#with a gigantic hole right in the centre

[tinrange]

Moonlight Mystique is so bizarre because theres been such obvious care taken into it but they somehow missed on making the leads engaging, something theyve accomplished in almost every side plot?

Fan Yue and Bai Shuo just come across so extremely sanitized, they exist in this world where everyone has blood on their hands but somehow exhibit moral purity you cant even find in regular wuxia..

The fact that all the other characters seem to possess deep wells of emotion and ambiguity, theyre deeply hurt and they commit awful acts against each other whether on purpose or through possession, yet the leads are increasingly varnished is so... peculiar.

Is it a reaction to the need for green flag leads? I dont think so considering just how dark theyve managed to go with lingzhao and still had people root for them.

Is it that the story itself calls for them to be this way later on? That seems to be the only option, but their clear righteousness and the way they weild it against other characters robs them of all that might have made them interesting.

Disinterest Fan Yue showed at the beginning is not enough to sustain a character or a relationship, they each seem capable of distancing themselves from all earthly matters and Actual Feelings so they end up alienating the audience when theyre shown as Upset because its unconvincing.

Whether it be Fan Yues reaction to Qi Fengs reveal and his immediate turn to "nobody deserves to die we must not continue the cycle" after having supposedly cared enough to curse himself, or Bai Shuo having little to no care in the world to the boy she was raised with and saw as a brother.. they seem entirely seperate in ability to feel and its jarring because every arc is so concerned with the fear, sadness, joy and daily lives of the sides.

[spacenutspod]

Galaxy cluster SDSS J1531+3414X-ray: NASA/CXC/SAO/O. Omoruyi et al.; Optical: NASA/ESA/STScI/G. Tremblay et al.; Radio: ASTRON/LOFAR; Image Processing: NASA/CXC/SAO/N. Wolk Astronomers have discovered one of the most powerful eruptions from a black hole ever recorded in the system known as SDSS J1531+3414 (SDSS J1531 for short). As explained in our press release, this mega-explosion billions of years ago may help explain the formation of a striking pattern of star clusters around two massive galaxies, resembling “beads on a string.” SDSS J1531 is a massive galaxy cluster containing hundreds of individual galaxies and huge reservoirs of hot gas and dark matter. At the center of SDSS J1531, which is located about 3.8 billion light-years away, two of the cluster’s largest galaxies are colliding with each other. Astronomers used several telescopes to study SDSS J1531 including NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory, and the Low Frequency Array (LOFAR), a radio telescope. This composite image shows SDSS J1531 in X-rays from Chandra (blue and purple) that have been combined with radio data from LOFAR (dark pink) as well as an optical image from the Hubble Space Telescope (appearing as yellow and white). The inset gives a close-in view of the center of SDSS J1531 in optical light, showing the two large galaxies and a set of 19 large clusters of stars, called superclusters, stretching across the middle. The image shows these star clusters are arranged in an ‘S’ formation that resembles beads on a string. The multiwavelength data provides signs of an ancient, titanic eruption in SDSS J1531, which a team of researchers think was responsible for creation of the 19 star clusters. Their argument is that an extremely powerful jet from the supermassive black holes in the center of one of the large galaxies pushed the surrounding hot gas away from the black hole, creating a gigantic cavity. The evidence for a cavity comes from “wings” of bright X-ray emission, seen with Chandra, tracing dense gas near the center of SDSS J1531. These wings are the edge of the cavity and the less dense gas in between is part of the cavity. LOFAR shows radio waves from the remains of the jet’s energetic particles filling in the giant cavity. These features are highlighted in a labeled version of the image. Multiwavelength Image of SDSS J1531, LabeledX-ray: NASA/CXC/SAO/O. Omoruyi et al.; Optical: NASA/ESA/STScI/G. Tremblay et al.; Radio: ASTRON/LOFAR; Image Processing: NASA/CXC/SAO/N. Wolk The astronomers also discovered cold and warm gas located near the opening of the cavity, detected with the Atacama Large Millimeter and submillimeter Array (ALMA) and the Gemini North Telescope, respectively. A separate graphic shows the optical image with the cold gas added in green (left), and the warm gas added in red (right). The team argues that some of the hot gas pushed away from the black hole eventually cooled to form the cold and warm gas shown. The team thinks tidal effects from the two merging galaxies compressed the gas along curved paths, leading to the star clusters forming in the “beads on a string” pattern. Cold and warm gas located near the opening of the cavity.Optical/Halpha: NASA/ESA/STScI; Radio: ESO/NAOJ/NRAO A paper led by Osase Omoruyi of the Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian (CfA) describing these results has recently been published in The Astrophysical Journal and is available online here. The authors of the paper are Grant Tremblay (CfA), Francoise Combes (Paris Observatory, France), Timothy Davis (Cardiff University, UK), Michael Gladders (University of Chicago), Alexey Vikhlinin (CfA), Paul Nulsen (CfA), Preeti Kharb (National Centre for Radio Astrophysics — Tata Institute of Fundamental Research, India ), Stefi Baum (University of Manitoba, Canada), Christopher O’Dea (University of Manitoba, Canada), Keren Sharon (University of Michigan), Bryan Terrazas (Columbia University), Rebecca Nevin (Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory), Aimee Schechter (University of Colorado Boulder), John ZuHone (CfA), Michael McDonald (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), Hakon Dahle (University of Oslo, Norway), Matthew B. Bayliss (University of Cincinnati), Thomas Connor (CfA), Michael Florian (University of Arizona), Jane Rigby (NASA Goddard Space Flight Center), and Sravani Vaddi (Arecibo Observatory) NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center manages the Chandra program. The Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory’s Chandra X-ray Center controls science operations from Cambridge, Massachusetts, and flight operations from Burlington, Massachusetts. Read more from NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory. For more Chandra images, multimedia and related materials, visit: https://www.nasa.gov/mission/chandra-x-ray-observatory/ Visual Description: This is an image of a cluster of galaxies called SDSS J1531+3414 in X-ray, optical, and radio light. The overall scene resembles a colorful display of lights as if viewed through a wet, glass window. Blurry orange dots of different sizes are scattered across a black background. These orange dots are entire galaxies. Near the center of the image, two central galaxies appear as bright, white dots. Star clusters, resembling beads on a string in shades of electric blue, sweep over the galaxy on the left, through the space in between the galaxy pair, and then lightly coil beneath both galaxies. Clouds of blue, X-ray light, and dark pink, radio light, surround the two galaxies. The blue cloud spreads out for thousands of light-years toward the region above the central galaxies. The dark pink cloud, somewhat resembling the shape of an upside down spinning top toy, stretches far below the two galaxies and slightly toward our left. This dark pink cloud represents the remains of a powerful jet, produced by a supermassive black hole within one of the two central galaxies. In the upper right corner of the image, another dark pink cloud is present. This cloud may be the relic of a counter-jet from the same black hole outburst. News Media Contact Megan WatzkeChandra X-ray CenterCambridge, Mass.617-496-7998 Jonathan DealMarshall Space Flight CenterHuntsville, Ala.256-544-0034

[war-academy24]

Understanding Rashtriya Military Schools and How War Academy Can Help

Rashtriya Military Schools are considered to be premier institutions in India. These schools provide quality education and prepare the learners for a career in the armed forces. Since these schools combine academic rigor with military training within one curriculum, it is an honor to aim for aspiring cadets. In this blog, we will trace the brief course structure of the Rashtriya Military School Coaching Centre in Shahdara and how War Academy can offer help to students on their journey toward admission.

Overview of Rashtriya Military School Courses

Rashtriya Military Schools conducts classes from Class VI to Class XII. The students are inculcated with academic excellence combined with zeal, daring, and a strong sense of discipline, leading them on the way to building leadership qualities. The curriculum follows the Central Board of Secondary Education standards. Some Key 

Features of RMS Courses:

Eligibility: The age group that starts for Class VI comes from the category of 10 to 12 years of age. The age group for Class IX stands at 13 to 15 years. The candidate should have passed Class V or VIII from an identified school.

Syllabus: Mathematics, Science, English, Hindi, and General Knowledge comprise the major subjects that make part of the syllabus, although more emphasis is on military studies as the classes move ahead.

Entrance Test: The entrance is provided by the Common Entrance Test (CET) based on the student's abilities in the subjects which constitute a blend of intelligent quotient/quantity tests and general knowledge.

Role of Coaching for RMS Entrance

Preparing for the entrance of RMS requires full planning and disciplined study habits. This is where coaching centers come into play. Coming in Shahdara, War Academy specializes in preparing students for entrance exams at military schools, including the Rashtriya Military School Coaching Centre in Shahdara.

How War Academy Helps Students:

Methodical Study Plan: The current academies, in particular, will prepare a personal study plan for students according to the syllabus of the RMS, ensuring that no questions will be left unasked by them.

Experienced Instructors: The faculties of the coaching center give insight into the latest trend of the exam so that the right strategies for solving the questions may be developed by the students.

Mock Tests and Practice Papers: Regular mock tests are offered to get accustomed to the pattern of the exam and time management.

Benefits of Studying at War Academy

Students will truly derive much more at a good coaching center like War Academy which will boost their success ratio in the RMS entrance exam. These are some of its advantages:

Confine Space for Study: A limited space for study provides a restricted scope for attracting distractions, and thus concentration.

Peer Interaction: Students are provided with interaction with peers who have equally motivating goals, and also, healthy competition.

Feedback Mechanisms: Continuous testing keeps the students conscious of their respective weaknesses and strengths and therefore allows them to fill in the right holes. 

Staying at coaching centers such as War Academy in Shahdara would then prove to be an excellent support mechanism for students seeking admission to such elite institutions. Structured guidance, expert faculties, and an environment of focused learning would thereby enhance the preparation of the student for the RMS entrance exam and take gigantic strides towards realizing his dream of serving within the military.  With the help of the resources availed by War Academy, it will enable aspiring cadets to be adequately prepared for the challenges that would be presented by the competitive entrance examinations of the Rashtriya Military School Coaching Centre in Shahdara.

[akaashisbabygirl]

camboy part three

a/n: i am so happy to finally get this fic out. it’s been something i am honoured to write and i’m glad you all have been enjoying it too. this is gonna be the last part, and yeah, i feel as if my fic is rushed but i didn’t want to make it toooo long, if that makes sense. i hope you all enjoyed reading :)

pairings: camboy!akaashi x female!reader

warnings: slight angst towards the beginning, vaginal penetration, oral (giving and receiving)

words: 2128

part one | part two

“akaashi…” you noticed the familiar set up to the way the cam boy has. the bed, the walls, even the pretty skirts, some of the toys he’s brought out before sitting on the bed beside him, “what are you doing?” 

“y-y/n...” his voice was shocked and shaking, unsure and embarrassed from what you had just caught him doing.

he tried his best to hide and cover himself up, flipping the skirt down and trying to cover himself with the blankets on the bed. he was scared. he never wanted you to see him like this. not now, not yet.

“i-i can explain!” he tried to hide his actions, as tears welled up in his soft turquoise coloured eyes.

“w-why do you have the same bedsheets and set up as him... that camboy- why are you wearing a skirt? why did i find a skirt in the washing, was it your girlfriend? why didn’t you tell me?” you started to cry as the word ‘girlfriend’ rolled off your tongue.

you hated that you were here right now, that you were watching this now with your very own two eyes. you hated that you had to comfort the man you love over something that you accidentally walked in on. you wondered if there was a girl in the room too.

“is there a girl in here right now? your girlfrie-”

“there’s no girl.”

despite akaashi being anxious, his voice was surprisingly calm. his voice was soft, almost as if he was trying to calm both you and him down at this very moment.

“you-you shouldn’t lie to me about these things... akaashi... you don’t know how much it hurts me...” you sobbed, tears rolling down your face as you buried your head in yours hands. 

akaashi took the skirt off, undressing as you cried. he knew it was rude, but he didn’t want you to see him like this. he got dressed up properly as quick as he could. pulling you into his arms, he set you down on the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around you. he hated how disgusting his room felt all of a sudden, that it wasn’t his room anymore. thankfully, his sheets had been washed so they weren’t stained with his cum. you had seen him as someone else this whole time, yet he never thought you of all people would’ve known about his camboy job. 

“i’m sorry that i never told you about my job as a camboy. i was too embarrassed to say anything, thinking that you would think so low of me. i don’t have a girlfriend, the skirts are mine and i didn’t realise you were going to see. i’m sorry to have made you upset, y/n.”

his voice was still soft and calming. tears stopped flowing from your eyes after hearing him confess his true feelings on the matter. it made you feel a little better about yourself, knowing that what you had thought about him wasn’t exactly true. 

“akaashi...” you pulled your head away from his chest, seeing how your tears had made marks on his dark blue shirt. 

knowing he didn’t have a girlfriend, that he was single, you thought as if now was maybe the right time to tell him the truth.

“akaashi i love you. i’ve always loved you and i didn’t know how to tell you. i was scared... so scared when i found the skirt because i thought that i had lost all my chances of being with you. akaashi- i-i want to be with you. i want to be close to you. to touch you, to feel you, there’s so much i want yet i’m too scared to admit because i’m scared you don’t feel the same way.”

he smiled softly, his hand coming up to your face to cup your cheek. 

“you really don’t think i feel the same way. you must be oblivious, my dear y/n. i have also loved you for so long, and didn’t know how to tell you. we’re in the same boat, love.”

almost as if it were on cue, you cried again. you didn’t know why you were crying- maybe it was because all your feelings had finally been understood and weight had lifted from your shoulders and faded in with the thin air. he held you again.

“y/n, will you be my girlfriend? i wanted to ask you out in a better way than this, but will you be mine?”

“i-i will. i’m sure. i want to be yours, and i want you to be mine.”

“you’ll only be mine, and i’ll only be yours,” akaashi said softly as his lips ghosted softly over your forehead. 

he set the two of you down on the bed, turning the lights off and letting darkness fill the bedroom. akaashi tucked you in under the sheets, kissing your forehead sotly.

“i love you. always have.”

the night was like a blur. one minute, you were asleep. next, you were awake. having akaashi’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you, made you feel safe and protected. you were happy, watching how the man slept next to you. his features beautiful. you loved how beautiful he was. 

akaashi never understood just how beautiful he was to everyone around him. he grew up with compliments from family, “you’re such a gorgeous boy, keiji” but he had never thought anything about them. it’s not that he didn’t believe that the comments were true, it’s that he didn’t know how to respond to them. what was everyone seeing that he couldn’t see? 

he had always thought he was just a normal boy. 

one who people would see in their everyday lives and notice, yet, not think much about or question. he hated being the centre of attention, yet, he had chosen the spotlight as a camboy.

he wanted to hide himself from everyone, unsure about how they would act if they knew what he looked like in real life. would they ‘fall for him’? would they think he’s beautiful? probably not - he was sure that if he showed his face to his fans they would all just call him ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’.

yet, the factor that made him the most anxious was ‘what if someone who knew him saw him doing this’? how would they feel about him then? what if it was one of his old mates from volleyball or even bokuto? they would be disgusted in him, right?

softly, you traced your finger over akaashi’s cheek. you had never seen him like this before, completely vulnerable for you. he never wanted to show off a sign of weakness, but here, having you in his arms made akaashi feel as if he could protect someone he holds dear to him. 

he slept happily, knowing that you felt the same way. he didn’t want to admit or even show how happy he was. akaashi wanted to pick you up in his arms and spin you around in the air with a gigantic smile on his face. he wanted to show you the most love he could muster and make you feel safe and at home with him.

it was the start of something new for akaashi. 

something he wanted and craved so desperately. 

something he could start and build with you.

you.

the person he loves. you.

the day went by quickly and akaashi found himself sitting at his desk with thoughts clouding his mind. he needed the money, he really needed it. but, at the same time he never wanted to make you uncomfortable with what he was doing.

akaashi knew that you seeing other girls fall in love with his body and make sexual comments about him would make you jealous. even if you were to shake your head and say ‘it’s alright, i don’t mind’, he still knew that you would be clutching your fists with jealously. that you would get upset and probably even cry. akaashi wasn’t going to put you in that spotlight. 

“i’m going to quit being a camboy.”

his statement had almost made you drop your glass. what had made him decide to stop being a camboy?

“w-why, what made you decide to stop?” you asked, setting your glass down on the table.

“you’d be uncomfortable. i’d be comfortable if you were a cam girl, so i’m not going to put you in a predicament where you’re going to not be okay with it,” he explained.

silently, you thanked akaashi, happy with the choice that he had made. it’s almost funny that he knew how you were feeling without you having to address your concerns out loud.

“thank you,” you mumbled softly. 

a week at most had gone by. the apartment had been changed around. you had moved all your items into akaashi’s room, which was the biggest room of the apartment. even though the two of you had been living in this apartment for a few years, it still felt as if it was the first time you and him were moving in together.

your old bedroom had been changed into a guest room. the whole apartment had been changed up. it used to feel as if it was a small apartment that two roommates shared. now, it felt as a place you and akaashi could both call home.

lips hungrily attacked each other as you straddled akaashi on the bed. his back was pressed up against the headboard, his hands on your hips as the two of you made out. 

your lips moved down to his neck, kissing and sucking softly, mumbling, “i want you.”

“are you sure?” he pulled away, looking into your eyes.

you nodded your head, “very sure.”

akaashi smirked, guiding you down to be in line with his hard length. your hands toyed with his pants, pulling them plus his boxers down. akaashi watched as you took his length into your mouth, maintaining eye contact with him as you did.

his hand moved to your hair, pushing your head down to take more of him into your mouth. he loved the way you sounded when you were choking on his length. akaashi watched as tears formed in your eyes from how big he was, how your body softly and slowly grinded into the bedsheets from the lack of physical touch you were getting.

“thats enough dear,” he said, “i wanna eat you out.”

he was very clear with his words. you pulled away from him, laying your back down softly against the bedsheets. 

akaashi’s hands held your thighs open as his mouth softly wrapped around your clit. he moaned softly against your pussy, loving the way your wetness gushed around him. he shoved two fingers into your hole, curling them and having you moan louder than before. he smirked, his tongue moving softly against your cunt and his fingers hitting deep inside of you. 

it hadn’t been the first time the two of you were sexual since you first started going out, yet, every time you and akaashi did something, there was love there.

he didn’t want to rush anything with you, but these last years he had spent with you had felt as if the two of you had been together forever. he wasn’t worried to start anything with you. akaashi trusted you and you trusted him. 

he knew what it was like to love you, to crave you, to want you. he desired everything from you.

most importantly.

he couldn’t wait for the day he could make you his all over again.

akaashi sat back up against the headboard, his hands on your hips as he slowly placed you down on his cock. your hands held tightly onto his shoulders as he slowly moved you up and down, increasing the pace painfully slow.

“keiji~” you moaned softly against his neck.

akaashi’s hips slammed faster into you, having you moan out his name louder and louder with every thrust.

“i love you,” he moaned as he brought your face down into a kiss.

akaashi loves you.

he loves you for the person that you are. 

akaashi loves spending everyday with you. he loves getting to call you ‘mine’ and ‘his’. you’re a beautiful person, and even if you fear as if you’re not good enough for someone as beautiful as him, he would be there to tell you otherwise.

over the last weeks and years, you’d helped akaashi understand himself more. understand what he really does desire in this world.

what he desires, what he wants to make happy, what makes him happy:

it’s all you.

“i love you,” akaashi softly kissed your forehead as he covered the two of you under the sheets of the bed.

“i love you,” you smiled, melting into his arms once again.

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2021, do not repost or change

[yeojaa]

stay gold.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  blond!jk being a good boy?  idk.  that’s literally it.  wc. 3k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, ofc.  author note.  this was meant to be pwp but i cannot shut up so here is this mess that is neither pwp nor something with a legit plotline. 🤠 blame blondie.

Having a content creator boyfriend is fun.  Usually.

You get to go on cool trips, he gives you all of the random shit his sponsors send him, and you get to preen like a cat that ate the canary when his DMs blow up with hundreds of messages.  

Sure, there are the downsides.  All his stupid pranks - the ones that piss you off when you’re trying to do your makeup, the ones that have him dunking ice cubes on you while you’re in the middle of a shower - and his perpetual recording, camera glued to his hand and if not that, then his phone.  There are the rude comments - the oh, that’s his girlfriend? He could do better was a common one - and the long hours he spends editing, holed away in his office;  the beyond inappropriate packages he gets in the mail, thongs and other things that he immediately tosses away with a reassuring tilt of his pretty head.

You don’t mind it though.  He enjoys it, thrives on it, and you’re there to support him.

But you’d never expected this.

This Adonis standing in the doorway, freshly styled strands pushed back from his forehead, glimmering gold falling across his eyes.  He looks, for lack of a better word, unreal.

(You’re not often speechless.  Can’t be, when you’re dating someone like Jeon Jungkook and everything he does either makes you laugh or infuriates you.  Boring isn’t a part of his vocabulary and you’ve learnt to keep up with his antics over the years.)

(Still, this comes close, stealing all the air from your lungs.)

“Hey, baby.”  It’s his usual greeting, offered without hesitation as he crosses the threshold and tosses his keys into the catch-all by the door.  Kicks off his chunky sneakers and peels his sweater over his head, effectively tousling the tawny threads.

He’s so handsome it’s outright disgusting, leaving you gaping up at him from your post on the couch.  Gives you very little to work with as he shimmies down the hall, grabs an apple off the kitchen island, and then not-so-gracefully plops himself down beside you.  

You still haven’t found your words by the time he takes two gigantic bites, flesh crunching between his teeth, big doe eyes sparkling like he’s stepped right out of a Disney film.

“D’you like it?”  

Did you?  Well, obviously.

You’ve never imagined Jungkook blond.  He’d gone through a phase in college, colours of the rainbow rotating through the ends of his hair.  Brown, red, orange, blue.  You’d loved each hue but this was something else entirely.  (Different even from the two months he’d spent as full-on ginger, committing far too hard to his Haikyuu!! Halloween costume.)

This version of him is steeped in some twisted fantasy, a dream crafted by years of bedtime stories and happily ever afters.  It screams Prince Charming and has you reaching for him before you know what you’re doing, threading fingers through the surprisingly soft silk that curls over his ears and looks so lovely next to the silver of his piercings.  

You mean to be gentle, to comb delicately through flax but fuck.  He looks so good you want to devour him.  (You can only imagine your face - a lovesick puppy brought home from the pound.)

There’s still apple in his mouth, juice tracking down his chin because you’re really making it quite hard for him to chew when you’ve got him like this, two hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.  Inspecting him like a piece of meat as he peers at you, deceptively innocent and amused.  “That’s a yes?”  

An answer comes in the form of a kiss, of limbs rearranging and settling directly into his lap.  Knees wide, chest to chest, you can’t even be bothered by the sickly sticky feel of his skin, the way his hands are too cold to be creeping up beneath the hem of your - his - shirt.

(Where had he put the apple?  You know it’s not finished, two bites in and left to roll all over the rug.  You’ll give him shit for that later, when you’re not so distracted.)

“You look like Barbie,”  you mumble against his lips, into the warmth of his mouth.  You ignore the way he laughs, swallowing it down with a pass of your tongue and too much spit swapped, a string of saliva caught between you when you come up for air. 

Somehow, you’re still lightheaded, all your thoughts framed into the familiar silhouette of the boy beneath you.  Cherry red lips - your fault, from all your biting and teasing and the balm you’d applied earlier - and blond hair.  Who would’ve known that was your weakness?

(Deep down, you know Jungkook as a whole is the issue.  That it’s your stupid handsome boyfriend with his lopsided smile and bunny teeth, dimples and that scar on his cheek.  This is just a new layer to be explored, another reason you love him added to the Jungkook Best Boy jar that sits front and centre in your mind’s eye.)

“Don’t say that,”  he groans, equal parts reproach and affection, palms resting where they belong, nestled over your spine.  Long fingers toy with the soft cotton of your thong, brushing over the seamless material with small repetitive motions. 

You realise then his hands aren’t the only things heating up.

The two of you have an understanding, an abiding awareness of the boundaries of your relationship and the roles you take on.  Best friend, occasional sucker for the sake of a TikTok, lover.

He knows how much you hate your dirty laundry being aired - does his very best to never post anything that might be misconstrued, ensures he only ever portrays you in a good light because the internet could be cruel.  (Even if he argued with you in the quiet of your home, he’d keep you safe outside of the four walls.)  

You know how he needs his quiet time but that sometimes, a night out was unavoidable, a part of his life he - and by extension you - couldn’t always say no to.  (Even if you were achy and tired by midnight, glaring down at your phone as he made his rounds, exchanged contact details and rambled about shit that meant nothing.)

He’s learnt to make your eggs the way you love them:  soft in the centre, covered with too much pepper.  He never washes your clothes in hot water (not after The Great Sweater debacle) and he always makes sure not to use your special memory foam pillow.  

You kiss him goodnight without fail and play with his hair until he falls asleep;  you bury your face against his chest when he’s had a long day, signing your love with the felt-tip of your lips.  You bring him fresh cut fruit when he’s been working for more than three hours and wash his hair when he’s stressed. 

Knowing each other was easy;  loving each other was like breathing.

This, though, is different.  New.  Special.  

He’s never been like this before, glazed over in the eyes, patience wearing thin.  Sat so well, picture perfect beneath you and cornsilk crown lighting his entire expression up like a halo, he’s ethereal. 

“Baby,”  he whines, grits through his teeth as you roll your hips that much slower, the glide impossibly smooth thanks to the lychee watermelon lube he’d received to his PO box.  (One of the items you hadn’t thrown away from that package, together with a handful of other toys that’d come in handy over the months.)

You’re shameless, soothing a hand across his cheek, thumb slipping past his lips.  (You ignore the noise of indignation, meet it with a twinkling laugh of your own.)  It sweeps over his tongue, pressing down in tandem with the second sound - one that echoes out of his chest, a growl that pitches into a whine and makes your ears buzz.  “Hi, baby.”

“Stop teasing.”  It’s practically begging - or as close to it as Jungkook will get.  It draws a smile and another pass of your thumb, gliding across his gums to slot against the interior of his cheek.  You’ve got him fishhooked, immobile, even as he glares up at you.

(He’s so, so handsome.  Looks utterly out of it even as he tries to harden his gaze, coerce you into doing what he wants with that stare that makes your heart lurch pathetically in your chest.)

“You don’t like this?”

You know he does - that he loves being pampered.  That he’ll rarely ask, instead pouting at you from wherever he sits until you turn to putty under his gaze and smother him in all the love you have to offer.

“I do.  I just—”  The rest of his words don’t come, stolen by a gasp when you grind against him, swollen head of his cock bumping against your clit.  He’s making a mess of you both, back arching, hips rising, hands fisted into the sheets even as he chases friction like a dog does its tail.  The warmth between your legs is so close he looks as if he’ll lose his mind, rutting against your cunt like just the right angle might get him what he wants.  “Fuck, baby.”

“I’m trying,”  you retort, mouthful of teasing that only earns you another glare, some poor semblance of one as he bites into the webbing of your hand, bucks up impatiently.

“Please.”  He tries again, a different tactic this time, all sugar-spun sweetness.  Strawberry shortcake rather than sour cherry pie, so eager to get what he wants that he’s not above pulling out all the stops.  A hand risen from the sheets, digits decorated in ink swimming over your skin, sinking into the meat of your thigh.

(He doesn’t push though.  Knows you’ll pull the moment he does.)

“Please?”  An echo chamber, endlessly teasing, and a ducked head, lips finding the sweat-slick column of his throat.  Just one drag of your tongue has him crumbling further, careful composure slipping with each swivel of your hips, the edge of your teeth.  There’s nothing but desperation radiating off him, demand choked back when you drift lower, tracing over his chest, teasing him in the ways you know best.  

It’s all so unnecessary, drawing out what he wants until he’s a goner, three seconds from combusting beneath you.  You’d give him anything he ever asked for - offer it all up on a silver plate, a meal fit for a king.  This is just fun, different and exciting. 

You relent with a minor adjustment, settling yourself against him, face dropped into the crook of his neck.  “Slowly.”

He repeats after you, uncertain and hopeful;  his hand falls further, warmth descending to pull you close, hold you still.   As much as he needs this - needs you - he loves the slow burn just as much.  The stutter of his pulse gives him away, erratic beneath your touch.  He’s a thousand miles above the clouds, floating on cloud nine;  every second passed is another tingle of his toes, a tightening of the coil in his stomach.

When he aligns himself against your core, pre-cum pearling over his tip, he does exactly as you’ve asked.  Sinks into you at such a leisurely pace you wonder if you might be the one who splinters apart, shatters into a million tiny pieces at the way he splits you open.  

“Good?”  Jungkook asks so nicely it’s impossible for you to say no, to deny him this tiny bit of reassurance.  

(Maybe it’s the way he looks, crowned in glittering gold, painted by Fra Angelico.  Or maybe it’s how his smile spills like sunshine, a peachy pink horizon dragging over the apples of his cheeks, burnt red like their namesake.)

(Whatever it is, it’s everything you want, packed perfectly and pouting.)

“Good boy,”  you purr, breath hitching once he’s sheathed to the hilt, seated so deeply within that you swear you can feel him in your throat.

You’ve never felt so full before - close to overflow, taunted and taxed by ridges and veins, each flex of his hips that drives him somehow further within your fluttering walls.  So full you might burst, that you can’t possibly hold yourself together when he begins to move, fucking you tenderly, as if he can feel the weight of the moment.  

There’s something happening.  A shift in the air, in the axis of your planet that revolves around him.  It falls on its side, spins wildly out of control, and you’re emotional.  It’s not just his hair - that gilded crown he wears, heavy heavy heavy like aureate coin - or the impossible dark of his eyes - blown out, an entire galaxy devoured by the supermassive black hole that is his pupils.  It’s the things you can’t see, the pieces beneath skin, soft and jammy, the tongue-tart sweetness.

(The thing with Jungkook is that he doesn’t let go, refuses to fully submit, always so careful to regulate his voice when things get to be too much.  He’ll blink back his tears, stifle a sob, even as his breath disappears from nothing but a delicate brush of his chest.)

You take his vulnerability as a treasure, hold it close and craft a chest for its home, promise to keep it safe even while you're the one who poses the most danger.  When it’s your teeth and tongue that eviscerates the soft of his flesh, makes him keen and gasp, heart pounding like hooves, beat imprinted against, under, into your palms.

When he begs you to move - manages the request in a broken articulation that makes you giggle - you give, swivel your hips in a figure eight, an infinity of motion that never ends.  

You take all he has to offer and sing your praise into the wet of his mouth.  Lick over teeth and gums and trade spit for love;  know there’s only more where that came from, that the fountain begs to overflow as he finally - finally - breaks that much more, gripping your hips gentle as can be.  Hands soothe up and down, an unspoken plea in how he thumbs your hip bones, taps hopefully over the small of your lower back.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to hear him. 

It’s more than a kiss forming against your skin.  It’s a confession of adoration, sealed by the frame of his mouth, cemented by the sting of his teeth.  It’s I love you without saying it, plastering the pecks along your spine, placing them safely in all the spaces you’ve created for him.

It’s also an apology, because he’s just torn your castle to pieces, shattered your entire fantasy into smithereens.

He hadn’t expected you to react the way you had, rolling off him as if he hadn’t just been chasing the sweet bliss of release, splitting your walls and making you wail above him.  It has him pouting, utilising the one thing that melts you down like candle wax.  

“Baby,”  he whines, reaching for you, needy and horny and so hard he imagines all the blood has rushed from his head straight to his cock.  Everything spins when he moves with you, scrambles across the California king to paw at your hip.  

He’d been so good for you - wasn’t that enough?

“Don’t,”  you grumble, searing his insides with just one look.  (It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.)

“But—”  A plea punctuated by groping hands, eager as always, smoothing over the swell of your ass, flesh squeezing between knuckles.  He’d normally let this go - fuck into his closed fist in the shower after he’s done something to cut playtime short - but he can’t help it now.  He’s been on the edge for so long, lit up in neon that demands to be seen, heard, felt.

“Don’t dye it again.”  

Oh?

That has him reeling, laughing, such a stupid grin across his face.  It devours everything else, spearing dimples into place as he pulls you against him.  You can feel his smile forming against your skin, the wet drag of his tongue as he sucks a welt into the sensitive spot of your shoulder.

“You wanna play with Barbie, baby?”  It’s such a stupid line - utterly sophomoric and riddled with teasing and yet the delivery has you shivering in his arms, equally childish huff splitting your lips.

Jungkook doesn’t listen to you often - not about silly things like this - but he figures he can, just this once.

“I won’t,”  he chirps, sneaking another kiss, stamping another smooch.  It’s working exactly as he wants, stilling your protesting limbs as he cages you to him, slips his hand back where he most wants to be.  The glide is perfect, a mixture of arousal and fruity lubricant;  he slips a finger in without resistance, grinding his palm against your clit. 

“R-really?”  Of course you don’t believe him.  He messes with you too often, plays too many pranks.  (He deserves that.) 

His promise comes too easy, driven by how nice you feel, how pretty you sound when he presses another digit in along the first.  The scissor of his fingers is languid, exploring for the spots that make you breathless as he hums a noise of affirmation against your neck;  he fucks you open as if he has to, as if you aren’t already dripping, eagerly sucking him in.  “Really.”  

“Put it in then, Ken doll.”

He laughs - and then he does.  In bed, with your knee hooked over his, pace slow and sure and sinful.  In the shower, bent over with his hands bruising your hips.  In the kitchen for a late night snack, another apple in his mouth and your hands in his hair.

Maybe blonds did have more fun. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​

[lsholland]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

[convexicalcrow]

Have I got enough crop fields yet? Probably not lol. It is all food for the farmer who decided to live in my tower as a source of emeralds.

Which I can then use to level up the other friends who live in this little shack. Toolsmith, two weaponsmiths, armourer, and a leatherworker. Also I finally fixed the build, it looked a right mess bc I kept having to patch up holes and ofc I don't have silk touch yet so. Stone is a Pain rn. Also excuse the grass staircase, golems like spawning up on the roof and I have been too lazy to spawn-proof that yet lmao.

Behold! The world's slowest iron farm! bc if villagers are gonna keep spawning golems, I might as well farm them. I will need some more wandering traders to come by though, I have lost two leads into the lava so far rip.

Got the idea for this from when Cub instigated something similar at ConCorp to deal with excess golems, though his worked a lot better than mine lol.

I do think I will need a proper iron farm at some point when I feel brave enough to build one and switch the world to easy, but that's a job for later.

Also! Villager breeder! Made from memories of watching Stress build hers on-stream last year. It works! :D Just don't ask me how I'm getting the villagers OUT of the pit they're currently in. XD I decided that's a job for future me to deal with lmao. Still, feeling pretty good that it worked, bc it's the first one I've ever built. :D

Also I feel *slightly* bad for putting this under the barn, but it had the space I needed. I will have to decorate this properly later as well, it's not going to be this ugly forever. XD

Also this is what I built on top of the hill. I had thought about a lighthouse or tower or something, but I went with this instead. It's a temple for Hekate, based on the one I visit in meditation. It's not a traditional design for that reason, bc I wanted the one I know, not one I don't know. It sits on a cliff edge like this overlooking a large bay of water surrounded by forest. So it fits really nicely here.

I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with this world, and what I want to build, and thinking about Scar's advice for themes that give you things to build. So if there's a Hekate temple here, and that's the vibe I'm going for, well, that gives me ideas for other infrastructure I want to build, and how to work with the block palette I've picked.

I kinda want to riff off what Cub did at ConCorp, and have like, specific buildings for specific villager jobs. So there'll be a library for librarians, market stalls, a proper blacksmith for the tool/weapon/armourers etc, that kind of thing. And I want them scattered around the land that I've cleared, I don't want them all packed in together. I want them to be free to wander and sleep and do their jobs, but still be safe inside their buildings.

And then I want to build a larger temple for Hekate in the centre of town, based off a Cathedral-like temple I've seen in meditation before, though it won't be a gigantic mega-build. It will probably be something I do much further down the track though.

Also! I have a zombie spawner I want to turn into an xp farm, and maybe it won't be the best one ever, it would still be nice to have a better source of xp than villager trading.

So yeah, I have like, ideas in mind for where this world is going to go. I want to make this a more long-term world, and slowly chip away at these projects as I work my way through the early game and get myself established. I'm really enjoying this world, and getting to know java minecraft better, since I spend so much time watching people play java. I'm always surprised at how much I've picked up just through osmosis. So yeah. Having a lot of fun with this world and I'm excited to sink more time into it and keep building it up. :D

[popopretty]

Hi! Sorry to bother you! First, thank you for all your hard work with the translations !! I would like to ask if is there any information about Chuuya's wings and the rings around him in the last chapter of Stormbringer when he decides to use Corruption? I want to draw the scene but I'm not sure about the details. Thank you if you answer! Love your blog <3

Hi,

Sorry it took so long for me to answer this. I saw the ask but couldn’t find time during the week to check the novel to get the answer. In the end, I decided that I would just translate a small part before and after that scene so you can get a better overview for your art. I am sorry if you have got the answers from someone else already. Also, this part has a short inner convo between Chuuya and Verlaine that I like a lot so I do want more people to read it :)

Feel free to retranslate if you want. Please note that I am not native in either Japanese nor English and may make some mistakes though. Thank you so much.

SPOILERS AHEAD

[CODE;04]

Chuuya was floating in the sky, lonely, with his whole body bleeding.

His body was almost at its limit. Because on top of Guivre’s attacks, the powerful gravity that he generated was too much for a delicate human body to withstand. Bruises, dislocations, torn muscles, and broken bones. He was literally just using gravity to support his body and somehow maintain a decent shape.

That figure was more lonely than anyone else in this world.

Those eyes moved. They turned to another lonely figure - The Demonic Beast Guivre.

Chuuya fell forward. And just like that, he accelerated forward. He leaped into the air and plunged into Guivre’s chest as if he was being sucked in by it. He hit it. 

The attack went through the gravitational guard of the beast’s outer skin, and reached the turbidity of time inside. A violent dark wave immediately rushed in and snatched Chuuya’s body away, trying to tear it into pieces.

Arahabaki roared. He squeezed his two hands, creating a black hole. It rotated, and after swallowing up the muddy stream, became huge and brought out a giant photon sphere. The two gigantic forces voided each other one after another. A storm of heat, vacuum and time raged around Chuuya.

Chuuya was watching that in his faint and disappearing consciousness. When he opened the “gate”, he had already handed over the control of his body to Arahabaki. The only thing he could do was to observe the battle. But even that consciousness was nothing more than a spark of light that seemed to be fading away in the midst of the clash between the God and the Demon that was beyond human comprehension.

The black space let out a scream. It sounded like the voice of someone crying out. The voice of the loneliest someone on earth. A voice that seemed to be lost in the black torrent of hatred. But with the energy being consumed by Arahabaki’s photon sphere, that voice finally reached Chuuya’s ears.

“End this already.”, said the voice.

“This beast speaks for my emotions. Why giving birth to me, when I should never have been born in the first place? I am a pitiful soul who holds onto a question that has no answers, hating on my own existence and only getting a sense of my own life by means of assassination.”

“End it, brother. With your own two hands. End this lonely soul who couldn’t believe in this world, who couldn’t believe in human, like you.”

“I know.” Chuuya replied in his consciousness that was about to be blown away.

“You couldn’t bear the loneliness. That’s why you came to Japan. But that is not a bad thing. It’s just that your roll of dice happened to come out bad. It just happened that your dice came up with the lonely “one”, and mine came up differently. I got a side that was blessed with friends. That’s all. Even if our positions were reversed, it would not have been strange at all.”

“Moreover, it’s not just hatred that you have. You actually doesn’t want to hate. That’s why you showed me your memories. You showed me the way to destroy the Demonic Beast of Guivre. Isn’t that right, Verlaine?”

Beyond the storm of the swirling dark torrent, someone’s light was glowing like a shooting star.

Chuuya’s “gate” opened further. The rotating black hole grew even bigger. The photon sphere was now huge enough to overwhelm the space. From Chuuya’s back, a black gravity “control stick” emerged, one on each side. Those were the tails of the beast of Arahabaki. The manifestation of the divine beast burning in black. But it looked just like a pair of wings sprouting from Chuuya’s back.

“Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

Chuuya, now with the wings, shouted and raised his two hands upward. With that as a signal, the rotating black hole suddenly became huge. The photon sphere shone like a supernova, and cut the body of the giant beast in half from the inside.

The flattened and crushed black hole which was even larger than the giant beast, together with the photon sphere that was circling and shining around it; they lit up the Yokohama’s night and burnt deeply into the eyes of people.

“That is Arahabaki... Chuuya’s real form?” Dazai who was watching this from the ground, muttered in a voice that sounded like he was delirious from the heat.

Chuuya’s raised arms. The horizontal photon sphere that illuminated the ground. The burning black wings on that back. Chuuya’s face with his eyes closed. The incarnation of a raging God. The black divine beast. 

The Demonic Beast collapsed and was suck into that photon sphere. That was like a process of a positive infinity being cancelled out by a negative infinity. The huge body broke down, its flesh turned into snow-like particles and drifted down to the centre of the photon sphere like gently dancing powder. With the flow of time inside the high gravity area being slower, from the outside, the destruction appeared to be terribly slow, even graceful.

The giant beast was not crying. It just opened its mouth and stood still silently as if accepting its fate. The photon sphere generated from its body engulfed its chest and its waist, then its arms and its legs, and finally shallowed its head. There was not a single sound. A tranquil disappearance. The death of a terribly quiet night that somehow went so well with the moonlight.

Eventually, even the photon sphere reached the end of its life. The rotating black hole collapsed while emitting heat rays. The smaller it become, the more heat it generated, and finally the black hole itself became a giant ball of light containing heat rays. It became a second sun, illuminating the night before finally quietly and gently disappearing.  

After losing his strength, Chuuya drifted in the air for a few seconds, then lost the black wings on his back and slowly fell.

Dazai caught his body.

From the spot where Dazai touched, the nullification skill was activated.　The self-contradictory skill supporting the energy of the singular point receded, and the output of the singular point decreased. Eventually, it converged and the "gate” closed. The red imprints disappeared from Chuya’s whole body. Eventually, the gravitational field disappeared and the complete silence was restored.

“Good job, Chuuya.“ Dazai chuckled, looking at the Chuuya he was holding in his arms. "I forgot to bring my ink pen, so I’ll spare you from having your face scribbled.”

[hallucineugenics-a]

for @fcrrokinetic​

Donna saw the stilted clamminess of this early Spring evening as an omen that it was doomed to disaster. Even as her parents chided her in the coach, “smile child, it is a night to rejoice! for all the plenty the Black God has given us”, the young Beneviento was sullen in quiet resignation, knuckles rubbed fiercely in the need to burn off anxious energy. 

The great hall had been given over to ostentatious decorum in the name of its regal Lord, Lady Dimitrescu. Even seeing this mythical figure in the distance seated at a gigantic dinning table, Donna could hardly believe a woman could be so tall. Over seven foot by her reckoning. Draped in luxurious silks, the Lady near glowed in the candlelight. Her painted cherry lips reminding Donna far too much of someone who had supped at freshly spilled blood as a wine glass of the deepest red was brought to her mouth. 

It would be some time before the speeches and Donna had little interest in tailing her parents and sister as she was reintroduced to damn near every family in the village. All forced niceties and palms wet with sweat. The young noble excused herself, to the bathroom, before promptly walking in the opposite direction to escape into the stifling night. It would matter little so long as all were present when Mother Miranda and her ginormous child took to the stage. The very thought scrunching her stomach in knots. Sermons drilled into her brain since infancy always seemed to disappear from memory in the presence of those greater beings. As if their very presence was a black hole that absorbed life from all it touched. 

The courtyard was thankfully deserted. Or so, Donna believed it was, as she made her way to the pond at its centre and plucked handfuls of tiny pink petals. How she wished for could be a simple bee for a day. Making her way between flowers, unrestrained by responsibility and piety. She smiled to herself when a particular scent hit her nose. Smoke? Her eyes danced between vined archways and pillars before resting on a tall shape. Another? He wore the night like a cloak, only the tiny orange glow at the tip of his cigarette betraying his presence. Donna stood with a start, dusting the knees of her finery and performing a rushed curtsy. 

“I-I am sorry sir. I did not see you there. If I am not disturbing your privacy, I might like to stay by the pond. It was too hot inside and I was becoming faint.”

A lie and a terrible lie at that. It was not good business to avoid the crowds. Improper. She swallowed thickly, fingers dragging dark tresses to disguise her scarred right eye, and hoped to not be scolded for this excursion outside.  

[coyoteskenning]

Wheelbreaker: Luke 2:10

It was raining in New York when something smashed through the sky.

What this meant is that when ten thousand out-thrown droplets of boiling universe debris met ten million falling freezing droplets of winter Manhattan rain they swam the way down.  They landed as hard little beads and pearls and Prince-Rupert-drops that clattered or smashed or burst on pavements. Some were still burning orange hot; others were cooled enough and buffeted enough to be caught in a gloved hand and ferried away as souvenirs.

The something came down faster than the shower of debris meeting shower of rain all around it, shocking away a near vacuum of material around its comet fall that arced down across the skyline. It curled up like a rollercoaster just above the grass of Central Park, wings flurrying with a metallic sound in the rain as metal boots clashed, met concrete and lawn, obliterated it, dug tracks, brought it to a stop.

Metal gloved hands were held open, catching the rain, and then closed in tight fists. 

Above, in the sky, as the last pieces of burning shrapnel hit forearms or apartment windows or car roofs, there was a punched-through ragged hole, just a little under the sun,  that showed view of psychadelic burning space behind, nebula clouds fire-red and sunset purple and sprayed across with new strange stars. The rain fell across it, dislodging a few more pieces from the edges, agitating the spacetime platelets in their attempts to knit. The effect, as the syrupy, molten glass-like substance poured down in a long vertical river into the Hudson and formed a solidifying new island of glossy amber on its surface, was that the horizon was bleeding clear, purple-tongued, coppery blood. The hole throbbed, opened and closed wider or narrower with a rhythm that breathed like a living thing. The sky was wounded. 

 Most people in the park flurried away from it, terrified, scattering like the raindrops and shards overhead had. But a few, curious, drew nearer, taking a closer look at the angel.

 It was fifteen feet tall, proportioned like a human doubled. It was wearing – no, seen now clearly through the haze of rain it was – a gigantic suit of intricately carved metal armour, embossed in some places, cut low in others to form symbolic patterns seen blurred through water-refracted light. Its head was a haze of yellow firelight swimming through the rain, and its gauntleted hands swung military march as it moved. Its silvery wings, every feather a razor blade, moved in and out like breathing bellows as it walked forwards.

Without breaking its stride, it raised one hand – its right.

The rain stopped.

The raindrops didn't fade out slowly, in a normal way. Instead, every little cold piece of water tumbling through the island's sky simply stopped dead in mid-air, and hung there. They glistened for a second like marbles, seen more finely and brightly than ever otherwise possible by startled eyes, and then accelerated upwards. They fell in reverse motion, dragging across at the hole and sending some glassy blood hurtling up into the sky before, too heavy, it fell back down and splashed into the river. The clouds overhead grew briefly darker and fatter, then broke apart into shards and dissipated like steam.

Shafts of sunlight stabbed down over, and the angel stood fully illuminated, visible to all those present to bear witness.

The angel by now had moved near to the fountain bearing a rough approximation of its likeness. Tumbling planet eyes falling in closed orbits on perfect rings around a common centre of gravity lit all on fire looked with something postured in its back like amusement at the winged woman in the centre.

The angel stood there, calmly looking at the statue for around 27 minutes. In that time, the NYPD arrived, and created a cordon around it. Park officials began to pick up the pieces of where it had landed, and argue with NYPD over whether it should be collected for evidence.

Pressing tight against the police boundaries were already the pilgrims.

There were within 10 minutes at least a thousand people in seeing distance of it and within another 10 approaching quintuple that. People praying, holding up phones or cameras, trembling in dread, calling out to it futilely, or simply staring. There were attempts to force past the police to touch it; they failed.

Journalists were starting to arrive too; TV cameras being set up, and some that had simply rushed from their apartments and jostled their way to the front phone in hand. For a few minutes, all their cameras captured was it stood, hunched, wings opening and closing, great gauntleted fists shut tight. All over the Manhattan sky were voices; praying, screaming, sobbing, swearing, interrogating.

It remained unmoved until 27 minutes when suddenly, it turned to face the crowd, and raised its hand. There was a startled scream; some people drew back, but others surged forwards with grins on their faces. The police stumbled; one lost his own nerve and fell to his knees to scream out desperate prayers, face covered with clawed knuckles.

A few Bible-book savvy observers already knew what it was going to say before it even began, found themselves mouthing out the words with it that hummed bass-deeply up from the ancestral nub of the spine, rumbling in every language known to man and a few not yet, echoing back and forth inside the walls of every single listener's head:

Μὴ. ΦΟΒΕῖΣΘΕ·

...

不要懼怕

...

   لا تخافوا

...

NOLITE. TIMERE.

...

BE.

NOT.

AFRAID. 

[ohnopoe]

Alone, Together | Din Djarin

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Summary: Sometimes it’s the strongest people who just need someone to be strong for them. Word Count: 2.2k+ Warnings: Spoilers for the season 2 finale!! Angst. Author’s Note: This was meant to be hurt/comfort... I failed miserably... enjoy your angst and heartache! I also have not proof read this in the slightest... I am lazy and sorry

The silence echoed through the command centre, holding a weight upon your chest that felt akin to drowning. It seemed as though time itself was standing still as you stood there, engulfed in what had just happened, in the anguish that was threatening to creep in.

Of course, you had half expected something like this from the very beginning, it was the plan, after all. Grogu was with his kind now, with a jedi who could train and protect him so much better than you and Din ever could. You’d spent so long trying to convince yourself not to get attached, to enjoy the moments you shared with the curious child with a safe protective layer between you, but that was never really going to work, now, was it?

From the moment you had joined the Mandalorian on the Razor Crest, the duo had captured your heart, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time to truly feel apart of the odd little crew. With such a stoic being as Din leading the charge, and a fifty year old child enamoured by his every shiny movement, you had thought it would simply be a job, just another in a long line of careers you had dabbled in throughout the galaxy. But it was so much more.

Looking after Grogu had been so much more than a job, it had been a delight, even in when he was determined to throw a tantrum when you all desperately needed sleep. It wasn’t long before the child became something akin to a friend, albeit a small, incoherent, gnawing on anything that shouldn’t go anywhere near a mouth, friend, but a friend nonetheless.

And somewhere along the line, the Mandalorian followed.

It was in the soft utterances that were barely heard, the gentle actions that weren’t necessary, but were always welcomed with a beaming smile. He wasn’t one for words, but he would show how he cared day by day.

A fruit you enjoyed on a random planet just so happened to be amongst the groceries after you exclaimed your joy upon tasting it. A new pillow was sitting on your bed a few days after he noticed you rubbing your stiff neck in the mornings. And when he found you nervous to be left alone on the Crest on a particularly dangerous planet? Well, suddenly there was time to take a day off to make sure you were comfortable with not only the weapons to defend yourself, but the controls of the Crest should you need to get yourself and the child out of there.

Yes, somewhere along the line, you had forged something of a friendship with the very same man who had unintentionally frightened you silent upon your first meeting. And if at some point your feelings for him had started to slip to something less platonic, well, that was neither here nor there.

Especially now, as you stood by his side in that same pained silence that still echoed through the Imperial ship.

Now, he needed a friend.

His helmet had been removed for the child, he had destroyed his creed, and, as tempting as it might have been, you had kept your gaze firmly on the ground the entire time, determined to respect his beliefs right down to the end.

The pain and anguish you felt at the sight of those gigantic sad eyes as Grogu had left was incomparable, but, even in your pain, you knew it was nothing compared to the hurt the Mandalorian at your side must be feeling.

There were too many in the room, battle hardened warriors each one of them, and you knew words of comfort or sympathy would do little at such a time, so you did the only thing you could think of.

With your gaze still firmly fixated on the floor, you pushed the pain aside, something to be addressed later, when you were alone, when you didn’t have to be the rock for the same man who had unknowingly been the same for you time after time in his own resilient manner.

Your hand barely moved, slow and subtle as you reached across the small distance to him. Unhurried, gentle, as if trying not to scare a wild animal, your fingers found his, curling into his hold in a silent show of camaraderie that had the heartbroken man turning his head towards you.

With your gaze still focused on the floor at your feet, you didn’t see the way those deep brown eyes took you in, savouring the sight, awed by the way you remained diligently refusing to glance his way. You didn’t see the years of pain and heartbreak that swam in that tear stung gaze, didn’t see the anguish that flittered there, fighting against an unwavering affection for you that seemed to have made its home there long ago.

But you did feel the way his hand clasped around yours, large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. It practically engulfed your own hand, and yet, the desperate hold almost made it seem small, uncertain, as if this one action, your hand in his, was the only thing keeping him together as his world fell apart once more.

Time that had moved so slowly seemed to suddenly fly into overdrive. Boba was back to pick up Fennec, Bo was, begrudgingly, focusing on what could be salvaged from the Imperial ship, Cara was setting off with Gideon, and, while you certainly seemed to be taking in whatever was thrown your way, it still felt a world away.

A decision had to be made, and before you knew it you were walking behind Cara and her new prisoner, still hand in hand with the Mandalorian who hadn’t dared let go of your hand since the moment you had offered it.

Somewhere along the way you had made it clear that you would remain with the Mandalorian, no matter what was to come, although you weren’t entirely certain the words had ever actually been spoken aloud. But any alternative was practically laughable. How could you possibly leave him now? How could you ever?

And then you were on the ship, when had that happened? And Gideon had been silenced once more with a hasty gag that was a desperate plea for what little sanity your little trio had left to not run astray (and possibly to keep Cara from killing him before she could make it to the New Republic). And then? Well, then was now wasn’t it? Alone in the cramped personal quarters of the shuttle, truly alone for the first time in weeks.

There was a time when being alone felt rejuvenating, refreshing even. The quiet solitude a haven from the chaos of so many busy planets, of so many people. When had that changed?

With a sad smile, you almost scoffed at the question the moment it flittered into your mind. You knew damn well when.

Silence had never lasted all that long on the Crest, no matter how tired you and Din might have been, the little green eared monster was determined to run amok, causing a clamouring of sounds in his wake. It was so easy to find it irritating when you were woken from only two hours of blissful sleep after days of being forced awake. It was easy to sigh and grapple with the playful child and remind him that this was sleep time, not play time, and if he wasn’t going to get some rest he had to at least let you get some.

But now, in the eerie silence of the Imperial shuttle you had commandeered in an effort to save the frog eating little bugger, you longed for those sounds. The chaos and cacophony of Grogu was a part of what had become your home, and now, yet another part of it was gone forever.

You couldn’t say when the tears had begun, or when they had slipped from silent streams to harsh sobs that wrecked their way through your body. But, curled up on the militantly neat bunk bed you had claimed as your own, you couldn’t have cared less.

Finally, you were alone, after hours of planning and debating, hours of being the solid rock for the man you had come to care so deeply for. Now was your chance to grieve everything you had lost, in the solitude of the clinically white cube someone had deigned appropriate to be a bedroom.

Visions of green ears and large eyes swam through your mind, memories entangled with daydreams as you thought about what had been, and what was to come for the small child you had grown to love.

But he was gone now, along with the Razor Crest that had become your home, although, thankfully, in a much less dramatic fashion.

Would that just be the way for all the things you loved? Would the same soon follow for Din?

A sound, far harsher than a sob, rattled its way from your chest at the thought. Surely he would be the next to leave, returning to his old life or helping rebuild Mandalore… either way, he no longer had a need for you now, did he? What use would he have for a glorified babysitter with no baby?

The sound of your tears would have been harrowing, were it not for the safety of those Imperial walls that surrounded you. Sobs and groans slipped from one to another as your tears soaked the stark white pillow beneath you. Curled up into the smallest ball you could manage, you let go.

That pain you’d pushed away earlier? Well, it was back, tenfold.

This was why you had never meant to get attached, this, right here, the aching hole that wanted to consume you, yet seemed to echo out from your very chest. It was a pain like no other, grief mixed with fear, sorrow mixed with a loneliness you could never put into words. A profound war of emotions that had your body shaken, and your mind so lost in its anguish, that you didn’t even hear the way the doors slid open, or the heartbroken sigh that followed.

Din was used to being alone. Even with you and Grogu aboard the Razor Crest with him, he would often find himself focused on a job while you distracted the little womp rat in the hull. It was just a part of life, until it wasn’t. Until he found himself working down there alongside you, until he found himself seeking out the joyful sounds of you playing with the child who was somehow older than either of you.

But even still, he was used to your absence, no matter how desperately he wished he weren’t.

So, as much as he desperately wanted to follow you when you claimed to need some rest, no matter how much he wanted to cling to your hand, to the intense amount of comfort such a small gesture had given him, he had let you go.

But that was nearly an hour ago now, and he couldn’t bare it any longer, and a small part of him hoped beyond all things that maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t either.

As the door slid open, and the broken sound of your tears perforated the air, a small sliver of what was left of his heart broke.

You had been so strong, had remained diligent and determined, had been the support he could never ask for, but desperately needed in his dark hour, and here you were, breaking apart alone.

It wasn’t until the harsh mattress beneath you shifted that you even realised you were no longer alone. Turning quickly, panicked and wide eyed, you gazed through blurry eyes at the foreign site before you.

Din still had all his armour in place, his helmet having returned to his head long ago, but his very being looked so different. It was in the way he stooped forwards, his elbows balanced on his knees as if the weight of the world was quite literally weighing him down. It was in the way his head hung low, but still faced you determinedly, as though he couldn’t decide what was worse, watching your broken wails, or turning away from them.

A harsh intake of breath. A desperate rub of your sleeve against your eyes in some plea that it might somehow make you look somewhat put together. You couldn’t meet his gaze, even behind the wall of his visor, but you would do what you had to in order to try and appear composed.

But he was shaking his head, slowly, reassuringly. You couldn’t be certain he was even aware of his actions as his hand found your leg, squeezing gently.

“Don’t,” his voice sounded harsher than usual, as if it had been filtered through sandpaper on its way through his helmet, and the rough sound had him pausing once more, as if startled to hear his own voice.

But he persisted nonetheless, pushing past the way his throat felt dry, past the ache each word brought forward.

“It’s ok to cry,” his voice was quieter now, an attempt at softness even through the pain he felt. “You don’t need to hold it in, not for me, not for anyone.”

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Okokokok hear me out. You wrote watcher Grian and his boys before. How about dad Grian and his two (robot) sons? (That he certainly didn't just leave in closet)

Oh you asked for two robot sons? How about FOUR? :D

…

NPC Grian is tired of his closet. All he wants is a big open space to build rustic houses in peace, but Grian won’t let him. He has to stay here, away from everyone else, as if Grian is ashamed of him. Not that he thinks about that too much. It starts to hurt if he does.

Sometimes, he thinks just some company would be nice. Someone to talk to, to make his life in this tiny room less lonely. He used to put on a different voice and pretend he had a friend with him, but he doesn’t do that anymore. It just hurts too much when he stops talking and realises he’s still on his own.

How much time has gone by while he’s been in here? Days? Months? Years? He can hardly remember the last time Grian visited him. But his orders were very strict, and NPG cannot disobey his programming. He cannot leave the closet.

Do not leave the closet.

He can feel his energy depleting as his battery runs out. It lasts for years at a time so it must be at least that long since Grian visited him last. At least his lonely existence is coming to an end.

Do not leave the closet.

Do not leave the closet.

…

NPG opens his eyes and realises immediately that he is no longer in his closet. Instead, he can see trees. Grass. A blue sky. The sun.

He’s outside.

He sits bolt upright, his programming protesting violently.

“Hey, easy now,” comes a metallic voice. “You’re still recharging.”

NPG glances to his right and finds, to his shock, a robotic-looking version of Grian gazing back at him. “Who are you? How did I get out here?”

“My name is Robot Grian,” he responds. “And I brought you out here. You’d passed out in your closet; I guessed you’d run out of battery. I helped you recharge.”

“Robot Grian?” repeats NPG slowly. “I’ve never heard of you.”

“That’s because I am the second of Grian’s creations, created to fill the void after Grian decided you were of no use to him anymore. And there are others out there who need our help.”

NPG blinks at him. “Really? Grian has more creations?”

“Yes. Two more who need saving before they end up like you and me.”

After a moment, NPG glances away. “I can’t. I have to go back to the closet. I was ordered never to leave.”

“NPG, Grian doesn’t care about you,” insists Robot Grian. “Did you know you recharge using solar energy?”

NPG hesitates. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“And Grian still kept you locked away in a place where you’d never see the sun. That’s what he does, you know. He tosses us aside as soon as we’ve served our purpose and makes sure nobody ever finds out we ever existed. He may have created you but you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to follow his orders anymore.”

NPG thinks about this for a while. Robot Grian’s words ring true; NPG is tired of living in a closet but if Grian had his way, he would never see the light of day again. If NPG ever wants to be happy, he knows he has to be free.

“Okay, so what is our plan?” he asks.

Robot Grian appears pleased at his decision. “As I said, there are two others who have been abandoned by Grian. We go free them then we go to Grian and force him to accept us for who we are.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we leave. He can’t overpower all four of us if we catch him on his own.”

“I see…” NPG pauses again. “If we are truly committed to moving on from just being Grian’s creations, then I would like to change my name.”

“Good idea,” says Robot Grian approvingly. “To what?”

“Rustic House,” NPG replies immediately. “My one true love.”

Robot Grian looks taken aback by his instant and rather bizarre answer. “Okay… What about Rusty?”

“Hmm… A nickname for Rustic House. I like it!” Rusty beams. This is the happiest he has been in years. “What will you be called?”

After a moment, Robot Grian shrugs. “You make up a name for me.”

“Me? Okay. Roby.”

“Whoa, okay, that was quick. Why that?”

“It’s short for Robot,” Rusty explains. “I think it’s cute.”

“Huh.” His new companion considers this. “I kinda like it, actually. And really, anything’s better than having someone else’s name with “Robot” tacked onto the front to differentiate myself from the original.”

“Yay! Are you my friend, Roby?”

Roby thinks. “I guess we’re more like brothers, aren’t we? We were both created by the same person, so-.”

Rusty’s smile widens and he grabs Roby in a hug. “This is amazing! I’ve never even had a friend before, let alone a brother.”

Roby chuckles, before carefully removing Rusty’s arms from around him. “Okay, sure. Remember, we’ve got two more brothers out there who need our help, so we’d better get going quickly, before Grian realises we’re missing.”

…

Roby leads Rusty to a giant box out in the ocean. He digs a hole into it and drops down, landing as lightly as a cat.

Next to him, Rusty falls on his face.

Rolling his eyes amusedly, Roby moves further into the room, which is decorated like the outside world, with a painted blue sky and grass as the floor.

“Who are we here to rescue?” asks Rusty, jumping to his feet.

“Him.”

Roby gestures upwards. Rusty follows his gaze and finds a large robotic shell sitting against the back wall, its face and outstretched arms frozen in perpetual satisfaction.

“Meet Grumbot,” Roby says. “He was created by Grian and his friend Mumbo Jumbo to be a mayoral campaign robot. They eventually blamed him for Mumbo’s loss in the election and abandoned him here, claiming he’s “happy” in this fake reality.”

“We’re gonna save him, right?” asks Rusty eagerly.

Roby nods, encouraged by Rusty’s enthusiasm. “Yes, indeed. I’m not entirely sure if Grian knows this, but the Grumbot you see before you is actually just a gigantic shell. The real Grumbot is inside what you might call its “brain”, supplying the larger body with its energy and knowledge.”

“Whoa…!”

“Yup. Wait there.”

Roby climbs up Grumbot’s outer shell and slips through a crack in its head.

Inside the nerve centre, he finds a smaller version of Grumbot, complete with moustache and Grian-style hair. He is slumped against the wall of his prison, unresponsive, just as Rusty had been when Roby found him.

Roby may be a robot but even he can feel sadness welling up in him at the sight of the little robot, a little over half his size, all alone in this place. He gathers Grumbot into his arms and slips back out through the crack.

Rusty helps him get down, his eyes fixed on the little robot in Roby’s arms. “Is this Grumbot?”

Roby nods. “This is him. I don’t know how he recharges but we’d better get him away from here. It can’t be doing him any good.”

The two leave the giant box and hop back into the boat they rowed here in. As they get further away from the prison, Grumbot starts to stir, as if waking up from a deep sleep. His eyes open just as the boat is pulling up to the dock.

“Hey,” Roby says gently, carrying him onto the shore. “Can you hear me?”

Grumbot blinks at him a few times. “Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Robot Gr-.” Roby almost forgets his new name. “I’m Roby. This is Rusty.”

Rusty beams as he drags the boat from the water. “Hi!”

Grumbot tips his head on one side. “Who am I?”

“Your name is Grum,” Rusty tells him, before Roby can speak. “You’re a robot made by Grian and now we’re forming a gang so we can go beat him up for abandoning us.”

“That last bit isn’t true,” Roby says quickly. “We’re not going to beat him up. We just want him to accept us for who we are. All four of us.”

Grum glances from Rusty to Roby. “Where are my dads?”

Roby winces. He knows he has to break some bad news to the equivalent of a child. “They… um… they left. But that’s why we’re gathering our group together: so we can find our… our dad and make him accept us.”

Grum pauses, digesting this information. “Rusty. And Roby. And Grum?”

Roby nods encouragingly. “Yeah. You’re one of us, Grum. We’re gonna look after you, okay?”

To Roby’s relief, Grum smiles and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome.”

…

Roby leads the other two to the place where they will find the final creation: Grian’s hobbit hole starter base. “I did some recon here a few days ago,” he says as the group make their way inside. “Grian keeps him in a closet, just like you, Rusty.”

“Closets are lonely and devoid of hope,” says Rusty.

Roby nods, unsure of how else to react to that. “Indeed. He was Grian’s original cam account but Grian dumped him in favour of the new one he uses now. That only happened a few months ago though, so he shouldn’t be as low on charge as you two are.”

The closet is located in Grian’s bedroom upstairs. Roby gestures for the others to stand back, before he opens the door.

Immediately, a figure shoves past him and zooms for the door. Thankfully, Rusty is standing in the way and he stops the person from escaping.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Roby scrambles up from the floor and gets in front of the figure, holding out his hands reassuringly. “It’s okay, we’re not gonna hurt you. We’re here to help, okay?”

Now that the person has stopped moving, the others can see that he too looks exactly like Grian, except with bigger, more expressive eyes, which are filled with pain and fear.

“It’s Grifter, right?” asks Roby softly. “Your name is Grifter?”

After a moment, the frightened cam account nods.

“Can you talk to me? Are you alright?”

Another pause. Finally, Grifter opens his mouth and croaks, “Where’s Grian? Wh-Who are you?”

“I’m Roby. That’s Rusty and Grum.” Roby indicates his brothers in turn. “Grian is… probably at his mansion at the moment.”

“Grian abandoned me.” Grifter’s face screws up as if he is about to cry. “I tried so hard to be a good cam account but he replaced me. What did I do wrong?”

“I’m positive you didn’t do anything,” Roby assures him. “Grian has an issue with creating things and then abandoning them when he doesn’t know what to do with them anymore. But now that we're all together, we can go find Grian and make him accept us.”

Grifter slowly looks around at the other three. “You guys were abandoned too?”

Rusty and Grum nod at the same time. “He locked me in a closet,” says Rusty helpfully.

“I was imprisoned in the brain of a larger version of myself that I was forced to feed with my infinite knowledge and energy until I had nothing left inside me except crippling loneliness and a rapidly depleting battery,” Grum says.

The other three stare at him.

“Okay, that’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard,” Grifter says, before turning back to Roby. “And you think we can just get him to accept us?”

Roby nods. “I do. Grian isn’t a bad person; he just doesn’t know what to do with us anymore. If we show him that we have purpose and our sentience has grown, maybe he’ll see us as actual living beings instead of unfeeling robots.”

“You are a robot, though,” Rusty points out.

“That’s beside the point.”

…

Rusty, Roby, Grum, and Grifter make their way into Grian’s mansion. They immediately find him working on something on the foyer, head buried in one of the many chests lining the walls.

For a moment, the group dithers a safe distance away, unsure how to start.

“Dad!” Grum calls unexpectedly.

Grian nearly jumps out of his skin. He sharply turns and his eyes widen as he registers his four creations standing together a little way off.

“O-Oh my god… What are you all doing here…?”

“We wanted to talk to you,” says Roby, taking the lead when it’s clear nobody else will. “You’re technically our father so we want to talk to you about… events that happened.”

Grian hesitates. “You mean… me locking you four away from the rest of the world?”

All four of them nod at the same time, causing Grian to sigh quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt any of you, I just… You all grew far beyond what I expected and I didn’t know how to handle that.”

“You abandoned us!” Grum cries. “You and other dad left me all on my own in a box in the middle of the ocean! How could you think I would be happy there?!”

Grian winces. “I’m sorry, Grumbot…”

“My name is Grum now.”

“We changed our names,” explains Roby. “I’m Roby. NPG is now Rusty. And Grifter is… just the same, really.”

“You changed your names? Why?”

“Because we’re trying to show you we don’t want to be your forgotten clones anymore,” says Roby. “We’re more like your sons. All we want is for you to accept us and love us the way we are. There’s no need to be ashamed or scared of us. We just want to live.”

“We can be a family,” says Rusty out of nowhere. “Right…?”

Grian stares at them for a moment, before giving a small smile. “We can absolutely be a family.”

Beaming, Rusty rushes over to Grian and hugs him. Grum joins soon after, and so do Grifter and then Roby.

“We’ve still got a lot to talk about,” says Grifter pointedly. “About how you made us feel with your abandonment of us.”

“Of course.” Grian nods. “I know I hurt you and I’ll make up for that. Things aren’t going to be perfect straight away.”

Rusty nods. He knows this. It’s obvious that they still have issues to work out but that hardly matters at the moment. What matters is he’s finally out of that closet AND he has a brand new family.

Finally, Grian is accepting him.

[playcaroplay]

Grave & Rabid

eughhh working title. 

I’m writing some one shots to help with my world building and character building for my story Grave and Rabid. Liv is 17ish years old living in the woods to escape a pack of werewolves. 

The story will take place in the Pacific North West - so think giant overgrown forests. 

Title: Liv’s First Contact

Rating: PG for the f-bomb

Liv reached her cache in the late afternoon. She hadn’t checked this one in a few weeks and was interested to see if it had been ransacked. She’d been careful not to handle the pack too much, but assumed her scent was everywhere regardless. 

The backpack was nestled in a pile of rocks by a river. She’d dug a hole in the ground and then placed four wide rocks over top. She landmarked the spot by flipping a rotted log over so that its soft underbelly was facing up. Anyone passing by wouldn’t take note, but for Liv, she’d see rich reddy brown mulch in a sea of green moss. The tip of which was pointed towards the area where her rocks were set up. 

Pausing before she approached the pile, she performed her regular checks. Taking a deep breath and tuning out the swishing of the fabric on her body, she listened for any irregular noises, watched for any forms in the underbrush - haunches, swish of a tale, binoculars, hats. She checked the area for footprints, broken branches or signs of any recent activity. A security measure of this spot was all the squishy moss blanketing the ground which made foot prints very easy to track. There were no recent tracks to be concerned about, so she walked over to the pile and pulled the top rock off. Beneath was a black garbage bag with a small blue backpack inside. 

Liv couldn’t remember burying the pack with a garbage bag as extra cover. She’d done it in some more exposed areas, but this one was relatively covered from the elements. She cautiously unzipped the bag and found empty wrappers instead of rations. A surge of panic burst in her chest and she immediately zipped the pack up and darted off towards the stream. 

Security measure number two - a swift river with a big rock in the centre. It could be reached easily by any canine or human, but it was small enough that she could easily knock off her attacker and send them off down the river. She increased her speed and took a giant leap, landing squarely in the middle. She whirled around to face the direction she came from and staggered her feet to brace for defence. Scanning the shoreline, she couldn’t make out any motion of opponents skirting the shore or pursuing her. She crouched to see more of the shoreline but still saw no movement. Usually pursuants would have made themselves known by now. Humans would be gloating because they would think they cornered her, wolves would be pacing trying to find a way to her. 

But there was nothing but the soothing rush of the river. 

Liv looked down at the bag clutched in her hand and opened it again. Before looking within she cast another look at the shore and then held the bag farther out from her body so that her periphery would catch any movement as she examined it. She pulled the wrappers out and looked at them; they weren’t ripped and half eaten. Instead they were carefully opened at the top. Humans then. 

The reflective blanket was gone, and so was the first aid kit. A human in need, then. If she wasn’t worried about being followed she would have sworn loudly - she was hungry and tired and was relying on the rations being there. 

A few more minutes passed by before Liv zipped the bag back up. Satisfied that she wasn’t followed, Liv hopped back onto shore. Without the momentum, she landed a foot shy and her right foot submerged in the cold water. This time Liv let out a very satisfying ‘fuuuuuuuck’ as she slopped up the shore and back over to her cache. She lifted the garbage bag out of the hole and nearly missed the folded up paper below it. Liv bent over and took a close look at it. The paper looked like a receipt from the drug store. Liv hadn’t been to a drug store in ages - correction - Liv hadn’t bought anything from a drug store in ages and last time she checked, they don’t hand out receipts for petty theft. This was left behind from her intruder then. She picked it up and unfolded the paper and nearly yelped at the letter scrawled on the inside. 

Well, aren’t you clever. 

Thanks for the stuff, I wouldn’t take it if I didn’t need it. Accept my garbage bag in payment. It’s heavy duty, so be grateful, that shits hard to find these days. 

As a signature, a little cat face was drawn in the corner. Liv huffed at the note and shoved it into her pocket. Cheeky intruder. The bag was nice though - thick plastic and gigantic. It would actually be perfect waterproofing to keep the rain off Wayward’s favourite spot by the fire. Liv begrudgingly accepted the bag as a worthy payment and didn’t grouse too much on her way back to camp to refill the cache and relax.

[chromium7sky]

Four eyes/ ObsureD | second shot

A/n: wtf, the second part for four eyes. Still can't believe this. You may follow #damirae and #foureyes

Not long after they were having chat at the kitchen, the alarm suddenly blaring intensely. Damian and Raven jolted and quickly sprint towards the control room.

"What do we got?" Raven looked at the screen as Damian typing on the keyboard looki g at the coordinate where the alarm set off. It seems there's a group of mage call the Riot terrorise at north region of San Francisco city.

"The Riot. Again with their agenda." Damian sighed as he looked at their information. The Riot consist of three ameteur mage who decided to use their power to proven they are worthy. Instead doing good deed they decided to be scoundrel as they wanted to fight the mage based hero like Raven to measure their capacity.

The member of the group are Mimic, Psyche and Mirage. Mimic has the power to copy, Psyche has the power to take over the enemy body while Mirage has the power to project item out of thin air.

Damian still remember where his body controlled by Psyche to do reckless thing such as stealing Raven's cloak or switching both of their cloak. There were the time where both of them body swap which is a very very bad day.

"Ah, the three idiot again? What did they want this time?" Raven stared at the screen with the face of three mischievous rascal.

"A showdown." Damian quickly to his equipment room picking his best weapon and his costume. As soon as he's fully equipped, he went to the launching pad toward the Robin's airbike.

As He flip on the switch and pushed a couple of button, the engine start to hummed and and it start to warm up. Putting his helmet, and twisting the accelerator, the propeller start to spin blowing the debris near by away including it's cloth cover.

The bike has levitate and Damian balanced it by controlling it's handle.

"Arm and ready, Robin." Raven casually sit behind him, riding the air bike.

Damian almost jolted but he manage to calm down and look at her by the shoulder. "Hold on tight." He pressed the valve as the propeller spin more faster. "Lead the way, Raven."

Raven activate her power as her eyes went all white. She held her hand past his shoulder as the purple energy surrounding it. A door, a worm hole like door open, without wasting any time, Robin dive into the portal door with his bike.

--------------

" Why not we make this road more, alive?" Mirage waving his hand towards the road nearby and suddenly the road turn into gigantic snakes as it began to curled and gliding. People where shouting in fear, some run towards the other street.

Then came a girl with light blue hair, crackled haughtily as she saw people start to get away. " Freeze!" She lift both of her hand, light turquoise line start to come out from her finger and attached to a couple of people. They movement start goes to restriction then froze up. "Sorry, no sorry. Guess you guys are now riled up!"

As she moved her hands, the people who has been attached by her string start to picking up some pipes or wood lying around, start to do vandalizing.

One of the group, a boy just found the lighter. The unwilling victim had been forced to pick it and light up. Before the boy throw the lighter toward a store full of cooking utensils, the lighter has been suspended in mid air with purple aura surrounding it.

Before Psyche, the girl with blue hair, questioning what happen, then came the rain of batarang towards them which makes Mirage forming a shelter out of water from the water supply nearby.

The engine noise start to deafening them along with wild blown debrises that makes them closed their eyes. " What is this??!" Psyche shouted and has lost her concentration towards her puppet victim.

Without their knowing, all three of them has been bind by dark tentacle that come from the floor. Mirage shouted " Mimic! Do it!!"

Mimic smiled as he move his hands, another set of tentacle appeared pulling out the tentacle that bind them. " This is easy."

"Try it again." This time came in a batarang along with hard steel string circling the three amateur mage lower limbs. With a hard pull all three of them stumbled on the ground along with the purple tentacle embracing them, preventing their further movement.

"Shit!" Mimic curses as they have been captured.

"Guess we have gone through Lovecraft alpha plan well, Raven." Damian walked out of nowhere with hooded cloak as he bring his sword.

"I'm surprised it went well," Raven appeared behind the shadow of black bird.The Riot all shudder as they met the two demonic duo hero, Robin and Raven.

"Wrong timing for making a fuss at San Francisco city, Riot." Raven levitate display her eerieness.

"Shit." Mimic cursed under his breath. "Psyche! Use it! Use it now!" He shouted.

The way Mimic shouted makes Raven grew anxious about what about to happen. As Psyche successfully let one of her hand out Raven quickly step in front of Robin.

"Raven! Wha-" before Robin continue his sentences, a bluish flame blasted from Psyche hit the Witch girl.

The fire didn't burn her clothes and her skin but Raven scream as she crouched holding her face.

"Raven!!" Damian try to grab her but Raven went out of control as she unleashed violent shadows as she scream.

Her gem on her forehead glows dangerously red and the shadow whipping through the air. The Riot tried to escape by using the dirty tactic failed as the shadow start to suffocated them.

"H-hel...." Psyche drown in those shadow as she held her hands towards Damian.

Damian without thinking much he hold Raven from behind. "Raven! I'm here!"

Raven still screaming as the pain still burn.

"Raven!" Damian scream as wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. "I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. Not when I'm watching." He cooed her as his whispered.

Raven as if awaken from nightmare slowly landed her head on his shoulder. "R-robin?" Her voice similar to a girl who has been scared by her nightmare.

"That's right. I'm here." As he rub her back up and down. The. He could feel wet sensation on his shoulder. Is she crying?

The shadow slowly start to dissipated freeing those smothering ameteur mage who are now gasping for air.

Before they managed to escape, Damian quickly throwing three set of Bolas towards them, tying them down.

The Riot try to escape with magic but to no avail the Bolas were unaffected as it has been set by Raven to be anti magic properties.

"Raven, look at me." Damian hold on her chin as he cast his eyes on her face. Her eyes are gone!

"Damian." She whispered. "I can't see." She rest her face on his chest, holding onto his shoulder. Damian cursed then look at the Riot.

"Follow my lead. We're going back to the tower." As the young Robin lead the witch towards his Air bike. As he seated her, he glared at the culprit then at Raven and back to them. "Damn it." He cursed.

He walked towards them. "What did you do to her?" He pull out expandable blade from his glove. "Spill it out or your guts will."

The Riot were silent then mumbling each other. After a few exchange look and nod, they look at him. " We were..." The girl swallowed her saliva then proceed. "Stealing from one of the old shop down town." She shown the pendant. The pendant that has the lotus flower shape with each of the petal has eyes.

" We felt some huge energy from this pendant and it seems we have contact to it." Mirage explain. "They say the will help us by offering a pair of two eyes of thy enemy."

"We thought it might be fun prnak but turns out something else." Psyche bit her lips as she recalled what happen.

Damian got nearer as he inspect the pendant. With the blade he pulled the necklace, torn off from the light blue hair girl. "I need to go to the tower to find the book about this. I think I have seen it before." As Damian inspect the cursed artifact. Quickly he pulled the back zipper from his utility belt and put the artifact in it then stored it back on the other side of his belt.

"All three of you better come with me. We need to track down the source and gives the eyes back to Raven." As he pointed towards Raven who is seated, sighed, holding out her hand in front of her face trying to test her vision which to no avail.

"Please have mercy on us." Mimic beg some sympathy for them.

"Not until we solve this mystery or else." Damian walked towards raven who sit on the bike, silent. "Raven."

Raven jolted then turn her head towards them. "Yes?"

"I don't know if this is possible but can you teleport us towards the titans launching pad?"

"Us?"

"I found something that stole your eye sight."

"A curse?"

"Curse artifact I pressume."

"...okay then. I'll try." Raven take a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and concentration. "Azarath Metrion Zinthos!"

In a blink of an eye, they were teleport back to the teen titans launching pad along with captured The riot.

Mirage was astounded." What level is this sorcery?"

Raven turned her head to the pressumed direction."Way better than you."

Damian went to the control centre picking up three mysterious devices from the drawer. In a quick move, he threw three of them towards Riot's arm and they quickly wrap around it. "As a safety measure, incase you guys were up to something." Damian pulled the Bolas releasing them.

The mages up on their feet. Mimic as mischievous try to cast a spell but it died before it be able to execute. "The band are anti magic too and..." Damian unfinished his sentences.

Mimic jolted by surge of electricity which made he landed on his knees. " It absorb your magic energy and turn into electricity." Damian continue after the demonstration. Mirage and Psyche look at him with horror.

"You can't do this to us, you bastard!" Psyche screamed at him.

"It's a perfect punishment for three of you." Damian shrugged. "Hope you learn your consequences for doing such damage by banishing my friend's eyes!" He pointed at Raven. "Since you're here with us, it is the time for your atonement by helping us to break thecurse."

"What if we decided not to cooperate?" Mirage raised his eyebrow.

" I tell you, if I didn't stop her, Us and this world would probably end up in hell." Damian glared at him. "Be grateful with your spared life."

The riot shivered. " Okay, we'll do it."

"Good. All we need is a book And a real mage." Damian walked toward his airbike. Raven still there standing as she lost in here thought.

"Hey."

"Damian."

"You okay?"

"It didn't burned anymore but I still can't see." Raven sighed. As Raven tried to walk, she goes wobbled and quickly Damian grab her by the waist.

"Don't get hard on yourself. Come, let me be your eyes." His voice goes soft as he put her arm around his shoulder. "You three, follow me."

"Yes, sir!" All three of them quickly followed Robin and Raven.

[visualreverence]

A World of Dinosauroids

C. M. Kosemen with Simon Roy

My post on Simon Roy’s “Dinosauroids” is one of the most reblogged things on this blog. I love the concept because it rewrites the cosmic tragedy of the K-T Mass Extinction Event, resurrecting dinosaurs and projecting their continued evolution in ancient world that is alien but also eerily resonant. Recently Simon turned me onto The-Master-Post-on-All-Things-Dinosauroid on his long-time collaborator, C. M. Kosemen’s, site. The following post has been transcribed from C. M. Kosemen’s blog and formatted for Tumblr with @simon-roy​‘s blessing.

There are two highly-popular, vexing questions about dinosaurs: What would the world look like if these strange and majestic animals had not gone extinct? And, would they ever evolve into intelligent species comparable to humans? In 1982, palaeontologist Dale Russell, after observing “… a general trend toward larger relative brain size in terrestrial vertebrates through geologic time, and the energetic efficiency of an upright posture in slow-moving, bipedal animals”, postulated the Dinosauroid, a humanoid, erect-gaited sophont which may have evolved from Troodon-like dinosaurs had the end-Cretaceous extinction not occurred.

This question occupied the minds of yours truly (seen here on the right), and world-building comic genius Simon Roy (on the left), as well. We were unconvinced by Russell’s Dinosauroid. We thought  that an erect, humanoid sophont was too prejudiced towards humans to be realistic. We were instead inspired by zoologist Darren Naish’s writings on the evolution of intelligent, bird-like dinosaurs: “No, post-Cretaceous maniraptorans wouldn’t end up looking like scaly tridactyl plantigrade humanoids with erect tailless bodies. They would be decked out with feathers and brightly coloured skin ornaments; have nice normal horizontal bodies and digitigrade feet; long, hard, powerful jaws; stride around on the savannah kicking the shit out of little mammals; and in the evenings they would stand together in the trees, booming out a duet of du du du-du, a deep noise that would reverberate for miles around…”

Towards the end of the ‘00s, Simon Roy and I independently began to develop our concepts for bird-like intelligent dinosaurs. Inspired by the ravens he saw around his Canadian home, Simon drew the corvid-like dinosauroids seen above.

I, in turn, was inspired by ground hornbills, parrots, certain dinosaurs and corvids, and came up with the speculative organism seen above. I named it Avisapiens saurotheos.       Simon and I soon got in touch with each other; and started developing a world and a storyline for our dinosauroids. Our collaborative efforts continued, on-and-off, until the mid-2010s. Our aim was to develop the Dinosauroids story into an illustrated story-book, which we naively hoped to sell to a major sci-fi publisher. But we soon realised that we enjoyed world-building  more than writing a story, or putting  a book together. We kept bouncing concepts back and forth, but never had a chance to publish them, until now. Most of the body of work you see on this page was drawn by Simon, based on ideas we created together. I also contributed some of the “cave drawings” and certain creature illustrations. This is the first time the totality of our Dinosauroids-universe works has been displayed online.

Simon and I refined the design of my original Avisapiens dinosauroid…

And created a few more sentient races to accompany them. There was one more, slightly-crow-like species of Avisapiens (a continuation of Simon’s corvid dinosauroids - Avisapiens tataricus). These two species were joined by a variety of “forest giants” (Gigantosapiens borealis), and a race of pygmies (Avisapiens minimus).

Simon’s refined studies of corvid-like, and pygmy dinosauroids.

We also designed an extensive selection of animals around our dinosauroids. We predicted that even without the K/T mass extinction, dinosaurs and other animals would have kept on evolving, and many “familiar” groups of dinosaurs would have gone extinct. We thus designed a world where the majority of surviving dinosaurs were the descendants of “maniraptoran” groups; birds, deinonychosaur (“raptor”) dinosaurs, troodonts, oviraptors and therizinosaurs. Here, you can see two boreal dinosauroids using mouth-spears to hunt herbivorous troodont quarry.

We also did not want this world to be devoid of mammals. Even during the age of dinosaurs, certain mammals evolved  into large and sophisticated forms. We envisioned a world where parallel groups of mammals, similar to, but phylogenetically distinct from today’s forms, co-evolved alongside the dinosaurs during their continued reign. The scene above shows an Eurasian water-hole crowded with two species of ornithomimid herbivores (Rugocursor, left-centre; and Cyanogularia, far right); alongside robust (Afrotuberculocamelus) and gracile (Odontocervoides) species of herbivorous mammals which, for the lack of a better term, we decided to name “supermaras”.

A series of studies showing the evolution of supermaras from rodent-like multituberculate mammals. The species depicted here is Ceratomegamys.

The full diversity of cursorial “supermaras”, from left to right: The burly, tusked Odontobovis; the superficially-camel-like Tuberculocamelus; the gazelle-like Odontocervoides; the trunked, moose-like Pseudalces; and the two related forms - the big, desert-dwelling Macropseudalces; and one of the many deer-like Cervopseudalces species.

Studies of Megatapirus, large, superficially-elephant-like mammals that live in far-northern climates.

We also derived a variety of mammalian carnivores, mostly from marsupial stock. Through the honing forces of evolution, we imagined some would look very similar to the canid predators we have in the present day - the actual difference would only be in their internal and reproductive anatomies. Above, clockwise: The large, badger-like Mephitursoides; the extremely dog-like Pseudokynos; the hyena-like Krokutadasyurus.

Some marsupial predators diverged  from the mammalian body-plan, and evolved into forms roughly converging with the predatory dinosaurs. The raptorial, meat-eating kangaroo-equivalent Theropodoktonos and kin are potent predators in South America.

Two more divergent marsupials: The leopard/possum Phobodidelphyoides; and the monkey-like Marsupiolemuris, a social, arboreal form with a potential to evolve intelligence.

We also wanted to have flying reptiles - pterosaurs - still alive and kicking in our world. These extraordinary animals were already in decline by the time dinosaurs became extinct. So we relegated them to only a few roles, comparable to storks and other large water-birds alive today. Above is a flock of Diluvipterus; large, filter-feeding pterosaurs. Also note the solitary duck flying on the upper-left corner.

Another, flightless pterosaur, Cygnotherium, from the islands that now make up New Zealand.

A more unusual group are the avisuchians, descendants of maniraptoran dinosaurs that  secondarily converged on the aquatic bodyplans of spinosaurs (which are now extinct in this timeline). Most resembled the short-tailed forms, Pisciraptor and Brachyornithoides seen above. These goose-to-dog-sized animals inhabit rivers and lakes, and occupied a niche comparable to otters today.

There were also long-tailed Avisuchians such as the Natatoraptor seen above. These animals inhabit open waters, and nested in estuaries and beaches.

A contemporary scene from Eurasia shows  commensal life between mammals and dinosaurs. Two Pseudalces browse peacefully alongside two kinds of large ornithominids, Archganseria and Brontonyx. A tiny, heron-like troodont, Anatolocursor, can be seen between them, looking for small animals flushed out by the large herbivores’ movements.

Nevertheless, despite co-existing with large mammals, dinosaurs are more diverse on this world. Herbivorous dinosaurs, such as these derived ornithomimids, constitute a large part of dinosaurian diversity. Above left are studies of Ganseria, a common, medium-sized browser. Above right, clockwise from the top right, are portraits of Ukkuloganser, another medium-sized browser; Nyctodromon, a nocturnal digger; Adzuganser, a small omnivore; and Pyramidoganser, a crested form native to the Nile Delta.

A scaled study of Brontonyx, a heavyweight ornithomimid herbivore.

Portraits of many  cursorial dinosaurs from across Eurasia: 1- Leptoganseria, a mountain-dwelling ornithomimid browser found on the mountains of what is now the Caucaus. 2- Ikiridectes, a troodont that mostly hunts small digging mammals. 3- Aktardektes, a small ornithomimid that has specialised for cracking  hard-shelled nuts. 4- The gracile, juvenile variant of Brontonyx, (6) which occupies a completely-different ecological niche as a generalist omnivore. 5- Rugocursor, a widespread, broad-beaked ornithomimid with many species, common across North Africa and Eurasia. 6- The adult form of Brontonyx, a gigantic ornithomimid that feeds on trees, and defends itself with heavy claws. 7-    A vulture-like Cynornithoides, an extremely bird-like troodont, a frequent commensal of Avisapiens and related intelligent species. 

A variety of Rugocursor, a mostly-herbivorous ornithomimid with adaptations for running.

Various troodonts, small-bodied, sometimes very bird-like omnivorous dinosaurs, distantly related to the Avisapiens lineage. Left, shaded study of Variocursor, a common, heron-sized, striding predator on small animals. Right, from top to bottom; Vuuria, a herbivorous form common across Eurasia; Boreocursor, a cold-climate predator, related to the Variocursor seen on the left; and Paravuuria, an omnivorous form.

The last descendants of hadrosaurs, the famous “duck-billed dinosaurs”, still roam  in South America. The hoofed, sheep-sized Ornimastax seen above left, is a typical example. Australia, as in our world, is home to an unusual radiation of forms whose relations to animals on other continents are not very clear. Brachygullagong, seen above right, is a troodont-like form whose duck-like skull and batteries of grinding cheek teeth have secondarily converged with those of the hadrosaurs.

The largest herbivores on this world are long-necked, scythe-clawed ornithomimid relatives known as avititans. The largest species on Eurasia is Avititan bicolor, seen above in scale with a human figure.

Avititans owe their ecological success to their strong social structures and their care of their young. Here are two Eurasian avititans with their offspring. Yellow-tailed enantiornithine tick-birds, Parasitophagus leucurus, can be seen on their backs.

Oviraptoriformes made up another important clade of dinosaurs in this world.

Descended from bird-like ancestors, various clades of these animals live on as important omnivores, scavengers and even predators in many ecological niches. Above is Eblisornis, a common species found throughout Eurasia.

The bull-bird, Bosornithoides erythrops, is the largest and most prominent oviraptoriform on the Eurasian continent. It subsists mostly on plants and fruit, but will eat carrion if given the chance.

Hunting the wary and dangerous Bosornithoides is an important rite of passage for dinosauroids. The animals require coordination and group-work to bring down, and hunting one is a bonding experience for batches of young-adult nestmates. This ritual not only cements the dinosauroids’ social standing in their tribe, but also bonds the hunters together for the rest of their lives. The four hunters-to-be in this picture are accompanied by a couple of jackal-birds (Cynornithoides), domesticated pets that are almost as smart as the dinosauroids themselves.

Many dinosaurs dabble in carnivory, but the main predatory niches on this version of Earth, are occupied by a diverse radiation of paradromaeosaurs, descendants of the famous “raptor” dinosaurs and kin. Paradromaeosaurs have diverged considerably from their ancestors. One lineage, known as the rhynchovenators, replaced their teeth with sharp, raptorial beaks.

The male and female of the common boreal rhynchovenator, Rhynchovulpes agilis.

A lean-legged Egyptian rhynchovenator, Rhnychovulpes aegypticus, atop a dead multituberculate mammal. The key to rhnychovenators’ success is their added tenacity and stamina. Even a small rhynchovenator can overcome comparatively large prey by continually harassing and chasing it into exhaustion.

The bald-headed Osteophaganax regalis is a common scavenger encountered across the Caucaus Mountains. Its males develop striking, black-and-purple wattles on their faces during spring.

Two more derived troodonts. Left, a tree-dwelling arbosaur, Toucanops dixoni, from one of the diverse and little-understood clades found across the South American continent. Right, the lean, narrow-beaked Halophagus sp. from fossil deposits in what is now China. This group evolved specialisations for marine diving and probably saltwater drinking, before becoming extinct during the Miocene.

The dominant guild of maniraptoran predators, the tyrannoraptors, evolved from “regular” dromaeosaurs with powerful, biting jaws. Some species living today, such as the Savannahdromeus shown above, are still very similar to the earliest forms. Despite its small size, the smart and social Savannahdromeus are apex predators thanks to their pack-hunting behaviour.

Another basal tyrannoraptor, Pantherdromeus - is a solitary hunter that is common across much of Eurasia. It probably represents a diverse and subtly-variable species complex.

Solitary, basal tyrannoraptors eventually gave rise to the terrifying main-line tyrannoraptors in the last twenty-million years. The evolution of these animals was marked by the reduction of their wings and the enlargement of their legs, and jaws. Their tails developed into stiff and rod-like balancing organs. In some respects, they were the evolutionary echoes of the big-jawed, running tyrannosaurs, which had become extinct earlier on, during this world’s version of the Eocene period. Unlike tyrannosaurs, however, tyrannoraptors had well-developed social behaviours and intelligence; which, when coupled with their fast speed and terrific jaws, turned them into formidable apex predators. Above are the adolescent and mature forms of Metadromodaemon phobetor, a mid-sized hunter found in the Middle East and North Africa.

A scaled drawing of Wotandromeus bicolor, the terrifying, large-headed hunter of European forests.

The seven-metre-long Melanorodromeus euceratus - also known by the Dinosauroids as “black thing” - is the largest predator on mainland Eurasia; but even larger forms are reputed to exist in Siberia and North America.

Let us now return to the Dinosauroids, their culture, and art. Above is a brief study illustrating the divergence of the two species of Avisapiens; A. saurotheos and A. tataricus, from ancestral eu-troodontid stock.

Especially A. tataricus shows considerable variation in beak shape, length and colouration. Above, right are the colouration of the Eurasian (top right, bluish-black), and Northeast Siberian (above right, yellowish-brown) races. Above, left shows a spectrum of variation in A. tataricus beaks. The cross-beaked and long, curved beaks occasionally crop up in certain bloodlines, which also have augmented song-memories. These individuals are revered as shamans in certain A. tataricus tribes; or are immediately killed-off as harbingers of doom in others.

Above, the extensive variation in the head shapes, beak lengths and crests of various races in A. saurotheos. The bottom-right sketch depicts a hybrid individual between A. saurotheos and A. tataricus.

A powerful hunter of A. tataricus, from the Carpathian Mountains, showing a stone axe and bent spear that are characteristically used by this particular tribe.

An artist/shaman of one of the settled A. saurotheos tribes living around the Balkans. He paints on animal skins stretched taut across circular frames, and paints using ground-up soil and other pigments, wielding a brush made from a wing-feather. The skin canvas also double as drums.

Art is one sure-fire way of identifying an intelligent species. This skin-painting shows a spear-hunter and prey, a painting by the aforementioned shaman.

Painting of a god or hero-figure with red tail feathers.

Painting of two shamans divining the future from the entrails of a dead flying animal.

Painting of a hatchling being trained by a village elder.

Studies of an A. saurotheos wanderer with a travel harness; and a duo of A. tataricus migrants with a domesticated bull-bird, a relative of the oviraptoriform Bosornithoides mentioned above.

The view from an Avisapiens saurotheos village, showing the species’ characteristic nest-houses, and a pair of semidomesticated Cynornithoides jackal-birds playing in the village square. Note the heads mounted on tall poles, a sign of reverence to the spirits of the departed.

Detail of a brooding nest constructed by Avisapiens tataricus. Most tribes of these species are migrants that range across Eurasia, few build permanent structures.

Sketch of an A. tataricus wearing a travois-like travel harness.

Study of an A. saurotheos wanderer with travel gear.

A detailed study of the burly A. tataricus native to the Caucaus Mountains, complete with weapons, travel gear and ornamental cape.

Sketches of war-like A. tataricus tribes native to the Eastern Mediterranean region. These tribes are known for their ferocious (if impractical) war-masks.

Studies of two different  warriors from two different Avisapiens tataricus societies.

A resplendent A. tataricus warrior from the Levant, wearing an ornate head-dress of feathers, and an obsidian-studded war-mask.

Studies for Avisapiens spear-throwers and wooden-slat armour; from a comparatively advanced period on this species’ societal development.

An A. saurotheos shaman entertains hatchlings with fireside tales of spirits and other worlds.

A band of slave-keeping A. tataricus warriors during a raid to an A. saurotheos village. A young shaman is captured and de-clawed.

Simon Roy and I also  dwelled on the far-future evolution of dinosauroid technology. The sketches above of a “knight”, moon lander and an astronaut were produced, but we did not pursue these scenarios seriously.

Let us conclude our visit to the dinosauroid tangent-universe with one last look at our artist/shaman, his village, and his paintings. Somewhere in deep time, they are still alive, and still waiting to tell us of their adventures.

A painting of an avititan family.

A painting of the dangerous, predatory “black thing”.

A painting showing numerous animals at a watering hole.

A painting showing an A. tataricus warrior.

Stylised paintings of spear-wielding Carpathian warriors.

Painting of a ferocious Aegean headhunter.

A stylised painting showing an immature dinosauroid.

Stylised painting of a warrior confronting a spirit-creature.

Stylised painting of a powerful Caucausian mountain warrior.

Painting showing a ghoul-like oviraptoriform animal.

Painting of one of the sky-gods worshipped by A. saurotheos.

A complex painting showing four A. tataricus warriors hunting a bull Bosornithoides.

Simon Roy and I may return to the dinosauroids universe one day with a real story; but truth be told we enjoyed world-building far more than inventing stories and characters.

- 2008 - 10/2019.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October Contest Submission #16: Heart Of Atohallan

Setting: Canon-ish (Post Frozen 2) Lemon: No CW: Angst, Near Death experience, injury detail, soft crossover with Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure, Cassunzel, Kristoff/Honeymaren (Krismaren?)

xXx

Elsa grunted as she and Anna stumbled into the deepest part of Ahtohallan, her body covered in cuts and bruises, parts of her body leaking white magical energy, blood dripping from her lip. Every inch of her body ached in pain with every step.

This was the worst crisis she’d faced since becoming the Fifth spirit. A race of demons had attacked Arendelle, attempting to steal Atohallan’s magic. Though she and Anna had managed to fend off the hordes of demons, the hellish monsters had managed to destabilise Atohallan’s magical core.

Elsa, being connected to the ancient magic, was the only being that could restore the core. If she didn’t, Atohallan would send a surge of magic that would destroy everything; the forest, all of Arendelle… She couldn’t allow that to happen.

Fortunately, Elsa was going at this alone. Her beloved sister, Anna was carrying her. The Queen of Arendelle was just as battered as her sister was, her royal armour scuffed from the battle in the forest and her cape torn with holes and tattered ends.

The two of them heard a rumbling sound as they looked up. Elsa and Anna stared at the centre of Atohallan. Even Elsa had never gone this deep. The last time she had, she ended up dying. Temporarily, but still dead. Elsa felt unpleasant shivers trail down her spine as she remembered the experience.

It would be the only time she could say the cold did bother her.

The core itself resembled a gigantic crystalline snowflake, arcs of energy and light blasting across the chamber like bolts of lightning. This was usually a thing of beauty, but now it had been corrupted, twisted by the demonic presence still infecting it.

Anna jumped with a yelp, narrowly dodging a stray bolt of magical energy.

“Fuck!” she swore, staring at the unstable core with anxiety. Were they too late? Had all this been for nothing? No, they couldn’t give up. Their friends were already holding off the remaining demons so they could set things right once more. They were counting on them to succeed.

Elsa stumbled forward, breathing heavily. The damage was worse than she thought… and she was still so weak. But she had to try. She had to fix this. She was the fifth spirit. It was her destiny to protect and defend the land and she would give anything to fulfil that destiny.

“Elsa, if you’re going to do something, do it quickly!” Anna said in a panicked tone. “I think this place is gonna go up at any second!”

A single tear shed down Elsa’s cheek, the goddess heartbroken that she would have to make this choice. But there was no other way. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. She turned to face Anna, the warrior queen standing behind her.

“I’m sorry…” Elsa said in a low, miserable tone, full of regret and remorse for what she knew she had to do. “I’m so sorry Anna…”

At that, Anna looked to her sister with a mixture of concern and alarm. “Sorry? Sorry about what?”

“The only way I can restore Atohallan to normal… is to use my magic to return the balance and drive the darkness out,” Elsa stated slowly. She looked up at the unstable core, realising how little time she had left to say her goodbyes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?!” Anna’s eyes brightened with hope. “Do it! Restore the core, save the world, and…!”

“Anna…” Elsa smiled sadly. “If I was at my full strength, I’d be alright. I could just jump into that thing and release my magic. But I’m too weak… my magic has been drained. If I do this… I’m not gonna come back. It’ll…

Anna faltered, putting two and two together. "You… You’ll have to sacrifice yourself,” she whispered weakly.

Elsa turned away, unable to look at the heartbreaking expression on her beloved younger sister’s face. “I wish there was another way… but if I don’t do this, Arendelle and everything and everyone we love will be gone. Either I die… or Arendelle does.”

She turned around and took Anna’s hands, gazing into her sister’s eyes one last time. She was so proud of her and knew that even if she couldn’t have been with her the way she had wanted, she loved her so much. She pulled her close and they touched foreheads.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For always being here for me, Anna, ever since you were a little girl knocking on my door.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Anna-”

“No, I’m not letting you die again!” Anna cried, on the verge of hysterics. “I-I’m staying with you!”

“Anna, no!” Elsa’s eyes narrowed. “The magical discharge will destroy both of us!”

“And what?!” Anna yelled, eyes wet. “Elsa, we’re both sides of this bridge. It is our duty to keep the balance, not just yours. I’m as much the Fifth Spirit as you are. So… I am staying with you, no matter what happens. I wasn’t there for you when you really needed me…” Here her tears fell, her eyes never leaving Elsa’s as she held her hands tightly. “And I won’t let that happen again.”

Elsa could only stare. Oh Anna, ever so stubborn, always ready to sacrifice everything for her. Try as she could, Elsa knew there was no point in arguing with Anna. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” Elsa said. “Okay, I’m going to do this.”

“I’ll be here,” Anna said, giving Elsa’s hands one last squeeze. Elsa smiled, feeling Anna’s warmth through the metal gauntlet covering her hand.

Regretfully, Ea parted from her sister and stepped forward, her body glowing with magical energy. She tried to reach out with her hands, to connect to the magic within Atohallan. But then, she was blasted by a bolt of energy and screamed in pain.

Straining, Elsa tried to reach up and connect to the crystal again, but to no avail. All her senses were overwhelmed, a loud noise ringing in her ears. She collapsed, weakened further by her injuries. Blood trickled out of her mouth and her wounds into a puddle on the floor.

“Elsa!” Anna shouted, rushing to her sister’s side.

She cradled the blonde in her arms and Elsa just stared at her, her voice hoarse and weak. Anna held her closer, stroking her face. Tears streamed down her face as she gazed at Elsa. Elsa didn’t deserve to die like this. Not after all she’d done.

“I’m… too weak,” Elsa rasped. “I can’t do it… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I got you!” Anna argued. “Please, stay awake! I’ll get you to that crystal!”

“I’ve… failed…” Elsa barely managed to whisper.

“Elsa, please stay awake!” Anna shouted. “It’s not over!”

But the light soon faded from Elsa’s eyes, her lids closing. Anna stared in horror, feeling utterly helpless to do anything but watch her sister die.

“ELSAAAAAAAAAA!”

xXx

When Elsa next opened her eyes, she found she was no longer inside of Atohallan. She was instead back in Arendelle, in what appeared to her living room. She was standing in front of a mirror, admiring herself. She was in what seemed to be a cross between her Fifth Spirit attire and her coronation gown, with a silver ice tiara on her head.

She touched herself, finding that this was indeed real. She walked to the window, looking outside and seeing the kingdom covered in decorations. It reminded her of her coronation, when so many people came to see her be crowned Queen… only to find themselves caught in an eternal winter.

But she hadn’t gone back in time. Clearly, what she was wearing was not what she had worn. No, what was happening right now was some other occasion. But as Elsa tried to further wonder what was going on, she heard the door to the room open.

“Elsa?” she heard a voice behind her. “There you are!”

Elsa turned around, seeing Anna step towards her. Her sister was in… a wedding dress? White and poofy, with long gloves and her royal crown upon her head, as well as long veil trailing behind. She looked absolutely perfect, if Elsa was being honest.

“Anna… What?” Elsa was so confused.

Anna giggled. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you have wedding jitters!” She walked up to Elsa and took her hands. “Come on, Elsa, it’ll be alright. You comforted me over my jitters last night, remember?”

“We’re… We’re getting married?!” Elsa’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell agape.

“Oh dear gods, you really are in a daze,” Anna giggled. “Yeah, we’re getting married. Our wedding is like in an hour… I think? It’s been a really busy day so I wouldn’t be surprised if I lost track of time. But… we’ll have the rest of our lives to spend together.”

Elsa stared in shock for a moment longer before then smiling fondly. She didn’t know what this was… but this was what she had always wanted. She had loved Anna for so, so long. She wanted this, she wanted this happy future… and she really wanted to marry her sister.

Just as she was about to try to lean in to kiss her wife-to-be, the door to the room opened and Elsa saw Kristoff and Honeymaren, with Kristoff looking visibly older and now sporting a beard while Honeymaren’s hair was much shorter. She couldn’t help but notice the two of them had wedding bands on their fingers.

She… had suspected the two of them being an item, but marriage wasn’t something she would have guessed for either Kristoff or Maren. Still, she was happy for what this wonderful future would bring. She wondered what other surprises it had in store.

“Oh, there you are!” Honeymaren called, giggling. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Yeah girls, your wedding is almost about to start!” Kristoff added.

“Oh wow, I really lost track of time,” Anna admitted. “Well, it’d be very stupid if we missed our own wedding.”

“You look great, feisty pants,” Kristoff said.

“Awww, thanks big guy,” Anna said, stroking his cheek. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Honeymaren grinned and then took Kristoff’s arm. “See you there, ladies.”

As Honeymaren left, Anna turned around, holding out her hand to Elsa. She stared fondly at her wife-to-be, full of love. The freckles on her face glowed in the sunlight, making her look even more radiant than she was already. Elsa felt in that moment she was the luckiest woman in the world.

“Shall we?”

Elsa nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Yes.”

However, just as Elsa was about to take Anna’s hand, her own hand… phased through it. Suddenly, Elsa was hit with a great, throbbing pain in her chest as the world around her was slowly consumed in ethereal white light. She screamed in agony as she saw her hands starting to turn to ice.

“No!” She cried out. “NO!”

As Elsa clutched her chest in pain, she knew this was the end for her, the end of everything. She stared forward, watching the form of Anna fade into the light. She had lost her again, forever this time. As she screamed out, she prayed for the end to come.

But just as Elsa had accepted fate, she heard a voice calling to her. A slight echoing in the bright white void. Elsa opened her eyes, looking around. She heard the voice again, much clearer now… and to her complete and utter shock, it was… Anna’s voice.

“Elsa!” Anna cried. “Elsa! Please wake up! ELSA!”

The goddess looked up and saw what appeared to be a blue crystal portal open before her, Anna’s form emerging from it. The Queen reached out to her, trying to get Elsa to grab her hand. She grunted, clutching the portal as she reached out to Elsa.

“I’m here!” Anna called. “I’m not letting go!”

“Anna…” Elsa said weakly. “No… I’ve failed… I deserve to die.”

“No, don’t say that!” Anna insisted. “You have never given up on anything in your life… not even on me. So don’t you dare start now!”

Her eyes widening, Elsa gazed at Anna. She… she was right. She had never given up on anything. No matter how bad things had been, no matter what the cost, Elsa had never given up. Weakly, Elsa tried to reach out to Anna, to grab her hand.

“Please Elsa! Don’t die on me… ! Don’t leave me! I love you! I’ve always loved you!” She reached out further. “So please… stay!”

The Goddess stared. Anna… loved her. She could see it in her eyes. She felt the same way she did, she always had. And… Elsa wanted to live. She had that chance now. She wasn’t going to deny her feelings for Anna any longer. With all her strength, the goddess reached out and grabbed Anna’s hand, her vision being showered in light again.

Then, Elsa opened her eyes once more. She was on the floor in Atohallan’s central chamber, the core still arcing blasts of magical energy across the room. Anna was cradling her, her arms wrapped around her. As tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks, Elsa then saw a blast heading straight towards them.

On impulse, Elsa raised her hand, forming a massive chunk of ice that deflected the blast from Anna.

“Elsa!” Anna exclaimed, overjoyed as her sister gazed at her.

“Anna…” Elsa reached up, caressing her cheek. “You… love me?”

Anna chuckled, still crying. “Yes… Yes, I love you, you stupid, impulsive, beautiful idiot.” Then she opened her eyes and stared in surprise as Elsa gazed lovingly at her. She felt Anna’s freckled, if slightly dirtied cheeks and smiled. She’d waited so many years to hear those words… and to say the ones that were about to come out of her mouth.

“I… I love you too,” she said adoringly.

Gently, Anna reached in closer and then, with nor regrets, she kissed Elsa deeply. As the two of them kissed and held one another, the magic inside of Elsa reawakened and both sisters and Aothallan’s central chamber erupted in a magical aura.

xXx

Meanwhile, on the dark beach at the edge of the enchanted forest, Kristoff and the rest of Elsa and Anna’s friends were fighting the remaining demons, trying to give Elsa and Anna time to repair the damage to Atohallan. They were fighting valiantly, but the group was quickly being overwhelmed as more demons poured from the portals in the skies above the forest.

In the middle of the battle, Honeymaren tossed an enchanted spear right through a bat demon’s chest, watching as the creature turned to dust. She was then cornered by another demon, Honeymaren grabbing her spear. Too many Northuldra had died to these monsters… and she was certainly not going to lose any more brothers and sisters.

Kristoff rushed to her side, sword in hand as he duelled with a demon with blades for arms. Maren smiled a little, thankful for his support. Truthfully… she couldn’t have thought of fighting this last battle with anyone else at her side.

“I don’t know how much longer we can hold out!” He growled. “Do you think Elsa and Anna made it to Athohallan!”

“No idea!” Maren hollered, twirling around with her spear and helping Kristoff defeat his opponent, driving the spear right through the demon’s chest. She watched as the beast died in a sickening scream, but that wasn’t the last, as thousands more still surrounded them and the allied Arendellian, Northuldra and Coronan soldiers.

As the two of them stood back to back, Maren sighed. She knew this was the worst time to do this, but if they were going to go down together, she needed to get this off her chest, before they didn’t have any other chance. Kristoff… he meant a lot to her.

Sure, he’d been a bit awkward when they’d first met and she’d quickly outclassed him as a warrior, but she cared about him. She hadn’t met anyone as kind or as strong as him, other than her brother. She didn’t want to die without him knowing how she truly felt.

“Kristoff,” Maren said quietly. “In case we don’t make it, I just want you to know… I-I love you.”

Kristoff gasped, but to her surprise, he replied instantly. “I… I love you too, Maren.”

Maren blushed. “So… you better make it out of this for me, okay?”

“And you likewise!”

Cassandra charged on the back of her horse, Rapunzel and a squad of soldiers right behind her. The Coronan warrior leapt from her steed, slashing the demons with her moonblade, watching as they faded into dust. Rapunzel joined her, hacking a few of them up with her frying pan-axe weapon.

They had lost Corona to these demons already and they were more than willing to help their cousins save the world. Plus, Cass loved the chance of fighting alongside her wife. If they were going to die… well, she’d rather she and Rapunzel went down together.

“Remind me again, was Zhan Tiri worse than this?” Rapunzel wondered.

“Seriously?!” Cass remarked. “This isn’t the time, Rapunzel!”

“I thought you liked to snark in battle,” the princess teased.

Cass smirked. “I do… and for the record, this is much easier than Zhan Tiri. At least we’re not fighting against each other this time.”

“Amen to that, Cass,” Rapunzel agreed. “Though I feel our old powers would have really come in handy right now.”

Just then, a demon with a large scythe took a swing at Rapunzel’s head. Cass leapt into action, cleaving the monster in half while pushing Rapunzel to the ground. Rapunzel blushed a little as Cass was on top of her, but Cass wasn’t phased. She looked up in the sky, seeing more demon hordes falling from the portals.

Those blasted monsters were still going… and Cass knew she was starting to slow down from exhaustion. If Elsa and Anna had made it… this would have been over already. She didn’t want to accept it, but she had a feeling they were doomed if they stayed here.

“We need to fall back!” Cass ordered., getting back to her feet swinging her sword at another demon. “Elsa and Anna must not have made it.”

“Are you crazy?!” Kristoff exclaimed. “If we leave now, these monsters will just swarm the forest again!”

“It’s either that or we’re all dead, Bjorgman,” Cass argued.

“Well, I’m not one for backing down,” Maren grunted, dodging an incoming swipe from another bat-like demon. “Elsa and Anna told us to hold this beach and we’re going to do just that!”

“She’s got a point, Cass!” Rapunzel added, smiling at her wife.

Cass sighed. “Alright… we’ll hold the line!”

As more demons started pouring from the sky, the group were quickly overwhelmed by the onslaught. It all seemed hopeless… but then, there was a blinding light that shot into the sky from out in the ocean. A massive wave of magical energy then surged across the water towards the forest. There was a blinding light… and the demons were gone. Sunlight was shining down upon the group. They had won.

As the survivors cheered in victory, everyone felt relieved the horror was over. Arendelle, Corona, the whole world was now safe from the demon menace. Kristoff and Honeymaren, in particular, embraced one another happily, delighted they had survived… and could be together.

“We… we did it!” Kristoff exclaimed.

“Hell yes!” Maren cheered, hugging her new boyfriend. But then… her expression turned to one of concern. “But… what about Anna and Elsa?”

On the horizon, they saw a shape rushing towards them. When the shape came into view, it was clear that it was Elsa and Anna, riding on the back of the Nokk, Anna clutching onto Elsa tightly as she rode towards them. Anna was resting on Elsa’s shoulder, while the blonde goddess was smiling with confidence.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cass remarked. “They made it.”

“Told you they would,” chimed in Rapunzel.

The entire group cheered in applause and Rapunzel took a moment to grab Cassandra and dip her for a kiss. The royal consort blushed, but surrendered to the kiss instantly. They’d all earned this moment, everyone on Earth. Besides, Cass loved to be dipped by her wife.

As the Nokk stopped on the beach, Elsa got off first before taking Anna’s hand and helping her down like the gentlewoman she was. The Queen giggled as she then held hands with Elsa. The two new lovers embraced one another, the shining sunlight bathing them.

“It’s over,” Anna said in relief. “Those demons are gone.”

“Good riddance,” Elsa responded.

Kristoff chuckled, holding Maren close as he ealised how close Elsa and Anna were being. Clearly, they’d finally professed their love as well. “Something you wanna tell us, ladies?”

Anna blushed, pulling away. “Uhhhh… we fixed Atohallan!”

“I think he’s talking about us, Anna,” Elsa replied, holding her lover’s hand, reassuring them. “We might as well not hide it any longer.”

The Queen turned redder. This was all still so sudden to her. And yet… she had been the one to confess. She wanted to show off to everyone that she and Elsa were together, prejudices be damned. She’d fought so hard today, and she’d earned Elsa’s love.

“Okay… me and Elsa are… we’re in love!” Anna declared. “And we’ve won! All of us!”

The entire crowd cheered in applause, congratulating the two sisters. As they were hugged by their friends, Anna and Elsa knew that this was their true happy ever after, and Elsa in particular… well, she wanted to make sure that the vision she’d seen in Atohallan really did come true.