to greet his pupil. The baby’s form shifted into a frail, old man.

  “Hello, Daniel, what have you come to ask?”

  “Ok, so I was on my way back home when I came across this soul, and I don’t know which afterlife it belongs to,” Danny pointed to the blue creature next to him.

  “Ah, yes, I haven’t seen one of those souls in a very long time. This soul belongs to the House of Hades,” Clockwork moved to inspect the soul, “ Usually these souls are sent directly to Hades, but it appears this one got lost. Would you mind, Young Daniel, escorting it back to the Underworld?”

   Danny looked up at his mentor, now in the form of a young adult, and nodded. The Ghost of Time passed the boy a scroll with directions as well as a giant sack of meat. It was time to go to the Underworld.

    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    

     In the darkness of the Underworld, the young prince prepares food for the fiercest of protectors, Cerberus the three headed hound.

  “Oh, you’re back, Old Man.” 

  Zagreus, Son of Hades, grabbed the sack of meat he prepared to feed his favorite guard dog. He walked down the cold, dry halls of the House of Hades until he reached the back of the Temple.

    The Prince wanders the halls of the House. He does not know what he shall find further ahead. Will it be a great ally? Or a deadly foe? Either way the Fates have something in store.

   “You know I can still hear you, Right?” 

   Zagreus sighed. There must be something, other than Cerberus ahead. Slowly, Zagreus crept down the hall, preparing for battle if necessary. He couldn’t believe what he saw next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Danny just finished returning the soul. He decided not to venture too deep into the Underworld, totally not out of fear, and dropped the prodigal off at the main entrance. 

   When he first arrived at the House, he heard a large growl. Cerberus, the massive three-headed hound, showed three sets of fangs to the unsuspecting ghost boy.

   Danny, not having any concept of danger, decided to treat the giant beast like he would any dog, and allowed it to give him sniffs. He floated up closer to the middle head. The creature’s giant noses created gusts of wind as it took in Danny’s scent. Danny braced himself for rejection, but instead felt a large nose bump into him, more specifically, into the bag of meat. The boy mentally thanked Clockwork, and presented Cerberus with the meat.

   In an instant, the ferocious hell-hound turned into an oversized puppy. Danny smiled as he offered the dog pets. He kind of reminded Danny of Cujo. The boy continued scratching under one of the dog's ears. He didn't hear the incoming footsteps.

  "Who the hell are you?"

   Danny whipped his head around. On the opposite side of the hallway stood a rather imposing figure. A guy, who looked just a tad older than Danny, crossed his arms and glared. He was dressed like a Greek god, and was built like one too. This was gonna be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Zagreus didn't know what he was expecting, maybe some monster or a demigod or something, but it definitely wasn't a flying boy in a strange outfit. The weirdest part was that Cerberus had not attacked the intruder, in fact, the intruder was petting him? It was then that Zagreus noticed the sack of meat on the floor. Ah, bribery. Welp time to get this party started.

   "Who the hell are you?"

   The boy jolted into a defensive position. Zagreus noticed him analyzing his opponent. He was definitely a seasoned fighter, and not to be underestimated. The boy put on a nervous expression and responded:

  "I was…just leaving! Nice place you got here, uh, sir! I'll just be, uh, scooting out this gateway here."

  The culprit was trying to escape. Zagreus sighed. He may be new here, but he still must face the same justice. 

   "You are not allowed to intrude into the House of Hades, for that you must pay."

   He drew out Stygius, Blade of the Underworld.

   Danny eyed the blade carefully. It looks like there's gonna be a fight. Maybe he can talk the guy with the sword out of it?

  “We, we don't really have to fight! I can just lea-”

  Zagreus charged full-force at the stranger. The prince only had a few moments to process the glowing blue in his opponent's hand before he was met with another sword.

   Danny used his newly crafted ice sword to ward off his attacker. He eventually was able to get a lucky hit in and knock the weapon out of Zagreus's hand.

   “Could we maybe, I don't know, talk about things instead of fighting?”

   “No,” was the prince’s curt reply before drawing another weapon, a spear. Where the hell did that even come from?

   Zagreus spun the Eternal Spear into the intruder's sword. The ice shattered like glass. Looks like it was time for a new plan. 

   Danny summoned some ectoblasts and started shooting at the prince from a distance. Despite his efforts, Zagreus persisted and started backing Danny into a corner.

   Danny sighed.

   “I didn't want to have to do this, but you gave me no choice.” 

   The Underworld shook with the echoes of ghostly screaming. Stalactites cracked and crumbled onto the ground. Cerberus whined from the loud noise. Zagreus cupped his ears, yet still persisted. 

    Danny continued his Ghostly Wail until his throat was raw. Exhaustion waved over him. It's been a while since he's used that, he forgot how draining it was.

   Seeing the prince disoriented, he allowed himself to meet the floor. He couldn't fight more if he tried.

   Zagreus's ears were ringing, but he noticed his opponent was down. He did not hesitate to take the opportunity to trap the boy.

    Danny looked up at the two-pronged spear aimed at his throat.

 "WAIT!!!.....please," Danny croaked out. The prince stared down at him, refusing to let down his guard. Nevertheless, he let him continue.

  "I was sent here by my mentor to return a soul. I'm a psychopomp. I guide souls to their respective afterlives. I was on my way home when I found one of yours. I promise I never meant to intrude!"

   Zagreus looked down at the young ghost. He could be telling the truth, but he also could be lying. He scanned the boy for any indication of falsehood. He found none.

   Slowly, he let up on the ghost, refusing to break eye contact. The boy breathed a sigh of relief. 

  "Well, now that that's settled, my name is Danny, Danny Phantom, what's yours?"

[arc852]

 Jimmy woke up back in Tumble Town.

 It took him a moment to gain his bearings, a moment for his brain to catch up on what had just happened. 

 Right, he had fallen after trying to push the TNT minecart off. 

 He had died. 

 First. 

 Again.

 Jimmy groaned into his hands and curled up right there on the bed. How could he be so stupid? How could he let the curse claim him for a fourth time? How…

 “I guess I really am just that bad at the game.” Jimmy said out loud to nobody. Because he was alone. Again. His hands left his face and he hugged himself instead. He closed his eyes when he realized his vision was becoming blurry with tears. “I hate myself.”

 Jimmy lost track of how long he stayed like that. But he finally lifted his head when he heard something outside. Like someone landing. He sighed and curled in on himself even further. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone. Whether that was Fwhip or Sausage or Gem, or anyone else. He just needed to be alone right now. Where he belonged.

 “Go away.” Jimmy called out when he was sure the person was close enough. His voice sounded shaky, even to his own ears, but he didn’t care. 

 The footsteps didn’t stop though and then his door handle was turning and then it was pushed open and-

 Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Joel?”

 And Joel was there, no longer in his bad boy jacket and glasses, back to being a god, and looking equal parts sheepish and sad. “Hey, bad boy.”

 Jimmy didn’t say anything for a few moments, trying to take in Joel actually being there. “Wait, did you-?”

 Joel nodded. “Yeah, I died. I was the third one out.”

 The third. Jimmy didn’t bother to ask who the second was. He didn’t care. “But how?” He was no longer hugging himself, instead he was now standing in front of Joel, still unbelieving that he was actually there. “You’re so much better at the game than I am. How did you die so soon?”

 Joel sighed, looking away. “After you died I…got a bit reckless I guess.”

 “Oh.”

 Joel still wasn’t looking at him and Jimmy’s legs were hurting, so he sat back down on his bed. 

 “I was going to sacrifice myself for you.”

 Jimmy’s head snapped up but Joel was still looking away from him. “W-What?” Surely he had heard wrong, right?

 Joel sighed and then turned to meet Jimmy’s eyes. “I was going to give you my time. I was going to die so you wouldn’t be the first one out again. But…I waited too long. And then it was too late.” He turned away again. “I had already come to terms with the time not being mine, so I was a bit more reckless than I should have been I guess.”

 “Joel-”

 “I’m sorry Jimmy. I should have asked you to kill me sooner, I should have-”

 “No! Joel, stop!” Jimmy was standing again despite how much his legs ached. “Don’t you dare-you didn’t-agh!” Jimmy yelled in frustration, not knowing how to say what he wanted to. Joel, on his part, had frozen with his mouth still open, in shock at Jimmy’s outburst. 

 “Jimmy, what-?

 “I wouldn’t have accepted it.”

 Joel shut up again. There was silence as Joel looked at Jimmy, really looked at him. “What?”

 Jimmy shook his head. “My life isn’t worth yours.” Joel looked like he wanted to argue but Jimmy cut him off again. “My life isn’t worth yours, Joel. I wouldn’t want you to die in my place. I-I wouldn’t want anyone to die in my place but let alone you.” And then, quieter, he said, “I’m not worth it.”

 “You are worth it! Don’t say that!” It was Joel’s turn to yell and Jimmy suddenly felt two hands land on his shoulders. “What is wrong with you? Of course you're worth it!”

 “No, I’m not! Not more than you!”

 “Of course more than me, you bloody idiot!”

 They both were breathing heavy now, sadness and grief turned to anger. Anger at each other. Anger at themselves.

 But just as quickly as they had turned to anger, it left, leaving them feeling the full effects of what both of them said. Joel’s hands left Jimmy’s shoulders and Jimmy fell back to sit on his bed. Joel wasn’t far behind him, sitting down next to him.

 “I think we both might have some issues we need to work out.” Jimmy said, breaking the silence. 

 Joel chuckled. “Yeah. Seems like it.”

 Jimmy smiled a little and then they were silent again. But not for long. Jimmy soon felt a weight on his shoulder and he looked over to see Joel leaning into him. “I’m sorry you died first again.” Joel said.

 “It’s okay.” Jimmy said, leaning back into Joel. He closed his eyes, wanting to stay in the moment. “It wasn’t your fault.” He could have said a million more things, but he didn’t. They didn’t. Things weren’t okay, but for right now, for this one moment, it didn’t have to be. 

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober prompt 22/day 22-immortality

i keep putting marius through the horrors and i probably won't stop. i swear i love him he's just so easy to make angst of.

@mechtober-2024

Uncertainty and Immortality - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; temporary character death, character death, mentioned/implied violence, Out angst, some minor suicidal ideation, implied/mentioned gun violence, blood, gore, a bit of eldritch horror, probably more than that, please let me know what i need to add!

----

Marius didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Mechanisms were probably immortal–they died-revived-died all the time. They killed-revived-killed each other all the time. They had forgotten Brian in a star for a century, and he was mostly fine—after a while. Marius had died so many times, had died to become Marius. How could he not believe in immortality? It’d been thousands of years since he’d gotten his arm. Probably more, probably much longer.

But he didn’t necessarily know if he believed in immortality.

Of course, the Music explained to him in sweet symphonies and gentle decrescendos and brassy tunes, over and over again– he was here forever. Always to be its voice box, always to play along. And if he leaves? He would only join the cacophonous chorus, his violin joining all those before him that had been cursed. But the Music didn’t want him to join just yet, as much as it could want anything, and so he was here forever.

But the Music lies.

It always had, and always would.

Marius thinks that’s where he got it from, where every other sentence a falsehood came so naturally from. Marius is the Music’s most recent Voice, and the Music lies, and so Marius lies. Just like the rest of the Crew, he spoke in songs and lyrics and stories, concocted and written out to be nothing but that– a story. True or false, who’s to say at this point. The Music lies, and so Marius lies.

And Marius was pretty sure the Music lied about the Mechanisms living forever.

Whenever one of the Crew died, there was always a spark of anxiety, a spark of fear as that oh-so familiar Song played quietly in his mind, that feeling of, Oh, they’re not going to wake up this time, are they? But they always do. They always wake up, and the Song fades, and everyone goes about their business, and Marius forgets the feeling until the next time.

It’s always different when he’s the one who dies, even though the Song doesn’t change. It’s more of a feeling of, They won’t have to deal with me anymore. Maybe I can rest. And yet he always wakes up. It’s less of a fear, more of a quiet hope. Sometimes he does remember to be afraid, he remembers to worry–will his friends miss him? His friends still needed him, he still needed his friends–

And then he wakes up, and everything goes back to normal. The keening Song fades once again.

That’s just how they worked, they died-killed-died-revived all the time as if it was second nature. Perhaps it was, at this point. They shot just as quickly as they gave kind smiles. Jonny shot more than he gave any sign of kindness, really.

The killed-died-revived so frequently, that eventually the fear and Song just became background noise. He still tried to avoid it, still pushed it down and ignored it when he could, but it kind of just became a fact of his seemingly never-ending life. Every time he or one of the other Mechanisms died, there’d be a little seed of doubt in his mind about whether or not they’d wake up. They always did. It wore on them, Marius could see it so clearly, in their aimless destruction and heavy shoulders and tired eyes. But Marius was always grateful when they woke up. I’m not ready yet, he’d think, for them to disappear. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, constantly dreading the day their mechanisms finally gave out and they’d die for real. Always afraid, always hesitant to harm because what if it didn’t heal.

He was still much quicker to harm than any average mortal, he still did his fair share of killing and maiming of the Crew–especially when they stole his kneecaps. A little revenge never hurt anyone for too long. Much better than getting Lost in the Music on purpose and wandering the ship with his mournful violin, as that often only led to his kneecaps being stolen again. And getting Lost was never a pleasant feeling.

He still hovered, though, especially when it was their mechanisms that had taken damage. None of the others liked him poking at their mechanisms, despite the fact that he was probably more qualified to work on them than he was on the fleshy bits. To be fair, they didn’t exactly like Raphaella messing with their mechanisms either– Jonny was the most common culprit, but many times the others liked to avoid maintenance as much as possible. Marius never pushed though, it’s not like he didn’t understand. He only let Raph work on his arm every once in a while, preferring to do maintenance himself. (The Music lies like it is the most natural thing to do, every note misread and every string misplaced, but Marius did not want to risk its warnings of what could happen should Raph or one of the others be faced with Marius’s mechanism maintenance. The Music did not like to be Seen, after all. Only heard.)

But whenever their mechanisms were damaged, he hovered off to the side until it was fixed–manually or by their healing factors. Just so that he could be sure that they were alright, that they’d get up again soon. He tried his best not to be clingy, usually, tried his best to avoid taking up too much space around them or invading their personal space when it wasn’t welcome, but his anxiety was never quelled until he saw that they were okay, and that they were going to be alright.

Marius, admittedly, was not a person who enjoyed uncertainty. He was almost sure the doubt of ‘true’ immortality was what made him scared more than anything, the possibility of losing one of the others suddenly and without reason.

And of course, that is what happened, when Nastya went Out.

He and Nastya weren’t especially close, Nastya spending more of her time hiding away in the depths of the Aurora and doing whatever-it-was she did as an engineer and as Aurora’s girlfriend. She only ever showed up for meal times or for Crew Night and concerts, or during the occasional crew-wide tea party hosted by The Toy Soldier. She tended to disappear whenever they were planetside, her own wanted posters popping up without fanfare or loud explosions like Tim or Jonny or Ashes. And besides, half the time planetside, Nastya rarely left the Aurora.

But that changed one day, out in deep space.

And she left, disappearing.

Possibly forever.

Something changed among the Mechanisms, there was a loss that felt… Well, it felt final and it was strange.

Marius found himself hovering more, clinging even though he tried not to. Worrying, heart racing, every time someone died. That fear that had become background noise was almost always present and in the forefront.

One day, while staying in the cockpit with Brian, the brass pilot said quietly, “She’s probably cold out there. It was so cold…”

His voice was tinny and distant, and Aurora creaked sadly in response.

“I hope she’s not cold… I hope we find her soon…”

Marius didn’t say anything, remaining silent. Just climbed into Brian’s lap and purred till the both of them fell asleep.

Marius did not like being uncertain.

Perhaps that was why he latched onto Lyf so strongly.

They were temporary, and it was a guarantee that they were temporary. The system was doomed, crushing Songs and endless Noise and it was fragile and temporary, so very temporary. Obviously, going into something and knowing it won’t last for-probably-forever made it easy to not get attached…

One would think.

But Marius fell fast, and when he fell he fell hard. Always had, probably always would. What started as teasing and making fun of the inspector in charge of the three of them eventually turned into something a bit softer, something a bit–perhaps not kinder, but gentler. Something a bit more akin to care, as close to care as one could get with the Mechanisms.

And then the train arrived, and he and Ivy and Raph left, and Lyf was gone.

And it hurt.

It was awful and Marius could barely think past the pain in his heart and the Songs screaming from the remains of Yggdrasil, but it was expected. He could bury his grief and fear with more, different grief.

And then they returned, Lyfrassir managed to escape somehow and they were back. And they somehow managed to return to Marius’s life, even though they hated him. He didn’t mind, hating him was fine. He couldn’t force Lyf to feel anything. He was content to just appreciate that they were there.

Of course, though, they were still temporary. They were still definitely going to die one day, and maybe it was odd that he found a sense of comfort in that. Maybe it was wrong. But it was true, and that was comforting to Marius. Because it was expected that he’d lose them, that they’d disappear. He didn’t have to deal with that aching fear as much, that feeling of They won’t get up, this is it our luck’s run out, because when they died there’d be no reason for them to get up and start walking.

That didn’t stop the pain when they did die, though. That aching, familiar fear creeping in.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this, after all. This wasn’t how they were supposed to die. They weren’t supposed to die by a bullet to the head, a bullet probably meant for Jonny as he was only a few meters behind them and had done significantly more to anger the people on this planet– they were supposed to die old and withered when Marius was ready. When he could actually look death and eternity head on and say ‘I’m not afraid’. They weren’t supposed to die only a few short years after joining them, after starting to travel with them.

And then… Well, perhaps, the most unexpected thing happened.

Lyf’s dark blue blood that was starting to stain Aurora’s silver floor started glimmering and glowing, turning into a prismatic array of rainbow hues.

Lyfrassir’s glassy eyes widened, and their voice was pulled from their throat without them having to speak.

Y’ai ‘ng’ngah Yog Sothoth hee-l’gleb f’ai throdog

Uaah ogthrod ai’f geb’lee-ee’h Yog Sothoth ‘ngah’ng ai’y zhro

The rainbow blood rose off the floor, the staticky colors making it hard to look at without gaining a headache but Marius couldn’t force himself to turn away as the blood stitched, slowly, painfully, stitched the wound in Lyf’s head closed, the reality warping as the wound disappeared, as if it never existed.

The iridescent blood seemed to stain Lyf’s pretty silver hair, colors seeping into their locks from their roots, most prominent and most vibrant where their hair was already stained with blood. But the blood was disappearing into nothingness but heat auras and steam around Lyf’s forehead quickly, a light returning to Lyfrassir’s eyes.

The wound seemed to stop existing as it was restitched by Lyf’s blood.

What was Marius so concerned about again? Why was Lyf on the floor?

Lyfrassir blinked, sitting up. Their white pupils had taken on a slightly iridescent hue, their hair seemed to move on its own, like there was wind on Aurora that there shouldn’t be. Splotches of their braids and their roots were stained with that same slightly iridescent hue. They looked around at the Mechanisms, who were staring at them with various looks of horror or concern.

“Wh… What happened?” Their voice was hoarse, like they hadn’t spoken for a while.

“I-” Brian was the one who spoke up, voice cracking as he did so, “I think you died.”

“I…” Lyfrassir’s eyes widened almost comically. “I died?”

“And then you came back,” Raphaella agreed. There was likely more said, Marius could see Lyfrassir’s mouth move as they talked, could see Jonny waving his arms as his tail swished and flicked angrily while he paced, could see Tim fiddle with xyr gun and Ivy snapping and Raph’s wings fluttering and Lyf grabbing their hair and Brian wringing his hands– there was likely more said.

All Marius could hear was the symphony screaming and shouting over itself, a Song oh-so familiar to Odin’s Void and the Bifrost’s whippoorwill call.

Lyfrassir disappeared into their room for a few months, and no one did anything to try and coerce them out.

Marius could barely be around them, the screaming Void and Whippoorwills and yelling symphony overwhelming him, only serving to get him Lost.

Marius didn’t know if he believed in immortality, the Music lies and Marius was sure one day their mechanisms would give out and wouldn’t heal anymore.

Whenever Lyf exited their room, they were disgruntled and their braids looked rougher than it ever had in all the time Marius knew them. Their hair was still stained with rainbows and their eyes still shined with opalescent colors, but the keening Void and keening Whippoorwills had calmed down, simply matching their usual background noise.

Marius approached them, after that.

“I think I’m glad you’re not Temporary,” he admitted. “But it scares me more than I’m glad.”

Lyfrassir replied with a confused ‘thank you’. They didn’t look at him. “I didn’t want this, when I escaped. I just wanted to live, but not like this.”

“You didn’t deserve to be Taken by something like our Music. But it probably only let you escape on purpose, for this.”

There was a moment of silence. “I think eternity is a long time. I don’t want to live forever.”

“I’m not certain we will. But at least we’re here, for however long ‘forever’ really is.”

After that, things returned to mostly-normal. It was strange, and everything was different, but it was like nothing had changed, in a way.

Marius just had one more person to hover over, whenever they were injured and whenever they got killed. To make sure that they lived, that they came back.

Marius just had one more person to fear losing.

Marius really hated the uncertainty of immortality. Marius really hated how scared it made him.

But it was something he was going to have to live with probably-forever.

Hopefully Nastya was somewhere warm.

[glacierruler]

Masterpost

Infinite Respawns: Stories About Those Who Have Been Chosen

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @nebulous-astronaut

Please tell me if you'd like to be added/removed!

CWs: temporary Main Character Death, death, gore, violence, child death, animal death(briefly mentioned for the most part)

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

[aki-draws-things]

@oh-surprise-its-me

Yes, I wrote on a bus during all the unholy hours my ass had been sitting there, but it's not checked enough to go on ao3, I'll check and fix it (and expand it) when I'm back.

But, the accident. And a bit of the aftermath.

Summary: Ice calls goose I'm the aftermath of the worst accident ever.

(The accident is foreshadowing what will happen again. With a very different outcome)

When Goose arrived at the base hospital, Slider is still in surgery. Iceman looks pale. No, scratch that. He's ghostly white, drenched. He didn't even get out of his flight suit.

He looked ready to throw up, and something told Goose it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm here." He said, his voice soft, a whisper as he stepped closer to Iceman as he brushed his fingers on his hunched shoulders. "Ice, I'm here."

"Gone." Ice muttered, it sounds choked, barely human. "He's gone, goose. He's gone."

Goose frowned, his hand hovering by his shoulders. What the hell? No, Slider was in surgery, not gone. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ice stopped him. Ice looked up, eyes red, and glassy, tear streaks down his cheeks, and a bruise on the side of his face, he tries not to move his left shoulder too much either.

"Got us out of the water. In the chopper. Gone." His words are fragmented, and suddenly Goose understood.

"Fuck." He breathed out, slowly. He sat down next to Iceman and held his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He's gonna be alright."

Because let's be honest, what else could he say at this point? Ice just told him that one of his closest friends died.

"Fucking hell. How?"

It takes Goose almost 30 minutes before actually asking. It takes at least one more hour before Ice can force words out of his mouth.

"Dunno... our Cat went down in flames. There was smoke and heat everywhere, I-- I dunno. I couldn't reach ejection, Ron pulled it for me."

Goose sucked in a breath. Damn, he knew how loyal Slider was, he flew with him before, when Slider trained as a pilot and Goose was his Rio. They didn't work out, Slider wasn't cut to be a pilot, Slider was dangerous and unpredictable.

Goose felt like a hypocrite, flying with Maverick, but they didn't know Maverick. (Mav was everything Slider had been at his age. The one big difference was that Goose was older now. It wasn't Slider's fault like he had painted at the time. And maybe he missed the chance to tell him so.)

Slider was loyal to a fault.

"Too much smoke, you know? I think I was losing consciousness. Next thing I know, I'm in the air, and I see Ronnie's chute a little further from me. But he's hanging there like a broken doll."

Once Iceman started, he could not stop anymore. Goose could see his eyes becoming distant, lost in the midst of what happened barely hours before.

"We're in the water. He doesn't move. I swim over to him. I held him, you know? The way I hold him all the time."

Goose knew what he means, he saw the way they held in each other.

"He was in my arms. There was blood all over his face, in the water, and his helmet cracked. He hit the canopy, somehow. Because--" Ice's breath itched in his throat and goose wanted to reach out and hold him. It's not his job--

"Cause he got me out first, and he wasted time."

"He saved you. It's not a waste of time."

"He got me out and wasted the momentum to eject himself safely." He repeated, his voice low and choked.

Goose closed his eyes and prayed not to hear anything else. He knows, he can guess what's about to come, and he's not sure he could take it. but Iceman needed to get it out.

Iceman pressed his fingers on his neck, Slider's head was reclined against his shoulder, and the chopper can't get to them fast enough. Ice's fingers dig into the skin and feel-- nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Silence.

He pressed deeper, it would leave a bruise, maybe, but he needed to hear it, the soft thumping under his--

It's not there. No gentle thud.

Silence.

There's no warm exhale against his cheek when Ron breathed. because there was no breath left in his body.

"Let me take him."

No. No, no-- he doesn't want to let go.

"Sir, let me take him."

He wants his Ron back. He needs him back. Ron's gone because he was such a poor excuse of a pilot and couldn't even elect himself.

"I need you to let him go, sir. We can't lift him if you hold him like that."

He let go just a tiny little bit, and they lift Ron's broken body away from him.

Gone. His Ronnie is--

He throws up in the water.

When he finally is lifted out of the water and into the chopper too, they have cut open his flightsuit. They're pushing down his chest with so much strength that he's sure he will bruise and even break something.

Who cared, after all? Ron was gone anyway.

They force air into his lungs.

Tom never saw him lay so still in all the years he had known Ron. He did see him in a hospital bed his fair share of times because apparently living outside a home for a couple of months and still going to school like nothing happened, can easily end up with a nasty cold and persistent cough. And that could easily turn into pneumonia. And Tom would wake up in the dead of the night to Ron wheezing in ways he was not supposed to.

But this was different. Ron was unnaturally still. Or moving, that depended on how Tom would see things.

He was gone.

He was dead.

He was dead under their expert hands as they tried to get him back. As they worked so hard, so fucking hard for his heart to beat again. Tom swears that if Ron died, so would he. He couldn't imagine a life where Ron is not right beside him. He would never be able to fly, ever again.

It doesn't look like a good rhythm when the monitor shows a tiny change, but it's a rhythm nevertheless. Well, kind of.

"They said so many things. Things I don't understand. Things I forgot. All I know was that his heart stopped. He wasn't breathing, even as we arrived here, he wasn't. And his skull was fractured."

Goose felt sick. Iceman wasn't even blinking anymore, he realized, he was staring blankly, unemotional.

Ice cold.

Slider survived.

He remained in a coma for an unholy time, Ice remained right at his side. He pleaded.

He prayed.

Goose never saw him pray. Goose didn't even know he was religious.

Ice himself didn't know who he was praying to. He just was praying.

Goose took out the small cross he always carried around his neck, the one his mother gave him, he gave it to Ice without a word. He had the one Carole gave him. Right now, Ice needed it more.

"Slider! How are you doing man? I thought you wanted to be a pilot. What happened?"

Goose was smiling, goose was, maybe, just a bit intoxicated, not too much just a little.

Slider's smile was strained, he tried to sound casual, he tried not to say that Goose knew exactly what the fuck happened. Still, he smiled.

"So, flying with the Iceman, mh?"

"It's Mr. Iceman to you."

Ice was, perhaps, a little intoxicated too, if the way he leaned on Ron's shoulders said anything. But Goose knew a different reason for him leaning so close, a very different reason why Ice's fingers carded through his hair on the back of his head.

Goose knew there was a scar there, where his head cracked open.

Goose knew Slider was a miracle in two feet.

It was a miracle he survived. (He almost didn't.)

It was a miracle he woke up.

It was a miracle he recovered to the point he was allowed back into an F-14.

Ron was a miracle himself, Goose is not sure how, but he's so damn happy it went this way.

Goose knew he waited one instant too long.

Goose knows that is the last thing he will ever know. but he sees Mav, and Mav is safe.

Suddenly, he understood Slider.

That's the last thing he knows.

The papers felt heavy in Mav's hands as his eyes scanned through them thoughtfully.

For a moment, he thought Tom mistakenly gave him Goose's medical papers. Everything, well, most of it, matches terrifyingly. The injury, injuries, multiple. The accident. His head struck the canopy. There's a small, black-and-white picture of a cracked helmet, Tom had the decency to remove every other picture describing the injuries. (Tom removed more than just a few pictures. He squeezed a piece of paper in his hand so much that he almost tears it. Maverick doesn't need to know.)

Mav is still half convinced he's reading the report from goos--- Roland Yaakov Kerner. "Slider".

"If you want to go to Texas now--"

"No... they need time alone. They deserve it." A beat, Tom inhales sharply, his hands still shaking. "Don't talk about that. To no one. Chris must never know. Deal?"

Mav nods.

"Deal."

[writing-oof]

FFXV Exchange Extras - The Loops

[TW: Brief mention of suicidal ideation, dying, apathy]

Dying does not feel how he expects it to.

His eyes shoot open so wide they almost hurt, a gasp.

Dying feels *exactly* how he expects it to.

---

"Hey," Prompto says, poking him in the side. Noctis turns further into his pillows, making his breaths come far more even than they feel. He was never good at crying quietly, but he's had almost a hundred days to practice.

"Noct," Prompto whines, poking at him again, harder this time.

"Go 'way," Noctis says, but he doesn't mean it. He never does.

"Nope," Prompto says, sounding unusual about the whole thing. He should probably take that as a warning, but suddenly Noctis feels the bed jolt as Prompto flops down beside him, nearly elbowing him in the process.

"Be careful," Noctis gripes, turning to glare half-annoyedly at Prompto and completely forgetting the very visible effects of crying still stuck on his face. He's reminded, though, when his friend's face goes from amused to concerned in a heartbeat.

Too tired for this--always, *always* too tired for this--Noctis turns to mash his face back in his pillow.

*"Hey,"* Prompto says, poking him again, "Hey, Noct, what's wrong?"

---

Noctis never thought he'd say this, but he is entirely and completely *sick* of Ignis's cooking.

It had been the only blessing, at first, the only consistency across worlds.

---

Noctis wakes, the world a slurry of color and light around him.

---

*Wake up.*

"I'm trying," Noctis hisses, but it's harder than the ghosts seem to think. He remembers being awake, and he's tried to emulate it a hundred times, but it doesn't work any better this time.

---

Noctis realizes that his body has been resetting by the fourth week.

The world's staying the same, and so is he. On one hand, it's a small mercy. He can just imagine the perpetual horror of having his friends watch him age decades overnight as he dies of old age inside this loop.

---

Noctis is already running on empty when things really go to hell.

He doesn't know what he has left, at that point. He doesn't know what it means anymore.

---

"I think it might be easier if I just end it," Noctis admits, as casually as he can.

---

"Don't worry, I already know: I'm King," Noctis scoffs, because he hasn't forgotten *this* conversation. It lives scrawled into the back of his eyelids, ready to greet him every night when he tries to close his eyes. "I'm not allowed to die."

---

"Noctis!" Gladio shouts, storming into the room with a wild franticness. "Get your shit, we have to go!"

"It might as well happen," Noctis says, shrugging.

Gladio doesn't even seem bewildered by his sudden shift in behavior. Instead, he just wraps his hand around Noctis's wrist and pulls him up.

"Fine," Noctis gripes, breaking Gladio's hold and shoving his jacket on, because he'd like to pretend to have at least some control over the situation, "We can go, but it literally does not matter."

Gladio's face twitches, but he doesn't say anything beyond a quick, "Don't make me fucking carry you," as he pulls Noctis out of the room and down one of a billion emergency routes through the castle. Noctis rolls his eyes but keeps up until they break into the courtyard.

"Noctis!" Prompto cries, and something in Noctis's chest withers at the look of panic and relief on his best friend's face.

A gunshot rings out half a minute later and Noctis watches as Prompto writhes in a pool of his own blood.

---

Noctis doesn't know when he stops existing. It's probably some time between letting Ardyn tear the magic out of his veins and that one world where he gets to go to actual high school.

---

"Hey," Prompto says from his side, nudging Noctis's shoulder with his own. "You awake?"

Noctis rolls his eyes before letting his head thunk back against the wall. "I doubt I'd be talking to you if I weren't," he says, letting his eyes slip closed.

"You'd think, wouldn't you, princess?" Gladio asks and Noctis lifts his head again with a grunt, shooting him an unamused look. He'd kind of thought they were over the whole princess thing, but he figures it might be the kind of bit Gladio carries well past his grave. He can respect that level of commitment, honestly; it still doesn't mean he has to *like* it.

"We're glad to see you're awake. You've been out of sorts all evening," Ignis says, gliding into the room with the sort of regality Noctis never could manage and pressing a warm bowl of soup into his hands. Noctis breathes in the steam, basking in the softness of this loop.

"Out of sorts?" he asks between exaggerated slurps of soup, if only for the way it makes Specs's face twist up in disgust.

The action was right, *finally,* but the question is clearly the wrong one, and he tenses up as a quiet sort of disturbed settles over the group. He looks between Ignis and Gladio, waiting for one of them to break the silence, and he's surprised when Prompto's the one to take a crack at breaking the ice.

"You were freaking out, dude," Prompto says, going for casual and missing it by a mile. He loves his friend, but--as much as he hates to agree with *any* version of Ardyn--Prompto really does wear his heart on his sleeve. "You said nothing was real. You said nothing we did mattered, because none of us exist anyways, and fighting was pointless."

Noctis blinks, waiting for him to get to the unsettling part. Maybe he grew tentacles, or spiders crawled out of his eyes. It wouldn't be the freakiest thing he's done in a loop.

Noctis nods when the silence drags on a bit too long. "...and?"

"You..." Prompto seems to get caught beating around the bush, but luckily Specs finally steps in. "You were crying, Noctis."

Noctis considers that.

"I don't remember that," he admits, but he doesn't really doubt it. He wonders if it was an ugly sort of cry, or the kind that people do in movies. He doesn't really do pretty tears very often, but he doesn't cry much at all either. He might be embarrassed, if sobbing was something that was going to follow him home.

"You're not surprised," Ignis says, like he's reading his mind. For a heart-stopping moment, he wonders if that's what this loop is. If they already know exactly what sort of imposter he is, and they're just waiting to make their move and tear him into shreds for daring to take their friend's place.

---

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

CJ & Cerberos

The Isle kids think that death is a social construct, and Hades is not really helping. And CJ Hook in particular treats the Underworld like bus station.

CJ Hook is dead. Again. But look, that’s nothing new, and Harriet didn’t even see this time around, so where’s the problem, really?

Death doesn’t want her. He told her so herself, just last week. And the week before that. And about a month ago. Basically at least once a month since she was, like, seven. Maybe five. Whatever. Time is a social construct.

Wait. He death – that’s not entirely correct. He’s the god of the dead, not of the death. That guy is a fucking killjoy – easily outranked and surprisingly flammable killjoy, if CJ says so herself.

CJ shakes her head, getting her hair out of her eyes, and jumps up. Nothing hurts much, and she isn’t actually sure how she went this time, but hey. Someone’s sure to tell her soon, she just hopes it was dramatic enough. She has bigger problems now.

„Spot!“ she cries out and runs to hug the Guardian of the Underworld around one of his necks. Her hands disappear in the thick fur, and as three wet muzzles sniff at her, CJ Hook laughs.

And they say hell hounds are supposed to be terrifying!

…Clearly, they’ve never seen angry Harriet.

Something wet and icky falls on CJ’s neck; her hair; under her cloak. „Hey now, Spot!“ she cries out, „What did we say about your spit on my clothes?!“

The dog’s left head nuzzles her forehead in apology,and the right head licks her all over her neck and jaw and cheek and eye.

„EW!“ CJ laughs, pushing the right head away, and then bringing it close again; her giggles melt fluently into sobs.

That’s, of course, how the Lord of Underworld finds her.

„Again?“ he sighs instead of greeting, and CJ lifts her head from the now-wet fur. „Hi, Uncle Hades!“ she sniffs. The Lord of the Dead does not correct her. Instead, he ask: „Why are you crying, child?“

CJ sniffs again, and then replies, as dramatically as she can muster: „I can’t pet all three of his heads at once!“

„Yes, that is truly horrible,“ facepalms the god, „Now get upland go away, before your siblings learn you’re here. I’m not in the mood today.“

Fun fact: He is never in the mood for the Hook siblings. Which is a fact that none of them are abusing at all.

„Sure thing, Uncle Hades,“ CJ fake-sniffs again,and pets Cerberos’ middle head, „But–“

The god rubs his temple: „What do you mean but, you insolent child?“

„How did I die this time? Was it impressive?“

„How am I supposed to know?“

What a stupid question. CJ glares a bit, and so does Cerberos. Good boy! „You’re a god,duh,,“ she answers. It should be pretty obvious.

„And you should remember how you die–“

CJ giggles. Why should she bother? Death doesn’t want her. And being careful would be no fun at all.

The god sighs again,and tells her she died trying to raid Evil Queens vaults, again. And that they should finally stop fucking trying, and that her brother died for the same thing last week, which scandalises CJ a bit: He didn’t even tell her! Then again, he didn’t succeed, and maybe that’s a good thing. If he got some of Evil Queens gold (for Uma), the docks would never hear the end of it. Yeah, small mercies. Anyway, there is only one thing that matters: „Well, did I succeed this time?“

„Just check your pockets, you little magpie.“

CJ makes a long face, as Uncle Hades is being entirely unhelpful today. Then she makes a long face again, when she check her pockets and realises that while they’re full of interesting and shiny things, there is nothing new in them. But oh– she thought that she lost that butterfly knife. And she wanted to give these earrings to Freddie weeks ago!

„You can go now,“ says the almighty Lord of the Dead, Ruler of Underworld, God of Riches under the Earth, „You know where the doors are.“

She perks up, and he facepalms again,muttering something like „What did I ever do to deserve this kind of suffering?“ and CJ has no idea what he’s talking about, really. She just wants to take Spot here for a little walk! She’s supposed to go back to the Isle anyway, and walks are good for dogs, really, Sammy said that once! (She thinks.)

She tells him so.

„Absolutely not–“ comes the swift reply.

CJ tries (and fails) to hug all Spot’s necks again, and makes doe eyes at the unmovable god. Then she gets an idea: She leans away from the dog and looks at him sadly, as if preparing to say goodbye. Then she perks up and in faux-surprise exclaims: „Oh, look! Spot has red eyes! Like Ettie when she’s angry!“

Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the god’s flame-hair flicker, and finally, the answer comes: „Take spot for the walk, then.“

Just as she wanted! Yes! „Yes! Thank you, Uncle Hades!“ She jumps up on her feet and runs up to hug the god, who, interestingly enough, rapidly retreats with some interesting curses on his lips. Well, at least CJ thinks those are curses: She can’t speak Greek yet. She should ask Uma to teach her. Surely she would, for her future favourite sister-in-law…

„Come now, Spot!“ CJ exclaims, clapping her hands, „We have places to be! People to scare! Shadow witches to impress!“

Spot obediently gets up, and in a moment, they’re on the Isle again.

And in the moment, the air in the docks fills up with screams of horror as the pirates see little CJ Hook grinning like a madwoman and riding on a three-headed hell hound.

CJ grins just a little bit more, hoping her eyes are burning just as Spot’s are, too, and scratches the middle head behind the ears.

This is awesome.

[skyward-floored]

I have evil ideas too! And I also wonder if I should even write them! Like that one where Cia kidnaps all the boys lol

Anyway tell us your idea anyway

(Unless you really don’t)

Welllllll... fine.

But disclaimer I probably won’t write it because even typing all of this out made me realize it’s like. Really dark kdhjvfsdgjgfkdhf

So pick a Link. I was thinking Hyrule with the monsters who want his blood originally, but it would work with others with some tweaks. Wild and the Yiga maybe, or Warriors and traitors or whatever.

Anyway. I didn’t really solidify it in my mind, but basically what happens is Hyrule gets captured by the monsters who want his blood, and before he can even think about escaping, they stab him and he dies.

But it turns out to bring Ganon back they need like... way more blood than one skinny hylian has in his body. And going into this, they knew that, so they captured as many fairies as they could get their hands on, and bring Hyrule back to life just barely in the window that it’s possible to do so with a fairy.

And they wait maybe a day for him to recover a bit... and do it again.

And again.

Aaaand again.

For however many days it takes the other Links to find him, or for Hyrule to somehow get out of there himself, they’re killing him and getting as much blood as they can and then bringing him back to life with a fairy.

By the time he gets out of there he’s a mess, dealing with the effects of having died who knows how many times in a row and knowing that every time he did he was contributing to Ganon’s return. And after they’ve at least somewhat patched him up, he insists on going back to get the remaining fairies out of there, probably before he’s really strong enough, but they go anyways.

And as they free the remaining fairies, the other Links see all the empty jars that had fairies in them that got used to heal Hyrule, and they’re all horrified because there’s just so many. And every one of them is a sign of every time Hyrule died.

[sapphireginger]

Peter & the Sunflower: Chapter #1 | 1900 - London, England

Summary:

Little Panteleimon slowly sat up and stretched, his ruby red and obsidian black wings unfurling much like the petals of the Helianthus had. His chestnut brown hair, shimmered with obsidian and ruby sparks and his eyes faded from their pre-birth obsidian to a warm amber color, one akin to melted gold and liquid honey.  His body was bare, his height no taller than that of a mouse on its hind legs and he bore no shame or self consciousness for his nakedness. His skin was cream colored, like milk mixed with drops of the sun itself and from head to toe he was adorned with a smattering of light brown spots, known as moles or freckles to most that looked as though they had been painstakingly placed one by one. 

AO3 Link

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Self-Harm

1900 — London, England

In the early hours of the year 1900, just as spring began to fade into summer, a Helianthus, more commonly known as a sunflower, began to unfurl. Its long petals, golden and bright in the sunlight, were ready to reveal their precious cargo, worth more than any jewel or wealth known to man, woman or beast.

Helianthus Fields was a valley of flora just south of the grand city of London, England. It was a valley that stretched as far as the eye could see, especially if you were standing at the crest of the hill to the north of its center. Many knew of the field but very few, almost none, would ever be able to find the grove within the valley where this brand new Helianthus, this brand new sunflower, was blooming. It was a sacred grove, one that housed, one that possessed many secrets and protected its inhabitants. 

That day, May 7th of 1900, just after the turn of the century, as the Helianthus fully stretched its petals, a small being got its first glimpse of the world. This little being was known as a Sióg, or a Fá. In the tongue of those that dwelled in London, the species was known as the fae or fairy. 

Now, these weren’t fairies like those in fairy tales or legends so much as those stories were the ones that had been told by the Siógs themselves to lead the focus away from their people. They were a private and secret race of supernatural beings, and it was imperative that no one ever learned of the truth behind their existence.

The little Sióg born that evening just as the moon took its place amongst the stars, was named Panteleimon. He was known as a hatchling Sióg as that was what they called the newest members of their clan.

Little Panteleimon slowly sat up and stretched, his ruby red and obsidian black wings unfurling much like the petals of the Helianthus had. His chestnut brown hair, shimmered with obsidian and ruby sparks and his eyes faded from their pre-birth obsidian to a warm amber color, one akin to melted gold and liquid honey.  His body was bare, his height no taller than that of a mouse on its hind legs and he bore no shame or self consciousness for his nakedness. His skin was cream colored, like milk mixed with drops of the sun itself and from head to toe he was adorned with a smattering of light brown spots, known as moles or freckles to most that looked as though they had been painstakingly placed one by one. 

Panteleimon’s lithe little body was smooth. The only hair he possessed was that which covered his head, and he was, in a word, breathtaking. There was a reason many did not know about the existence of Siógs and one of them was the allure they held, their beauty far beyond mortal comprehension or witness.

Ready to take a look at the world for the first time, and ready to meet his fellow hatchlings, Panteleimon quickly stood on the Helianthus’s center and peeked to his left. What he saw, what he scented, quickly stole the fresh pink flush from his cheeks, dampened the fire of life in his chest, and stole his strength to remain standing. He collapsed, dropping to his knees as he began to sob. 

As far as the eye could see, which was pretty far for a Sióg like him, there was nothing but ash, smoke and the overwhelming scent of death. The only color that remained in the valley was the lone Helianthus that Pan had just hatched from mere minutes before. Though he could see the golden petals of the Helianthus, it somehow seemed muted when cast alongside the gray, black and barren landscape. 

He shut his eyes, his small body shaking with agony, grief and horror. His small fingers gripped the Disc florets, tightly, praying to the goddess that it was all a nightmare, that he would wake up and see his parents, and his fellow Sióg hatchlings. Alas, when he opened his eyes, the scene had not changed, and he could not help the drooping of his wings or the way their shine began to dull.

Pan remembered the sounds of his parents laughing as he grew closer to his hatching day. They sounded so happy, and he couldn't wait to meet them. He loved hearing their voices and could so clearly recall them even now. They would talk to him every day and he remembered listening to every word even if he didn’t yet understand what they were saying. He remembered the sound of their voices, his mother’s soft cooing and his father’s protective cadence and then he remembered the silence. 

At the time, he did not know why they were silent but now he knew, now he understood, for when he hatched from his sunflower, he saw the husks of a thousand flora that never bloomed. Those husks, thousands of them, husks that had held other Sióg hatchlings, were nothing but ash now. The destruction nearly eradicated an entire species and only one sole Helianthus survived the flames. As Panteleimon shed his tears of pain and grief he saw how the charred remains of the other Helianthus blossoms had become tombs for the other small Siógs, his brothers, his sisters, his friends, his family, all now nothing but ash and dust. He ached and part of him wanted to fade away to ashes and dust himself. His wings began to dull as he considered his pale skin and the crimson waves beneath it. Siógs had claws, thin and needle like, that he could use. It would be quick and then he’d be with his family, his friends, his brothers and sisters, with his kin again. 

The lack of support, lack of fellow hatchlings was why Pantelimon was so much weaker. Siógs were not meant to be alone after their birth. The new hatchlings were supposed to group together and only break off when they felt a pull toward their new home. Death sounded like freedom, but he didn’t think he could actually do such a thing. It would be dishonorable and cowardly. It was just that now, Panteleimon didn’t know what would become of him, nor what his fate would be. Siógs weren’t meant to live in isolation or solitude, but what choice did he have? 

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

It took nearly a fortnight for him to gather enough strength to start his journey. He couldn’t stay no matter how much he wished he could. As soon as he was able to stand, he tried to fly and when he finally began to hover, he began his search for a forever home. Ever since rising high above the Helianthus field, his wings fluttering and buzzing faster than a hummingbird’s wings, he had tried to feel the goddesses’s magic, praying that it would guide him to his new home. His search lasted much too long, using too much of his strength but he pressed on. He could rest later and without knowing whether or not the world held other Siógs out there, he realized he may very well be the last of his kind. He had to find someplace safe to call home, someplace he would be safe. 

As the week grew to a close, the crisp midnight air, chilling his unnaturally cool body, he was almost numb with exhaustion, hunger and his energy was nearly depleted. His eyes began to droop by the time he came to the first star to the right. His light was nearly snuffed out, his wings barely shimmering or fluttering anymore as the magic used up the last of its reserve. 

If a Sióg’s laughter was like bells, then their cries were like a snare drum bang, though softer coming from such a small being. Panteleimon didn’t want to die. He hadn’t truly lived yet. Still, amber eyes were drifting shut as his wings stilled and he began to fall. Perhaps, it was meant to be this way, for him to try and to fail. Perhaps the goddess had deemed it time for the Sióg species to end. Why Panteleimon alone survived, he did not know but he surrendered to the endless sleep and welcomed death with open arms. 

[aewrie]

and it was night - M - 8424 words Grimm & the Grimm Troupe, OC focused character death, referenced sexual abuse, angst & hurt/comfort

Aina watches as the fire mellows into something more natural, something tame, and all she hears is the child crying with a voice that breaks and cracks until it takes on a rougher edge.

[read on ao3]

[onaperduamedee]

What I am writing is so utterly depressing, what the hell

I am going to bed

[half-deadmagicperson]

HDBHFSP Chapter 2!

This is chapter two for my @ecto-implosion fic, 'How Danny Broke His Favorite Star Projector', based on art by the amazing @midnightectosnack (WHO HAS AMAZING ARTWORK THAT YOU SHOULD CHECK OUT!)

Rating: Teen (To Be Safe)

Crossover: Danny Phantom, Hades (Videogame)

Warnings: Non-graphic Temporary Death, Death Mentioned

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Link to The Amazing Artwork

       Danny awkwardly held his hand out to his opponent, half expecting him to not take it. The Greek lowered his weapon and grasped Danny’s arm in greeting.

   “Zagreus, Son of Hades and Persephone, Prince of the Underworld.”

   “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness, and sorry about this whole mess.”

   “You said your mentor sent you. Who exactly is that?”

   “Oh right! In the Infinite Realms we call him Clockwork. He’s the Keeper of Time. He said that you would know him as Chronos, but he’s neither evil, nor child-consuming. He’s more like an aspect of him that’s just purely Time. I don’t really understand it.”

   The two continued talking for a while until Danny casually mentioned his home on Earth, or the surface as Zagreus knew it. 

   “So wait, do you know what a bird looks like, then?” Zagreus asked, rather enthusiastically. Danny raised a brow.

  “Um…yeah? Do you, like, not get birds down here?”

  “No, only spirits. Is it true that they fly?”

  “Yeah, they fly all over the place. They’re pretty common on the ‘surface’.”

   Zagreus looked at the boy awestruck before asking more questions. Danny told him about squirrels, turtles, and various other creatures. Zagreus listened intently, occasionally offering input from his brief time on the surface.

   “But my favorite thing about the surface is the stars!” Danny mentioned after wrapping up his conversation about flamingos. Zagreus lit up.

  “I always loved the stars! I would admire them every time I visited my mother! Although, it sounds like it has been quite a while since I’ve seen them.”

   “I should totally take you to see them! In fact,” Danny looks at a bracelet on his wrist, “They should be out by now!”

   Zagreus glanced down to think. A night out, although short, would be fun. He looked back up at Danny and smiled. Time to see the surface again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Danny was ecstatic when the prince agreed to go with him. To make things easier on themselves, they decided to take the route through the Ghost Zone. Zagreus was a bit startled by the lack of gravity at first, but eventually got the hang of it. Danny led his new friend through as the ancient prince took in the sights of the floating islands and staircases. Occasionally, Danny would point out important spots, like the Far Frozen or Dora’s Kingdom.

   “Oh and over here is Pandora’s domain! I don’t know if you met her at all, but she’s nice.” Danny said, pointing over to a large Greek-like structure. It was probably the most normal sight for Zagreus, compared to the rest of the Zone.

   Finally, the duo reach a ripple in the green atmosphere. Danny stopped in front of it to explain some things to Zagreus before they went in.

   “Here we are, the Portal. Now, before we go through, I should probably prepare you for what’s on the other side. The ‘Surface’ has changed a lot since you’ve been there. Heck, it’s changed a lot since I was alive! Humans have made lots of advancements and machines throughout the ages. There’s gonna be some things that might look strange and different to you.”

    Zagreus nodded in acknowledgement, and the two walked through the ripple.

    After stepping through, a dismal sight greeted Zagreus. The room was dark, much like his home, but this was more dingy. Sheets of cloth coated in dust covered many objects in the room. Boxes littered the room, but they were not a material the prince was familiar with. Danny sighed and dusted off one of the boxes.

   “Welcome to Fentonworks, or what’s left of it. The building is owned by my nephew. My, uh, my sister, Jazz, after we found out I couldn’t age set it up so that I could have a place to hide out in. Plus, someone needed to watch the portal.” Danny awkwardly scratched behind his neck before signaling to go upstairs.

   The upstairs looked in a lot better shape than the dungeon they crawled out of. There was a small table to eat at, but no furnace. Danny noticed his confusion and showed him the ‘stove’ and ‘microwave.’ Zagreus took in the different sights of the house. Tiny portraits littered the shelves and walls. All of the ceilings had dim, weirdly shaped stars glowing on them. Another staircase and two ladders later, and they finally made it to their destination.

   The stars were absolutely beautiful. An infinite expanse of glowing, white dots stretched down into the horizon. A gentle breeze brushed against Zagreus’s face as he took in the sight of the town. The buildings were taller than most houses he’s seen, but they were in shambles. He stood up from the cold metal of what Danny called ‘The Ops Center’ to get a better look at the town. Other than the moon and  stars, there was no source of light. The structures were cracked, and plants claimed them as their own. Zagreus scanned the area for any signs of life. Surely there must be someone out here right? There’s no way Danny would be living in a town alone? Danny noticed the concern on Zagreus’s face.

   “The town used to be more lively when I was growing up. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t huge either. Things were pretty great, going to the mall, getting some Nasty Burger, or even just sitting around playing DOOMED,” he started to explain, “After I died, the portal in my basement opened up which led to frequent visitors. They liked to stir up trouble with the living, so I usually had to stop them. Eventually, things became more peaceful, but the portal being open left some side effects on Amity. The ectoplasm from the portal contaminated the environment. People who lived here regularly didn’t notice a thing, but when relatives came to visit, they’d often get sick. The Guys in White, a government ghost hunting organization, decided to seal off the town from the rest of society. Nobody new ever came, but people were allowed to leave. I watched as the town slowly became smaller over time. After I got my job with Clockwork, I started guiding the town’s souls into the afterlife. I helped strangers, my friends’ grandparents, or a neighbor down the street. None of the deaths really affected me until they got closer to home. First, it was my father, then my mother, then Tucker, then Sam, then…Valerie, and…and…Jazz. They were all gone.”

    Tears glinted in Danny’s eyes as the once cheerful expression was replaced with a far more sober one. Zagreus didn’t really know what to do about that, so he just patted the boy’s shoulder. Danny wiped his face and smiled. It was at this point Zagreus noticed that despite how young Danny appeared, his expression was filled with age. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I’m sorry for ruining the mood. I guess I just haven’t had someone to talk to in a while.”

  “That is alright…I don’t really have many friends either. Most of the time I’m just in my father’s palace or trying to break out,” Zagreus let out a snicker, “but I don’t really spend much time with the people down there.”

   Danny nodded before replying, “Well, if you get bored doing whatever the Prince of the Underworld does, you’re more than welcome to come visit. I’ll even clean the house!”

   “I may take you up on that offer,” Zagreus smiled, until he felt a wave of exhaustion come over him. Danny’s voice started to fade into the background.

  “It’ll be nice to have a friend over for company!”

   Zagreus let out a weak smile before the pain consumed him and Death reclaimed his form.

  

  Danny watched his new friend dissolve into a puddle, much like one of his clones would, and started to panic. His friend just died??? Was this normal? He should see Clockwork. Can Greek gods even die? Is Zagreus considered a god? He really needs to go find Clockwork.