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1-1snailxd-art · 6 years ago

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Sides of a Hero

RE-UPLOAD BECAUSE THE OTHER POST GOT DELETED ACCIDENTALLY

Chapter index --------- Chapter 17

Chapter 18 - Aching in my Head

Summary: Although Terrence had been away, he still sensed that something was wrong and thankfully he acted on his instinct and alerted others to Thomas’ radio silence. 24hours of silence may seem like nothing to some, but for someone like Thomas, it was definitely a red flag. Terrence and Joan gain access to Thomas’ house, not entirely sure what they are expecting/hoping to find.

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PLEASE, check the warnings on the chapter index if you aren’t familiar with them. Stay safe. Things will get better, I promise.

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The moment he opened his eyes, Thomas regretted the action. His head pounded and he felt like he was laying on a bed of spikes rather than his supportive mattress. Despite the low light that filled the room, his eyes burnt as if he was looking directly at the midday sun and he squeezed them shut as his head exploded with a new wave of pain.

The pain was excruciating, to the point he couldn't think straight, and it felt like his senses were barely functioning. Feeling the burn of acid rising in his throat, Thomas painfully stumbled towards the bathroom; not daring to open his eyes more than a slither in an attempt to lessen the pain in his head. Finally leaning over the cool porcelain bowl, Thomas was faced with the horrible sensation of expelling only bile thanks to having not eaten since the previous evening. Folding his arms across the bowl, he rested his forehead on his arms as his stomach continued to heave and churn. It felt like his skull was going to burst open with the pressure in his head and he silently wished it would just so the pain would end.

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Joan pushed the door open, swiftly pulling the key out of the lock as they strode inside with Terrence quickly pushing past and heading for the lounge.

"Thomas?" Terrance scanned the empty couch before heading up the stairs.

Joan paused at the dining table, scanning the downstairs area and confirming that everything was where it should feasibly be. Nothing was out of place and Thomas' laptop was set down neatly on the table. Any other time Joan would have felt comforted being there, but today they just felt lost.

As Terrance reach the top of the stairs, he heard coughing coming from the bathroom and felt his heart skip a beat. Despite his mind screaming "danger", he charged into the bathroom without a second thought. The relief that flooded Terrence's body upon seeing Thomas was quickly turned back into worry as he took in his friends trembling form.

"He's here, Joan!" Terrence called over his shoulder before kneeling behind Thomas and resting a comforting hand on his back. "Hey buddy, you alright?"

Thomas knew someone was in the room with him and was beginning to register that there was a hand on his back, but he couldn't quite hear what they were saying. As Thomas lent back, Terrence helped guide him so he could lean against the wall in the small room. Joan appeared in the doorway and locked eyes with Terrence.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure yet." Terrence moved next to Thomas to give him something stable to lean against. "Thomas? Talk to us."

Terrence's voice was soft and gentle, and Thomas was relieved when his brain was able to function enough to connect what he was hearing to his conscious thought.

"Terrence?" mumbled Thomas softly.

"Yeah, man. It's me." Terrence gently placed a hand on Thomas' forehead to check his temperature; he was warm, but not to any concerning degree. "What's going on?"

"Headache."

"Have you taken anything for it?"

"mh-mm."

Terrence looked up at Joan who nodded and went straight to the medicine cabinet to find some form of pain relief. Joan had seen a few people suffer from migraines before, but this was a new level for Thomas, and it was jarring to see their friend so distressed.

"Do you think you can stand?" Terrence whispered, now aware of how loud his voice was in the echoing room. "The floor isn't very comfortable."

"Maybe." Thomas didn't want to move; fearing that standing would trigger more nausea and he did not want to feel that way again any time soon.

Joan finally found some Advil, filled a small cup with water and knelt in front of Thomas. "This should help."

Thomas gratefully accepted both, feeling the cool water soothe his burnt throat and give his stomach something to hold on to.

"We need to get you out of here," Joan commented, "or you need to make your floor more comfortable."

Thomas managed the smallest of smiles, before returning to a grimace as he slowly stood. Terrence did his best to support his friend but quickly realised that their height difference meant he wasn't much help at all.

"I could be more helpful if I were taller," Terrence grumbled as Thomas stopped and swayed slightly; bracing against the wall briefly before continuing to move forward.

"You could also say it would be easier if Thomas was shorter," added Joan as they moved to Thomas' other side and helped guide their friend back into his room.

"I didn't choose my height." Thomas spoke in a barely audible mumble, feeling bad as he gripped Terrence's shoulder to stop himself from leaning too far sideways. "I used to be short."

"Yeah you were." A smile managed to crawl across Terrence's face, “But we were probably still shorter."

Thomas was thankful to be back on his bed now; it felt so much better after experiencing the hard, cold, bathroom floor. It was only a small distance between his room and the bathroom, but it felt as though he had run a full marathon. His muscles ached and the throbbing at the back of his head was still his biggest source of grief. Terrence helped adjust pillows to make Thomas more comfortable, before finally settling himself up beside him.

Joan noticed Thomas' phone lying on the carpet; picking it up to discover that the battery was completely dead.

"Well this explains why he wasn't answering any of your calls." Joan showed Terrence the black screen before walking away to plug it into a charger.

"I'm sorry," Thomas mumbled, feeling guilty for making his friends worry about him so much.

"There is absolutely nothing to apologise for." Terrence brushed Thomas' hair away from his face and smiled. "We're not going to disown you because you're sick."

"Speak for yourself," Joan grumbled; a smile pulling at their cheeks. "No friend of mine is going to hide being unwell and get away with it."

Thomas grimaced as Joan's phone started ringing loudly; they gave Terrence an apologetic look before racing out of the room. Terrence gently stroked Thomas' hair, his mind still racing as he wondered if they were doing the right thing. Thomas had been unresponsive all day. What had he been doing all day? How long had he been in pain? Should they be taking him to a doctor? Questions continued to race through Terrence's mind at a rapid pace and he was unable to grasp them long enough to assess them logically. Watching Thomas' face slowly calm and soften provided him with some comfort, and he did his best to remain calm as he waited for Joan to return.

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Computer screens flickered between black and static; the mechanical hum filled Logan's ears as he regained consciousness on the hard floor of his territory’s lab. His limbs felt weighted and he struggled to get his eyes to focus as he attempted to evaluate the room. The humming and flickering of lights was overwhelming and Logan groaned as he rolled over with heavy limbs, and slowly dragged himself across the floor to reach his room. As he came closer to the door, paper started feeding through a printer; the scratching and scraping of the machine caused Logan to stop and press his hands against his ears in an attempt to dull the unbearable sound. Tears welled in his eyes as the rooms light and sounds continued to increase, and his attempts to block out the stimuli proved futile.

"P-P-P-Patton." he whimpered into the floor, "Rommman. Helllllp."

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When Roman opened his eyes, he was surprised with how normal the room around him seemed. The bed beneath him was soft and the wooden frame was reminiscent of a design Thomas had seen in an old story book. Sitting up and looking around at the stone walls, Roman found the rooms design to be simple and well organised. Clean wooden dressers with mirrors set on top, mounted swords and other weaponry, two plain wooden doors, a shuttered window, a curious staircase spiralling upwards, and his grand oak door to the common area. Cautiously standing, Roman moved towards one of the dressers mirrors and was shocked to find himself still in his black stained attire; face smeared with dirt and black.

"NO!"

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, cupping his face as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and dropped to his knees. He felt his clothing shift as he willed himself clean, wishing he could also clean his mind of the horrible memory of the cliff edge. He could still feel the vines around his neck and the screams of Patton and Rage haunted his hearing in the quiet room. Shaking his head slowly, Roman managed to hold back the tears as he stood and faced his reflection again. The side staring back at him looked afraid and broken. Roman braced his hands against the dresser and stared hard at his reflection.

"My name is Roman, and I am a core side of Thomas Sanders. My main role is managing the imagination kingdom and facilitating Thomas' dreams and creative aspirations. I've fused and worked with many impulses and aspects during Thomas' life and they have shaped me. I am strong. I will get through this. For me. For Thomas. For..."

Roman swallowed and stood up straight, retaking his proud stance and looking a lot more like himself.

"For Virgil."

Satisfied with how he looked, Roman strode over to the window and threw open the shutters to look at the kingdom. The chaos that he saw took his breath away and he immediately sunk down to reach what was once the main square.

The kingdom was in shambles as every aspect of Thomas' imagination filled the town. Roman had always enjoyed the fantasy aesthetic and had previously designed the kingdom so that each stone or wooden hut acted as a sealed portal to different imaginative realms. Now, a skyscraper sat next to his castle, 2D cartoon animals were running down the street, various people that Thomas had seen or met roamed the streets in confusion, and two dragons flew overhead as they were chased by a Harry Potter themed Thomas on a broom.

Roman stood next to a Doctor Who Tardis, watching as Lion from Steven Universe chased a young Simba down an alleyway between a brick house and a Krispy Kreme store. Roman felt someone come up beside him, sipping loudly from a straw.

"This place is an absolute mess, Babes." Turning, Roman saw a Thomas in a black leather jacket, dark sunglasses and the tag 'sleep' stuck on his chest.

"I can see that," Roman looked back out at the chaos and felt tired just imagining how much effort it was going to take to organise the kingdom again.

"Are you going to fix this anytime soon?" Sleep added in annoyance. "You cannot have a Starbucks right next to a jumping castle. I mean, it is just tacky."

Roman was about to reply when a horse came racing through the square, covered in gold and red ribbons and Stitch riding happily on its back.

"WAIT FOR ME!"

Roman looked to where the horse had come from and saw the Prince character come puffing and panting into the square, and stop in front of him and Sleep.

"Prince Roman! Good to see you." The Prince beamed at the pair and Roman couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the eccentric Prince. "Love the new layout by the way. So much chaos. It's an endless adventure. Hazzah!"

Prince sprinted after the horse and Stitch, laughing joyously as he left.

Sleep looked sideways at Roman. "Seriously? I cannot deal. Fix this."

"Oh sure." Roman turned to the sarcastic voice that came from the now opened Tardis. "He was going to leave it like this, but he will definitely change it just for you, Sleep."

"Oh, shut it, Anxiety."

"Virgil?" Roman's voice broke as he said the name, staring at the black jacketed Thomas.

"What? No." Anxiety looked at Roman in confusion. "How could you ever mistake me for that freak? We are nothing alike."

"I-I-I... I've got to go" Roman sunk out, leaving the two Sanders Shorts characters to share a confused glance.

"That was weird. Even for him." Anxiety commented. "What do you think happened?"

Sleep shrugged, "I don't care as long as he fixes this mess."

Anxiety lent against the Tardis and watched Sleep walk away. Roman had never confused the Shorts characters with the Sides before; even others like him that didn't wear a label. It didn't sit well with the figment and it only confirmed the fear that many figments already had; the mindscape had lost a main side. Anxiety sunk back into the darkness of the Tardis, feeling it was probably best if he made himself disappear for a while.

Roman rose up in his room again and looked at his door to the common area. Sadness gripped his throat and he quickly turned away to walk up the staircase that led to a tower. As much as he wanted to see the others, Roman knew he wasn't ready to face them yet. He had failed to save them. He was meant to be the brave and heroic prince, but he couldn't save them. Reaching the top of the tower, Roman leant on the brick edge and looked out at the kingdom. The wind blew through his territory and rustled Roman’s hair, carrying the scent of coffee and fresh popcorn.

"I'm sorry, Virgil." Roman let his eyes wander across the view of the kingdom as he spoke to the wind. "I couldn't keep you safe. I let you down. I let everyone down...but I won't let these guys down."

Roman extended his hand out to the skyscraper to his left and gestured down; the building began to warp and fuse with the castle to make another tower. Pausing, Roman looked down at the main square as he saw Elliot talking to Lapis Lazuli. He had always kept the different realms separated and the portals locked; only allowing the fantasy characters to roam freely. As much as the kingdom seemed chaotic with all the free roaming, it was also nice to see the different crossovers. Roman thought for a moment before warping another building and adding a yellow star to the door. Picturing a portal behind the door that would lead to his Steven Universe realm, Roman smiled to himself as he left the portal unlocked before moving on to adjust the next building. As the kingdom retook shape, Roman felt himself slowly regaining his confidence; but his vision began to blur at the edges the longer he worked.

As Roman continued, a roar sounded behind him and he turned to see a blue dragon flying towards the tower. The dragon carefully grabbed the edge of the tower, folding its wings before crawling down to bow before Roman.

"Pleasure to see you are well my Prince." The dragon raised its head, so they were at eye level with Roman. "We feared that you had been lost to us."

"I am sorry to have worried you, Ledilit. I didn't think of alerting the guard when I regained consciousness."

The dragon recoiled slightly as Roman reached out to stroke the creature’s sapphire scales but allowed the prince to touch them as they registered the sadness in his eyes.

"Estelle has not returned. Were we right to assume she was lost to us?" Roman nodded and continued to stroke Ledilit's head. "I am sorry for your loss my prince."

"No," Roman stopped his movement and bowed to the confused dragon. "I am sorry for your loss. Estelle was a fine leader, your kin and I ..."

Ledilit used their head to push Roman back into a standing position and spoke sternly. "Do not lower yourself for me. Estelle valued her role and her friendship with you. She would not be impressed with you acting in such a way."

A small laugh escaped Roman's lips as he imagined Estelle's reaction. "Indeed, she wouldn't."

"As Estelle's second, I will assume the role as head guard dragon." Roman nodded in agreement and smiled at Ledelit. "Very well. What is your order for the guard?"

"Oh, of course." Roman snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hands. "Can you please assess the impulses of the kingdom."

"What are we assessing?" Ledelit moved next to Roman to get a better view of the scroll, covered in names of key impulses, aspects and figments.

"After the mindscapes reset, we need to establish which aspects and impulses are still present and which are miss..."

Roman paused as he saw Rage on the list, and he heard the impulse screaming in his head again.

"Prince Roman?" Ledelit's voice was laced with concern as they nudged the prince slightly.

"Rage, Deceit and Virgil... They are your top priority." Roman looked at the dragon, a single tear escaped his eye despite his determined expression. "Any trace of them and you let me know. I need... I need to know if they are gone."

The look in Roman's eyes spoke volumes and Ledilit nodded, carefully taking the scroll in one of their claws. They still weren't sure what happened during the storm, but it was clear that Estelle wasn't the only casualty. As they took flight to inform the guard, Ledilit couldn't help but fear for the mindscape and the possible repercussions of losing a core side.

Roman watched Ledelit head towards the forest, wiping his eyes before deciding he couldn't put off seeing the others any longer. Composing himself as he walked down the stairs, Roman entered his room and looked at the door to the common area. Striding straight past his now blurred mirrors, Roman stood at the door with his hand resting on the handle; a mild tremor in his hand and the slightest throbbing at the front of his head. As much as he wanted to see the others, he couldn't bring himself to open the door.

"P-P-P-Patton. Rommman. Helllllp.

Logan's voice rang in Roman's ears and his hand instantly tightened around the handle and pulled the door open.

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Four impulses stood in a void of darkness, unsure of where they were or what exactly had happened. Three stood in a tight circle, while the fourth roamed around the outside and inspected the space.

"Looks like we unfused."

"We don't have consciousness. That's terrible."

"Does that mean Thomas doesn't have access to our influence?"

"He's not in danger. We don't need to get back to the mindscape."

"We can do that?"

"Absolutely. "

"I can't see any harm in trying. Selfishness? What do you think?"

Selfishness turned and raised his eyes to look at the snake-eyed Lying, black coated Deception, and armoured Self-Preservation. Lying and Deception were already holding hands; clearly, they were eager to try and get back together. Self-Preservation shuffled closer as Selfishness averted his gaze and folded his arms.

"Are you having second thoughts about fusing with us?" Self-Preservation asked, moving around and bending over sideways to be in Selfishness' line of sight again. "Do you regret fusing with us instead of Greed?"

"I only regret allowing us to remain outcasts." Selfishness admitted, raising his head so Self-Preservation could return to a normal position. "It feels like our existence was wasted and lost in the mindscape."

"Perhaps this is our opportunity for a second go at it. I mean, three of us were tainted by Survival last time." Selfishness didn't look convinced and Self Preservation sighed. "But…It's ok if you don't want to fuse. It is your decision in the end, but I still believe Thomas needs us; even if he doesn't fully understand our purpose."

Selfishness watched the others join hands and he felt their pull as the three commenced a fusion. Time seemed to slow as he considered his options; 1) fuse again with the others and likely return to the mindscape as Deceit, or 2) stay put and hope he could return to the mindscape on his own. Selfishness made his decision as the impulses burst into light and illuminated the darkness that had surrounded them.

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Patton gasped and sat upright, shivering in the heavy rain that soaked the old playground. The water running down a slide had pooled around him to form a deep puddle and Patton stumbled slightly as he tried to stand; feet sinking in the soft ground. Once upright and stable, Patton cast his gaze up to the sky and let the rain coat his glasses and blurr his vision; closing his eyes as he felt the water cleanse him of dirt and darkness. The rain was a good thing in a way; falling from grey clouds of sadness and loss. Patton would have remained there for hours, soaking in his own sorrow, but he sensed a light to his left and had to open his eyes to investigate.

A little wooden cubby house was ablaze with white light and Patton held his breath as he walked closer. The light dissipated and Patton opened the door to find a room lit only by the yellow-green hue of glow in the dark star stickers on the surprisingly high ceiling. Summoning a light to the ceiling, Patton lit the room further to reveal an expanded space that was decorated with scraps of fabric and oversized recycled materials; reminiscent of a craft project Thomas had done as a child. Standing in the centre of the room was an impulse, appearing to be inspecting themselves in a tinfoil mirror.

“Dee?”

The impulse jumped slightly and turned to look at Patton, yellow face scales shining in the torch light and his face softened.

“I guess I can use that name.”

Patton lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Dee, locking him into a tight hug. Dee kept his arms at his side, unsure of what to do with them.

“I’m so glad you are ok.” Tears ran down Patton’s cheeks as he spoke. “I thought you had faded for sure.”

Finally, Dee moved his arms and returned Patton’s hug; letting his head drop and rest on the sides shoulder. The hug was warm and a comfort he hadn’t experienced before. He wished it would never end, because ending the hug would mean facing Patton and acknowledging the truth of what had happened. Eventually, Patton loosened his grip and, after a few more seconds, Dee did the same so he could look at Patton’s eyes.

“You look different.” Patton commented, tentatively reaching out to inspect Dee’s scales. “Your eyes are still different but your slit one is more brown than yellow now, and your scales look darker without the light on them.”

“Different is good right?” Dee turned to look at the foil mirror again, “It’s only a small change. I’m my own fusion now. Not a fraction of…Survival.”

Turning back, Dee was surprised to see Patton smiling despite tears still rimming his eyes.

“Looks to me like you have grown a lot from that lying impulse I use to know”

“Yeah. Now it’s my choice, not my curse.” Patton looked at Dee in concern and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, Pat. Thomas isn’t a completely honest person.”

“I know. I don’t like it, but I know.”

“None of us like lying,” The ground was suddenly a very interesting thing for Dee to look at. “Lying to ourselves has short-term gains and long-term problems, and sometimes it protects others feelings or causes riffs in friendships. Regardless, I am still a part of Thomas and now I think I really will be able to find my place in the mindscape. Find my name and show….”

Patton remained still and quiet as he watched Dee speak. In the past he had always ignored Deceit and instantly labelled his lies as bad; therefore, labelling the impulse bad as well. Now a new impulse stood before him. Someone with the same role as Deceit, but a more adjusted and flexible mindset in the place of the deceitful manipulator. Dee was just as determined as Deceit to find his place and name but seemed more at peace with the fact that that journey could take time for him and Thomas.

“… show that there’s…” Dee looked up and locked eyes with Patton. “There is more to me than just a liar.”

“Well,” Patton wiped his eyes and smiled. “Just know that, even if we disagree sometimes, I’m rootin’ for ya… Kiddo.”

Dee chuckled and his slit eye seemed to sparkle mischievously. “I hate you so much right now.”

“I know.” Patton knelt to look out the cubby’s window and saw the rain had slowed to a light shower. “Do you want to help me check on the others?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Conjuring a bowler hat to his head, Dee took a final glance in the mirror before turning back to Patton. The moral side had his hand already outstretched to take the impulse directly to his room and Dee couldn’t help but smile; thankful to be setting up a more positive and functional relationship with the core side.

“Patton!” Dee and Patton’s faces dropped as the voice of Roman echoed faintly through the cubby. “Come on, Logan needs you.”

Dee grabbed Patton’s hand and the side sunk them down to his room, where Patton pulled open his common room door and ran straight to Logan’s open room. Dee froze in the hallway, unable to move his eyes past the blank wall opposite Logan’s door.

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Roman didn't bother closing his door as he stepped through, and he didn't dare turn his head to look in the direction of Virgil's door, as he walked towards Logan's room. His hand froze before landing on the handle as he considered what lay beyond the door. Fist raised, Roman knocked loudly on the door and pleaded for a reply; but only silence greeted him.

"Logan!" Roman knocked again, though he wasn't liking his chances of a sarcastic reply. "Come on, Lo. Don't make me come in there."

Although he spoke in a joking manner, Roman was truthfully worried to enter the room. He had been in the room before, but those visits were only very brief; barely enough time for him to be influenced in any way. However, he had seen Logan turn into a skipping rapper after spending 5 minutes in his room, which proved all their rooms had the potential to influence them. He couldn't imagine what effects Logan's room would have on him; especially considering he was already worked up and slightly weaker after starting the kingdoms adjustments.

As the silence continued to stretch on, Roman swallowed his pride and tested the door handle. The door opened with ease and Roman peered in to investigate the neat office bedroom that he had seen over Logan's shoulder many times before.

"Logan? You in there?"

Roman lent into the room; his feet still not passing the entrance as he searched for any sign of the logical side.

"Ok Roman. Logan called for help and it is our duty to help him." Roman closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself, "Any side effects are only temporary. If you could do it for Virgil, you can do it for Logan. Let’s go!"

Roman charged into the room as if he was walking through a wall of fire, rather than simply entering a room.

"Logan! Where are you?"

Roman called out as he opened the door to the small bathroom and then a small library of large books that he had never seen before. After quickly clearing those rooms, that left only Logan's door to his territory, a solid metal door with a keycode lock. Roman attempted the door handle and wasn't surprised to find it locked shut.

"Hey Logan! Let me in!" Pressing his ear against the surprisingly warm door, Roman could hear the faint sound of machinery and felt the throbbing in his head slowly intensify. "What sort of person calls for help but locks the hero out?"

Roman began pressing the buttons on the keypad randomly, hoping to accidently find the magic combination to open the door. Frustration mounting, he slammed his fists against the metal and was met with a cry of pain from the other side.

"Logan? Logan?!" Roman moved his ear around the door, trying to find a point where he could hear better. "Come on, Buddy, talk to me."

"Rrr-mmmn."

Roman lay on the ground alongside the door, ear still pressed against the metal as sweat ran down his face and his clothes absorbed the salty residue.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Can you sink out, or at least open this door." Roman could hear Logan's strained groans, but nothing happened. "Ok. It's ok. Um... What should I do?"

Roman's heart raced and he swore the door was getting hotter as his mind started to race with possibilities of what was happening on the other side of the door.

"How do you think straight in this place!" Roman sat up and cupped his head in his hands. "There are just so many possibilities. Is this what you think like all day?"

As the ideas and possibilities continued to swirl in his mind, Roman became acutely aware of his pounding head and obscured vision.

"Argh! Patton!" Roman squeezed his eyes shut tight as he tried to calm his mind and reduce the rooms influence, hoping the mindscape would carry his message to Patton. “Come on, Logan needs you.”

Unable to get any relief, Roman lay back on the ground and tried to focus on Logan.

"C-can you ... Give m-me the code?"

"nnni--eeenn...ennn..."

"Roman!" Patton raced into the room and leaned over the creative side with a look of intense concern. "What's going on? You are soaked."

"So are you," Roman replied and Patton realised he was still in his wet clothes.

"It was raining. Where's Logan?"

"Stuck in there. We nnneed a code." Roman squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain washed over him and his eyes burned from the light in the room.

Patton’s eyes glowed blue as he assessed Roman for injuries and recognised familiar symptoms that he wouldn’t be able to avert on his own.

"Dee! Can you get Roman out of here?" Patton called out to the hallway before laying on the other side of Roman to press his own ear against the door. "Logan? It's Patton. Can you tell me the code?"

"nnni--eeenn...ennn...wn-ty...s-x...tnnn"

Dee managed to tear his eyes away from the wall to enter Logan's room at Patton's request. Noticing Roman on the ground, Dee walked over with purpose and pulled the sides arm over his shoulder to help raise him into a sitting position.

"Just so you know, this is going to hurt me more than you."

Roman didn't have time to respond before Dee teleported them straight from Logan's room to Roman's door. Roman gasped for air as his head swam from the movement and a sudden weight was lifted from his head, as his thoughts settled and blurred. Two hands steadied his shoulders as his body slid sideways against the wall.

"You good, Princey?

The world stabilised slowly, but Roman's heart ached as his mind misheard Virgil's voice calling him "Princey" rather than Dee's.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"That's an obvious lie, but I'll accept it." Dee looked over his shoulder to call back into Logan's room. "He's all good, Patton. How's Logan?"

Patton thought hard about what Logan had mumbled, recognising that there were missing sounds in the words Logan was trying to communicate. Standing, he stared at the keypad and did his best to imagine what Logan would enter every day. Suddenly everything fell into place.

"I've got it!"

"Got what?" Dee called out in confusion.

"Nineteen, ten, twenty, sixteen. The day Thomas uploaded the first Sanders Sides video."

Patton keyed in the numbers and the door allowed him to pull it open effortlessly, revealing Logan's lab. The machinery sounds overpowered Patton’s senses and a stifling wave of heat hit him as he stepped inside to reach Logan's passed out form.

The hallway lights dimmed, and Dee glanced around in confusion and worry. He wasn’t sure what it meant but knew it couldn’t be good.

“Hey guys? Care to share what is happening? I can’t sense Thomas yet.”

“It’s a…” Roman tried to use the wall to stand but quickly slid back down to the floor with a groan and a thud.

“W-w-woah.” Dee knelt and grabbed Roman’s shoulders again as the side mumbled incoherently. “Come on, Roman. You’re alright. You’re alright. Patton! I lied and I need your help!”

No reply came and Dee was torn between helping Roman, going to check on Patton, or fleeing before he became affected by the invisible force. His breathing increased as he struggled to decide with the pressure of the moment, until he heard footsteps coming from Roman’s room.

“Who’s there?”

“Hey Pal...” The impulse came through the door and knelt before Dee and Roman. “Geeze, you guys look like crap.”

“Thank you, Rage. I was just wondering what your opinion was.” Dee smiled, glad to see his friend in one piece. “Now, are you here to sass or to help?”

“Help, obviously.” Rage ran his fingers through his crimson brown hair, revealing a ruby iris in his right eye. “What do you need?”

“Go into Logan’s room and help Patton. I’m gonna…” Dee ran through his options in his head again. “I’m going to get Roman into his room.”

“I’m on it.”

Rage stood and headed into Logan’s room while Dee pulled Roman’s arm over his shoulders and attempted to stand.

"Let's go, Roman, help me out here." Huffed Dee, as he struggled to manage Roman's weight. "Don't make me teleport again."

"lll right."

Roman's voice was barely a whisper as he did his best to help Dee, despite his now wavering consciousness. Eventually the two were able to slowly stumble into Roman's room and Dee deposited the side on his bed. As soon as he was sure that Roman was safe, to a degree, Dee headed back out to Logan's room.

The room was so loud that Patton couldn't hear anything other than the scraping and whirring of machinery. The heat had Patton's glasses fogging as he knelt to roll Logan onto his back and assess the logical side. Talking was pointless due to the noise and the heat made it impossible for Patton to focus his influence or sink out, no matter how hard he tried. Realising healing or sinking out wasn’t an option, Patton stood and moved behind Logan so he could lift him into an upright position and drag him out of the lab.

Once safely out of the lab, Patton let Logan rest on the floor as he went to close the door and seal out the noise and heat. Patton was so focused on the task at hand, that he didn't sense Rage's presence until he turned back around and saw the impulse kneeling over Logan.

"Rage?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me." Rage remained focused on Logan, swiping his sweat soaked hair away from the sides face. "What is going on here?"

Patton rocked backwards slightly, but thankfully he was still close enough to the lab door that he didn't fall.

"It isn't something that you need to worry about."

Rage looked up and knitted his eyebrows together, fixing Patton with a firm stare as the moral side swayed again.

"Don't bullshit me, Pat. Logan and Roman are both out for the count, you can barely stand, and Logan's territory has turned into an oven. Spill!"

"I'll be fine once I'm out of here." Patton got Logan upright and pulled his arm over his shoulder; Rage instantly mimicked Patton's move on the other side so they could work together to lift Logan. "It's just a migraine headache."

"Bullsh...."

"He's telling the truth, Rage."

Dee entered the room as Rage and Patton reached Logan's bed and Rage set to making Logan comfortable. Dee stepped forward to support Patton as the side swayed again; leading the side out of the room and straight into Patton's own room.

"Thanks Dee." Patton sat on the edge of his bed and rested his face in his hands as his mind started to clear. "Logan's room can be a bit intense when he isn't feeling well." "That is a normal thing?" Rage questioned from the doorway. He hadn't had much to do with Patton in the past and wasn't sure of the influence of his room.

Patton sighed, "I'm not normally around that late into the situation. Generally, Logan has his room under control before the pain sets in."

"And Roman?" Asked Dee.

"Logan use to give Roman and Vir..." Patton swallowed and looked over at the questioning impulse. "He would let them know what was happening so they could prepare. Headaches make it hard to remain focused and think clearly, so the others have always been affected more than me. I will admit that...that was not normal."

"It's an after effect of ... Those two jumping, isn't it?" Rage offered. "Thomas is still in pain."

Patton nodded and looked up to a large photo frame that sat on one of his shelves. The original image faded and was replaced with the view of Terrence and Joan helping Thomas onto his bed. Patton lowered himself back onto his own bed, recognising that Thomas had taken pain relief and was beginning to relax with the presence of friends.

"He will be ok, Kiddos." Eye lids heavy, Patton adjusted his position as he spoke. "The pain killers will help cool down Logan’s territory; Terrence and Joan will watch over Thomas; and Roman and I just need rest. I promise, it will all be ok."

Patton's breathing steadied as he fell asleep and Dee sighed, "Liar."

Rage and Dee slowly made their way out to the hallway, and Rage walked over to sit and lean against the vacant wall. Dee watched as Rage sat and closed his eyes, still unable to fully process his feelings.

"You gonna sit with me, Deceit, or stare at me?"

"It's Dee." Rage opened his eyes at looked at his friend apologetically. "Just until I find a better name."

"I guess a lot has changed then, huh?" Rage closed his eyes again and Dee settled down next to him. "Guess that’s what happens when you get ripped apart and have to pull yourself back together again."

"True."

Rage opened his eyes and glanced over at Dee, who was fidgeting with his gloves like his childhood self. His mind flickered back to a faint memory of Survival and Virgil talking and identifying that Deceit had been a part of them.

"I guess it's harder for you. You haven't really been ... You, all this time."

Dee nodded.

"I think it's ok for you to feel a little lost right now." Dee stopped fidgeting but didn't look at Rage. "The whole mindscape his just as lost. A core side literally disappeared over the edge of the mindscape. I'd be worried if we didn't feel a little lost."

"Do you think they are really gone?" Now Dee turned to look at Rage. "Or will they come back like we did?"

"Guilt is looking into it."

"Wait!" Dee's eyes went wide. "Guilt is back?"

"Yeah. Woke up in the forest with him." "Where is he?"

"I left him to go search for the Oasis while I headed towards the kingdom. Got picked up by one of Roman's dragons and brought here to find you guys."

Dee went to stand but Rage grabbed his arm. "What are you doing? We need to help Guilt."

"Nah," Rage shook his head and smiled, "Roman's got it covered. His dragons are searching the open territories for any sign of Virgil, Depression, Hood or whoever. We need to be here for these idiots and Thomas. We started this..." Dee opened his mouth to argue but quickly closed it as he sensed it was the truth. "... So, let’s make sure this is finished."

Dee settled comfortably next to Rage and looked between the three open room doors. Each room held a sleeping side. One side had their territory in turmoil due to a migraine headache; another unable to focus and function; and the final one was dealing with the sense of loss and general exhaustion. Rage and Dee sat guard, silently hoping a fourth door would miraculously appear and provide them with some sense of relief. As the minutes turned into hours, it became apparent that that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Dee looked down to where Rage had curled up to sleep and realised how thankful he was to still have Rage at his side. He only wished he could have had Anxiety and Hood there as well. Given recent revelations, he had a lot he wanted to make up for.

**********************************************************************************

Terrence stayed with Thomas as he slept, not wanting to leave just in case he woke up in a daze again. Joan floated in and out of the room to respond to and make phone calls. They made sure Thomas' parents were aware of what had happened, and they assured Joan that they were making the right call and would call the next day to check on things. Eventually, Joan switched their phone to ‘do not disturb’ and carefully joined Terrence and Thomas on the bed.

"All good?" whispered Terrence.

"Yeah. For now."

Thomas stirred slightly at the discussion, rolling over calmly and without any sign of pain on his face. Terrence smiled at Joan as the two felt the weight of their worries lift slightly and eventually, they too fell asleep.

Chapter index ----------- Next chapter

End Note:

This was the chapter that just kept on growing. I felt my initial skeleton plan glossed over way too much, but I hope I didn’t go too far to the other end of the scale and overload it with too much information.

Off topic note: The Selfishness v. Selflessness video was so good. I love getting more clues on Deceit and seeing his character develop. It is clear he has a message to pass on to Thomas but is still working on being able to deliver that message/lesson. It makes me wonder what else is at play and stopping him from actually talking. Why all the riddles, Deceit? Even Virgil is showing a more hidden past. We knew it was there, but it is now so obvious that he is still holding his cards close to his chest. Given this fic already predicted a fedora phase, and now a (*minor future chapter spoiler*) Twitch Charity stream, could any of the other characters become canon???? I kind of hope not...but only because that would just be way too freaky.

Tags

@atseipl

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ameryth74 · 5 years ago

Text

Louis **** Title Generator Tool

** **** it

LOL.... go!

Two letter words:

There are 107 acceptable 2-letter words listed in the Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, 6th Edition and the Official Tournament and Club Word List:

AA, AB, AD, AE, AG, AH, AI, AL, AM, AN, AR, AS, AT, AW, AX, AY, BA, BE, BI, BO, BY, DA, DE, DO, ED, EF, EH, EL, EM, EN, ER, ES, ET, EW, EX, FA, FE, GI, GO, HA, HE, HI, HO, ID, IF, IN, IS, IT, JO, JU, JY, JZ, KA, KI, KO, LA, LI, LO, MA, ME, MI, MM, MO, MU, MY, NA, NE, NO, NU, OD, OE, OF, OH, OI, OK, OM, ON, OP, OR, OS, OW, OX, PA, PE, PI, PO, QI, RE, SH, SI, SO, TA, TE, TI, TO, UH, UM, UN, UP, US, UT, WE, WO, XI, XU, YA, YE, YO, ZA

Two letter contractions: I’m, I’d

Four letter verbs:

abet, abut, abye/aby, ache, alit, ally, ante, arch, aver, avow (10).

baby, bach, back, bade, baff, bail, bait, bake, bald, bale, balk, ball, band, bang, bank, bant, barb, bard, bare, barf, bark, base, bash, bask, bate, bath, bauk, bawl, bead, beam, bean, bear, beat, beck, bede, beef, been, beep, bell, belt, bend, bent, bere, best, bias, bide(archaic usage), biff, bike, bilk, bill, bind, bird, birl, birr, bite, bitt, blab, blat, blaw, bled, blet, blew, blip, blob, blot, blow, blub, blue, blur, boak, boat, bode, body, boff(vulgar usage), boil, boke, bomb, bond, bone, bong, bonk, boob, book, boom, boot, bore, born, boss, boun, bowl, brad, brag, bray, bred, brew, brim, buck, buff, bulk, bull, bump, bung, bunk, bunt, buoy, burl, burn, burp, burr, bury, bush, busk, buss, bust, busy, butt, buzz (117).

ca-ca, cage, cake, calk, call, calm, came, camp, cane, cant, card, care, carp, cart, case, cash, cast, cave, cede, cere, chap, char, chat, chaw, chid, chin, chip, chop, chow, chug, chum, cite, clad, clam, clap, claw, clay, clew, clip, clog, clop, clot, cloy, club, clue, coal, coat, coax, cock, code, coif, coil, coin, coke, comb, come, comp, cone, conk, conn, cook, cool, coop, cope, copy, cord, core, cork, corn, cosh, cost, coup, cove, cowl, crab, cram, crap, crew, crib, crop, crow, cube, cuff, cull, curb, curd, cure, curl, curr, cuss (90).

dado, daff, damn, damp, dang, dare, dark, darn, dart, dash, date, daub, dawn, daze, deal, deck, deed, deem, defy, deke, dele, demo, dent, deny, dial, dice, died, diet, dike, dine, ding, ding, dint, dirk, disc, dish, disk, diss, dive, dock, doff, dole, dome, done, doom, dope, dose, doss, dote, dove, down, doze, drab, drag, draw, dray, dree, drew, drip, drop, drub, drug, drum, duck, duel, duet, dull, dumb, dump, dung, dunk, dupe, dusk, dust, dyke (75).

earn, ease, echo, eddy, edge, edit, emit, envy, espy, etch, even, exit (12).

face, fade, fail, fake, fall, fame, fard, fare, farm, fart, fash, fast, fate, fawn, faze, fear, feed, feel, fell, felt, fend, fess, fete, feud, file, fill, film, find, fine, fink, fire, firm, fish, fist, fizz, flag, flap, flat, flaw, flay, fled, flee, flew, flex, flip, flit, flog, flop, flow, flub, flux, foal, foam, foil, foin, fold, fond, fool, foot, ford, fork, form, foul, fowl, frag, frap, fray, free, fret, frig, frit, fuel, full, fume, fund, funk, furl, fuse, fuss, futz, fuze, fuzz (82).

gaff, gage, gain, gait, gall, game, gang, gaol, gape, garb, gash, gasp, gast(obsolete), gate, gaum(US), gave, gawk, gawp, gaze, gear, geld, gibe, gift, gild, gill, gimp, gird, girt, give, glad(archaic), glom, glow, glue, glug, glut, gnar, gnaw, go by, go on, goad, golf, gone, gong, goof, gore, gown, grab, gray, grew, grey, grid, grin, grip, grit, grow, grub, gulf, gull, gulp, gush, gust, gybe, gyre, gyve (64).

hack, haft, hail, hale, halo, halt, hand, hang, hare, hark, harm, harp, hash, hasp, hast, hate, hath(archaic), haul, have, hawk, haze, head, heal, heap, hear, heat, heed, heel, heft, held, helm, help, hent(obsolete), herd, hewn, hide, hike, hill, hint, hire, hiss, hive, hoax, hock, hoke(slang), hold, hole, home, hone, honk, hood, hoof, hook, hoop, hoot, hope, horn, hose, host, hove, howl, huff, hulk, hull, hump, hung, hunt, hurl, hurt, hush, husk, hymn, hype, hypo (74).

idle, inch, iris, iron, isle, itch (6).

jack, jade, jail, jape, jazz, jeep, jeer, jell, jerk, jest, jibe, jilt, jink, jinx, jive, join, joke, jolt, josh, juke, jump, junk (22).

kayo, keek(Scots), keel, keen, keep, kept, kern, kick, kill, kiln, kilt, kink, kiss, kite, knap, knew, knit, knot, know (19).

lace, lack, laid, lain, lair, lake, lamb, lame, land, lard, lark, lase, lash, last, lath, laud, lave, laze, lazy, lead, leaf, leak, lean, leap, lech, leer, left, lend, lens, lent, levy, lick, lift, like, lilt, limb, lime, limn, limp, line, link, lisp, list, live, load, loaf, loan, lock, loft, loll, long, look, loom, loop, loot, lope, lord, lose, lost, loup(Scots), lour, lout, love, lube, luck, luff, luge, lull, lump, lure, lurk, lust, lute, lyse (74).

mace, made, mail, maim, make, mall, malt, mark, marl, mart, mash, mask, mass, mast, mate, maul, maze, mean, meet, meld, mell, melt, mend, meow, mesh, mess, mete, mewl, miff, milk, mill, mime, mind, mine, mint, mire, miss, mist, moan, moat, mock, moil, mold, molt, moon, moor, moot, mope, moss, move, muck, muff, mull, mump, muse, mush, muss, must, mute (59).

nail, name, near, neck, need, nest, nick, nigh, nill(obsolete), nock, nose, nosh, note, nuke, null, numb (16).

obey, ogle, oink, okay, omen, omit, ooze, open, oust, over (10).

pace, pack, page, pain, pair, pale, pall, palm, pang, pant, pare, park, part, pash(Austral), pass, pave, pawn, peak, peal, peck, peek, peel, peen, peep, peer, pelt, pend, perk, perm, pick, pike, pile, pill, pimp, pine, ping, pink, pipe, piss(vulgar), pith, pity, plan, plat, play, plod, plop, plot, plow, plug, pock, poke, pole, poll, pond, pool, pore, port, pose, post, pour, pout, pray, pree, prep, prey, prim, prod, prog, prop, puff, puke, pule, pull, pulp, pump, punt, purl, purr, push, putt (80).

quad, quip, quit, quiz (4).

race, rack, raft, rage, raid, rail, rain, rake, ramp, rang, rank, rant, rape, rase, rasp, rate, rave, raze, razz, read, ream, reap, rear, reck, redd(dialect), rede(archaic), redo, reed, reef, reek, reel, rein, rely, rend, rent, rest, re-up, rice, rick, ride, riff, rift, rile, rill, rime(archaic)/rhyme, ring, riot, rise, risk, rive, roam, roar, robe, rock, rode, roil, rolf, roll, romp, roof, rook, room, root, rope, rose, rout, rove, ruck, ruff, ruin, rule, rush, rust (73).

sack, said, sail, sale, salt, sand, sass, sate, save, sawn, scab, scam, scan, scar, scat, scud, scum, seal, seam, sear, seat, seed, seek, seel, seem, seen, seep, sell, send, sent, sewn, shag, sham, shed, shim, shin, ship, shit, shoe, shog, shoo, shop, shot, show, shun, shut, sick, side, sift, sigh, sign, silk, silt, sing, sink, sire, site, size, skew, skid, skim, skin, skip, slab, slag, slam, slap, slat, slay, sled, slew, slid, slim, slip, slit, slog, slop, slot, slow, slub, slue, slug, slum, slur, smut, snag, snap, snip, snow, snub, snug, soak, soap, soar, sock, soil, sold, sole, solo, soot, sorb, sort, soup, sour, sown, spae(scottish), spam, span, spar, spat, spay, spec, sped, spew, spin, spit, spot, spud, spur, spurn, stab, stag, star, stay, stem, step, stet, stew, stir, stop, stow, stub, stud, stun, suck, suds, suit, sulk, sung, sunk, surf, swab, swag, swam, swan(brit), swap, swat, sway, swig, swim, swob, swop(brit)/swap, swot, swum, sync (155).

tabu, tack, tail, take, talc, talk, tame, tamp, tang, tank, tape, tare, task, taut, taxi, team, tear, teem, tell, tend, tent, term, test, text, thaw, thin, thud, tick, tide, tidy, tier, tiff, tile, till, tilt, time, tine, ting, tint, tire, toil, toke, told, tole, toll, tomb, tone, tong, took, tool, toot, tope, tore, torn, toss, tote, tour, tout, tram, trap, tree, trek, trim, trip, trod, trot, trow(archaic), true, tube, tuck, tuft, tune, turf, turn, tusk, twig(Brit), twin, twit, type (79).

undo, urge (2).

vade, vail(archaic), vamp, vary, veal, veer, veil, vein, vend, vent, vest, veto, vide, view, vine, visa, vise, void, vote (19).

wade, waft, wage, wail, wait, wake, wale, walk, wall, wane, want, ward, ware(archaic), warm, warn, warp, wash, waul, wave, wawl, wean, wear, weed, ween, weep, weet, weld, well, welt, wend, went, wept, were, wert(archaic), wham, whap, whet, whid(Scottish), whip, whir, whiz, whop, wick, wile, will, wilt, wind, wine, wing, wink, wipe, wire, wise, wish, wisp, wist, wite, wive, woke, wolf, wont, wood, woof, word, wore, work, worm, worn, wove, wrap, writ(archaic) (71).

x-ray (1).

yack, yank, yard, yarn, yaup, yawn, yawp, yean, yell, yelp, yerk, yeuk, yock, yoke, yowl, yo-yo(informal), yuck (17).

zero, zest, zinc, zing, zone, zonk, zoom (7).

IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT

(yes there are 28 ITs)

#louis tomlinson #song title #** **** it #lt1 #lol 😂#*** **

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trashpandaorigins · 7 years ago

Text

Halfworld Reckoning 89 Ch 8

“Life finds a way.”-Micheal Criton

Groot ran, pushing the pains back to the recesses of his mind. The flashing lights, the stench of spilled chemicals unknown and screams of the strange people in the masks. The whirr of the drones, his bark split and cracked with each bullet. Beside him Gamora grunted on the upswing of her sword, striking a lab coated alien up the chest. He dodged as Drax wrestled with another one, crashing to the ground.

“This way!” Lylla cried, sliding under a fallen gurney. Groot’s eyes struggled to follow in the ever-changing lights.

“I am Groot,” he told Rocket. Rocket who was still Rocket. He had to be…but those eyes, when he bit Groot…those eyes were black, soulless. Groot shivered and held him tighter with determination. They turned the corner, Quill exchanged rounds with ten armored aliens, each armed in turn.

“Give us the rodent!” A female voice shouted, lunging forward. Groot struck out a vine and hit her in the side. Wincing, as she hit the floor. It was a crime to harm another living being according to the wisdom of the Groots. But since befriending Rocket, nay even before that, Groot had more or less come to terms with straying from the rulebook of his people. Lylla scurried down the corridor, halting at the broken smashed doors of the experimentation lab where they had first found Rocket.

“In here,” she beckoned, turning and leaping on the face of another scientists. Groot watched her bury her small claws into his face and cringed, vines caressing Rocket’s fur out of his own anxiety as the man screamed and tried to pry Lylla off.

“Groot!” Quill cried, gesturing to where the human was tugging at Lylla, beating his fists into her back as she remained latched to him. Groot’s feet were planted as firmly as they could be in the ground that was not soil. “Groot!” In his arms Rocket stirred, eyes large with fear, legs kicking. Drax rushed past, clobbering the man whom Lylla was scratching and together the Destroyer and Otter subdued him.

“You are a good fighter for such a small creature. I did not expect you to be so good in combat.” Lylla smiled despite her bruises as she ushered them into the room.

“It’s what I was born to do.” Rocket frantically clawed at Groot’s branches.

“I am Groot!” Groot tried to calm him, the raccoon did not heed. Instead Groot sprung vines involuntarily as Rocket hissed and snarled, mouth foaming. He jumped before the Flora colossus could catch him and clung to the white round light’s above.

“What do we do?” Quill shouted, trying to shut the door against the blasts of the drones.

“Hold him down!” Lylla demanded, Rocket snarled, ears pinned back against his head.

“Damnit,” Gamora cursed, throwing her own weight against the door beside Quill. The blasts echoed with shouts from the humans. Groot turned watching in eye bulging fear as the two furry animals scratched at each other. The otter winced as the raccoon scratched across her chest, drawing a line of red. She rolled, grabbing for a needle and twisted, jamming it into Rocket’s shoulder.

“I am Groot!” Groot ran over to Rocket who bared his teeth and stumbled, clattering to the metal table.

“I had to!” Lylla panted. Even sedated, Groot watched the uneven breathing of his best friends scratched up side. Groot watched in panic as the otter strapped Rocket down. “Hand me that knife,” Groot’s large eyes flashed to the long thin object lying on the floor. Red splashed across it.

“I am Groot?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Lylla admitted, “but if we’re going to even have a chance at getting him back I need you to trust me.”

“Groot you better…” Quill poked his gun through the slit in the door and fired. “go quickly!” The Flora colossus gazed at the otter, reaching out and slowly touched a hand to her chest. She watched, breathing heavy and fast as if anticipating an attack. Groot looked in to her, seeing her pain…more similar to Rocket’s then even his own. Groot’s gaze wavered only when Rocket jolted on the table, his heart wrenching in two at his friend’s muffled hiss of pain.

“Quickly!” Lylla pleaded. Groot took a breath, gripping the knife and handing it to her. He hoped beyond all hope that he was doing the right thing. That Rocket could forgive him. Lylla took it from Groot and he turned away as she positioned it at the base of Rocket’s skull.

“There is too many of them!” Drax shouted as another blast poked a hole through the already banged up doors. All Groots perceived and experienced time differently than most mammalien based creatures; for him, Lylla’s deft work took an eternity. But after the initial cut, he turned back to watch. He needed to bear witness to that which pained his best friend the most. The cables, panels, gears and gadgets that made up the inside of Rocket’s body caused his soulmate agony, physically, mentally, emotionally every second of his existence and if Rocket could carry that pain with him then Groot knew the least he could do was see him through. Lylla connected wires, cut and examined, re-cut. All the while playing metal with muscle, pinning organic tissue to metal.

“Ahh!” Groot whirled around, Gamora held her side, still trying desperately to keep the door closed.

“You alright?” Quill shouted. The assassin grunted and pushed her back against the doors, sending the metal screeching. “Just…one…last connection…” Lylla meticulously fused the last two wires in Rocket’s back implant together and stitched him closed, skull and all.

“I am Groot?”

“If what you asked was ‘did it work’ then I’m not sure…” Groot felt his heart sink. There wasn’t time for ambiguity. “I followed all the correct steps from watching it….” She mused. “But…there was always that one factor the scientists could never replicate…a spark was needed. Not a mechanical spark, something unexplainable.” She pondered, “actual free will…the could create soliders and weapons that obeyed, sure. But Rocket and I…the others like us, we were created but the sentience itself was something they were never able to forge. It just happened. They called it the spark of life. They were trying to replicate it…but it only ever occurred randomly. For every creature like me and Rocket here, hundreds of others were killed or defected because the scientists couldn’t make them truly, truly, alive.” She turned to Groot.

“A soul. A soul can’t be made in a lab…I’ve put him back together but without his real sentience he’ll…. he’ll just be a monster.”

“I told you!” Drax shouted over the alarms, “we should honor his memory by roasting him over a great fire in a ceremonial feast!”

“We are not…” Quill fired through the doors again, narrowly missing a blast from one of the scientists on the other side, “eating Rocket!”

“What is the alternative?” The destroyer thrust his fist through the opening in the door and Groot recognized the familiar grunt and fall of the victim. “He would not want us to keep him as a pet!” As much as Groot was disgusted by the idea, he had to admit Drax had a point. The last thing Rocket would want would be to be kept as a pet. But what if….Groot looked down at his own chest. The spores. The lessons of his people vibrated through his vines, even here so far away from everything that was good and green. He gently reached out, placing his hand on Rocket’s chest, closing his eyes.

“What are you…?” Lylla watched in amazement as a glowing yellow light shown from under Groot’s palm. He consentraited. The power of the Groots was the power of life and growth. Back on Planet X it was told that they were sentinels of all natural things of the forest. Wood gods. In his youth, Groot had healed a squirrel that had succumb to a strange sickness, but bringing Rocket’s soul back….? He could only hope. Something hot flashed across the flora colossus’s bark. He winced, but remained fixed on Rocket.

“Groot hurry!” Gamora shouted. The alarms sounded off, red and white flashes. Groot closed his eyes. Feeling down, beneath the metal flooring, under the concrete until at last his roots felt earth. The energy ran upward, from the earth to his roots, through his heart.

“Groot!” Quill called, his dry voice cracking. “It’s now or never we need to GO!” With a final effort, Lylla watched the glowing yellow light grow larger and larger until it illuminated the strange tree creature and the raccoon. She waited, holding her breath.

“I am Groot!!!” Groot roared, the light raged, he grabbed Rocket. Lylla, Drax, Gamora and Quill braced themselves, only letting go of the doors and their weapons to shield themselves from the blinding light. It faded slowly and Groot did not even notice the fresh breeze of cool air. He did not hear the crinkling of debris or hear the absence of gunshots. He only looked at Rocket, revealing him from his protectively hold. His friend’s nose twitched.

“I am Groot…?” If he had a stomach it would be rolling in anxiety. Did it work? Could he try again? Exhaustion dripped from every vine. He reached a singe finger out, touching Rocket’s face gingerly. In amazement, Groot watched his friend’s eyes open a sliver, those familiar red orbs clouded but there. Rocket sniffed again, tail flipping.

“W…what…t..the flark….?”

“I am Groot!” Relief washed over him as he hugged his friend close. Rocket went stiff at first, but as the flora colossus spent his last effort growing a sprig of pink flowers, the raccoonoid gave in.

“Those kurtuckan scientists…” Rocket muttered, “I fought them…scratch their eyes out but…they strapped me down and….”

“I am Groot,” Groot pat him on the back and Rocket stepped back, eyes wondering.

“Woah…” the Flora colossus followed his gaze, gasped as he looked over the ruined lab. Around them rubble strewn as far as they could see. The Milano, and the trees and vegetation of the outside world shown on the horizon

“Rocket!” Gamora and the rest of the gang rushed over.

“We thought we lost you!” Quill said, sheathing his gun.

“Indeed! You were truly an animal,” Drax put in, beaming. “I wanted to give you the great honor of roasting you but they would not let me. I am glad that you are once again your true self.”

“Gee, thanks.” Rocket smirked.

“Your girl friend helped us a great deal.” Drax gestured to Lylla.

“What girl friend? I don’t have a…” Groot watched Rocket behold the otter creature. She herself looked as shocked as any of them.

“Lylla!” Rocket gaped, trying to think of what to say. Groot watched him settle for his usual brash: “…told you we’d escape together this time.” She rolled her eyes but grinned and without warning Rocket hugged her tightly. “I’m so sorry….but we’re…we’re free now. This time for good.” She allowed his embrace for a moment more before letting go.

“Should we uhh…go?” Peter suggested. “Before there are any other damn drones or mad scientists or anything else weird and freaky comes to get us?”

Groot nodded.

“Lylla,” Rocket smiled, “come with us!”

“I am Groot!” Groot agreed, from what he’d seen of the little otter, she was extremely capable, tenacious and even kind.

“A…are you sure?” Lylla wondered, looking between them all. Groot watched Quill nod.

“If your half the genius Rocket is, we’d be glad to have you.” Rocket chuckled,

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Lylla joked. “First few weeks in the lab he didn’t even know how to get his food dispenser to work. I had to talk him through it at least ten times.”

“You did not! It was nine times, and that kurtukan thing was complicated!” Groot laughed, and his grin widened as Rocket scurried up to his shoulders as they made their way to the ship, Peter and Gamora already hitting it off with Lylla.

“I am Groot?” Groot asked before they followed the others on to the ship.

“Yeah I’m alright,” Rocket sighed. “Thanks to you big guy. Don’t know what you did but I feel better than I have in a while. Groot grew a single pink flower from his palm, handing it to his friend. Rocket took it, for once.

“Thanks bud.”

“I am Groot.”

#my writing #halfworldreckoning #lylla #lylla otter #rocket #groot #rocket raccoon

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rawbiredbest · 7 years ago

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Winter Dawn

Hello, and welcome to the second installment of Amrita Memories, a collection of crossover vignettes between the Yakuza (Ryu ga Gotoku) series and the game Nioh, re-imagining your favorite professional criminals as 17th Century samurai, ninjas, and mages, with a dash of demonic invasion and protective spirits.

IN THIS EPISODE: Majima has long since turned over a new leaf, but old legends reemerging may convince him to walk dark paths once more.

WARNING: contains graphic, canon-typical depictions of violence.

Here is a link to the first chapter. It isn’t necessary to read to understand this portion.

Read here or on AO3!

- - -

Destruction is easy. Rebuilding is not.

“Boss, we’re out of tiles.”

Majima Goro sighs, cracking open his eye. From the bottom floor, nothing stops him from looking up into the blue. The townhouse is unfinished, and will continue to be as long as work isn’t flowing. Nishida, the dam in the stream, leans over the hole where a ceiling will be and calls down to him again. “Boss?”

Disgusting. As foreman of the project, Majima had the most important role. Crews of craftsmen didn’t govern themselves. Let he who is without stress rebuke him for napping. The tatami mats had to be tested for optimal comfort, in any case.

Goro sits up, scowling as vertebrae pop. “Then go get some from the masons,” he groans, “Initiative. A little goes a long way.”

Nishida disappears and Majima lies back down. The village won’t be complete for weeks yet. There is rice to plant and streets to lay, wells to dig and shrines to bless. When all is said and done, it will be a nice place to live. Future residents will be proud to call it home. Maji-machi, he’ll name it.

“Boss.”

It’s Minami. The apprentice is young and has yet to see every hammer out of left field the world will throw at him, but the awe in his voice surpasses simple surprise. Saws stop grinding. Tools freeze in midair. Majima rises again to find progress at a dead halt. Time has suffocated under a stunned silence.

A legend has walked into town.

William Adams is the culmination of all dusty roads less traveled, from the chips in his axe’s blade to the tattered sash around his waist. Each soft footstep carries years of adventure. The Irish samurai pays no heed to the shroud of quiet hanging over the unmade village. It’s only a path to his next destination.

Goro stands up. “Excuse me, good sir,” he says, sauntering into the road, “There is a toll to travel any farther. You’ll have to pay up.”

William looks him over and decides the war has treated him well. Losing an eye is an adequate trade for a slim yet muscular build and leadership of competent men. Not an ounce of fear on his face, though Adams stands taller and wears plate capable of stopping cannon rounds and the foreman is clad in only a mustard seed yellow yukata. He drops a pouch of silver pieces into his hand. “Let me pass.”

Majima weighs the bag and his options. “Though this is very generous of you, sir,” he says, “My crew have families to feed. Surely a warrior of your caliber has more to offer.”

Blue eyes make a quick circuit of the town. He’s surrounded, he realizes. Dozens of craftsmen are watching the encounter. Many of them carry what could easily become makeshift weapons. The average age marks them all as veterans; their hands and faces rough with combat, not toil.

More silver appears. A bigger bag this time. “I’m leaving,” William growls, “Whatever game you’re playing ends here.”

He feels for the town, he truly does. They line every road from Tohoku to Tokai. Residents nurture hope out of bloodstained soil and a bedrock of sorrow. Yet he can’t stay. War waits for no man. He must make it to Osaka.

Saoirse whispers in his ear. “Death comes for you.”

No sooner has she finished does something hard and metal whiz through the air his head had been.

William draws his axe, hunches low to brace himself, ready for a fight – and freezes with ice in his veins.

The spirit rising from Majima’s back bears a madwoman’s grin and a monster’s fangs, though the energy she radiates is positive and pure. It’s a mask, Adams realizes. Gripped in her hair are other masks, no two alike, from a tengu’s fierce frown to an old monk’s smile. Her fingernails are knives. The ends of the sash around her kimono are snake heads, and they live, flashing their pale throats and flicking their tongues. The spirit burns with a flame intense enough to rival the sun.

“Had to see if it was really you, Sir Anjin of Miura,” Majima chirps. The kusarigama weight twirls high over his head, its tooth-like sickle clutched in his other hand. “Now there’s a name gone unspoken. It’s been ten years, hasn’t it? Show me you’re more than a myth!”

William purses his lips and plants his feet. Goro grins and is upon him like a swarm of locusts.

Adams gives him credit. His axe has claimed hundreds of limbs, can cleave Majima in half with no effort, yet the foreman dances around its swings with reckless abandon. As he resigns himself to the weary, inevitable truth that Goro insists on death before surrender, William throws himself harder into the fray. Majima reaches into his yukata, flings a fan-shaped array of throwing stars. Adams darts out of their way, draws a short breath as the shuriken twinkle with sizzling fuses–

Their explosive payloads burst, spraying shards of shrapnel. William turns with the shock wave. Though his eyes are closed against the blasts, he knows if he rides the force, ignores the sting of the sickle blade nipping through his armor–

Majima squawks as he’s barreled over. The axe lifts high, swings down,–

–and crashes into the earth so close to his head he feels pebbles kiss his cheek. Adams cranes over him, blue eyes frigid.

“Oi,” Goro says when he can find his voice, “You missed.” One hand is pinned behind his back. Slowly, he inches toward his belt, and the little box hiding within.

“You’re a fool and a menace.” William extracts the axe and can’t help but feel a rush of victory as clumps of dirt fall from the blade onto the foreman’s face. He has seen legions of men perish, personally sent many to be judged in the afterlife. Not this man. Not today. Let him be a lesson to their audience, the crews who only want to move on. There is no future in violence.

Majima looks up into the blue and softly sighs. Something underneath him is glowing.

William spots it too late. The bomb threatens to tackle him clear off his feet. His soles leave furrows in the ground as he’s rocked backwards.

Majima stands unscathed, and his spirit looms behind him. She runs her arms along his own, becoming amorphous and sluicing onto his kusarigama. Weapon aflame with ethereal power, he howls with renewed vigor and leaps at William.

Underestimated, Adams thinks, and reaches his mind for Saoirse. She is never far away, and as she manifests – smiling calmly as Goro charges them both – she coats his axe in deep, cold water.

Blade and weight smash against one another time and time again. Crimson and purple sparks ignite with every impact. William is shocked to find he feels sick. No doubt Majima needs to die. He mourns the loss of the bond between man and spirit that pounds against his axe.

Majima is tiring. The flames evaporate to steam under the relentless assault. He gathers himself for one last attack, eye bright with rage, giving himself over to his spirit. William lifts his axe, oceanic droplets sailing into the light.

Split seconds away from final impact–

“That’s enough!”

Eggs. That’s what the things flying between them look like. Bluish gray eggs that hatch into clouds of blood red smoke as they break on the ground.

Coughing and wheezing, both men recoil away. Majima hasn’t felt more drained in his entire life. He searches his mind for his spirit and finds her as exhausted as he. Good, in a way. Pain equals life. His trachea closing as he inhaled the red smoke is the best news he’s received all day.

He licks his lips. Numb as well, and yet. Oddly familiar. He’s tasted it before. Hemlock and nightshade blended to incapacitate, not kill, in a powdered form…

The smoke clears. Behind it is a man dressed in black, his face obscured. There is no mistaking the spirit that follows him: a white, two-tailed cat.

The bottom of the world falls out from under Majima. “Masanari?”

Hanzo Hattori’s primary concern is William. The samurai wins wars and, more importantly, is his closest friend. Yet the sound of a name gone unspoken for decades drags his attention away from Adams. Pulling his face plate down, for surely he is hallucinating and needs more air – no way. Impossible. “Goro?”

William, aching and finished, groans, “You know each other?”

Nekomata chuckles, looking between Irishman and one-eyed warrior. “Anjin, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what I’ve told you about cycles. When war springs from peace, it drags all manner of things from underground.”

- - -

The building will eventually become an inn, but for now acts as the work crews’ barracks. Majima secured the largest room for himself, and that is where the three men retire after wounds are dressed and drinks procured.

Majima’s spirit unnerves William. She kneels beside her host, hands folded in her lap. Her mask depicts a noblewoman, with blackened teeth and rosy cheeks. She is calm, yet Adams notes her throat twists behind her neck. Her head is turned completely around, the horns of her demon mask peeking through her hair. A two-faced spirit, regardless of her painted smile.

“Hey.” Majima tap-tap-taps his eye patch. “You’re supposed to look at this.”

William grunts and hides his embarrassment in his cup.

“I must admit, I don’t know how to feel,” Hanzo says, “It’s been over thirty years since I saw you last. I thought you were dead.”

Majima huffs a laugh. Withdrawing a pipe from his yukata grants William a glimpse of the tools strapped to his body. Scrolls, kunai, boxes and balls of explosives. “No, still alive and kicking,” he says, “For better or worse.”

“I’m rather lost here,” William interjects, “How do you know each other?” He looks at Goro. “How do you know me?”

The foreman grins, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I’m in the business of keeping my ear to the ground. Been my best interest to do so. Ever since Nobunaga took my eye.”

Adams flinches, shooting Hanzo a worried glance. Majima cackles and slaps his knee. “You should see the look on your face! You’d think the Demon King lived again!”

“He did,” the samurai growls, “He returned from the dead through black magic.”

“You’re dumb as a sack of hammers. I know that. Ear. To. The. Ground. You sent him packin’. Kinda hate you for it too, that you got to kill him instead of me.”

“A long time ago,” Hanzo interrupts, “the Iga Province was its own republic. We were independent of any overlords, and the Iga ninjutsu school was born of the guerilla warfare employed to keep us that way. My father trained many in the style.”

William glares at Majima. “Let me guess.”

Goro deliberately shuts his eye in what can only be a wink. “Guilty as charged. Fourth generation Iga ninja, in the flesh.”

“And a right pain in the arse.”

“Ya flatter me, Anjin-chan!”

“So you were there,” Hanzo asks, “when Nobunaga attacked?”

Majima’s grin sours. Wind dashed from his sails, he takes a deep puff of his pipe while collecting his thoughts. “Yeah, I was. Tried to defend our home. Lost my family, my belongings, and my eye in return.”

Hanzo frowns, leaning forward. “We were little more than children.”

“No one was spared the fire. Men, women, infants – all were subject to Nobunaga’s wrath. I barely escaped with my life. What happened next was…complicated, to say the least.” He peers at his spirit. She returns his gaze. He blows a gray plume and continues, “That’s one thing the peace is good for. I’ve put all that behind me. Haven’t killed anyone in ten years, though if a blue-eyed dunderhead wanders into town–”

“I’m really not someone you want as an enemy,” William sneers.

The spirit puts a hand to her lips and laughs. It’s the sound of diamonds in a bonfire. Shivers travel down the samurai’s spine.

“Have a sense of humor, Anjin-chan,” Majima quips, “That was the best fight I’ve had in a long time. Ya ever wanna go again, just say the word.”

“I could’ve killed you.”

After a moment, the ninja blinks. “And?”

Adams gets to his feet. “I’m done here. The pleasure’s all yours.”

Goro waves him off. “I mean it about a rematch. Don’t make me ambush you, because you will not see it comin’.”

The sliding door slams shut. Majima quirks an eyebrow. “Ya sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

“He’s seen no end of conflict,” Hanzo says, “It weighs heavy on his mind, and you aren’t helping.”

“I’m testing if he’s still sharp. No point in carryin’ around an axe if he can’t use it.”

“We’ll see about that in Osaka. Toyotomi Hideyori has gathered an army in rebellion against Lord Tokugawa. I want you to come with us.”

The pipe freezes halfway to Goro’s incredulous lips. “Eh?”

“Osaka Castle has been fortified with a grand stronghold called Sanada Maru. It is said to be impregnable, with scores of archers and cannons defending the outer walls. A man of your skills will be an invaluable aid.”

Majima falls silent for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is low and solemn. “I can’t. I’m done working for anyone.” He flicks the ashes out of his pipe. “Besides, I have this town to rebuild. People are waiting on me, Masanari. I can’t bring back Iga, but I can give them a new future.”

Hanzo bows his head. “I respect your decision. Your endeavor is noble, and I have no right to conscript you away from it.” Getting up, he pauses at the door. “I never had the chance to say I admired you, Goro. Father’s training was merciless. Your companionship kept me sane.”

“Yeah, well. Look who’s cozy with the shogun and who’s digging latrines.”

Hanzo cracks a sad smile. “May the gods keep you well, old friend.”

Eight million gods and I haven’t seen a single one, Majima thinks. He nods once. “Gods keep ya well.”

Hattori departs. The remaining ninja refills his pipe, holds it out for his spirit to light. Their eyes meet as she cups the bowl. Returning her hands to her lap, she arches her spine backwards, mask tilted upward. Her flames blaze larger and hotter, licking the ceiling until someone on the roof beyond yelps in pain.

Minami swings in through the window. Clad in the black apparel of a shinobi, he immediately prostrates himself, forehead on the floor. “Boss! How’d you know I was there?”

Majima sighs, eye narrowed. “You can be a shadow at midnight, but if ya have footsteps, you’re not foolin’ anyone.”

The apprentice swallows hard. Only dire consequences can come from this. “And – Hattori?”

“Knew you were there before I did. He’s not the leader of what’s left of Iga for nothing.”

Minami presses his head down harder. “I confess, boss! I heard everything! That you survived the Demon King’s invasion, that you want to fight Sir Anjin again, that you’re not going to Osa–”

“You make me sick.”

The words are expected, though they sting no less. “Forgive me, boss.”

“I look at you and see myself.”

Minami’s face snaps up. “What?”

His apprentice is painfully predictable. Majima rolls his eye. “None of my good qualities, of course. I see a stupid kid who’d sooner kill himself with what he’s learned than use it in any real capacity.” He breathes deep of his pipe, letting Minami squirm. “Life has yet to come at you hard and fast. Now’s your chance to practice your skills or die tryin’.”

Despite the spirit’s presence, Minami is frozen. “You don’t mean–”

Majima turns his gaze to the sky, where the beginnings of sunset pink the horizon. “I’m going to Osaka.”

“But…you said–”

“Anjin-chan is smarter than you. I said I don’t work for anyone. I’m goin’ on my own terms, and one of them is you. Wanna get your hands dirty?”

Minami bangs his head on the floor. “Yes, sir! I won’t disappoint you, sir!”

Goro smirks. Years and years ago, he was a fearsome assassin, known in dark circles as the Flame in the Night. As he imagines holding Toyotomi’s severed head high above Osaka Castle, he feels the spark rekindled.

#rawbi's writes #fic: amrita memories #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #nioh #majima goro #william adams #hanzo hattori #minami daisaku #spoopy ghosts

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dfroza · 4 years ago

Text

Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms

for monday, April 12 of 2021 with Proverbs 12 and Psalm 12, accompanied by Psalm 24 for the 24th day of Spring and Psalm 102 for day 102 of the year

[Proverbs 12]

[It’s Right to Live for God]

To learn the truth you must long to be teachable,

or you can despise correction and remain ignorant.

If your heart is right, favor flows from the Lord,

but a devious heart invites his condemnation.

You can’t expect success by doing what’s wrong.

But the lives of his lovers are deeply rooted and firmly planted.

The integrity and strength of a virtuous wife

transforms her husband into an honored king.

But the wife who disgraces her husband

weakens the strength of his identity.

The lovers of God are filled with good ideas

that are noble and pure,

but the schemes of the sinner

are crammed with nothing but lies.

The wicked use their words to ambush and accuse,

but the lovers of God speak to defend and protect.

The wicked are taken out, gone for good,

but the godly families shall live on.

Everyone admires a man of principles,

but the one with a corrupt heart is despised.

Just be who you are and work hard for a living,

for that’s better than pretending to be important

and starving to death.

A good man takes care of the needs of his pets,

while even the kindest acts of a wicked man are still cruel.

Work hard at your job and you’ll have what you need.

Following a get-rich-quick scheme is nothing but a fantasy.

The cravings of the wicked are only for what is evil,

but righteousness is the core motivation for the lovers of God,

and it keeps them content and flourishing.

[Wisdom Means Being Teachable]

The wicked will get trapped by their words

of gossip, slander, and lies.

But for the righteous, honesty is its own defense.

For there is great satisfaction in speaking the truth,

and hard work brings blessings back to you.

A fool is in love with his own opinion,

but wisdom means being teachable.

[Learning to Speak Wisely]

If you shrug off an insult and refuse to take offense,

you demonstrate discretion indeed.

But the fool has a short fuse

and will immediately let you know when he’s offended.

Truthfulness marks the righteous,

but the habitual liar can never be trusted.

Reckless words are like the thrusts of a sword,

cutting remarks meant to stab and to hurt.

But the words of the wise soothe and heal.

Truthful words will stand the test of time,

but one day every lie will be seen for what it is.

Deception fills the hearts of those who plot harm,

but those who plan for peace are filled with joy.

Calamity is not allowed to overwhelm the righteous,

but there’s nothing but trouble waiting for the wicked.

Live in the truth and keep your promises,

and the Lord will keep delighting in you,

but he detests a liar.

Those who possess wisdom don’t feel the need

to impress others with what they know,

but foolish ones make sure their ignorance is on display.

If you want to reign in life,

don’t sit on your hands.

Instead, work hard at doing what’s right,

for the slacker will end up working to make someone else succeed.

Anxious fear brings depression,

but a life-giving word of encouragement

can do wonders to restore joy to the heart.

Lovers of God give good advice to their friends,

but the counsel of the wicked will lead them astray.

A passive person won’t even complete a project,

but a passionate person makes good use

of his time, wealth, and energy.

Abundant life is discovered by walking in righteousness,

but holding on to your anger leads to death.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 12 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 12]

Quick, God, I need your helping hand!

The last decent person just went down,

All the friends I depended on gone.

Everyone talks in lie language;

Lies slide off their oily lips.

They doubletalk with forked tongues.

Slice their lips off their faces!

Pull the braggart tongues from their mouths!

I’m tired of hearing, “We can talk anyone into anything!

Our lips manage the world.”

Into the hovels of the poor,

Into the dark streets where the homeless groan, God speaks:

“I’ve had enough; I’m on my way

To heal the ache in the heart of the wretched.”

God’s words are pure words,

Pure silver words refined seven times

In the fires of his word-kiln,

Pure on earth as well as in heaven.

God, keep us safe from their lies,

From the wicked who stalk us with lies,

From the wicked who collect honors

For their wonderful lies.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 12 (The Message)

[Psalm 24]

A song of David.

The earth and all that’s upon it belong to the Eternal.

The world is His, with every living creature on it.

With seas as foundations and rivers as boundaries,

He shaped the continents, fashioned the earth.

Who can possibly ascend the mountain of the Eternal?

Who can stand before Him in sacred spaces?

Only those whose hands have been washed and hearts made pure,

men and women who are not given to lies or deception.

The Eternal will stand close to them with blessing and mercy at hand,

and the God who redeems will right what has been wrong.

These are the people who chase after Him;

[like Jacob, they look for the face of God].

[pause]

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal who is powerful

and mightily equipped for battle.

City gates—open wide!

Ancient doors—stand back!

For the glorious King shall soon pass your way.

Who is the glorious King?

The Eternal, Commander of heaven’s army,

He is the glorious King.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 24 (The Voice)

[Psalm 102]

From Tears to Praise

A prayer for those who are overwhelmed and for all the discouraged who come to pour out their hearts before the Lord

Lord, listen to my prayer! Listen to my cry for help!

You can’t hide your face from me in the day of my distress.

Stoop down to hear my prayer and answer me quickly, Lord!

For my days of happiness have gone up in smoke.

My body is raging with fever, my heart is sick,

and I’m consumed by this illness—

withered like a dead leaf. I can’t even eat.

I’m nothing but skin and bones.

Nothing’s left of me but whispered groans.

I’m like a pelican of the wilderness,

like an owl among the ruins.

I’m sleepless, shivering in the cold, forlorn, and friendless,

like a lonely bird on the rooftop.

My every enemy mocks and insults me incessantly.

They even use my name as a curse to speak over others!

Because of your great and furious anger against me,

all I do is suffer with sorrow,

with nothing to eat but a meal of mourning.

My crying fills my cup with salty tears!

In your wrath you have rejected me,

sweeping me away like dirt on the floor.

My days are marked by the lengthening shadows of death.

I’m withering away and there’s nothing left of me.

But then I remember that you, O Lord,

still sit enthroned as King over all!

The fame of your name will be revealed to every generation.

I know you are about to arise and show your tender love to Zion.

Now is the time, Lord,

for your compassion and mercy to be poured out—

the appointed time has come

for your prophetic promises to be fulfilled!

For your servants weep in sympathy over Zion’s ruins

and feel love for her every stone.

When you arise to intervene,

all the nations and kings will be stunned

and will fear your awesome name, trembling before your glory!

Yes, you will reveal yourself to Zion

and appear in the brightness of your glory

to restore her and give her children.

He responds to the prayer of the poor and broken

and will not despise the cry of the homeless.

Write all this down for the coming generation,

so re-created people will read it and praise the Lord!

Tell them how Yah looked down from his high and holy place,

gazing from his glory to survey the earth.

He listened to all the groaning of his people longing to be free,

and he set loose the sons of death to experience life.

Multitudes will stream to Jerusalem to

praise the Lord and declare his name in Zion!

Peoples from every land, their kings and kingdoms,

will gather together to worship the Lord.

But God has brought me to my knees, shortening my life.

So I cry out to you, my God, Father of eternity,

please don’t let me die!

I know my life is not yet finished.

With your hands you once formed the foundations of the earth

and handcrafted the heavens above.

They will all fade away one day like worn-out clothing,

ready to be discarded, but you’ll still be here.

You will replace it all!

Your first creation will be changed,

but you alone will endure, the God of all eternity!

Generation after generation our descendants will live securely,

for you are the one protecting us, keeping us for yourself.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 102 (The Passion Translation)

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